Crab People! (One of the Men Quest)

[Yoshimitsu]

Oddities abound in this strange mystical realm! What once was white in its purity with impossible mystery surrounding its tricks and deceptions was now a beautiful reminiscent of old country from centuries ago. The lush green fields giving way to thick forests overgrown with massive trees of all types. The beaten dirt path that shows its use by numerous travelers. The far off crisp looking mountains and the beautiful, wide open blue sky. Yoshimitsu nodded in approval. He had chosen wisely. This “Verse” as his host would put it was very peaceful looking.

What was the purpose of traveling to these places? If each gate held its own special world then that'd mean there civilizations littered through this reality. Were they content being plucked from their homes? Or was it so impossibly difficult to find this Omni that people gave up looking for him and let fate decide what they should do? Did they not have the power to control their fates? Of course they did! Everyone did! Yoshimitsu couldn't imagine himself just lying down in some field and giving up on attaining his freedom from Omni's games. He wanted an interesting person to watch? He could watch from wherever he was as Yoshimitsu got closer and closer until they were staring face to face.

If he was poised against “God” then he would need more power. The Manji Ryu were adept at gathering strength and hoarding all kinds of secret techniques. If power was related to his Omnilium Orb and the extent of that power was limited only by his imagination, then all he had to do was strengthen his Orb and use the craftiness that the Yoshimitsu line was known for. Whether he gathered companions to join his cause or he made this whole journey alone, Yoshimitsu would not allow himself to grow complacent or slow down.

He considered the terrain before him, scanning the dirt road as it wound through the countryside to a massive castle with mounting walls surrounding it. It seemed obvious where he was supposed to go.

So he departed and ran into the thick forests around him.

[Yoshimitsu]

It was enjoyable walking through the underbrush, avoiding sticks and rocks, stepping swiftly and playing at his agility and stealth. Sunlight peaked through leaves, casting amazing light throughout the canopy, the face of his mask warming as he walked through the sun beams. It was beautiful. He would give Omni credit for that. He had taste. But it did nothing to win over the headstrong warrior. As a man of honor and integrity, he held respect for the God, but it would not equate to hesitation when the time came for confrontation. There was a reckoning that needed to occur. Both Yoshimitsu and the blade would see to that.

His eye fell to the blade at his side. He could feel the power emanating from it. The raw seething hatred that it was interrupted from its ritual. He would have to do something to sate it before it decided to feed itself. Which include a very painful situation for himself. Not that he would remember any of it. There were very few Yoshimitsu who were driven mad by their swords, but the legends of those men-turned-demon were all told as a warning to the new leaders. It was a truly terrible fate, one he did not intend to suffer. Which meant! Evil doers beware, the blade of Yoshimitsu craves your blood!

Speaking of cravings, Yoshimitsu was craving something to eat. Not because he was hungry, but because eating was fun. And you always had to eat while you traveled. Otherwise you get bored. You get bored, you allow evil to enter. Should evil enter then all oneness is lost. Therefore...eat to maintain oneness. It was vit-

Is that a fucking Yoshi?

Beneath a large, old tree with great overhanging branches and a massive treetop was a blue reptilian...thing. The eyes, they were impossibly large, like big white pools with black coals threatening to swallow everything they focused on. It was monstrous. And the flesh of this beast, it looked smooth and the blue. It was like the sky at the end of a sunset, when night began to take over. And that face. The jaw was round and bulbous. Its snout completely inefficient speaking from a biological standpoint as it skewed the vision of the large eyes. It wore giant boots. The boots of men. How in the world did it get men's boots? Did it murder someone and it wears the boots of its victims as trophies? And on its back...the red shell. Begging to be mounted and tamed like the beast it was.

I'm gonna ride that fucking Yoshi... He thought to himself as he snuck in closer.

Ahead of the wild beast dragon, in the midst of realizing the terrifying monster behind it, was a small bird. It looked to be a pheasant of sorts. It'd make a great meal...but he had a feeling the, he couldn't believe he was saying this, the Yoshi had laid claim to it. The look on his mask, the red cybernetic casing he had chosen as his “face”, changed from intimidating to bewildered. Right before his eyes, enhanced by the faces he wore, the creature opened its mouth quietly and slowly. It had the precision of the humble chameleon as its tongue whipped out in a blur, the large sticky end pulverizing the bird in the back of its head and snatching it back into its mouth. Just like that. It was gone. Eaten. By fucking Yoshi.

The look on its face expressed absolute joy and decadence. It was a monster of insatiable cruelty. A foul beast that destroyed life and relished in its terrible deeds. It was beautiful. It swung its arms back and forth and stomped its feet to the tune of a song only it heard. No doubt the music of sinister demons appeased its senses. He would tame this monstrous denizen and use it in his crusade against all it stood for. This agent of misery would betray its kind in this lawless 'Verse.

Yoshimitsu was about to make his move. But he hesitated. The beast was doing something else. Its large eyes closed, straining it seemed as its fists clenched tight. It lifted its booted leg as it forced a blue speckled egg out. A comical popping sound emanating as the egg rolled behind the bipedal reptile. Absolutely awful. But he wanted to eat that egg. It contained his pheasant he had been thinking of devouring. Or maybe it contained another Yoshi? He could make a chariot led by dragons. You command a lot of respect when you roll in on a chariot with two dragons leading it. Or he could force it to eat and create more eggs and he'd have an endless legion of deformed mutant dragons. Bitches love deformed mutant dragons.

