Prolouge
The rainfall was loud and harsh as I ran along the path, the thousands of drops of water making the dirt trail muddy. Still I ran, ran as fast and as far as I could. He was right behind me. If he caught up, I was dead.
The path swerved this way and that, branching off at random intervals, leading off to other areas. There was a chance that he lost me, going down the wrong path, but I doubted it. He had a habit of finding me.
Soon the path ended, stopping at a large pond in front of a waterfall. It may have looked deep, but I knew the surface was just below the water. The place where the waterfall crashed was a massive opening that led underground. The water that didn't follow collected up here where, if you stood on it, it looked like you were walking on water.
To some, it was beautiful. To me, it was a grave.
‘At least I'll die somewhere pretty,’ I thought, but it didn't console me much. I walked into the water, shivering for but a moment at the cool of its touch. The rainfall held no signs of letting up, which was fine by me. I was about to die anyways.
“Finally stopped running huh?” I turned and saw my pursuer, standing a few feet away from me. He held two katanas in his hands, and his eyes held an evil glint.
“Figured I'd just face my death instead of running from it forever,” I replied turning to face him. “So, you gonna kill me?”
“Not yet.” He tossed me one of the swords and I caught it. I unsheathed it a little, peering at the black colored blade underneath. The sword of shadow that was my birthright. Yakan.
“Night,” I said, translating the name. “I'm guessing that means you've got Hiruma?”
“What else would I use?” he asked, unsheathing the pale white weapon.
“Kind of ironic you're using that sword, considering your intent.” I pulled Yakan from its confines, the katana making a high pitched noise as it was removed.
Hiruma and Yakan, the twin blades passed down by my family from generation to generation. The two katanas had been in our family for longer than could be remembered. How they were made, and what they were made of was a complete mystery, one no one had bothered to investigate. All we knew was that our family had always had them, passing them down from one son to the next. When my brother and I were born, our father gave me Yakan.
My brother, the insane man in front of me, received Hiruma.
“It's my birthright to wield this blade,” he replied, “just as it is yours to wield that one.”
“Tch, yeah, which was something you were always jealous of.”
“For generations, the eldest son would receive both swords. The fact that our bastard father decided to change things shows he wasn't worthy to lead our family.”
“And you think you are?”
“The one that wields the blades is the one to lead our family. By killing you, I'll be the only one that fits that description!”
“Oh yeah? And what about the many other lives you ended just to get to me?”
“Necessary casualties.” I growled in anger.
This murderer, this madman, had taken the lives of people that I cared about in his effort to hunt me down. I was going to make him pay before I left this earth.
I lowered my blade, and charged.