[center][h3][b][color=mediumpurple][ K Y O ][/color][/b][/h3]
[u][b]Haruki (春樹) Province[/b][/u]
[i]Beginning of A Long Road[/i]
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[img= 920, 540]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/935994562026016780/990687900796583976/unknown.png[/img][/center]

A region that truly embodied the bounty of the land, forests and fertile ground filled Haruki Province. Such abundance meant that they supplied many of the other regions with food as the "Rice Bowl of Tenkai." Their abundance also allowed them to invest in luxuries, leaving its people better off than most--or, at least, that was what the tiny brush strokes in the corner of the map said. Truth be told, such abundance brought problems of its own to this lush land--such as the unscrupulous sorts who would gorge themselves on Haruki's horn of plenty.

"Hmmm...I must've walked several more miles by this point. Am I on the right road?" [url=https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/935994562026016780/990693364041142332/tumblr_lj01novlb81qesq64o1_1280.jpg]The young man[/url]--tall, handsome in feature, wearing robes and, most telling of his status, a sword--folded the map and placed it back into the inner lining of his kimono. His eyes were sharp, but bright, both young and intelligent. Despite his doubts he continued along the path.

"Too far to turn back now, I suppose..."

Yet not long after he said this, he rounded a bend in the path. On the other side of a steep hill, thick with trees and underbrush, the dirt road came to a sudden obstruction--a fallen tree, still clinging to its stump by a splintered sliver of trunk. The young man narrowed his eyes even further, for this was no misfortune of weather or age. The axe embedded in the stump had an edge that still gleamed.

"Ahh, sorry bout that, Young Master!" A rough voice guffawed. Atop the tree sat a large man, his plain robes girded up around his fat, hairy legs. His forearms bristled equally with muscle as well as fuzz, and his balding head held a smile minus a few teeth. "But the road's closed! Ya can't come this way!"

"It's no problem." The youth's hands dropped to his sides--the boor reached for the handle of his axe. But the noble-faced lad didn't touch his own weapon after all, and the thug relaxed. "I can simply go around."

"Gehahaha!" The ruffian dropped down from his perch and pulled the axe free, tapping its shaft across his shoulders. "'Fraid not, brat."

At that, more men appeared. One from either side of the fallen tree, blocking the roundabout. Two more stepped out onto the road behind their target, and yet another closed in from his left. The youth did not look at any of them--instead, he glanced up toward the hill on his right, and sniffed the air.

"Pretty smart, ain'tcha? Yep, we got an archer or three up there." The first bandit stepped forward and hacked a glob of phlegm into the dust. "An' forgive my rudeness, [i]young master[/i], but you don't look like one o' them prodigies what can take ten men without a scratch. So why don't ya lay down that sword...and yer purse...and them clothes, too?" With every moment the group closed in, until one of the two at his flank made to grab the young man's arm and pull him down--

"Wh...what the hell?" The bandit grabbed him with the other hand as well, and yanked as hard as he could. The youth didn't budge. "H-he's s'damn heavy, what gives!?"

"Are you guys the ones calling themselves the Bloody Wolves Gang?" asked the cool youth. But those sharp, bright eyes had changed--their corners perked with glee, just like the smirk on his face that grew wider every moment. The leader froze for a half-moment, then raised his axe.

"Kill 'em!"

A club, a heavy butcher's knife, and a stolen sword all swung at one time. The young man burst into laughter--and flame. A purple, magical blaze sprang from his skin, consuming his entire form in seconds. The clash of steel rang out. As the smoke cleared, the bandits saw their weapons caught among rows of spiked iron studs...and with ever mounting horror, craned their necks as the muscular, black-and-white skinned arm flexed its clawed grip on a red, cloth-wrapped haft.

"I'm hungry, so if you let me have one of those cows you've been rustling, I [i]might[/i] let one of you sorry bastards [i]live[/i]!" roared the [url=https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/895368216371691534/921611495492681748/BBSSpirit_Society_Zangetsu.png?width=1197&height=572]Demon[/url]. With three whistle-thumps, three feathered shafts seemed to sprout from one alabaster shoulder. The Oni let out an enraged shout and brought his enormous club down right on top of an assailant. The other two jumped back, but as their companion's body was driven to the ground, his head no longer resembled anything recognizable as a human. The crimson spray spattered the Oni's pale face, and a long tongue snaked out to lap it up.

"Make that [i]two[/i] cows."

Screams and bestial roars echoed through the forest...