With a loose branch in his hand that he cut with the katana known as Fumaken, a replacement to Yoshimitsu that all leaders forged, he crept closer to the stomping creature. Once he hit his target vicinity, the warrior leapt out from his cover, using the whip-like cutting to strike the stupid beat across its snout. It reeled in shock and pain, the eyes getting surprisingly larger, short hands failing to reach the small red mark as it did a new dance. A dance of pain. “Bakemono!” He shouted with fury as he landed with grace, knees bent as he crouched low, bounding up once more with a push from his legs. It was a short hop to mount the red shell on the beast's back, taking his loose branch and shoving it into its opened, crying maw, Yoshimitsu had successfully bridled the animal.

His mount shook and stamped its feet. It swayed its head, trying to get the branch out of its mouth. As a champion of all that is good and right, Yoshimitsu held tight to the makeshift reins and kicked the hell out of the struggling monster with his heels. It came down to endurance and who was more stubborn, a fight Yoshimitsu determined he had already won. The Yoshi stood there panting, relenting to its new master and standing solidly.

With a click of his tongue and small tug of the reins, the Yoshi moved forward. Slowly. A good ol' smack from his saya sped the reptile up. Excellent. This wicked beast has turned from its evil ways and was now an ally of karma. At once Yoshimitsu accepted his new partner. To show his gratitude he initiated conversation with his strange companion, however he didn't know if the dragon didn't care or just didn't understand Japanese. When did the language barrier ever stop two friends from bonding though?

[Yoshimitsu]

He talked about everything. Where he came from, what he did as the leader of the Manji Ryu, all his glorious exploits, what his world was like, the teachings of Buddha and all his virtues. The sun was high in the sky, the clouds were thick and white. At least they had been. By the time Yoshimitsu had talked himself until even he was bored, the moon was looming overhead, the sky was dark and the clouds were dirty gray. The castle no longer looked like a small toy set off in the distance, it now lay perhaps five miles from where the two travelers decided to break momentarily.

Poor little blue dinosaur was pooped. He plopped down under a tree as they still traveled through the forest. Yoshimitsu gently dismounted his companion and looked down at it, mask blank. The dragon looked up and made some strange noise that sounded like a child's toy having its squeaky lungs crushed with all your might. “Is that so?” The warrior asked in sympathy. Yoshi nodded and laid its head back down on the forest floor. Its mouth opened to allow its tongue to roll out, exaggerating just how tired he really was. “Aha...” Yoshimitsu chuckled and sat down in the lotus position. He planted his hands on his knees and exhaled very deeply. The beast had done its job well and listened to him for hours. At first he found it to be a terribly sinful abomination that should have stayed in the virtual world. Now he had the utmost respect for his new friend. The spirit of Yoshi would live on...

...In his stomach.

A small fire later, a swift decapitation and fabrication and Yoshimitsu was eating the dragon of childhood fancy. It tasted like whimsy and komodo dragon.

With a full stomach, Yoshimitsu could just lie back for the night and continue on in the morning. However it seemed fate was not a fan of that idea. In the distance he could plainly hear the clumsy footsteps of two men. In a flash the ninja hid himself in the tree he camped under. Crouched on a branch, hand on his katana, eyes watching vigilantly in the direction of the noise. He didn't know what kind of people inhabited this area aside from delicious dragons. As a master of the deceptive arts and holder of the title of shinobi, he would be highly embarrassed if someone got the drop on him. Instead he planned on being the one doing the dropping.

“The fire's still burning,” noted one of the voices, “whoever made it has to be close.” His iridescent eyes watched as the two poked around his small camp. He needed to be absolutely quiet. Stealthy. Unnoticeable. It was how a ninja would behave. All his training latched onto his reflexes and kept him on his toes.

“Well hopefully our camper isn't one of those insane Primes who like killing everything with a pulse...” The second man seemed a bit more scared than his partner. “If we're lucky, maybe he's one of the good ones that'll help us out.” Curious. These men didn't seem like evildoers. Perhaps this may be karma presenting itself for Yoshimitsu to do some good. In turn it might do him good later on in his journey. He had supposed that reaching the giant castle was just a step in his journey. Had he truly forgotten that life wasn't about the destination, but the journeys along the way? Ah, and he had spent so much time blathering about Buddha's teachings to his companion/meal. Embarrassing!

“Yoshimitsu the Most Excellent at your service!” He dropped from the tree, landing on one foot, other leg raised with hands in a defensive stance. Classic Yoshimitsu. However no one was in front of him. Just his fire and the tracks of two trespassers through his camp. The two had moved ahead. His intro was ruined. Classic Yoshimitsu.

After stamping out his flames and making sure it was dead, the warrior tightened his gear and ran off in the direction of the two scouts. They hadn't gotten too far ahead, apparently just enough to not hear Yoshimitsu enter the scene. Traipsing quietly, our intrepid hero front flipped in front of the men, landing once more in his trademark pose.

“Yoshimitsu the Most Excellent at your service!” He stated once more, the gleaming eyes from his mask watching their reactions intently. One was an archer by the arm guard and gloves. He didn't seem to be carrying the weapon at the moment, instead a small dagger rested in his belt. This one seemed to be the lead as his hand rest on the handle of the blade. The other had an actual sword at his side, body language surprised but not defensive. Clearly the follower.

