Sins of the Son, Part 1

"My Lord, it is time."

Katsuo Tanaka heard his servant, yet his eyes remained closed, his mind remained focused on the horror which toiled within, a vision as real as the man who stood before him. For hours he knelt before his father's statue, locked in a state of meditation. Yet for all of this time... it was only this one vision which came to pass, over and over again. He could feel the cold, metal blade, passing easily through skin, muscle, and bone. He felt the eerily warm sensation of blood emerging from the wound; first, a trickle, followed by an eruption. Over and over in his mind, he watched in terror as the unknown assailant's katana took the life of his father, whose bound hands left him helpess, yet resigned his fate. Katsuo's hand clenched into a tight fist, his knuckles turning white as bone. I will not fail you father...

Finally, his eyes shot open. He looked up, where the servant awaited patiently, holding in his hands the tool with which the Tanaka clan had protected Kyoto with for the last 200 years. Katsuo rose from his knees, retrieving the sword from the servant's hands. He bowed his head slightly to the man, a loyal servant of the Tanaka clan since long before Katsuo was born, though Katsuo had never known his name. "Please, leave me for a while longer." The servant bowed in return and silently exited the chamber.

Katsuo turned to the statue once more, admiring the feeling of power and pride which resonated from his father's stance and armor. Katsuo reached out to touch it, letting his fingers run slowly over his family's crest, engraved deeply into the chest plate of the armor. At the statue's hung a replica of the very sword he now held. It was an almost majestic sight.

But tonight was not meant to be a show of power and pride. There was no sense of honor and grace. There would only be blood. There would only be chaos. There would only be death. And in this, Katsuo would be content. It had been weeks since his father's capture by the Emporer's forces. Too many weeks. Yet the time for revenge, the time to find his father, had finally come.

Katsuo walked toward the doorway, fastening the sword securely to his back. It was odd to go into battle without his ceremonial armor, yet the armor was not meant for this occasion. He pulled over his head the final piece of gear, a black mask. A mask as black as the rest of his clothing... A mask as black as night... A mask as black as his heart.

Now, it is time.