Prologue

[??? POV]

The air was thick with a sense of foreboding as I continued to follow the trail left by the targets. The landscape around me was eerily quiet, and the only sound that broke the silence was the rustling of leaves in the wind. I couldn't help but shiver as I crouched down to examine the trail, my hand tracing the outline of what appeared to be horse hooves.

'A total of twelve prints… the trail is dry, so it seems to be around a day ago that they went this way.'

My heart sank as I deduced this information.

'The impression in the earth is quite deep, they must have carried a lot of stuff… they were prepared then… they had a target… damn these warlords!!'

With a heavy heart and haste to my steps,I continued to follow the tracks, my footsteps echoing in the stillness of the forest. The trail seemed to lead to a nearby village, the supposed 'target'. I feared that I might already be too late to prevent whatever tragedy had befallen the villagers.

And I was right to have that feeling.

As I emerged from the dense forest, I was greeted by a haunting sight. The village lay in ruins, with not a single house left intact. The air was heavy with the stench of death, and my heart ached as I saw the lifeless bodies strewn about, each one a victim of unimaginable brutality.

Some men had met a swift but gruesome end, their heads amputated to spare them from further suffering. Others had been left to bleed out against the walls, their limbs cruelly severed. My eyes followed the direction of their gaze, and I felt a deep sense of dread wash over me as I beheld the horror that had befallen the women and children.

Naked and lifeless, they lay in a grotesque tableau of violence. Their throats had been ruthlessly cut, and whip marks marred their fragile bodies. The brutality of the scene left me sickened and shaken to my core. This was the grim reality of wartime, a scene all too familiar to those who had witnessed the depths of human cruelty.

I couldn't help but curse the darkness that had descended upon this once-vibrant village, as only a few months prior I visited this same village. At that time, I was met with happy smiles and laughing children running around the well.

My heart filled with a mixture of grief and sorrow. But as a god of war, I have seen these scenes all too much.

But still, even for me this was too gruesome and only the most malevolent of forces could have wrought such destruction. Not even respecting the victims of the war they fought for their supposed 'war-lord'.

I systematically moved through the southern part of the village, where lifeless bodies lay strewn about, their once-warm expressions now frozen in terror and pain. Limbs and gore littered the streets, a strong testament to the cruelty of those responsible.

After my search didn't bear any fruit in the northside my steps followed the path towards the town-center.

After arriving there I entered the village elder's home, I couldn't help but entertain the thought of finding some overlooked valuables amidst the wreckage. It may have seemed heartless to some, but in a world stained with violence, I had grown numb to others' opinions.

My curiosity led me to a crimson puddle in the backyard, and though I knew what I would find, I couldn't help but investigate.

There lay the village elder, his life cruelly extinguished with a stab wound to the jugular. Nearby, a young man shared a similar fate, his body mutilated as if a sadistic hand had toyed with his insides, mirroring the elder's grief-stricken expression.

Turning to the opposite side of the pool, my eyes fell upon a young woman, her torment exceeding even the horrors I had witnessed before. Her broken fingers and contorted limbs told a nightmarish tale of torture. Her body bore the marks of unimaginable cruelty, and the very sight of her desolation sent shivers down my spine.

'The woman… seems to be the village elder's granddaughter… And the man seems to be her Fiancé then. How heartless these heathens must be to commit such atrocious acts.' I thought with an outsiders gaze, not feeling any intense emotion but only pity to the victims.

I averted my gaze and stared into the crimson reflection in the pool. My own reflection, with black eyes and traditional attire, served as a stark reminder of the life I led in this unforgiving world. My katana, ever at my side, stood as a testament to the violence that I was sometimes forced to wield as a god of war.

After staring a bit into my mirror self, I went back into the house, continuing my search inside.

And after a while, I finally found something of value. A bag of valis hidden within a fake floor tile in what had once been a master bedroom.

As I retrieved the bag, I couldn't help but think of the potential uses for the valis it contained. In a world plagued by violence and uncertainty, these coins could serve as a means to procure supplies, support for the orphanage that I and Tsukuyomi were running.