They stood there in silence. Yoshimitsu got a cramp in his leg. God damnit, quake in fear already! They continued staring. Fine. They won. He put his leg down and stood like a normal human being. Boring, stiff, awkward. In turn the two relaxed and crossed their arms. “Keep your hands off your weapons and we'll keep our hands off ours,” Demanded the lead scout, lifting his hands and making the polite offer, “Are you looking to go to Minas Tirith? We could escort you.”

[Yoshimitsu]

“...Mi-na-su...chi-ri-su?” Yoshimitsu tilted his head as he tried sounding the strange name out. It was foreign and weird. “Whatever! I am the noble legendary Yoshimitsu, leader of the infamous clan Manji Ryu! Maybe you heard'a me?” He struck another pose, causing the two to twitch in reaction, almost reaching for their weapons. They exhaled deeply when all he did was hold the position, awaiting praise and commendations. Nothing.

“Man-gee righ-you? Can't say we have...” The pair looked to each other, confused. Yoshimitsu was sensing a pattern of language barriers here.

“Right, okay...” He quit the showmanship and took a few steps toward the men, arms crossed, “I'll go to your weird city, but please, don't hail me as some champion! I'm but a humble servant to Buddha. Put me to work oh mighty ambassadors!” He dropped to his knees in what was known as the seiza, prostrating himself before these two citizens. After a moment of silence, Yoshimitsu looked up, the bright eyes of the mask looking between the men.

“All right, all right, weirdo,” They leaned down and helped him up, “If you really wanna help us out, you can join the army. Hope your Buddha is fine with that.”

“Oh you wish to know the Divine Buddha?” Yoshimitsu followed behind the two as they walked back towards the dirt road that he had been trying to avoid this whole time. There was five miles from the camp site to the gates of the city. And for five miles Yoshimitsu did not shut up once about Buddha.

[Yoshimitsu]

So this Minas Tirith place was pretty sweet. Very olden and medieval. Yoshimitsi was into that kind of thing. Despite where he came from in the stream of time, he still had a fondness for tradition and history. However it wasn't historically accurate. This whole place read like a fantasy novel. Grandiose armor, flying horses (how come he didn't get a flying horse? All he got was a cartoony dinosaur that tasted delicious), ridiculous weapons and fantasy races. Even the room they provided at the inn smelled of JRPG. As such, he felt it was befitting that he ransack the room and line his pockets with every bit of scrap. Along with every room that he could sneak into. Nothing really of value, but that's what Key Items were for, right?

It took him a couple days to adjust to his surroundings. Enjoying the food, the people (the “ye olde” babes), the atmosphere, it was all new to him and he accepted it wholly. But never did he lose focus of his goals. The katana wouldn't let him. Whenever he began to relax, he could feel the sick pulsing hatred emanate from the sword, driving his mind to an utter cacophony of spliced thoughts ranging from skipping through fields of flowers to beheading everything he laid his eyes on. He managed to shake them off like one would shake off a mild headache.

He needed to get a move on. If he were to join this city in their goals for keeping citizens safe then he would be able to come across some sort of wicked soul. He could commit acts of altruism, present his purity to the blade in exchange for punishing the evil. He had to do whatever he could to keep the curse at bay, even if it meant playing peace officer for a while. The days he had in this room (while not plundering) were spent meditating. Meditating on how to make this adventure successful. How he could carry his curse without it consuming him. The day he presented himself to the captain was the day he knew he had to put away the ego, put away the act and become a strict follower of his traditional ideals. The leader of the Manji Ryu was a mystery, a warrior who used strange methods and techniques to further the position of the clan. Not just the mystical techniques, but psychological ones. Banter, jokes, impractical attacks or acting like he was a fool while calculating all his moves three steps ahead.

If he were to reach his goal without the curse getting out of hand and taking him over, then he had to let go of that and stay alert. Instead he would become the follower he once was before he was presented as the leader of the clan. When he was calm, lethal, but patient and kind. He would go out of his way to protect others rather than looking for glory and spreading the name Yoshimitsu. He would take seriously the warning of the curse, that evil must be punished or else his curse possess him to carry out a crusade against all who opposed it. He had been hoping this would be like any other game he played where the katana could just remain by his side as he journeyed. The psychic impressions made it clear the curse was going to take him if he didn't obey its hunger. It was sobering. But he was a wise man, he knew he couldn't rely on himself to overcome this.

“So why do you want to join the army?” He stood before an armored soldier in front of their barracks. People walked about. Some training. Some taking care of supplies. Blacksmiths and alchemists working their craft to keep their people prepared.

Why? Because he wanted to kill. He wanted the rotting, corrupted blood of thieves, murderers and deviants soaking into the steel of Yoshimitsu. He wanted to watch their heads roll, feel their organs pop as the blade punctured them, watch arteries explode in violent sprays and shower himself, the ground and Yoshimitsu. Feed the curse, sate it.

“I just want to help.” The eyes never changed, though the mask did put on a “happy” face, the skeletal mouth curling upward.

“You're starting out as a grunt,” Came the reply, a sense of cautious authority. He wasn't sure how he would react. The initial reaction was to cut him down. How dare he humiliate the powerful Yoshimitsu and reduce his worth to that of an ant! “-sleeping in the barracks, drills with the platoon, patrols. That sit well with you?” He was still unsure of telling a Prime what to do. Yoshimitsu nodded calmly.

