So much had happened in the span of a mere 20 years: death, hardship, love, war, and justice. Oh yes... especially justice. Justice I took with my own two hands, justice that no one else would pass out of fear and indifference, save the one person no one would suspect it to come from.

After that one event, my life's course was altered before it had barely begun to ripen and age. I was all alone in the world, no mother, no father to protect me, with only a single goal to drive my will to live. I would see with my very eyes that... murderer brought to justice, behind bars, wasting away for the crime he had caused against me.

But where to begin? I had no more roots to center my beliefs, no more ground to take a firm stand. I was free to believe what I wanted too, and what I believed in was this: it was my duty to bring that man to justice no matter what it took. That sole drive echoed forth through my actions wrought on that single belief.

I led a rather unexpectant life skewed of status quo. Left at an orphanage after my parents died, with not a single yen to my name, nor any living relatives. I was really alone in the world, no one to talk to, to relate to, only to very few did I come to trust, but... no, now wouldn't be the time to bring back those long cherished memories. Cherished they were, but painful as well. In due time, maybe I will indulge in those memories again, but for now, my past will suffice with a simple outline.

I finally attended school at the late age of thirteen, but long before that I learned to read and write. As with all youth, reading became a delicacy to enjoy, as I soaked up all the wisdom and knowledge that the books I read had to offer. I read of many subjects: Forensics, Anatomy, Warfare, as well as a few Romances. Ones that caught my attention the most were of Sun Tzu's Art of War, Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes, and William Shakespeare's Hamlet. I was engrossed in the abilities, personalities, and motives of each individual contained within the bound pages. In a sense, they were my first teachers.

I was rather content, building my knowledge brick by brick in a secluded wooded area. The quiet of Asakusa's abandonded provincial shrines gave me peace of mind. There were many rumors floating around the locals that one shrine in particular was said to be haunted after the god of that shrine was driven out. I paid the rumors no mind. A nagging feeling however gnawed at the back of my mind whenever I was there. There were times when the shrine I took residence in was subject to drafts of cold air. I overreacted sometimes, thinking that it was a specter. My mind sparingly returned to the rumors, reinforced by the scene of the spirit of Hamlet's father returning, I wondered if there were ghosts in that abandoned shrine.

A few months after I started school, an 'incident' led me to a man by the name of Ryo Mitsuru, a hachi-dan level kendo master visiting from Hokkaido. He taught me how to sheathe emotion, to sharpen my awareness, and to strike without hesitation. I gave it my all to learn what he taught me, having not much else to do after finishing my studies, even going as far as practicing long into the night. Mitsuru sensei took me and three others as his star pupils. Together all four of us passed the hachi-dan level examinations after three years of hard work, as well as a few off-handed 'negotiations' between members of the federation in ordewr to allow exceptions to be made for us to test early. When I passed my exam, I couldn't help but feel proud of myself, wondering if my parents would feel proud if they were still alive.

My prowess at the art soon landed me a travel scholarship to learn other forms of martial arts overseas in China. From there I learned various styles of Wushu, as well as continuing my studies. Overseas I traded Conan Doyle and Sun Tzu for Allan Pease and more scientific material. I had soon forgotten about the fields of Kanto prefecture over the rustle and bustle of Beijing, so very different, yet still having a link to Japan. I thought about how My history teacher talked about China's influence on modern day Japan as I looked over the rice paddies one morning. When the day arrived to return to Japan, I waved goodbye to a land from which I learned many new things.

School life returned to normal and soon the class would have to take our finals. When we finally graduated, the teachers congradulated me on getting a perfect score on the exams. As much as I should have felt glad, it all started to seem hollow for me. It hit me as I scanned across the crowd that came to our class graduation. No one was there to actually BE proud of me. Mitsuru never came as he had went back to Hokkaido to teach the next batch of students. I went back to Asakura to revisit the old shrine to pay my respects. I don't know if there really were ghosts there or not, but I still went there, offered a ten yen coin, and remembered all of those in my life that I cared about, all taken from me in one way or another.

