Kwannon explains that the Kodoshigisha were charged with the protection of the Shinwa Taizen. Then, when the black ships forced open the borders of Japan bringing with it new thoughts, new ideas, and several Kodoshigisha members began dreaming of an ancient scroll and wrote down what they dreamt. Scholars within the Kodoshigisha began studying them and realized that they might be fragments of the Shinwa Taizen. In their haste, they opened up the boxes and discovered that there was nothing there – the Shinwa Taizen had been destroyed over a thousand years ago. They concluded, wrongly, that these new scrolls must be something else of incredible power and vowed to study it further.
When the waves of nationalism rose in Japan and the country began to reclaim what they saw as their birthright, Kodoshigisha and other mages decided that they must do their part. Mages infiltrated key government positions and secretly used their magic to help the Japanese war effort. Most of these mages were part of a secret part of the government known as Unit 731.
As Japan conquered China, they began to sense opposition from the Western powers. It was deemed necessary that to avoid defeat at the hands of the west, they would need the awesome power those scrolls would give to them. The Masters knew by this time, that the scrolls were Abyssal in nature, but it was decided to use them anyway. They wrongly believed they could control the entity once it was summoned.
So, Unit 731 shipped the Shinwa Taizen to Nanking, rounded up hundreds of thousands of people and began the ritual to summon the powerful entity. But no demon came out of the maelstrom. No spirit arose to greet them. They were not prepared for what was to come. Instead of a being, Nanking itself began to change. Nanking began to warp into a soulless, twisted version of itself. Buildings that were once made of wood and brick, changed into buildings of bone and blood. Instead of flags fluttering above government offices, banners made of human skin waved their bloody hand toward their masters. Finally, the remaining citizens of Nanking began changing into bloodthirsty Bakemono whose only desire was to eat the flesh of others and “devour their history” of those who do not share their predilection for cannibalism.
To make matters worse, the mages of Kodoshigisha began to have the urge for human flesh and some succumbed attacking their fellow mages tearing chunks of flesh and gore from their bodies with their teeth and bare hands. The Masters of the Kodoshigisha tried dispelling their own spell and closing the portal to the Abyss, and although successful, the damage had been done. Hundreds of thousands were dead and the Kodoshigisha had determined that in their hubris they had failed in their mission.
In their shame, the Masters of the Kodoshigisha committed seppuku, ritual suicide. The Kodoshigisha Cabal was disgraced and should have been disbanded. But Kwannon did not commit seppuku. Kwannon was but an acolyte in service to those masters and Kwannon alone stayed alive to keep the Aethenium and pass on the story of their shame.
In their shame, the Masters of the Kodoshigisha committed seppuku, ritual suicide. The Kodoshigisha Cabal was disgraced and should have been disbanded. But Kwannon did not commit seppuku. Kwannon was but an acolyte in service to those masters and Kwannon alone stayed alive to keep the Aethenium and pass on the story of their shame.
And the Shinwa Taizen? It seemed impossible to destroy. For as long as the Shinwa Taizen existed in the Fallen World, it would eventually manifest itself and corrupt anyone who touches or reads its corrupt manuscript. Finally, as the end of World War II looked inevitable for the Japanese, the Consilium forcibly removed the remnants of the Shinwa Taizen from its last resting place in Kiyomizu-dera fearing that the Allies would get their hands on it. The Consilium thought they had located the Isle of the Dragon King – a legendary place said to be a doorway into the Supernal Realm. If they took it there, it would forever be destroyed.
The mages who were taking the Shinwa Taizen to its last destination, were last heard from near Hiroshima on August 6, 1945. Neither the Shinwa Taizen nor the mages transporting it were ever heard from again.
Return to Chapter 11
Monday, February 5, 2007
Interlude
From the mind of Kemosiri:
It was with more than a little relief that Kemosiri finally saw what he was looking for up ahead. He hated the throngs of people in Japan, and the crowds thinned somewhat as he approached the ruined castle. For whatever reason, the closer he got to his location, the more alone he became.
Taking a quick glance around to ensure that nobody was watching him, Kemosiri ducked behind a wall and spoke the Atlantean incantation. The spell was almost second-nature to him now. As he imposed his will upon reality he felt no small amount of satisfaction as his body became more ethereal. He stepped through the wall and walked towards his destination. He passed through another wall, and began descending upon the old staircase. As he walked, he felt his body solidify again, and heard the sharp rap of the point of his cane upon the worn stone steps. The deeper that he descended the cooler that the air became. He could feel the dampness in the air. He couldn’t help but feel that this place was little more than a tomb.
You’re mad, you know. The dry voice of reason spoke in his mind. Only a madman would stay here after what you’ve seen.
