Soul Stealer

All the people name\'s used are not from anime\'s, but some historical figures of Japanese history. Please leave feedback for me. It would be greatly welcomed! PLEASE REVIEW THIS, COMMENT\'S ARE VERY WELCOMED!!

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Introduction

Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is, Ryo Kenjitaki. I used to be a normal High School senior, up until six months ago. That was until fate chose to show its ugly face at me, and ruin my life.

I cannot begin to express how I feel now. My life is just so, different now. I find it hard to tell you this. Yet, I feel I must get my tale out to you, for if I don’t. Another who could have used this information, I’m about to spill. Could have saved your life.

Have you ever heard of the Soul Stealer? No? Well, I’m not surprised. The legend is very old, and very unbelievable. But everything I’m about to tell you is true. Dead true.

The Soul Stealer looks just like you and I: human, perhaps a rather beautiful one, but human-looking nonetheless. It did just what its name proposed, stole the souls of its victims. The souls feed the monster, reside in his body and eventually fade away. They are never allowed to rest, and when gone, they are gone for good, no longer able to be reincarnated. This cursed creature was created in Japan by one Fusaki Oda. Fusaki was a rather ambitious, greedy man, and wanted Japan all to himself. He planned to use the demon as a weapon to wipe out the warlords opposing him.
Fusaki’s genius strategy was this: to lure his enemies into a stalemate, and unleash the Soul Stealer on the camp.

For over sixty years this method gained the cruel warlord lands and wealth beyond imagining. When Fusaki died, his son Fujima took control of his land and his property, including the beast Fusaki had created. Fujima, being rather less barbaric than his father, decided that every creature needed a name, and decided on a suitable one for the Soul Stealer. He called the demon “Shiido”, or ‘death’ in the Japanese tongue. The Soul Stealer approved of his new name, thinking it befitting of himself.
Unbeknownst to his master, Shiido began to plot against Fujima, planning his demise and the demon’s own rise to power. Ten years into Fujima’s reign, Shiido attacked. He took Fujima’s soul, and began his slow rise to power.

Around 1300 A.D., Shiido was the lord and ruler of half of western Japan. No mortal dared confront him for fear of having their souls sucked out. Life was bitter and harsh for those who lived in the west. If you were an oni (ogre) or hanyou (half-demon) you were likely to be better favored. Shiido did keep some mortal men to serve in his army, and himself, but most of the Generals were pureblooded onis.

It was to be another 150 years before someone attempted to confront the Soul Stealer. Over those 150 years, the race of men had begun to build their forces in the east and in the north to oppose Shiido, and take back the west from the onis and hanyous. The leaders of this rebellion were Lord Kenshin, and commander Fujita Hiroshi. These two men were from well-respected families. If anything, the Hiroshi clan was the most respected family in all of eastern Japan.

Fujita Hiroshi was the 20th in the family line, and also a master of the rare sword style that only the men in his family could master. They were well known for being able to wield two Japanese swords, or katanas. Not only that, but in battle they could take out six or more men in a single swing. The speed in which they moved made it difficult to see, let alone predict which direction they would attack from. Others had attempted to learn this style in vain; not one person could mimic it. Only the true heirs of the style could master the deadly, but beautiful sword skill.

In 1434, Fujita Hiroshi was blessed with a son. The boy had green eyes and raven hair on his head. He looked more like Yuri, Fujita’s wife, than he did his father, but he did get a few things from the man.

On that blissful first day of spring, when the sakura blossoms were in full bloom and dancing in the wind on the branches of the trees, young Hiroshi Shinji was proclaimed 21st heir of the Hiroshi line.
It was in the years to come that he would succeed his father and take the lead as master of the family, while his parents would guard the main house. Yet there are the Fates and higher powers who do not always play by the rules, and make us mortals living chess pieces on a giant game board. Or so someone once told me. You see, back then, we did have onis, and hanyous, and gods, and godlings, and other such mystical beings of power. To them, that is all we are: game pieces.

During Shinji’s 16th year, when he finally came into his inheritance, the young man’s life forever changed. A stranger entered the Hiroshi household and told Shinji he was to help Lord Kenshin, and ride west to begin the war against the Soul Stealer Shiido. Shinji’s father attempted to take the place of his son, but the stranger said only the son of Hiroshi Fujita could help Lord Kenshin fight. The mission itself was more a suicide mission: it had already been foreseen, and young Shinji could only follow the fate he was destined to follow.

The following day, Shinji rose early to begin his journey to Lord Kenshin’s palace. His father chose to accompany him and only after he knew his son was in safe hands would Fujita leave his son. The ride to Lord Kenshin’s was a full day on horseback, and two days on foot. Shinji barely spoke a word on the trip and spent his time deep in thought, wondering why he was chosen for this mission. All he knew for certain was that this mission seemed wrong. He could sense his conscience demanding he turn around and go home, but a part of him wanted to join this battle and try to stop Shiido from conquering all of Japan.