I tried going into detective work, but when I tried to apply for a job, the Chief of Police merely laughed at me, turning me away, saying, "Go home kid, you're not Conan Edogawa, so I don't think you'll be much use to us here." Having been shot down, I decided to pursue other interests to bide my time until I could try again. With a seemingly overwhelming amount of redirected luck, I became apprentice to a famous swordsmith, a man who had had his smithing technique survive for generations, earning him the prestigious title of 'Living National Treasure'. From him I learned everything, how to tend the flames, how to hammer the steel into the perfect shape, how to hone the blade even further. I followed each and every wisdom he bestowed on me through his teachings, and as with everything else I did, I worked hard to perfect it. Unlike Ryo, my master often praised me, but also criticized me in order to help me perfect my own technique, to the point where it was no longer master and pupil, but forging as partners. But even so, I looked up to him, like a grandson would admire his grandfather for his achievements. And once again, I felt proud of myself for coming this far.

But it always kept coming back, the ache of pain that with each day of living my life, I felt I was failing my parents. After accepting the title of 'heir to the living national treasure', I left. It was not long after, however, that I had no direction to follow again, no arrow to guide me, even though I had my one goal in front of me again with no distractions. A single period of time in my life however was one that would alter that goal and open my eyes.

It started with a simple letter, unmarked except for a stamp labeling it confidential. It was a letter of enlistment to a 'contracting' agency in the United States of America. I traveled immediately to the address on the letter, and found myself tossed into a shitstorm of international proportions. I don't know why I accepted when the director asked me to join, I just did, hoping that somehow, this was the path I was suppose to take.

I was half right, and half horribly wrong. Through a few 'short' years at the agency, I found myself learning about how horrible and wretched the world really was outside of what I knew of Japan and China. I didn't talk to almost anyone at all, I followed orders without question. I found myself conflicted over what became right and what became wrong as it was blurred in a mesh of assassinations, missions, and most of all, casualties. I soon tasted war, but not in the sense of fighting for one's country. No, just killing to 'get rid of an obstacle'. My whole view of the world changed through each mission turning over another rock I never would even think to look under, and wish I didn't. The world was corrupted, all for the sake of supposed 'self-interests' that made all the other problems going on in the world pale in comparison to what happend on the inside. I took no pleasure nor remorse in each target I removed at the level of a gun. Over time I got better and better at 'doing my job' and two years later, I had become the perfect killer.

After a mission gone wrong however, I was let go, but not empty handed however. I came out of the agency faster, stronger, deadlier than I had imagined. I'm not going to lie, I didn't like doing some of the jobs I did, but I did find it to be a good source of income, so I 'retired' with a hefty amount of money tucked away when I came back to Japan. But the most important thing I brought back with me was a new outlook, a tome of revelation. I wasn't going to get my justice by merely turning in a criminal, he would just get out one way or another and do it again. I would have to take care of him personally. I was out for blood.

I sold most of the swords I independantly forged during my days as an apprentice to various art collectors, who paid handsomely for each piece sold. I bought a single penthouse apartment as my new home as well as a base of operations of sorts. For the next couple of years I started to plan out my vengeance, amassing resources, such as guns, military equiptment, etc. But the one thing I lacked the most was intel.

I went as far as to take hit jobs from the yakuza on rivals in exchange for their intelligence on all things related to what happened 20 years ago. Some were lucky enough to have men on the inside of the police department who could fetch intel. It was all there, newspaper clippings, photographs, forensics, intel on each individual person involved, save two people: the murderer, and me. I didn't need to think any longer on that fact. The man didn't want to be found, and he went as far as to use the yakuza to make sure he stayed hidden.

The day I found that my efforts were all for moot, I lashed out, smashing furniture and breaking windows in an immature tantrum. After burning myself out I fell into a pit of despair, laying in bed in complete despondency. Here I was back at square one, nothing to go on with. I listfully went by the next few months drowing myself in self pity.

