Yamigawa: A Cold Empty Throne

Prologue: Glimpse Into The Future

Prologue:

A sharp horizon of grey stone shined in the light of a distant star. Two figures stood above pools of blood, the crimson liquid forming a maroon floor as if the two were dancing. Each figure had no elegance to their movement. They were weak, their bodies completely exhausted. As one of the two swung their against the face of the other, it reeled back, equally taking a toll from the exhaustion. A man with long white hair got back to his feet, assuming a fighting position. above his head was a shining halo, and behind his ears were a set of wings, as well as another set being at his ankles. His face was scarred, and he wore no shirt. Remnants of a white uniform made up a torn pair of shorts at his waist, but that was the only clothing left. He was covered in blood, wiping the fresh droplets from his busted lip, to which his angelic skin almost immediately healed. Across from him was a man with black hair, and deep purple eyes. His face was scarred and burned, with grotesque markings across his bare chest, trailing up his neck. He had purple markings on his body that glowed with his heartbeat. The man had barely even the bottom half of his kimono left, akin to the torn robes of the other. The man with black hair scoffed and assumed a fighting position to meet the other man's approach. His voice was husky, and deep.

"You've grown... But let me tell you this, boy. Just because you've gained power doesn't mean you know how to use it."

He almost immediately felt a sharp pain in the side of his face, as he was punched back, stumbling before returning the gesture with a cheap shot to the other man's jaw, the two both falling to the ground. As the angelic man stood, his legs shook under the pressure of his own body. His voice was light, and delicate.

"I swore on my life that I would protect humanity. No matter how weak my body grows to be. Everyone deserves to live a life to its fullest!"

The black-haired man stood, kicking the head of the other man down onto the blood-stained stone.

"You think so simple-mindedly. Resources cannot indefinitely exist. You are forgetting the one simple fact that ruins your perspective. People are flawed, yet they hold back those who are stronger. Do we let the superior thrive or do we hold them back because we've labelled it unfair?"

The man with the halo and white hair stood confidently, wiping blood from his mouth.

"As a God... I cannot stand for the words that come out of your mouth. For once in your eons of living, reflect before you blindly act upon your emotions."

the black-haired man threw another punch, the two of them both falling back again.

"Watch what you say boy. My mind right before... but now I see everything clearly."

The man with wings on his head narrowed his eyes and smirked.

"I've seen things even clearer far before you opened your eyes to the truth."

Often, the end of a story can make one reflect on the beginning. Reader, how did we get here? How did you come to read this? Out of boredom, out of interest? What is your story?

Before you rest a story of a hero. A hero with a simple dream. A dream that turned into something so much bigger than he could have ever imagined.

In a small distant village, dispatched from the rest of the world, a child with blonde hair is out playing late at night.

"Jaiden! It's sundown, come inside!"

A father calls out to his child who turns, leaving behind a sewn together kickball.