Kingdom of Shiyosaki

Chapter One: The Crimson Child of Shiyosaki

Year: 886 AD

The wind howled through the dense, mist-wrapped trees of Shiyosaki, a wild forest nestled on a small island east of Japan. It was a land untouched by civilization, full of old magic and older secrets. But on this night, the silence broke—not by beast nor storm—but by the arrival of someone destined to shift the fate of empires.

Far from the deep woods, twenty-six years earlier, a coastal town named Kapilbako had been swallowed whole by the sea. In the heart of that destruction, a newborn boy lay crying atop shattered driftwood, the only survivor of a monstrous tsunami. His eyes—crimson red, like blood reflecting moonlight—stared into the void above. His tiny body, naked and trembling, was protected not by flesh and bone but by fate itself.

His parents were never found. Their names, faces, and stories were lost to the sea. The villagers who came searching called him "the cursed child," a soul born from disaster. But one soul dared to disagree.

860 AD – The Boy with Crimson Eyes

In the merchant town of Takeshiro, nestled between rice fields and shrine bells, a man named Kohaku Chiba, a humble spice trader, discovered the crying boy when his ship drifted into a ruined bay weeks after the tsunami.

"D-Daizy!" Kohaku had shouted as he entered his home, his clothes soaked and shoulders trembling. "I've found a baby. He was floating—alive, Daizy!"

His wife, Daizy Chiba, a woman of soft smiles and motherly grace, rushed to him, gasping when she saw the child in his arms. His skin was pale, his hair dark and curled, and his red eyes blinked at her without fear.

"He's beautiful," she whispered.

"People say he's cursed," Kohaku warned. "They say the ocean left him because it didn't want him."

"Then the ocean is a fool," Daizy said, wrapping the baby in her scarf. "We will raise him as our own. I will call him... Nohata."

And so, Nohata Chiba grew up not in fear, but in warmth. Though he wore nothing but simplicity—no silks or ornaments—his face carried the sharp angles and almond eyes of his Japanese lineage, framed by ever-wild curls. He was quiet, thoughtful, and stronger than most boys his age.

As a child, he once asked Daizy, "Why are my eyes red when yours and Father's are not?"

Daizy smiled softly and placed her hand on his chest. "Because your soul burns brighter than most. It's not a curse, Nohata. It's your gift."

886 AD – Into the Forest

Now, at twenty-six, Nohata stood at the edge of Shiyosaki Forest, barefoot and bare-chested, a satchel slung across his back and a short blade tied to his waist. His crimson eyes scanned the misty tree line.

Daizy had pleaded with him just days before.

"Why do you want to go to that forest, Nohata?"

"Because I've heard there are people suffering there. Demons hunting them."

"But you are not a warrior..."

"Then I will become one."

And he left with a smile, promising to return. Kohaku said nothing, only handed him a pouch of dried rice and a scroll of old prayers.

Now, the forest welcomed him not with sunlight but with shadows.

Nohata stepped forward. A twig cracked. A raven flew overhead, cawing thrice before disappearing into the clouds.

He was alone now. But not afraid.