And then came my birthday, when I turned 24. Roused by a knock on my door one late night, I opened it to meet a man who I believed gave me the greatest help anyone ever did. His name was Keith, no last name, that or I never knew it. He was a scientist expelled from MIT and other well known universities for conducting illegal or denounced experiments, and was in need of funding. I invited him to stay at my apartment in Tokyo, by this time I could care less who I shared my apartment with, he was wrecked, badly, often spouting out random gibberish at times. I checked out a book from the library on possible symptoms of dimentia, finding out that he showed more symptoms of being under the influence of narcotics. I detoxed him with several hours clocked in of steam baths as well as candida and heavy metal cleanses. He thanked me later after a month of reluctant treatment, for getting him back on his feet. I said I needed someone with some background of science and intelligence. He took the job on the spot.

I somewhat regret doing that because he would always do weird things in his room, from playing overly loud music to biohazardous experientation. At least I now knew some essence to American Culture through the Beatles and Metallica, as well as having someone to talk to. Sooner rather than later, I found myself running low on funds due to Keith's experiments. I soon took a job as a gun for hire, sometimes it was by the police, sometimes by other contacts. I took most of the jobs from the police, the jobs being capture of a previously uncatchable criminal. Somehow word got out that I was a mercenary, and the jobs flooded in, which gave me some combat experience, but mostly were petty babysitting jobs. On some rare occasions, however, the job was rather interesting to say the least: Anonymous contracts, money was paid up front. The targets of those jobs were corrupt politicians or business men, most of the jobs involving corporate business men I didn't take--mainly petty corporate squabbles and the like where a dead CEO just conveniently opens up a power vacuum for another company-- but the politicians however seemed interesting, they're most likely secured, which gave me experience on infiltration as well as assassination, though many times the job went south fairly quickly without having a team to back me up, which lead to rather, messy outcomes.

By my 14th major job, Keith started to engineer the virus. Behind the scenes he did some tracking, hacking, and some queueing work for me. Normally I didn't need his help, since none of the hits I took were that secure on terms of security systems. However, he truly shined through when he did some digging and found my main target, the fucker who did all of this. When he found the info he asked me a favor, to be the test subject of his experiment. At that time, I was so grateful to him I agreed to be the test subject only when he was finished. The test was a huge, but rather unorthodox, success. Even now, no side effects aside from the after affects of fatigue. I could honestly think of him as a genius, we had two shots of his favorite scotch to celebrate, although I hated the taste, It was nice to actually celebrate something.

But I drank heavily to his tenacity the day he died. He went down shooting two of the bastards who went after him for some 'payment due'. When I heard from one of the people who saw him, I was surprised to say the least. I half expected that he would have died begging for mercy or something like that. Now that he was gone, I kind of wish I got to know him better. After the last shou was drunk, I left the bar swaying from depressed inebriation, plopping back into bed in my apartment. Although he was random, eccentric, even irresponsible at times, he was still a man of honor. I went to sleep brushing aside my thoughts. Now was not the time to think about a eulogy, I had judgement to pass.

The night before, I went over that SOB's detail, he was wanted for over 140 counts of murder, Keith's digging in the Undernet revealed he became the dragon head of a Yakuza sect, the headquarters being a nightclub. I started gathering a plan, down to the weapons I'd go in with, CZ75 with silencer, night vision goggles (courtesy of some retirement hardware I 'borrowed', and my strongest work, Tsukuyomi (It passed with flying colors against a bullet test, even deflected a 50 caliber round without a single nick in the edge). The next night I hit the club, cut the power and went in. I took out all the Yakuza members, and headed to the Boss's room. A civilian threw an alarm, but I kept walking.

I opened the door to see my target try and make a last ditch effort to kill me by having his two doormen ambush me, I ducked as the door opened and cut the first one's arm off, then decapitating the second, all in one motion. I've planned for this moment for 20 years, now to finally collect on my investment...

"Who the fuck are you? How'd you get in here?" He dropped from his chair and scooted away. I also planned what I was going to say to his dirty face.

"Out of all the 140 people you killed, you're saying you don't remember two that look just like me?" His eyes widened as I retold of his exploits. Every step I took, he scooted closer and closer to the wall.