Sometime around the late hours of the night, Shinji and his father had arrived at Lord Kenshin’s palace. They were greeted by a few servants and quickly escorted to their chambers to rest. Shinji could barely sleep that night, and spent a fair amount of it tossing and turning. He lay there in his bed, wide-awake, looking at the closed doors to his room. Suddenly, sat up. He could hear voices all around him. The faint ghostly voices seemed to echo from the outside, begging for someone to come and help them. Unable sleep, Shinji rose from his futon, fixed his loose yakuta, and left the warmth of his room in a vain attempt to clear his clouded mind of its restless thoughts.

He hadn’t been the only one to go for a walk that evening. He ran into Lord Kenshin’s daughter. Not only that, but she had heard the strange ghostly voices that seemed to filter in and out of the darkness of the night. She was a beautiful young woman with waist-length raven hair. She had the softest shade of blue azure eyes, which were calm, yet so inviting. She was a goddess, as only so few women were. Her name was Ryo.

The two of them ended up becoming fast friends. Though Ryo had been highly amused when she was unable to obtain a kiss from the young Hiroshi male. It was like Shinji hated females. That, or only liked girls as friends. Either way, the two found themselves outside in the gardens discussing things: how bad Japan was, and what should be done. They talked for a long time, till they managed to calm their frazzled nerves. If there was one thing Shinji learned that night, it was the fact that Ryo was more than capable of protecting herself. Though Shinji wondered, as he had walked to his room that night, if Ryo was as good in a fight as she claimed.

The following, Shinji, Ryo, and a few other people gathered in a room to discuss what was to happen concerning the war against Shiido. Kenshin was quite clear on his preferred methods of attack, and that if at all possible he wanted the evil Soul Stealer dead. They were to leave in two days’ time. After those six days of riding they’d meet up with other alies to help them win their war against the Onis, hanyous, and corrupted humans. However as they all sat in that room, some of them stared at Lord Kenshin like he was keeping some secret from them. All those who sat in the room held a very important part in this battle. But all had one fate, not yet revealed. For some of them were not yet ready to reawaken the gift.

The days following passed all too quickly for them. Some men had panicked and fled like dogs with their tails tucked between their legs. Some committed seppuku, a ritualistic suicide by disembowelment. Shinji and Ryo were the youngest members of the unit-traveling west. However, on the 4th day of the journey, Ryo, as well as a few others, could sense restless sprits, or those who remained in our world, warning Lord Kenshin and his men turn around and leave this evil land. They paid no heed to these warnings, and pressed onwards.

On the 6th day they arrived at the encampment, where nearly 2,000 people were gathered. All the men and young boys were restless. Some sparred to relieve stress, or prepared blades for some the samurai, so they would not fail in battle. It was this in place that Ryo and Shinji met two boys, who they became friends with: Toshizo Okita, and Hardra Sanosuke. Both of them were 16, and very gifted in battle. Okita was a younger master of the, Toshizo Ryu, or Toshizo sword style. Sano, on the other hand, was better with a Jo staff. He was good with a sword, but much better with the staff. It was there that the four of them were united, each of them to help protect our world from the chaos and utter destruction of Shiido and his demonic forces.

For the next five years, Shinji, Ryo, Okita, and Sano worked diligently in the strenuous and difficult battle for the humans. For the first two years they the fight went well, but as time passed, Shiido called forth his dark priests to summon him onis from the darkest depths of the underworld. No matter how many they banished, they only came back in greater numbers. It was in that fifth year that all they had worked so hard for would fall into utter ruin. The mission Lord Kenshin had planned all his life was coming apart at the seams. His men lay on the snow-covered grounds, rotting in their own blood. Most died in honor, but some suffered a more horrible half-death when Shiido sucked their souls from their bodies.

Shiido often fought with his troops, as he was that fateful day. Most of his humans has been killed off, save for a few unusually strong or gifted ones. However, the humans on Shiido’s side were of little value to him. The one reason Shiido had left his castle-prison was to find the Chosen Ones. If he didn’t locate them before their powers awoke, he was sure to fail. Such powers as those that the Chosen Ones wielded would also hamper further demonic activity in the mortal plane. Shiido’s followers had never seen their great lord so anxious, but they spent little time pondering this. Their lord had a right to be nervous: if the Chosen Ones came into their powers, it would mean their deaths.

Screams filled the battlefield that night, and more were slain. The dust had just begun to settle. Unknown to neither the humans nor the demons, Lord Kenshin’s Chosen would gain their powers in mere hours, and banish Shiido and his kind back into the nether realms.

Ryo, Sano, Okita, and Shinji all sat in Kenshin’s tent, resting a little. All of them were exhausted, and wished to sleep and regain their energy, but once again Fate stuck her pretty little hand in and messed with their destinies. She chose to act then, to introduce them to the one behind all of the evil plaguing the land.