“Whatever helps, friend.” With a steady hand that could have easily swung the blade at a lethal arc across the soldier's face, he patted him on the shoulder. “Just show me where I'm sleeping and I'll be up training.”

[Yoshimitsu]

Turns out training was before the sun was up. Like a good two hours. He hadn't been up that early since he was a young(er) man, training to master the finer arts of the Manji. He was tired and grouchy was an understatement. But that didn't translate at all on his mask. Unless you count the scrolling “zzz” that replaced his eyes. He wasn't sleeping, that would be rude. His mask was just a lot more advanced from the days of his predecessors. It was extremely high tech and was programmed to Yoshimitsu's usual antics.

“Wow...that mask is really crazy...” Oh boy, here comes the team bonding moment. The eyes snapped to a wide eyed expression, his head turning slowly to meet the gaze of the bearded soldier to his left. It made the guy chuckle a bit before snapping to attention as their captain appeared. It was a different man than the one he spoke to yesterday. A large, rotund man who, unsurprisingly, also had a beard. He peered cautiously forward to see the rest of this group. All men of varying ages with beards. He hadn't seen this many neckbeards since he had traveled to America for a mission back in his world.

A metallic clang rang through his head. He looked forward and saw the captain holding his heavy sword, the pommel used to bash Yoshimitsu in the head. He stood up straight, his digitized eyes narrowing to horizontal slits to show his disdain. Yoshimitsu reluctantly saluted the portly suuperior and stood to attention. “If we're all done bein' jackasses!” The captain glared back at Yoshimitsu, “We'll start with the morning routine! New guy gets to do double, bein' that he's a Prime and all.” He snorted and spat something large, green and amorphous at Yoshimitsu's boots. Rude.

His hip vibrated. He could feel the curse awakening. Kill him. Split the pig from groin to gullet. Let his guts fall out in front of his men. Slash any one of them that moves, especially the one that called him crazy.

“Yes, sir.” Yoshimitsu saluted once more and placed his hands behind his back, keeping his access to the katana limited. They all saluted and filed out, the new warrior following behind, hands still behind his back. The curse was displeased at being denied. But right now Yoshimitsu's mind was strong and focused.

“Don't forget,” He called after the departing company, “After the exercise, move out on the subterranean patrols! Maybe our new friend can get us deeper into those caves, bein' that he's a Prime and all.” The fat man laughed deep and hearty as the left for the training grounds.

Yoshimitsu took a few longer strides to the man who laughed at his mask, leaned in and whispered “I dislike that man.” Before he pulled back, his teammate shot back “Nobody does.” They marched on in silence until they reached their destination.

Their routine was so basic it made Yoshimitsu bored. Bored! He ran ten miles to their five and it was hardly a warm up. They sparred three rounds and rotated for another three until each member of the team took a turn, he sparred two on one for six rounds. Then dared them to come at him three at a time. The workouts were pathetic. Two hundred push ups and he couldn't help but polish off a nice even five hundred. As a monk, a warrior and a man who had been training and working on his mind and physique since before he was a teen, five hundred was a drop in the bucket. He kept pace while doing twice the work. It was sad. He felt degraded.

The whole routine took about two and a half hours. The sun was creeping over the mountain behind Minas Tirith when the lead of the company called everyone to fall in. They all lined up, Yoshimitsu keeping his hands behind his back once more. He didn't want an incident on his hands. “For the sake of being on the same page,” Yoshimitsu stepped forward, “What is this subterranean patrol?”

Eyes went downcast. Shoulders slumped. Heads turned.

“A few months now,” Yoshimitsu looked to the bearded (duh) soldier he was quickly becoming buddy cops with, he seemed to be the one strong enough to break their awkward silence. “We've had kidnappings, women, children, even some men. We've found traces of blood and clothes leading to this cave system outside the walls.

“We've been exploring them but we never get far. We hear this chanting and the walls start rumbling. I mean...we'd go in deeper but we don't know what's in there. Could be Primes or something. We just don't have enough man power to take something like that on.” The men all nodded in agreement. “We may not be Omni's favorite playthings, but we still have brothers, sisters, wives...children and we just can't let these...things terrorize our home.”

By the end of the briefing, Yoshimitsu could tell some of these soldiers had lost close ones. Omni was a cruel entity. These people were no different from him, but they couldn't even have the power to fight back against the beings he was bringing into his universe. But they felt everything all the same. That old righteous indignation welled up in his chest. He truly wanted to help these people.

“Mmm...” The thief stroked the chin of his mask, “You get me in that cave and show me where the commotion is coming from and I will personally see to it that no more of your people are kidnapped. You have my word on my honor.” He placed his hands at his hips, resisting the urge to cackle maniacally and dance. Let go of the ego. Follow the Divine Path. Be humble. It had been so long since he needed to remind himself of these things. Thankfully the men all cheered and danced for him, slapping him on the back and grabbing each other's arms and swinging around wildly. They didn't seem like bad people. Of course he never thought they were bad to begin with. Just...beneath him. My, my, how far he had fallen since becoming Yoshimitsu.

[Yoshimitsu]

“So you're saying this thing called karma rights wrongs and wrongs rights by divine intervention and judgment?” The men had all taken to Yoshimitsu's ramblings of Buddhism and by extension his knowledge of Hinduism very well. Far more appreciative than his riding partner turned delicious roast. They asked questions and strived to understand this foreign method of thinking. Yoshimitsu nodded in response to one of the younger men's observation.