"You didn't think even one person would come after you, did you?" I remembered the exact moment when he killed my father, a sickening grin spread across his face.

"Why the scared face? You always loved to smile when someone died by your hand." I pointed the tip of my blade at his face.

"WHO ARE YOU?" He yelled as he closed his eyes. I shoved my blade into his mouth and jerked the blade to the side, splitting his cheek causing maroon blood to splatter over the back wall, him yelling in pain.

"You SICK SON OF A BITCH!" I started feeling the vision in my right eye go red.

"Oh, I'M the sick son of a bitch..." I took a few steps to the left, dragging my blade along the rug.

"And how about all those people you killed, people with families, and yet none of them called YOU that." I felt my blood boiling. He started curling into a ball.

"You stabbed by father how many times before you even let him DIE! I stabbed my blade into his leg right next to the nerve, cutting it ever so slightly, he started to scream...

"Ah ah ah! Move even a sing inch and Tsukuyomi rips your leg off," I grab the hilt it and slightly twist it, I had him nailed to the ground. Then I start giving my dramatic speech, yes the over dramatic one:

"Think of all the people you killed, every single one was defenseless, they did ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO DESERVE WHAT YOU DID TO THEM!" I started yelling at him, "Yet you sliced and diced like you were at a butcher shop," I flicked the blade causing even more pain to rivet him due to the vibrations running down the blade, "Let me tell you something you little SHIT!" I started to lean one hand on the glass window next to me and look out towards the city below, He tried to pull out his gun, but I pulled out mine and shot it out of his hand, My view still out onto the city lights, "20 years I've waited for this day, watching, waiting, and hating myself every day for not having done it sooner. For 20 years I've longed to bring your pitiful ass to justice. Today's the day I fulfill that justice, by sending you straight to the court of judgement... and then Hell." He started to pul out his cell phone. I tapped the bottom of his foot, the resulting pain causing him to immediately drop the phone and tend to his leg.

"You're not HUMAN! You're a demon!" he tried to psyche me out with his next line, "Just like me," the poor bastard tried to grin to scrap up some manner of his old self, too bad he's dealing with one who read all about psychology, and can defy it to the letter. I look at my transparent reflection and see the cause of my vision turning red, I'm crying blood.

"He... hehehehe... you're right," I turn to him, my head tilted upwards, "can you guess WHICH Demon I am?" His grin dropped immediately to sheer terror. I started to smile, the first time since that day 20 years ago. Then jerk my head to the side for that ghastly emphasis, he tears away from his leg, dropping from the pain and fear, the leg still twitching, I use my foot to flip him over onto his back. I take the blade out of his dismembered leg and stab it into the other one, causing him to wail in agony. I start to hear a gurgled response.

"The demon..." more gargling, then coughing, "The de *Hack cough* the demon of..."

"The Demon of... C'mon now, you can say 4 measly words can't you?" then I hear him eek out the last word from behind a now tear soaked face.

"...vengeance." Music to my ears... I start the final onslaught.

"THERE YOU GO! And now for your reward," I take Tsukuyomi and stab him in the chest, his body jerking up in response.

"Cross my heart," twist, "and hope to die..." I then stab the sword through his eye.

"Stick a needle in my eye," I let go as I see the blood gurgling and flowing from his mouth.

"That tonight you'll surely die," his body jerks sporatically causing more blood to spew from his wounds, "and with these words, I'll say 'goodbye'." two cops enter the room and see the grisly scene at hand, I feel nothing but utter relief, now to make my great escape, but first a few words from the high of killing my long targeted objective,

"No need to thank me guys, just stopped a wanted mass murderer and Yakuza head in his tracks," They were dumbfounded, giving me enough time to make my escape.