That’s why I have to stay. I’ve seen too much to leave now.
This land is killing you. And it’s not a quick death. You’re dying in degrees.
There are worse things than death. Ignorance, for one.
Is knowledge worth losing your soul?
The rest of his descent passed in silence.
Stepping past the faint remnants of the wards left by the previous occupants, Kemosiri entered the main room. It looked no different than it had when he had last been there more than a month earlier. He brushed some old newspapers off of a cot and sat down and waited. He didn’t have to wait long. It was only a minute before he heard the soft voice behind him.
“You came back.”
Kem stood and turned to face the ghost that had materialized behind him. She looked precisely as he remembered her. He bowed slightly before her.
“Konnichiwa, little one.” He said, sitting back down. “I told you that I would return.”
“But you didn’t say when.” There was no emotion in her voice. No anger, sorrow, or regret. It was the first time that he had encountered a ghost that was not trapped by an emotion. He found it more than a little unsettling.
“Truthfully, I did not know when I would be able to return. You have been undisturbed, I trust? The men with the snake tattoos have not returned?”
She shook her head. “Good, good.” He replied absently.
Silence followed for several minutes. Kemosiri sat and watched absently as the girl wandered about the room. Finally she turned back to him.
“Why did you come back?”
Kem regarded her quizzically. “I promised that I would.”
“But why?”
He thought for a long moment. Why had he come back? Why had he made the promise to come back in the first place? Finally he gave up.
“I don’t know why I promised you. It just seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”
She nodded solemnly. “I’m glad you promised. I’ve been lonely here without the Samurai. And I’ve been scared that the snake-men would come back. Will you protect me if they come back?”
“If I can. I can’t be here all the time, and if they came while I was gone I wouldn’t know. I still don’t understand how your guardian was able to warn me.”
“You would know if they came back. You know so much.”
Kemosiri laughed bitterly. “I know almost nothing. I don’t know why I made a promise to you. I don’t know why I stay in a land where most of my ‘allies’ would happily see me dead. I don’t know why I keep searching for a knowledge that will likely kill me and I sure as hell don’t know why I’m telling you all this!”
The girl cocked her head to the side slightly, and her gaze suddenly seemed to penetrate him. “You’re different. You’ve changed.”
He couldn’t help but agree. “This place has changed me.” He began slowly. “I’ve done things since coming here that I wouldn’t have thought myself capable of. My soul is… eroding. I wonder how much longer it will be before I’m no different than some of the monsters I’ve had to kill.”
“You’re not a bad man. Not like the others.”
Kem’s eyes narrowed. “Aren’t I?” He snapped. “When I first came to this land, I had never killed anybody before. In the last few months I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve killed – or at least tried. I was loathe to command the undead to do my will when I first landed in Japan. Now I don’t even think twice about it. If they don’t do as I ask, they do as I command. Sometimes I don’t even bother to ask.” He stood up and walked towards her. “I could command you if I wanted to. I could use my power to give your form substance, and force you to do my bidding. I could make you do vile things. I could be more of a monster than your father ever was.”
She didn’t even flinch. She just stared impassively at him. “But you won’t do that, will you?”
Kem stopped in his tracks. “How can you be so sure?” He asked, tears coming to his eyes. “I’ve killed without a second thought. Sometimes I’m not even sure what I’m capable of.”
“Because you’re here.” She said simply. “You’ll kill the bad men if you have to, but you won’t like it.” Kem slumped on the floor, sobbing, and she walked over and put an ethereal hand on his shoulder. He could barely feel it. “They like what they do. You hate it. That’s why you’ll never be like them.”
It was a long time before Kemosiri looked up again. When he did, he was alone again. Slowly, he pulled himself to his feet and began to weave the spell that would let him exit the sanctum again. As he did, one thought kept repeating itself in his mind.
How long until I start enjoying what I do?
Return to Chapter 11
It was with more than a little relief that Kemosiri finally saw what he was looking for up ahead. He hated the throngs of people in Japan, and the crowds thinned somewhat as he approached the ruined castle. For whatever reason, the closer he got to his location, the more alone he became.
Taking a quick glance around to ensure that nobody was watching him, Kemosiri ducked behind a wall and spoke the Atlantean incantation. The spell was almost second-nature to him now. As he imposed his will upon reality he felt no small amount of satisfaction as his body became more ethereal. He stepped through the wall and walked towards his destination. He passed through another wall, and began descending upon the old staircase. As he walked, he felt his body solidify again, and heard the sharp rap of the point of his cane upon the worn stone steps. The deeper that he descended the cooler that the air became. He could feel the dampness in the air. He couldn’t help but feel that this place was little more than a tomb.