“Yes, the world balances itself out and as long as we all strive to make the right choices, help our neighbor and go out of our way to be kind and generous, we receive good karma, good things happen to us in turn,” Everyone ooh'd and ah'd at this cosmic, yet simple revelation. “But if you're stingy and cruel and turn a blind eye then you can expect karmic intervention to reveal your true self by way of punishment!”

“Sounds like this Karma is a bitch...” Stated the leader of the seven man platoon. Some agreed, others gasped at the tenacity to speak so ill of another's belief. Yoshimitsu could only laugh. They didn't understand that where he came from, the phrase was the most repeated sentiment on the idea of karma. They all joined in the laughter as the caves came into view. It was quite a bit out of the way of the city, but if there were marauders stealing people then this was perfect to keep or kill victims. The laughter and conversation died. It was clear no one wanted to really be here.

“Let's make sure karma is a bitch to these guys,” Yoshimitsu broke their solemn moment, heading into the cave mouth first, a hand on his katana at his hip. If there were demons in this cave, he was going to slay them and finally begin feeding the curse. The rest followed cautiously with their leader right behind Yoshimitsu. All the men had swords of varying kinds. Claymores, broad swords, rapiers, all types. They were better armored than Yoshimitsu, though he bet none of them had a cybernetic arm or multi-layered helmets.

“So we've been here every couple days since we found the trail led here,” The captain was whispering as they navigated the damp, dark tunnels. Yoshimitsu's eyes could illuminate the dark, behind him one of the men lit a torch. It made it better for them, but barely. He could tell it was dim and the shadows from the jagged walls made things jump out and look exaggerated. “A lot of these passages intersect, we think if we follow them far enough, it'll lead to some center dwelling...”

Yoshimitsu nodded in acknowledgment. The careful steps, walking around puddles to avoid unnecessary sound, holding his breath between movements, it took a long while before he experienced the occurrences they had been talking about. It started low. Real quiet. But it carried. The chanting was rhythmic and steady. It felt like it was coming from all directions. How many tunnels had they passed? As much as he wanted to help, he also didn't want to walk into an ambush and get surrounded.

The cave walls began shaking. Rocks and debris began dropping and rolling around on the floor. Yoshimitsu pressed forward. “You hear that?” The mid line paused, causing Yoshimitsu to stop for them. “It sounds like...”

“-epal...Krb epal...”

The sounds were primal. The speech was low and inhuman. But they were human words. At least that's how it sounded. “It sounds like someone's gonna get their ass kicked, let's go!” Yoshimitsu whispered fiercely, signaling for his new band of brothers. They were looking to him to help out and he was going to do just that.

“Kreb...pe...epal...”

“It's getting louder...” They marched on, the eight of them. The tunnels grew wider. And wider.

“Krahbpe...epal...”

And louder. And wider.

“Krahb...peepal...”

Light. Not from his mask. Not from the torch.

“Krahb...peepal...”

The tunnels opened up to a wide cavern. Torches lined the dome like area. What was illuminated was so hilariously strange. Giant. Deep red. Armored. They stood on four legs with four arms. Only two of their arms were huge. Massive. They carried wicked looking vices. Large, flat heads with blank, black eyes. Their tails dragged along the ground, laying flat in tapered ends. They were...

“...Krahb...peepal...”

[Yoshimitsu]

Yeah, yeah. Crab people. They were big, icky, monstrous crab people. They had a slimy cave dwelling with water dripping in large puddles. There were little mud holes where he could tell they slept. And in the center, where the group stood and shuffled about, he could see bones and clothing. That was all he needed in the way of evidence. They were already disgusting abominations that deserved to be slaughtered, but now. Now he could let the katana spill blood. Or whatever these things held under their tough shells.

“Th-that's my wife's...dress...” It was his good buddy who laughed at his mask. He didn't know his name. Didn't know any of their names. It made it easier in case any of them died. Which made him feel horrible. He would have to address that after today.

But first.

“All you can eat crab buffet!” Yoshimitsu unsheathed the cursed blade, letting it fly from the saya. Over the years the katana Yoshimitsu underwent very different incarnations. From being forged by the demon sword smith Muramasa, giving away a blade of unimaginable terror that the clan stole in a raid. All the way down to melting it down and re-smithing it into a new blade every few decades. Thousands of years down the road, Yoshimitsu held a blade of purple glow, a handle made from highly polished material. Most of the technology that surrounded the metal blade amplified the power of the curse. Not once did his clan try to suppress the evil within the katana, but sought to make it stronger. More effective. It came with the caveat: Kill the wicked or suffer the curse of the blade Yoshimitsu.

He leapt through the cave tunnel and into the dwelling. Normally he would use both Fumaken and Yoshimitsu in unison, but not today. It was all about feeding the curse. Startled and slow, the first few members of the crowd turned their attention to the whirling dervish that was Yoshimitsu. With a jump and a spin, the savage warrior for peace swung the ethereally glowing blade and ripped through the abdomen of the first monster. It wasn't a perfect cut like it normally would have been, but applying a little extra force from his left arm (robo-arms for the win) sliced straight through. Thick oozing substance leaked all over the front of the monster, the hole spreading horizontally. Bringing the blade back, Yoshimitsu thrust it forward, kicking the oni down onto its back and skewering it like a kebab. It must have roused his new team of warriors as they all yelled and charged in. His icy blue LEDs watched the life drain from his prey, its inky blood seeping into the katana.

