That’s all he could see. That’s all he wanted to see. He was afraid of what he might find if he looked anywhere else.

Hoi stood silently in the entrance to his village. He waited for the nightmare before him to slip away, like water over a painted canvas, taking this horrible picture and leaving what he remembered the sight being.

A few cautious steps into the town, and the smell hit him full force. Hoi covered his face with both hands, then stumbled to the side to retch on the ground. The smell...the sickly sweet smell...it hung in the air like the smoke, permeating every pore and invading his body. It was the smell of death.

After a moment of staring at the ground, Hoi got enough courage to look up at the remnants of his home for a year. Fires still burned in spots, eating away at the last minuscule shreds of life in the town. Houses collapsed in on themselves, stalls all but completely gone. And...the bodies...oh God...the bodies...

No one was spared from this massacre. Old...young...man...woman... They all had their share of lifeless bodies. Hoi tried not to, but he began to recognize faces...contorted in the spasms of death...some hardly recognizable from mutilation...

There...was the woman who cooked for the inn...over there...was the man who helped Hoi with his fighting stance...there...was...Mr. Jeran...

Without thinking, Hoi remembered the day before...only just the day before...

One...two...one...two...three four five! Heh...

Hoi smiled to himself as he wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. He returned to his fighting stance, then squared off again with his opponent. He swung a few more times at the massive tree’s trunk, then came over his head for a down shot. His tonfu hit squarely in the nook of a low branch and the trunk.

Out of all the trees in the forest behind Ryube, this one probably got the most attention, simply because Hoi had designated it as his practice ground. It wasn’t anything special, a modest oak with plenty of low branches, giving Hoi the chance to practice different combinations of attacks. He still remembered what he learned from watching the spar between friends a year ago, and had used the time to devise some strategy for his fighting.

Still, the peaceful town of Ryube, seemingly ignored by the rest of the world, didn’t offer Hoi much in the way of sparring opponents. The days of repetitive practice with his tree was beginning to wear on Hoi’s patience.

With that thought, Hoi launched into one of his combinations, chanting numbers in his head to go along with the hits. Once to the left, once to the right, once again to the left, spinning with the hit, to hit again on the left. Spin back to hit on the right, then come up with the left tonfu’s end to slam underneath the chin. With this momentum, bring both down onto the shoulders of the enemy, tonfu crossed in front of his nose. That would certainly floor anyone, Hoi was sure.

Hoi felt very satisfied with himself. He jabbed the end of one of his tonfu into the “chest” of the tree. “Ha! You won’t be giving me any more problems, will you, vagabond!” He laughed heartily, throwing his head back.

Then something hard hit Hoi, right in the middle of his forehead. "Owwww...” He rubbed his head and looked murderously up into the tree branches. A squirrel chirped madly at him, then scurried back into its hole near the top of the tree. Hoi then found the offending object lying next to his foot: an acorn the size of a potch.

“Gaaaah!” Hoi exclaimed, disgusted. He threw the acorn back up into the tree. “Fine! I’ll keep it down from now on. Is that okay with you?”

“Hooooooooi!”

The rustle of running footsteps followed the yell. Hoi looked up to see Himiki come running down the path through the forest, her brown hair streaming behind her.

“What is it, Himiki?”

Himiki skidded to a stop next to Hoi, then doubled over, trying to catch her breath. Finally, she said, “Mother...she wants you...to help...haul jars...for Mr. Jeran...”

“Awwww! I helped him yesterday!” Hoi whined.

Himiki nodded. “I know, but people just arrived from Muse with the new ones. Mr. Jeran said he wasn’t expecting them so soon, otherwise he wouldn’t have made you move them yesterday.”

Hoi slapped one of his tonfu against the tree, upset that he’d have to haul things...heavy things...again... This disturbed the squirrel, who again set off into a flutter of chirps and clicks.

Hoi responded in the ever mature manner of sticking his tongue out at the offending rodent, then turned back to Himiki. “C’mon...let’s get this over with...”

