A Most Ancient Soul

There once was a one-armed woman who came from an eastern land. She was called Kohaku, and was known as "The Cleanser". She was famous for cleansing malice from the souls of agonizing men. She had always said that the longer a spirit survived, the more malicious it became, and that if you cleansed the soul shortly after the death of its host, no harm would befall the living realm. These words shaped her life until its end.

One day she came upon an ancient grave under a foreboding dead tree, surrounded by dirty armor, weapons, and corpses. These items were widespread for as far as the eye could see. A man was kneeling at the grave; a sword sticking out of the ground beside him, and a small round shield was attached to his left arm. He wore black leather boots and gloves, and brown leather pants. A leather coat and vest covered his upper body, and a long tattered cape concealed his back with violet fabric.

The long-lived man stood up, for he noticed the arrival of an unwanted guest, and with this came the discernment of his frame. He had hardly any mass in both halves of his body - almost gaunt, yet just enough to give him the strength to wield a straight sword properly.

He looked as though he was still in his thirties, yet this man had outlived all. He had no facial hair of any kind, and the hair that topped his head was straight and light brown, and went down to his shoulders. The way in which his hair was styled made sure it kept his eyes untouched. The man stared at Kohaku with these downward slanted eyes that were colored with a brilliant green. His brow furrowed in an intimidating manner.

The man opened his mouth to speak."Thou hast trespassed upon the grave of Mirsoth, Knight of Dusk," he said. "Tarry here no longer lest I raise my blade and strike you down."

Kohaku kept a serious expression, and she answered him, "The grave of Mirsoth is exactly what I have come for! I saw his soul in a dream agonizing over his loneliness and death. I understand thou hast killed him, Ancient Jura."

Jura took a single step back; an expression of disbelief planted upon his face. "I am impressed in thy knowledge," Jura said, "but even so I shan't allow you to maraud the grave of my friend. Thou seemest no jade, and so I shall allow you to live if thou leaveth here immediately and never return." Jura took up his sword and pointed the tip toward Kohaku. It was covered in dark red stains, and the steel was blackened over time. "Make haste, or draw thy brand!"

Kohaku swiped her hand toward the hilt of her own sword. She unsheathed her blade from its scabbard. It was of the famous eastern sword design with which the back of the blade was blunt and the front was remarkably sharp, and the sword's hilt was swathed in black cloth. Though Kohaku only had one arm, she grew accustomed to it, and learned to fight without the need of an extra hand.

Before the duel had begun, the two warriors scanned each other. Jura, a man who had seen more kingdoms than Kohaku ever could have imagined, was thought to have been the victor, but Kohaku was reluctant to leave without cleansing Mirsoth's soul. Kohaku confirmed that Jura wasn't acting like himself, for his behavior didn't match the few records of him. He acted as though he had no free will over his words; as though something were holding his breath.

Jura suddenly thrust his blade into the direction of Kohaku; the duel had begun! The destination the thrust should have reached was Kohaku's abdomen, but before it hit, she parried the attack with a quick slash beside her which set it off track. Jura pulled back before Kohaku could counter attack, and he went on the defense; a great mistake!

Kohaku threw out a vertical slice to Jura's head, but he had blocked the attack with his small shield. Kohaku immediately switched to a slash at Jura's stomach after her last attack was blocked, but this attack was stopped as well, though, just in time. Jura could hardly defend himself. Kohaku: someone who was known for having fought, and overpowered, many great warriors, was more powerful than Jura ever could have hoped to become. It was at this moment whatever kept Jura from acting like himself had gone, and he lost his former vigor.

Kohaku noticed the weakening of Jura's will, and she decided to end it. She initiated an aggressive torrent of furious barrages, of numerous slashes, slices, and thrusts; each were barely blocked with both sword and shield. Kohaku pulled her sword back, catching Jura off guard, and thrust it into his stomach as fast as lightning; impaling him. Jura slid off the blade and to the dirt; blood flowing out of his wound, and with a smile upon his face.

Jura looked up to Kohaku as she wiped her sword with the cloth of her sleeve; staining the white fabric of her eastern garb, and she carefully sheathed it into its scabbard. Jura slowly began to speak. "Thou art better than I. I've only hoped to become as strong as thou." Jura paused to catch his breath which left a depressing tone over his words. "If only Mirsoth could have met thy strength in his prime. Thou would've been a great opponent." His words faltered, and he spoke in whispers. Kohaku had to lean in just to hear him. A small hoarse laugh sounded from deep in his throat, and tears started to form under his eyes.

"Oh well. My time should 'ave ended long, long ago. I am simply glad to 'ave been able to defend my dear wolf's grave until today. I beg of thee, savest my old friend. I've waited for someone like you for a great time." Jura mustered his strength, and after a short pause he spoke for the final time, "Requite my services to Mirsoth." With his closing breath, Jura bid farewell to the world, closing his eyes in the first bit of happiness he'd felt in many long years. His soul finally knew contentment.

Kohaku said nothing; not even a cry. She looked into the face of Jura who had a smile in death. "Gods guide you, great warrior. Thou will forever be remembered in my heart," Kohaku whispered. She stood up, and walked towards the decayed grave of Mirsoth.

An envelope, which seemed as though it were just written, laid upon a dirt mound beside the grave. Curiosity struck her, and she opened it. Within the contents she discovered a letter from Jura to Mirsoth. It spoke of how consumed with grief Jura was when he'd murdered Mirsoth. Jura had buried the truth so deep within him that he could not forgive himself. After meeting with a wise man, he found a new purpose to live. He had decided to live the rest of his life protecting the grave of his friend so that one day he could die valiantly defending it.

Kohaku peered back at Jura with watery eyes and a tear falling to her cheek. She rubbed her soggy eyes with her sleeve, and put the letter down. She took a glance at a fair piece of soil next to the dirt mound, and an idea struck her.

After Kohaku knelt and prayed at the grave to cleanse Mirsoth's soul, she dug a hole next to the mound and placed the body of Jura inside of it. She then covered it with dirt, which created a grave for Jura next to Mirsoth. "Makeshift it may be; it'll do," she said aloud to herself. She prayed at the new mound of soil, and went on her way.

Henceforth Kohaku remembered this encounter as one of her most profound, and she often looked back on the last words Jura wrote in his letter to Mirsoth.

"I am content."