Now with the bag of valis secured, I continued my search, with a heavy heart and a sigh of sorrow. Fearing once again that there were no survivors left alive.

My steps continued, leading me northward.

As I was looking through the destruction of the north, almost losing all hope of finding anyone. I finally heard something.

"*Hiccup* Mom… *Hiccup*Dad…"

The faint whimpers of a child, amidst the desolation of the north side of the village, shattered the oppressive silence that had enveloped me.

Without hesitation I sprinted towards the source of the sound, not paying any more attention to the corpses I pass by.

As I arrived at the collapsed building from which the sounds emanated, it was clear that it had suffered the same fate as the rest of the village—utter destruction. The child's sobs grew louder, and I couldn't bear to let them linger in the rubble any longer.

With urgency, I began to clear away the debris, my hands working swiftly to uncover the child.

"*Hiccup* Mom… Why*Hiccup*"

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I removed the rubble and uncovered a hidden floor tile the sound originated from.

And within revealing a small child no older than three years old.

The child was curled up, clutching what seemed to be two pair of swords, one visibly larger than the other. And upon seeing it, I immediately knew what kind of weapon it was—a daishō.

A daishō is a pair of swords. One is the 'daitō' meaning longsword, which is just your typical katana, while the other 'shōtō' meaning short sword which was typically a wakizashi or a tanto.

The boy's features came into focus as the sunlight washed over his face, revealing short dark green hair and bright emerald eyes that were slightly red and swollen as evident by the small tears and the occasional hiccup. His chubby cheeks hinted at his tender age.

Nearby, I noticed a book. But that was of little relevance at this moment as I put my attention back to the boy in front of me.

After examining the boy from afar and seeing that he has no visible injury, I finally said.

"It's okay, I'm here to help you." I spoke to him in a soft and gentle voice as I put my hand out towards him

The boy looked wary at first and then asked.

"…My mom said not *Hiccup*... not to trust anyone." He stated while clutching the pair of swords more tightly towards his chest. More tears threatening to leak out. But strangely he didn't seem to be repulsed by my action.

"Yes, your mother's words are wise." I affirmed, retracting my hand to show respect for his wariness.

It was good that the boy is cautious. As for all he knew I could be the enemy. But it also makes it harder to let him trust me.

"Well then, why don't we start with introductions. My name is Takemikazuchi. Me and some a friend run an orphanage further down south. So, what is your name?"

"Takemikazuchi? As in *Hiccup*… the god of war?" The child asked with a confused look and started to calm down.

'Hmm? This child seems to be quite knowledgeable.' I thought with a smile.

"Yes, that's right child. So, what is your name." I asked once again with a soft tone.

After collecting himself and hesitating a little the child finally spoke.

"… Nagisa."

"… No last name?" I asked him another question, confused on why he didn't say his last name.

"…No … I don't remember." He said while shaking his head

"Well, then... will you come with me?" I asked while extending my hand to Nagisa once again.

And after a myriad of emotions flashed through Nagisa as if he had countless idea's running through his head, he readily accepted my hand and I helped him get out of the cramped room.

And after helping him out, I also retrieved the book and on closer inspection it seemed to be a martial manual using the daishō.

'It seems to be a family technique.' I thought to myself as I skimmed over the pages. I then looked at the front in hope of maybe finding out the child's last name but the book was too withered to make out anything out of it.

But still, it was a small piece of Nagisa's heritage that he could carry with him, a reminder of his past.

After inspecting the book, I turned towards the boy.

'The escapees would already have arrived at their base or close to it at this point…'

"Ready to leave?" I asked him to which he replied.

"…Yeah." Nagisa readily replied.

And then we headed southwards, towards the orphanage, to the center of this war-torn island.

.

But not even ten minutes after departure…

*GRUMBLE*

It seems that we need to make a little stop for the growing boy.

.

.

a/n

words: 1716

(takemikazuchi)

(Daishō)