The images and thoughts went away. Euphoria. Enlightenment. He was whole once more. The picture of that fountain popped in his head. The fountain from the all white room Omni had placed him in. It was tranquil. It stirred up emotions of ambitions. There was an impossible goal to attain. And there were hot chicks everywhere. He would attain this paradise. This ascension. It would be his one way or another.

“Hey...hey!” Yoshimitsu looked up from the limp body to see the slaughtered remains of the subterranean crustacean humanoid to see his crew had taken out the rest. Not a scratch on them. They did good. He was mildly impressed. Granted there had been maybe five of the creatures and they didn't move very quickly it seemed. He withdrew the katana from the corpse and inspected it. Bone dry, humming at a low, even pitch. It was fed. For now.

“You are avengers today.” Yoshimitsu put a boot on the dried husk of the demon, sheathing the katana as he addressed the scattered soldiers, “I may have helped you guys, but these were your families, friends and neighbors, this was your victory.”

They all cheered and patted each other on the shoulder. Some men hugged. One thing they all did was cry. These foul monsters terrorized each and every one of these soldiers. He felt like he used to when he was younger. Like he actually did something that mattered. It wasn't about being The Yoshimitsu, it wasn't about furthering the Manji Ryu, it wasn't putting on a show. It was doing the right thing. He put down evil and helped those around him. It felt...good.

“Let's get out of here, men!” The captain strapped his sword back into his belt, “We'll have good news to tell everyone when we get back!” All the men gave one last cheer as they left the way they had all come in together. “You comin', samurai?” Yoshimitsu looked at the lead. He shook his head slowly.

“I want a moment alone with these...things.”

[Yoshimitsu]

Once he couldn't hear their footsteps anymore and the light from their torches left long, dark shadows with no flickering lights he moved from the corpse he stood over. Bringing out the katana once more, he went to each cut open or run through body and added his own piercing blade to their carcasses. He watched with morbidly blank eyes as the sludge black blood crept up the glowing sword. That brilliant sense of euphoria hit him like a gentle ocean wave. Ebbing into darkness, flowing into tranquility. Flowing until the image of the fountain came back. Watching the koi leap from the pool and hit the water fall, struggling and pushing to scale it. The naked women rolling over and bathing their supple bodies in sun light. It was beautiful. He was in this ascended state and he didn't want to leave it. He almost didn't hear...

“...pepal...Krahb...pepal d-did...”

His mask looked down at the last of the creatures. A shape like a mouth below the flat head moved. It was still alive. Kill it. Drain it. Feed the curse.

“D...did naht do...this...”

“What?” Yoshimitsu narrowed his eyes, the mask narrowing them in response.

“Krahb...pepal...enno...sinnt...”

“You expect me to believe that, oni?!” Yoshimitsu snorted at the monster, “What did? Mole People?!”

But the monster did not get a chance to reply as it passed. Its body collapsing into death. With a huff, Yoshimitsu fed his blade and watched the blood drain out of the demon. It mattered not. The blade drank the blood so they had to be evil, right? All he had to do to keep the curse at bay was spill the blood of evil and it would be sated. Clearly these kani oni were demonic and deserved this fate.

He left the cave, but god damnit if he didn't hear chanting even deeper in the caves.

“Mohll...pay...pel...eet...krehb...pay...pel...”

[Yoshimitsu]

He decided to ignore it. He did his good deed for the day. Karma would understand. The men were outside of the cave, waiting for Yoshimitsu. Light was nice to see once more. It was good to be in the light rather than the evils that existed in that cave. They all patted him on the back and they soldiered on back to the barracks. Every time they asked him why he hung back, all he could say was he needed to make sure they were at peace for the afterlife. In a way, he wasn't lying. Purifying them of their wicked blood helped them in the after life. Or so he liked to believe.

The sun was setting in a brilliant radiance of reds, yellows and oranges by the time the platoon returned. They all were exhausted from their battle, but he could tell they were finally free of some kind of demon that sat on their backs. It was this respite that made Yoshimitsu decided he wouldn't let them know about the creature's last words and what he heard as he left that cave. He would just have to go back and take care of it himself. He just hoped whatever lived deeper underground had seen the carnage and would be scared off for a while. They deserved the break. And so did he.

The captain of the army he met that morning was waiting for them as they returned. He allowed the leader of the platoon to debrief the superior as he stood with the group. It wasn't his story, it wasn't about his glory. It was theirs. Though by the end of it, Yoshimitsu did have to point out one thing. Breaking rank, he met the fat captain face to mask.

“Not bad for bein' a Prime and all that, hm?”

He left for the barracks to rest while the rest of his small team let out great big, belly shaking laughs. The commander was not as amused, but did relent, “If he sticks around...he's gonna fit in.”

[Yoshimitsu]

Yoshimitsu didn't sleep. Not in the normal way at least. His mind was alert as ever while his body rested. Meditation met lucid dreaming. In his own world he played out the day's details. Meeting his new team, finding out who lost whom to the infestation of monsters from a cave outside of the city. He could recall their faces perfectly, their voices and mannerisms. They were good men. The scenes of the cave played over and over. For all his bravado and conviction, something didn't sit right with his actions. History told him inhuman things were evil. All the tales and legends passed from generation to generation were deeply ingrained in his collective family. Tradition was what kept them strong. It made them act without hesitation. So why did this feel so wrong? He couldn't wrap his conscious mind around it so he let the subconscious take over.