You’re mad, you know. The dry voice of reason spoke in his mind. Only a madman would stay here after what you’ve seen.
That’s why I have to stay. I’ve seen too much to leave now.
This land is killing you. And it’s not a quick death. You’re dying in degrees.
There are worse things than death. Ignorance, for one.
Is knowledge worth losing your soul?
The rest of his descent passed in silence.
Stepping past the faint remnants of the wards left by the previous occupants, Kemosiri entered the main room. It looked no different than it had when he had last been there more than a month earlier. He brushed some old newspapers off of a cot and sat down and waited. He didn’t have to wait long. It was only a minute before he heard the soft voice behind him.
“You came back.”
Kem stood and turned to face the ghost that had materialized behind him. She looked precisely as he remembered her. He bowed slightly before her.
“Konnichiwa, little one.” He said, sitting back down. “I told you that I would return.”
“But you didn’t say when.” There was no emotion in her voice. No anger, sorrow, or regret. It was the first time that he had encountered a ghost that was not trapped by an emotion. He found it more than a little unsettling.
“Truthfully, I did not know when I would be able to return. You have been undisturbed, I trust? The men with the snake tattoos have not returned?”
She shook her head. “Good, good.” He replied absently.
Silence followed for several minutes. Kemosiri sat and watched absently as the girl wandered about the room. Finally she turned back to him.
“Why did you come back?”
Kem regarded her quizzically. “I promised that I would.”
“But why?”
He thought for a long moment. Why had he come back? Why had he made the promise to come back in the first place? Finally he gave up.
“I don’t know why I promised you. It just seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”
She nodded solemnly. “I’m glad you promised. I’ve been lonely here without the Samurai. And I’ve been scared that the snake-men would come back. Will you protect me if they come back?”
“If I can. I can’t be here all the time, and if they came while I was gone I wouldn’t know. I still don’t understand how your guardian was able to warn me.”
“You would know if they came back. You know so much.”
Kemosiri laughed bitterly. “I know almost nothing. I don’t know why I made a promise to you. I don’t know why I stay in a land where most of my ‘allies’ would happily see me dead. I don’t know why I keep searching for a knowledge that will likely kill me and I sure as hell don’t know why I’m telling you all this!”
The girl cocked her head to the side slightly, and her gaze suddenly seemed to penetrate him. “You’re different. You’ve changed.”
He couldn’t help but agree. “This place has changed me.” He began slowly. “I’ve done things since coming here that I wouldn’t have thought myself capable of. My soul is… eroding. I wonder how much longer it will be before I’m no different than some of the monsters I’ve had to kill.”
“You’re not a bad man. Not like the others.”
Kem’s eyes narrowed. “Aren’t I?” He snapped. “When I first came to this land, I had never killed anybody before. In the last few months I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve killed – or at least tried. I was loathe to command the undead to do my will when I first landed in Japan. Now I don’t even think twice about it. If they don’t do as I ask, they do as I command. Sometimes I don’t even bother to ask.” He stood up and walked towards her. “I could command you if I wanted to. I could use my power to give your form substance, and force you to do my bidding. I could make you do vile things. I could be more of a monster than your father ever was.”
She didn’t even flinch. She just stared impassively at him. “But you won’t do that, will you?”
Kem stopped in his tracks. “How can you be so sure?” He asked, tears coming to his eyes. “I’ve killed without a second thought. Sometimes I’m not even sure what I’m capable of.”
“Because you’re here.” She said simply. “You’ll kill the bad men if you have to, but you won’t like it.” Kem slumped on the floor, sobbing, and she walked over and put an ethereal hand on his shoulder. He could barely feel it. “They like what they do. You hate it. That’s why you’ll never be like them.”
It was a long time before Kemosiri looked up again. When he did, he was alone again. Slowly, he pulled himself to his feet and began to weave the spell that would let him exit the sanctum again. As he did, one thought kept repeating itself in his mind.
How long until I start enjoying what I do?
Return to Chapter 11
Kontonshin’s Dream
You are walking along a crowded and well lit city street. You can hear the The click click of stiletto heels. You cel phone rings. You look down for a moment. You see a short, blue and green plaid skirt, stockings, and black stiletto heels. You take a cel phone from your soft pink Louis Vuitton purse. The phone has a Doraemon cover to it and shows Doreamon jumping up and down on the screen. You see a highly manicured hand with bright red nail polish press a button on the phone. You say “moshi moshi” in a high almost squeaky voice as you answer the phone. You hear a short conversation in Japanese regarding being late and you look hurriedly down at your Mickey Mouse watch and notice that it is after 10 pm. You apologize for being late. You hang up, put the phone back into your purse, and then hurry down a dark alleyway.
