Memoirs of The Raven: A Lost Warrior |
1. Protect the innocent This is the code that has been passed down in my family from father to son for generations and it's the code that was passed to me by my father. My true name is Shinji Hayaashi. It is the name given to me by my father. In Japanese, "Shinji" means "new one" or as my father thought of it "the new generation." My family name, Hayaashi, means "fleet of foot." My always planned for me to follow in his footsteps, maybe even despite my mothers wishes. That never became an issue though. She was killed before my training began. But I'm getting ahead of myself. I'm writing this in the event that I don't make it back from my next mission. The mission I have accepted is a raid on a stronghold of some kind of technological group. I've been told that this will be perhaps my most dangerous mission yet, which is the cause for this record. Apparently they will have weapons the likes of which have never been seen. I have been hired to assist a group of individuals that I have been told have abilities much like my own. This should be interesting. I write this so that my family's legacy will not die even if I do. I am the only remaining Hayaashi. Perhaps someone else will find these teachings and follow my footsteps if I meet my end on this mission. For whoever finds this record, I leave with the teaching scrolls my story in hopes that you'll better understand the legacy. My father was Japanese as far back as any records could show. I never really knew what my mother was. She was had just about every kind of Asian blood in her. I was raised in a very traditional Japanese Buddhist style. We lived in a fairly small cottage near a small, secluded temple. My early childhood was quite uneventful. I didnft know what my father did as a profession until I after...my mother was gone. That's when my special powers began to manifest themselves. My father had begun to teach me the art of kendo, Japanese sword fighting. We would practice late into the afternoon. We had just come back from a strenuous workout at the temple and the house was uncharacteristically quiet. Completely silent, in fact. My father told me to wait where I was and he took off to explore the house. He went to search the upper floor. Still being a kid, I wandered around the ground floor, not realizing the seriousness of the situation. Then I walked into the tatami room. I'll never forget what I saw. It was my mother. She was dead. She'd been nailed to the wall, crucified. Her stomach was slashed open and her organs had spilled out. He face had been slashed up so much that it was barely recognizable. Her blood was everywhere, covering large portions of all four walls. I stood there, my mouth hanging open in horror. It was the most horrible thing I've ever seen. Her body had been completely desecrated. I can only hope her spirit was freed before it happened. It was not long before my father found us, my mother and I. He quickly pulled me away and led me outside. I sat under a tree and cried. I have no idea how long it was. The next week or so was a blur. My father and the temples guardians performed the rights on her. I don't remember much. But afterwards, there were several significant changes in my life. My father burned the house and we were allowed to move into the temple. I had no problems with this. The house had too many memories in it. I would never have been able to live there again. This is when my training began. I had thought that we were training hard before with the kendo training, but it became much more intense. More than simply sword training was training with a variety of other hand weapons, strength and agility training, stalking, and just about anything else you can think of. The other major change in my life was very different. It was after my mother was laid to rest that I began seeing the raven. I did not know what it was at first, I simply thought it was a regular bird. But every day or so, I'd see it, watching me. Then, one night, it came to me in my sleep, in my dreams. It spoke to me. "You have a gift," it said. "You have abilities beyond the understanding of normal men. I can teach you to use these gifts, if you wish." And that's how it began. During the days, I trained with my father, working my body, and during the nights, I worked with the raven, developing powers that were incredible. I was taught to locate objects and people and to affect living creatures by will alone. When I had the opportunities, I tried to use my abilities when I was awake, and they worked. As the years progressed, my skills grew, both my skills in combat and stealth and my special skills. Many times I wondered what I was training for, but it was not my place to ask. My father would tell me when the time was right. Again, tragedy struck and that time never came. From time to time, my father would disappear, usually for several days at a time. This had been happening all my life, so I was never worried. I would simply continue with the lessons I had been taught. Nearing my eighteenth birthday, my father disappeared once again. Unbeknownst to me, this was the last time my father would disappear. I continued on as I always had, training both while awake and asleep. Then, on the third night after he disappeared, he came back to me. It was almost as bad as my mother. He was bleeding from many wounds that looked like claw wounds. He was badly burned as well, from a fire or something, I never knew. He came into my room, the noise he was making waking me up. I sat up quickly as he stumbled into my room. He collapsed onto me, blood flowing freely. He struggled to lift his head and look into my eyes. "I'm...sorry..." he stammered. And that was the last thing he ever said. He collapsed again and died in my lap. Again, I was in shock. How could this be happening? How could I have lost both my father and mother in such a violent manner? The temple's guardians laid my father to rest, just like they did my mother. All the while, I remained in another stupor. Another week or so passed like it did last time. After I came to, the monks came to me. They brought with them a small chest. They gave the chest to me and revealed the knowledge that had been denied me for so long. They told me the truth about my father. He was a mercenary known as "Vanishing Dragon." He was out on jobs when he disappeared. I was being trained to be his successor. On my eighteenth birthday, I was to be told. As it was, I found out a little bit early. It was a legacy that had been passed down through my family for generations. A son was always allowed to refuse, but none ever had. They asked me now if I would follow in my father's footsteps and become what he was. I accepted. It was the only way I would be able to find out anything about my father's demise. And I would find out. I would avenge him. The monks, it seemed, were my father's connections. People who wished to hire a Hayaashi would go through a variety of contacts and word would get back to the monks. The chest that they had brought me was full of scrolls, very old, but well preserved. These were the documents detailing the Hayaashi style of training. Also, at the bottom of the chest, was a pair of beautifully crafted katana. They were heirlooms, passed down from generation to generation, just like the job. I doubt weapons of their equal have been seen by many alive. When I drew them from their sheaths, their blades shone in the sunlight. I still, to this day, have no idea what they're made of. I've been told that they were crafted from an alloy of metals who's formula was lost long ago, which accounts for the blades' blue tint and their incredible light weight and strength. And so, I became "The Raven." The rest of the story, you can find out if look real hard. Then again, I'm a hard guy to keep track of. There is one last thing I will include though. During my time doing what I was born to do, I have discovered some things. Clues that I've found lead me to believe that my mother and father's deaths are connected. I believe that my mother's death was supposed to serve as a warning. I've also found information saying that those responsible for my father's death are likely to have been part of a technological group of terrorists. If I find those responsible for the deaths of my parents, I will make them pay. That's why I accepted this mission. I have only one wish. If I fail, and someone find these records and follows in my footsteps, please, avenge my mother. My father knew the risks involved in his profession, but my mother was an innocent. Remember the code. |