He saw himself as one of the creatures. Only they weren't the monstrous Crab People they had fought. They were just lobsters and crabs. Tiny, insignificant ocean dwellers. As one of these animals he saw giant boots and overwhelmingly black cloak moving toward him. Straining the antennae he could see the violently red face of the man with a sword. Emotionless blue lights drew closer. It became frightening. A monster came at him. Scared, he backed away, using the language of his kind to warn the others to run. Before the message could get out, a mighty foot squashed him. His hardened shell crumbling under the weight of the calloused beast. And suddenly he was in another body.

He watched as his own body stomped and flattened and smeared the body all over the cave floor. Laughter and shouts rang like thunder in the distance. The small body of the crab turned to see more freakish giants running toward his family. He tried scuttling away but found he was trapped. Predators cornered him as they slaughtered everyone else. Brothers and sisters all crying out before being silenced forever. It was tragic. Heartbreaking. Yet he felt no anger. Just pity and terror. And then he felt nothing at all as heavy metal weapons struck him and cleaved him to pieces.

But there he was watching the carnage from another body. This one fading in and out of this world and into the next. In the back of his primal brain he could hear the voice of his enemies. Not the ones who ambushed his group, but the ones they had been struggling against for so long that it was instinct to hate and fear their scent. They laughed and sneered. Their disgusting whiskers and sharp teeth twitching as they watched from the darkness. All this time they had tried everything to stay safe from these masters of shadows and yet they simply sent giants to destroy them. They just wanted to survive this world, but here they were, dying. Things kept fading to reality, where the red faced demon was taking the spirits of his kin, ensuring they would never find peace in whatever after life existed for arthopods. The sound of ogre steps got louder and louder until one bent antenna could see the monster standing over him. He had to let this thing know of the true danger. The real enemy. Maybe they would mercilessly kill the predators as they were.

Yoshimitsu's eyes flashed to life. Alert and sober, he sat up from his cot. The sounds of snoring was all around him. The eyes manually blinked as they adjusted to the lack of light. He knew what he had to do. Not only for his own peace of mind, but for the sake of this city. He made a grave mistake, one that would certainly disturb his soul. But not like it would if he didn't keep his promise to put an end to the abductions. The warrior would protect the people, he would atone for the murder of the Crab People and punish the evil of the Mole People. And he would do it alone. The way he always did things.

The night sky provided enough light for him to navigate back to the caves on his own. It was dim, but then again, so was he. His shame was complete and his beliefs wouldn't allow him to make excuses. What he had done was kill innocents. Even if he didn't believe that inhuman creatures were entirely innocent, he still hadn't witnessed any wrongdoing and had immediately executed them for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Which led him to some scary questions he had about his weapon that did all the killing. If they were innocent...why did the curse take their blood and give way to hibernation? His katana was supposed to only feed off wicked spirits. That mystery unnerved him slightly. But it was one he would have to solve at another time. If he allowed his own injustice to exist without correction then he would be deserving of the full effect of the curse. He needed to assure his own purity first.

He saw the caves in the distance. And in front of the cave mouth they had entered, he saw a small group of dark figures carrying something. They definitely weren't the Crab People. These creatures were small, hunched over. They had long limbs and looked naked. Nothing like the large armored and slow beasts he had seen earlier that day. And what they were carrying looked like a child. Helpless, squirming, crying in a muffled voice. If he had left all of this alone then there would be a murder on his hands. It paid to meditate on your actions, as ugly as some of those actions ay be.

Quietly he followed the strange beings into the cave system. They had about five minutes on him, but there was no chance they could escape. The soft sounds of the child were echoing gently through the tunnel, giving Yoshimitsu an audible trail to follow. He silently drew the cursed blade Yoshimitsu from its protective saya, the deep purple glow becoming a valuable light source as he walked through the cavern. The blue lights from his mask allowed him to see just as well as the first time, but the poisonous plume of color gave him visibility a few feet ahead. No surprises were coming his way.

They scurried through all the tunnels they had already gone through. Which meant coming across the break in the tunnels where the Crab People had been killed. Yoshimitsu had found the clothes and bones of the victims there. Would the Mole People (yes, seriously, the Mole People) use the same room or would they avoid the carcasses? If that area had been their killing floor or whatever they used it for, then Yoshimitsu had to hang back a little farther so he could assess the situation. Watch them for a moment to see how many were together, how they moved so he could plan an attack, make sure there wouldn't be more forces to contend with. He wasn't going to allow anymore mistakes.

He stalled behind a rock formation, katana held to his side to hide the dark light. The sounds of the child carried down the tunnel where he listened for any sounds of harm. Instead he heard the unbelievably irritating chanting of the Mole People, repeating over and over as they spoke their names. Their victim sounded like whatever had gagged their mouth was taken off, his cries for help echoing through the halls of the cave. It was time to move in. Yoshimitsu stepped lightly, moving toward the noises. Removing Fumaken from the sheath on his back, the battling monk stood in the inner cave's entrance, both weapons at the ready. He couldn't allow there to be any more victims.

The Mole People were all scrawny, lithe trolls. Saggy skin, emaciated muscles, blank white eyes and long dirty claws. He was more grossed out than enraged, but both feelings were enough to spur him into action. Their disgusting wrinkled faces twitched as they smelled the air. The group looked in his direction, giving Yoshimitsu a second to count the six of them. Six Mole People and one child. He rolled his neck and shrugged his shoulders. It'd been a while since he was in a fight like this.

