I finally his 5K reads, that's so exciting! So this chapter is once again filled with LOTS of really important information. That seems to be a reoccurring topic I have going on here. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter!
For the rest of the week, the small box sat on my dresser, untouched. I was afraid to open it, afraid of what I might find. Throughout the week, I had become wary of the rings on my fingers and resorted to not wearing them, placing them in a baggy and putting them next to the box. I had been anxious and irritable all week, my curiosity wanting to know what was it the box and the other, more cowardly, side of me told me not to open it, that whatever was is in there was not worth it.
Finally, curiosity got the better of me, and I grabbed the box off the dresser, sitting down on my bed with my legs crossed. I lifted the silver latch of the box and opened it, finding two letters. One was addressed to me specifically, and the other had no address. I decided to open the one with my name on it first, confident it was from my great grandfather. I opened the envelope it was sealed in messily, my hands shaking with anxiety. I carefully unfolded the best paper, finding a neat, hand written letter. It read:
Dear (Y/N),
By the time you read this, I will have been laid to rest, my dear Kyoko coming to join me. I write this letter to inform you of what's to come. Katsuro and Kitiara have refused your mother as well as your brother with you being the last, and youngest, of the Matsuda family bloodline. You are the new wielder of the Sister Swords, and will eventually have to give a new wielder to the bloodline, that is, if it is your choice to maintain the contract sealed between wielder a demon.
The other letter in his box is from the first wielder of the Sister Swords, Hariuki Matsuda. He was the one to make a contract with Katsuro and Kitiara. The letter contains first hand accounts of the battle that led to the contract. Please read it carefully, and then return to this letter.
I read over the first two paragraphs again to take in as much information as possible. I frowned at the last sentence before reaching into the box and taking out the thick wad of yellowing parchment. I was afraid the yellow material would crumple at my touch, but it did not. It remained intact. Unfolding the parchment revealed dark spots that developed from age. I looked at the top of the letter. It said:
Rewritten: June 26th, 1922
Original written: October 30th, 1562
Next write due: Year 2100
This letter recounts details of the battle of the date above which led to the creation of the Sister Swords. For Matsuda eyes only. Keep this documentation safe. Protect it with your life. Rewrite by mentioned date as to not loose precious information. To be rewritten on parchment.
I frowned slightly at the information. I was beginning to worry. All of this was very serious and very formal. It made me nervous. It made me feel unworthy. It was all very intimidating, and I wasn't sure of what I was getting into. I shook my head and continued to read.
~~~~~~~3rd person point of view~~~~~~
Date: October 30th, 1562
Rain poured down in buckets over the battle field. This was a holy war that hundreds upon thousands of men were fighting. Or so it was called. Many people believed the war could have been completely avoidable, but the enemy was a force to be reckoned with. They had no conscious and little moral. What moral they had was twisted.
Men lay dead in the long grass of the field, the ground slick with blood and the recent rain. Two men stood in the middle of the field. They were the only ones left. All other shoulders were either dead, wounded, or had retreated. One man held two swords, one for each hand. They were both like no one had ever seen before. They were unnatural colors, unnerving in the heat of battle. One was a light, periwinkle blue, the other black as night. They were both European one handed long swords. They were strange weapons to see this far east. The wielder has never given information about this deadly weapons. Both were slick with blood, telling of the men they had killed. The other man held a single katana, equally slick with crimson liquid.
"Hand them over, Matsuda," the man with the katana said. "They belong to me and you know it," he hissed malice thick in this voice. "Those swords were forged with he blood of an Ishida royal!" he shouted, swinging his swords in front of him angrily. "They were forged for the Ishida family by the Ishida family, damn it!" he screamed, his voice beginning to become raw.
The other man gnashed his teeth, knowing the other man was right. What was he to say? Ishida was right. These swords belonged to the other man's family, but when news of the power they held reached Matsuda ears, a thirst erupted. The swords were stolen by a thief hired by Hariuki shortly after.
The swords held power like no one could ever imagine. They were supposedly capable of containing demonic energy to be controlled and used by the wielder. This power was unthinkable. No one was sure if it was true, but the Matsuda's weren't willing to take any chances. The Matsuda and Ishida were rich and powerfully families. They had never been hostile toward each other, but were constantly attempting to gain power and land from neighboring realms.
"Don't you have anything say, Hariuki?" Ishida mocked, a sneer contorting his lips. "You know I'm right," he said. "So just hand them over and this can all be settled," he offered though he knew what the answer would be.
"I will not," Hariuki said, resolute. "I will not return these swords when I can see their power, power that will be used to destroy thousands in the hands of a man like you!" he shouted to the man across the field. Hariuki has seen how this man could be, malevolent with little to know moral in his dark soul.
Ishida's eyes grew colder still has he eyed the man across from him. A wicked grin played on his lips as he raised his head and pointed the tip of this katana at his opponent. "Then we shall fight. We shall fight and I will win," he threatened darkly. With that, he rushed forward to meet his adversary. Hariuki raised his stolen swords, effortlessly blocking the attack. With two award against one, the fight was quickly over.
Ishida lay quivering on the ground, blood gushing from the multitude of wounds on her abdomen and chest. "Th-those swords were made for my family," he gasped out, his hand clenching and unclenching at thin air. "My future bloodline," he broke off, coughing blood onto his already soaked clothing. "They will forever be after yours, like a tiger hunting his prey."
"You waste your finally breaths on meaningless words," Hariuki said. Ishida laughed like a maniac from his spot on the ground and continued to speak anyway.
"My decedents will forever be pulled by the blood that resides in those swords. They will never cease, not until wrong has been made right," he gasped. "Wrong will he made right," he whispered through his last breath. When the last breath left the man, Matsuda sighed and fell to his knees, the swords the only thing keeping him from falling all the way.
After a few moments, he stood and moved away from the corpse. When he found a partially clean area of grass, he fell to his knees once more, laying the swords in front of him after cleaning the blood from the blades. From there, he took blood from his wounds and smeared them on the blades. He muttered an incantation under his breath, and there was a flash of light.
Hariuki couldn't help her let out a yelp of surprise as he looked up and saw two figures standing in front of him. In front of him stood a girl with blue hair and a boy with dark skin and even darker hair. "You've called?" she girl said.
"You've called and have proved yourself worthy of our power. Don't waste it," the boy hissed.
"You will call us the Sister Swords," the girl instructed. "One can not be without the other." Hariuki nodded, not able to speak.
"We will serve the Matsuda family Line until the day they fall. You've kept us from the evil that resides deep in the Ishida family. They will never change," he growled. "We are yours so use us wisely," he said before they disappeared. The swords glowed bright with tunes before transforming into rings.
~~~~~~First Person Point of View~~~~~~
My hands shook as I held the letter in my hand. I wasn't sure what to think. I wasn't sure what to believe. Shaking my head, trying to collect myself, I turned back to finish the personal letter written by my great grandfather.
(Y/N), now that you've read the letter, you must make a difficult decision that ever wielder of these legendary swords have had to make. You must decided whether to keep the stolen swords and provide the possible next wielder, or you can return the stolen treasure. Know that either path will be filled with death and destruction. You must decided what you are worth sacrificing. Do not be swayed by what men have done before you. This is your decision to make and yours alone.