“The Soul Stealer is here! Death is coming to kill our Lord!” Those were the words that shook the quintet from their silent stupors. They ran outside of Kenshin’s tent, and what they saw made them all stop in their tracks.

Shiido had a malicious kind of beauty, the kind that is seductive and sweet evil, I’m told. His hair, the color of newly spilled blood, cascaded down to his waist, tied only loosely to keep it out of his eyes. Those eyes, they tell me, were the most haunting of all. Crimson, cruel, merciless and without white or pupil, they were soulless. They seemed to glow with a fierce energy, an evil energy. The demon was taller than most of the Japanese, towering over them at six and a half feet, with a lithe, deceptively strong build. The aura he radiated, one of pure and untainted evil, would have made even the mightiest samurai cower.

Time seemed to grind to a halt as the four stood looking at the evil overlord. As they stared, a sinister smile split Shiido’s lips. He had found them, the Chosen Ones, the Guardians of the mortal plane. He had waited for this day, the day when he would finally taste the powerful souls of the Guardians. When he moved, it was with such speed that he blurred. The battle for life and death--nay, for their very souls--had begun.

Human, oni, hanyou…all watched in silence as the four Chosen battled for their souls. Sano had been the first to die, struck down by a powerful Hellfire spell. Before Shiido could eat his soul, he was stabbed by Okita’s blade. The distraction allowed his friend’s soul to flee into the afterlife, where it would wait to be reborn.

Shinji faired well, but as he tried to slay Shiido, he failed to see the small dagger the oni had thrown at him, and when he noticed it was too late. Thus, when hands pushed him from behind and out of harm’s way, he could do nothing but stare. As he fell he watched in horror as Okita took the blow meant to kill him. The dagger, slicing through skin and bone to pierce the swordsman’s heart, had killed Okita instantly. Ryo quickly rushed forward to stop Shiido from eating Okita’s soul.

Shinji watched, seemingly in slow motion, as Shiido’s fingernails extended into claws and impaled Ryo. She was alive, but the pain the poisoned nails inflicted made it more curse than blessing. Shinji slowly stood, and in that moment a faint glow of yellow emanated from his green eyes. His power had awoken, and with it a fierce vengeance. The young warrior prevented the Soul Stealer from eating Ryo’s soul by cutting off the left arm that stabbed her.

Ancient, powerful magic of the Guardians flowed through his veins. The power to banish Shiido back to the world of darkness he had been called from. Shinji used that power, and channeled it through his blades. He battled with Shiido for a long time, but with only one hand and three deep stab wounds, Shiido was forced to retreat, to wait until his power replenished itself.

By sunrise Ryo had died. Shinji had been the only one of the chosen to live through the life-changing battle. He was now immortal, a Guardian of life and death, and a protector of the human race. Until his companions were reborn anew, he would guard the mortal plane from demons and their sort.
When they were reborn, he would be the one to track them down and make them remember who and what they truly were.

For nearly 600 years Shinji wandered all of Japan alone. His only companion was a white dragon named Aoi, or ‘blue’. Both were lonely souls, drawn together by their similarities and a Companion bond nearly as old as Shinji himself (if not older). Aoi was a perfect companion for the lonely warrior. Aoi was small enough to be able to rest on a grown man’s shoulders. She could speak the human language, but over the years, she taught Shinji her own dragon tongue to speak in. The two of them were inseparable for 600 years.

However, when his old friends showed no sign of being reborn in their native land, Shinji left. In 1786, he began to travel the world, seeking the other three Guardians. And wherever he went, Shiido was not far behind. The two of them fought annually for 600 years, and with each passing year, Shiido’s power grew stronger, while Shinji’s own power and resolve weakened. He began to fear they weren’t ever going to return to this earth, but he didn’t allow his hope to wane. He pressed forever onward, despite his grief and wavering alliance.

Just when Shinji had begun to give up all hopes of finding his comrades in arms. A strange feeling he hadn’t felt in over 600 years came to life inside of him. In 2001, he located all three of his former comrade’s powerful auras to the United States. Two of them in the State of Michigan, but the other one, was still far too faint to trace. If he could get the two, that was his best bet to go at, but he had to act quickly. So on June 4th 2001, he arrived in the upper part of Michigan to start tracking the two down. He spent all summer looking for the two strong auras, but the search was hard. It wouldn’t be until the end of August when he located the two. However, with some help of course from members from the vampire clan in New Orleans, and Michigan Clan.

Now that I have informed you of the events that took place in the past, I feel it is only necessary I tell the rest of this story. I think I will begin in August, when my life was still, that of a normal, soon to be Senior in High School.

TBC...

P.S. Chapter two will be up soon, please wait, and feedback is nice!