Leaping with great muscular strength, Yoshimitsu came close to hitting the looming cave ceiling as he ascended. The Mole People hissed and dropped the child as they tried tracking the man who was interfering with their plans. Yoshimitsu used Fumaken in his left hand, his wrist spinning rapidly to hover him directly over the group. Moving the make-shift helicopter blade in front of him, the swordsman used the rush of air to fall into a front flip, bringing both katanas down into a heavy slamming strike on whatever poor bastard was in his way. Fumaken severed someone's right arm while the bright purple katana cut deep in another's left thigh. Both squealed in reaction as the other four backed away. His left arm bent impossibly at the elbow to slash backwards, ripping open the Mole Man along his ribs to his abdomen. In the same cut, his right slipped out of the leg wound and ran the other Mole Man through the stomach. Both dropped trying to hold their bodies together.

He felt a claw on his back, the long black coat threatening to tear away. Yoshimitsu held Fumaken close to his chest, the cursed blade out straight. On one foot he spun around, cutting the hand off of his attacker. Pushing off once more he spun again, faster, ripping open the chest. Another revolution, splitting the collarbone in half. One more time, violet energy running right through the beast's temple. His bright LEDs evolved into spinning swirls as Yoshimitsu stumbled around. The room was taunting him, going around in circles. He felt everything in his stomach turning on him. He was too old for this shit.

The Mole People saw an opening, the remaining three pouncing on their confused target. Only Yoshimitsu had already dropped onto his back, watching the ceiling melt into a mess of naked Mole Men jumping overhead. It was like a twirling kaleidoscope of shadows, pale skin and wrinkled dicks.

Rolling onto his side, his left hand helped push him to his knees. Everything came back into focus as he reached for his weapons. He grabbed them in time for the last three to jump him successfully. Claws struck his mask, harmlessly clawing at him as Yoshimitsu was thrown onto his back. He felt one of the gross bastards biting his leg, the other trying to pry Fumaken from his hand. Unlucky for that one, Fumaken was always in his left, his robotic arm. He rotated his forearm and cut through the Mole Man, rolling over the body. His foot kicked the one gnawing on him, nailing it in the jaw. Yoshimitsu popped up onto one leg, both swords held defensively. He rocked his head from side to side. Put his foot back down on the ground, raising both swords overhead. His torso leaned forward, bending at the hip, hands and swords touching the ground. One leg went up, the second following as he went into a handstand.

Of course the Mole Men couldn't quite see this trick, but they could tell he was in one spot and not moving. The last two ran at their attacker who rolled forward into a somersault, swinging both blades right into the monsters, piercing their soft naked flesh and running them through completely. Victory.

Yoshimitsu stood and slaked the blood from his weapons, returning them to their respective sheaths. He inspected each of the bodies to make sure they were either dead or on their way to whatever hellish creator they belonged to. He didn't show them the mercy of putting them out of their misery. He was more worried about the child who was curled up behind a stalagmite. It was a small boy in blue pajamas who was tired from all the screaming and crying. Yoshimitsu crouched to get on his level, the child eventually looking at his mask. The eyes alternated from small to wide, rolling from corner to corner and turning into stars. The kid smiled just a bit. That's all he needed.

“Hey grasshopper,” He said quietly, extending his hand, “Those gross things are gone now. We should get you home to bed.” The boy nodded and stood up, hugging to the stalagmite, still not sure of this new stranger.

“My name's Yoshimitsu,” He offered, waddling closer to the boy with his hand still reaching out, “I'm with the army here, I help keep you guys all safe.” Finally the boy let go of the rock formation and grabbed onto his hand. The eyes of his mask lit up and expressed his joy. The two began walking out of the cave with Yoshimitsu telling jokes and making the boy laugh. Between their laughter, his eyes scanned the expansive room. Amidst the bleeding dead bodies of the Mole People, Yoshimitsu could see that the Crab People were still lying there. Only instead of their intact bodies, he saw gutted out shells. Well. They did say they were going to “eet Krehb Paypel”.

He returned the boy home before dawn. His name was Martin and his mother and father were very excited to see him home and safe. Yoshimitsu was given praise and thanks for being vigilant and courageous to take on foul creatures on his own. The mother even gave him a kiss on the cheek, making his eyes flash into big blue digitized hearts. City patrol escorted Yoshimitsu back to the barracks so they could let the captains know where their recruit had been. Of course Yoshimitsu didn't stick around for that boring stuff. He wanted to sleep. They allowed him to hit the cot and rest. At least until it was time to get up for drills again.

Really he wanted to reflect. He had been caught up in making sure the child was safe that he didn't get to sweep the area. Was the threat truly over? Did killing more things equal to a cleared conscience for killing innocent beings? How could he possibly repent? This felt beyond the scope of the teachings passed on to him since childhood. Which meant he had to forge his own path. Make his own rules for these matters. At least he had principles and precepts to apply to life. Like with any unjust crime, he could work towards setting the wrong right. He would make sure the Crab People were honored in some way. He wasn't quite sure how, but a thought form entered his mind. But it had to grow. Build into something logical. He'd visit the idea again when he knew what he wanted to do. But he would not forget the innocent Crab People. He couldn't let his self righteous attitude make choices for him again.