You hear a quiet thumping noise, but cannot figure out where it is coming from. You arrive at a dark steel door. The thumping noise subsides. You knock – once, then twice, before you hear a voice over the intercom. You say “It’s me”. You hear a buzzer. You reach for the handle and open the door. Inside, the stairway is dark and dingy. Tattered signs and posters cover the walls of the entryway. You hear a baby crying and the sounds of a television playing some live talk show. Slowly, you walk up the stairs. You begin to hear the thumping noise again. You cannot identify its origin. You almost trip as you gets half way up the stairs. You look down and see that you have broken one of your stiletto heels. You swear, put the shoe back on and limp the rest of the way up.
You see a scarred wooden door with a sign “Hoshino Studios - Do Not Disturb” on the front and you knock. The thumping noise subsides again.
The door opens. You see an older man, mid 30’s. He has shoulder length, scraggly hair and an unkempt moustache and he has a cigarette hanging precariously from his mouth. He is holding a large Nikon digital camera. You say demurely “Hi, ready for your special date?”. He says “come in. I’ll be ready in a moment.”
It is a photographic studio. There are bright studio lights and a white backdrop at the far end of the studio. There is no one else there. Jazz piano music is playing from a boom box.
The photographer says “take off your coat.” He throws you a red silk robe. “You can use this later.”
You take off your coat, fold it up and throw it on a couch along with the red silk robe. You look down. The white blouse you are wearing has a coat of arms on the top left side. You unbutton the top two buttons of your blouse to reveal a small amount of the red push up bra beneath.
You straighten out the pleats on your skirt, turn right and then left and you see a cracked mirror. You walk toward the mirror. In the mirror, you can see your face. It is the unblemished face of a young girl with shoulder length hair, wearing heavy red lipstick and rouge. You toss your hair a bit, look intently at yourself in the mirror, and lift up your bra.
“Good enough,” you say.
Then, the lights behind you appear to go dim. You hear that thumping again – it starts slowly and increases in intensity.
The face of the young girl in the mirror dissolves and is replaced with a skull staring from the mirror with red, glowing eyes.
You smell blood and garbage and freshly dug earth. The thumping becomes faster and more desperate.
You hear a shrill scream.
You wake up. You feel cold sweat on your brow and find yourself breathing very heavily. Your heart is pounding against your chest.
Return to Chapter 2
You hear a quiet thumping noise, but cannot figure out where it is coming from. You arrive at a dark steel door. The thumping noise subsides. You knock – once, then twice, before you hear a voice over the intercom. You say “It’s me”. You hear a buzzer. You reach for the handle and open the door. Inside, the stairway is dark and dingy. Tattered signs and posters cover the walls of the entryway. You hear a baby crying and the sounds of a television playing some live talk show. Slowly, you walk up the stairs. You begin to hear the thumping noise again. You cannot identify its origin. You almost trip as you gets half way up the stairs. You look down and see that you have broken one of your stiletto heels. You swear, put the shoe back on and limp the rest of the way up.
You see a scarred wooden door with a sign “Hoshino Studios - Do Not Disturb” on the front and you knock. The thumping noise subsides again.
The door opens. You see an older man, mid 30’s. He has shoulder length, scraggly hair and an unkempt moustache and he has a cigarette hanging precariously from his mouth. He is holding a large Nikon digital camera. You say demurely “Hi, ready for your special date?”. He says “come in. I’ll be ready in a moment.”
It is a photographic studio. There are bright studio lights and a white backdrop at the far end of the studio. There is no one else there. Jazz piano music is playing from a boom box.
The photographer says “take off your coat.” He throws you a red silk robe. “You can use this later.”
You take off your coat, fold it up and throw it on a couch along with the red silk robe. You look down. The white blouse you are wearing has a coat of arms on the top left side. You unbutton the top two buttons of your blouse to reveal a small amount of the red push up bra beneath.
You straighten out the pleats on your skirt, turn right and then left and you see a cracked mirror. You walk toward the mirror. In the mirror, you can see your face. It is the unblemished face of a young girl with shoulder length hair, wearing heavy red lipstick and rouge. You toss your hair a bit, look intently at yourself in the mirror, and lift up your bra.
“Good enough,” you say.
Then, the lights behind you appear to go dim. You hear that thumping again – it starts slowly and increases in intensity.
The face of the young girl in the mirror dissolves and is replaced with a skull staring from the mirror with red, glowing eyes.
You smell blood and garbage and freshly dug earth. The thumping becomes faster and more desperate.
You hear a shrill scream.
You wake up. You feel cold sweat on your brow and find yourself breathing very heavily. Your heart is pounding against your chest.
Return to Chapter 2
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