With a start, Hoi began his searching anew. He jumped to his feet and ran to his home, praying he was wrong. When he arrived, though...he found his prayers unanswered.

Even though his house had been away from the main thoroughfare of the village, even it wasn’t spared in the slightest. The walls were crumbling in, the roof completely burned away. His mother’s garden was destroyed. His father’s adjoining woodshop and smithy were leveled. The house was gutted by fire, leaving only black ash instead of furnishings. And...

Hoi looked away. It was only a fraction of a second that he saw them, but he knew the image would stay with him forever. The image of the twisted, charred shells that were his parents would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Still...what about Himiki?

With a loud grunt, Hoi heaved another huge clay urn onto a shelf in Mr. Jeran’s shop. This was...so very ridiculous. Why didn’t the old man just hire someone to do things like this? Hoi laughed to himself. Why pay someone when he had Hoi to do it for free?

Relieved that that jar was the last of the shipment, Hoi wandered to the back of Mr. Jeran’s house, looking for the old man. Instead, he found Mr. Jeran speaking with the man who had brought the jars in from Muse. Hoi crouched down behind the shrubs that lined the yard and listened.

The man was holding what looked to be a rock of glass in his hand. Mr. Jeran shook his head and said, “What did you call that again?”

“A Technique Rune,” the man said.

Mr. Jeran rubbed his chin and said, “What does it do?”

“Supposedly, it makes your opponent drop money when you hit him.”

Mr. Jeran began to laugh. “What the hell kind of rune is that?”

The man shrugged. “I don’t know. It just is.”

With another laugh, Mr. Jeran fished in his pocket. “Ehh...who knows. Someone might buy it.” He pressed some potch into the man’s hand, then tossed the rune onto a bench behind him. “Wonder what True Rune it’s from...”

The man shrugged again. “I have no clue.”

Hoi watched in fascination. A Rune! The perfect rune, at that. Something he could really use. But he knew Mr. Jeran wouldn’t just give it to him, and runes were expensive. With a devious grin, an idea formed in his mind.

“Well,” Mr. Jeran said, interrupting Hoi’s thoughts. “Let’s get inside. We have to arrange for the next shipment, and it’s hot out here.”

Without another word, both men filed into the house. Hoi waited a moment to make sure he wouldn’t come back, then slipped into the old man’s backyard. He plucked the Rune off the bench and stuck it in his pocket. Silently, he crept back out of the yard and trotted for the town gate.

“I’ll go to Muse, get this attached at the Runemaster, and be back in a day. No one’ll notice I’m gone!” Hoi unconsciously loosened his tonfu in their sheaths in preparation for any trouble he might encounter on the way.

A tiny nibble in his mind worried Hoi, but he shrugged it off. It wasn’t like he was stealing, per say. Call it...payment for services rendered.

Satisfied with that, Hoi continued to Muse.

Hoi didn’t tell anyone he was leaving, didn’t tell anyone where he was going. Didn’t tell anyone good-bye. Now, it was too late.

When Hoi had passed through the burned shell that was Toto, he had felt a bit apprehensive, but he had shrugged it off. He shouldn’t have.

Now, his hometown was destroyed, his friends dead, his parents gone, Himiki had vanished... Hoi sunk to his knees and pressed his face in his hands. He was anchorless, lost...what did he do now? Where would he go?

“Father!” Hoi cried to the heavens. “Where do I go?! What do I do?! Answer me! PLEASE!!”

As Hoi lowered his tear-streaked face back to his hands, a glint of light caught his eye. He looked back to the remains of his father’s smithy. Slowly, he got up and approached the light.

After he brushed away some dirt and ash, Hoi found the broadsword that his father had brought from his old hometown. It looked up at him, almost knowingly. Hoi closed his eyes and bowed his head, the decision made.

In silence and with reverence, Hoi lifted the broadsword and sheathed it in-between the cross of his tonfu. He would find the person responsible for this and make sure they paid for their crimes, in whatever way possible.