Sokenzan Calls | Chapter One: Of flowers, the cherry blossom; of men, the warrior
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Posted on May 17, 2020, 5:32 p.m. by MountainsofSilt
Chapter One
The cherry blossom trees swayed, letting loose a flurry of pink swirls. A spec of red clouded Iton’s vision, coloring the blossoms a deep crimson. He was bleeding again. The wound to his head had only recently been mended, and healing magic was always sketchy when applied so fast. The shutters of hospital, once a respected library, banged in the wind, bringing with them a cold chill that did nothing to ease his pain. He attempted to find some form of comfort in his situation, but there was none to be found. He was still on the other side of the war, so far from his beloved home in the Sokenzan Mountains, and one was never far away from the war. The faces of his fellow soldier still flashed before him in his dreams, Irachi, Jogun, and Polet called to him, blaming him for their fate. The window and it’s encapsulated cherry blossoms were the only things that brought him reprise from the memories. His armor lay at the foot of the bed, still dented. And the helmet he wore bore the striking hole of his failure. He wiped the blood from his face, and listened for birdsong, for he had not heard it since he passed through the Jukai Forest. Minutes passed and still nothing but the rustle of the wind and the clatter of the shutters. Since the first kami attack, the birds had moved to safer fields, taking with them the music of nature. Now, only the crackling of burning villages were heard by the denizens of Kamigawa.
It was only months after the first attack on Reito, only a short stroll to Eiganjo Castle. Lord Konda responded by deploying legions of samurai and recruiting all able soldiers from the far flung villages. Even backwater homesteads were roped into the conflict. The Towabara plains were stained with the blood of thousands, all felled by the once benevolent spirits they had worshipped. No one truly knew why they were fighting, nor why the Kami had attacked in the first place. It was all so sudden, and the battles so vicious, it was madness. Now, it was rumored the war approached Minamo itself. But surely those were just rumors. Iton could not fathom the great libraries of knowledge being washed away by the unending onslaught he had witnessed. Minamo and it’s scholars would stand no chance against the forces of nature.
The kitsune mage who had healed him tended to other soldiers, many of whom were asleep. Her long ears twitched with each bang of the windows, but she carried herself with a timid grace. The white robe she wore was stained with red blots and ashes. No doubt she was from one of the many settlements that had suffered the wrath of the Kami. The man in the next bed over groaned, and Into struggled to turn his head and face him. The sight that greeted him was disheartening, to say the least. A man, much older than Into and missing his legs, lay on the cot, sweating profusely despite the wind blowing into the room. His face was strained, incredible pain etched into his features. As Into stared, he noticed a scroll clutched in the man's right hand. The paper itself was bloodstained and dirty, but the distinct golden seal of the Daimyo was clear. How could a scroll from the Daimyo end up in the hands of a common soldier? This required further investigation, but for now, Into was satisfied to form theories in his head until nightfall.