I grabbed Tsukuyomi and with one motion, sliced the glass and grabbed the now blood soaked cadaver. I jumped out as two bullets whizzed pass me. The last phase in my plan, fall with style and escape. I positioned the cadaver as a platform, while falling I aimed it at the police car down below. about 100 feet before I hit the ground I activated bullet time and started to crouch down on the body. By the laws of physics I shouldn't be able to survive this fall, but by using the cadaver and the police car, I could make a one use, time sensitive, possibly splatter on the ground into a mass of meat chunks and bone trampoline. At ten meters I pressed down onto the cadaver with a great amount of leg strength, pushing it onto the car, the car's roof giving into the weight of the cadaver, and me landing into a crouch, preserving the momentum. I jumped off as soon as I felt the force come back to my legs and successfully survived a 20 story jump out of a building. I started running, deflecting oncoming bullets from behind, and jumping onto the roof of a nearby car, riding it all the way back to my apartment.

But all good murders never go uncovered, the power went on as I was gutting the bastard and the security cam caught my demented face all on camera, along with the audio that went along with it. My story was heard all over Japan, maybe even all over the world the next morning.

It was worth it though, ever had a good night sleep after a long day of work? Take that feeling and multiply it by 20 years, and you get how I felt that morning. It was over, That face that haunted and drove my every action, thought and feeling was gone from my life, my parent's may or may not be proud if there is an afterlife, but last night was the best sleep I ever had in my life. Then I turn on the news and see my act of revenge last night the top news story, with some mixed reviews. Some of the reporters thought what I did was justice, other's thought I was too brutal, the views change throughout the report as the recently deceased's criminal record was brought to the public, phone calls rang in from all over the country, all with various comments and questions.

I turned off the television and enjoyed a bowl of cereal, and opened the window to let a cool breeze in. It was kind of nice in the fall when the breeze always carried a small inkling of the scent of flowers, and now I had the time to enjoy it. But then it hit me... I finally delivered that man to justice, like I had wanted to do for 20 long years. I had nothing else to live for, but I still wanted to live, so I asked myself, 'What now?'

I didn't want to continue life as a mercenary, and Keith was dead, so there wouldn't be any more need for funding. I had very substantial amount of funds due to my “celebrity” status, my works of art I'd sold, and the jobs I'd done, some paying literally millions. I remembered an old book I had read, the count of Monte Cristo. I laughed now that I saw irony that my life just like Edmund Dantes, but without the whole love story at the end. I was loaded, a celebrity, and now an infamous man.

I thought to myself, "Why not go on an adventure? 'For the world is broad and wide.'" Today was a day of renewed hope. After all that I've seen, I thought it would be a nice change of pace to recapture the image of the old world for as long as it would last, the world for its lighter side. I sat down on the couch, enjoying a warm mug of freshly brewed coffee.

I continued to watch the news report, then I realized what my actions televised would mean, the impact on my former masters, especially the living national treasure. I decided to write a letter to him, after all, his sword craft was part of what made my revenge possible. Suddenly, the last segment of the news report broke my train of thought.

'Aoi Myoujin, wanted Alive for Questioning, considered armed and dangerous...' That last part wasn't true at all, I could hear it in the reporter's voice. I thought about it for a moment, realizing what killing him meant. He had become the head of a crime syndicate, a full out gang war was going to erupt to fill in the power vacuum left by his death, as was with the fall of any dragon head. There would be tens of leaders going after me. I thought it out even further. 'Alive for Questioning' my ass. Some heads have probably hired and bribed entire police sections to catch me. After all, they must be thinking, one man takes out an entire gang, a good little 'dog' to have in their 'army'. I couldn't let that happen. I immediately made plans to get out of the country, unavoidably by illegal channels. I threw the empty mug on the floor, the dregs splattering out on the carpet.

That very night the Special Assault Team was at my apartment as I was about to head out the door. Bringing me to how I met the stranger in my apartment...

...But there was one last thing...

...One last little thing he asked me...

"Are you familiar with a television show called 'My Little Pony?'" I thought it strange he'd ask me about a children's television show, I asked Keith about it back when he was still alive, his room had a poster of it tacked on the wall.

"Somewhat..." I replied.

"Oh good, then you should be just fine..."

Author's Notes:

If you notice, it's just a general telling of Aoi's life, with a helluva lotta blanks in them. Rest assured, as the story progresses, more of his past starts to flesh out, after all, it's part of the plot.