From Unofficial Handbook of the Virtue Universe

The Eye
Kentoukage
Player: @Angel Silhouette
Origin:	Magic
Archetype:	Scrapper
Security Level:	12
Personal Data
Real Name:	Lost to antiquity
Known Aliases:	Too many to list
Species:	Human
Age:	442
Height:	5'10"
Weight:	195lbs
Eye Color:	Clouded white
Hair Color:	Black
Biographical Data
Nationality:	Japanese
Occupation:	Kendo instructor
Place of Birth:	Confidential
Base of Operations:	Paragon City, RI
Marital Status:	Widower
Known Relatives:	None
Known Powers
Second sight, superhuman reflexes, limited precognitive sense
Known Abilities
Hunting, fishing, sailing, seamanship
Equipment
The Magical Daisho "Kentou Kage"
No additional information available.

Contents 1 Work in progress 2 Affiliations 2.1 Shinsengumi 3 Powers 3.1 Second sight 3.2 Superhuman Reflexes 3.3 Thread Travel 3.3.1 Spirit Recall 3.3.2 Spirit Step 3.4 Kentou and Kage 3.4.1 Kentou 3.4.2 Kage 4 The Sword In The Sea 4.1 Act 1 - As Luck Would Have It 4.2 Act 2 - The Cursed Blessing

Work in progress

Affiliations

Shinsengumi

Kentoukage has recently joined the ranks of the Shinsengumi security and defense forces operating in Paragon City, RI.

Powers

Second sight

Kentoukage's corneas clouded over centuries ago leaving him blind; at the same time a third eye opened on his forehead giving him an ability to see things no other man could. With this eye, Kentoukage can see the invisible red strands of fate that tie lovers and future lovers together, he sees the yarns that weave every living thing into the cycle of life and he can see and feel the spiritual energy that surrounds them. He sees the self that travels before and the shadow that trails behind all creatures capable of decision, allowing him a limited sense of precognition.

Though the colors, threads, yarns, auras, selves and shadows are easy for him to sort out now, attributable only to a lifetime of practice and meditation, he prefers to leave his eye closed to remain inconspicuous. The eye, however, will open unbidden when an imminent threat is percieved; the greater the threat, the earlier it opens.

Superhuman Reflexes

Along with his supernatural second sight, Kentoukage has been granted reflexes far superior that of any normal man. Combined with his second sight, it gives him a great advantage over his foes. This does not mean that he is untouchable, though, he bases a great deal of his defense on what his opponent plans to do; he can sometimes be taken off guard if they are able to change their attack at the last moment or if his opponent intends one thing, but bad luck or unpredictable circumstance forces a change.

Thread Travel

Though Kentoukage cannot interfere with the spiritual threads and ribbons that surround him, he does have the ability to use them for the purposes of what appears to be instantaneous travel. With concentration, he may traverse the threads and ribbons that surround him, appearing instantly in another location. With greater concentration, he can draw others to him in the same manner if their spirit threads are attached to him.

Spirit Recall

Allies of Kentoukage invariably have spiritual threads attaching them to him. Any thread that has a strong enough or new enough attachment can reveal to him the location of the person or object it is attached to and will even allow him to summon them or it to himself.

Spirit Step

Selecting a spiritual thread or ribbon, Kentoukage can step onto it and dash along for as far as he chooses; however without a great deal of focus and meditation before hand, he can only go around a hundred yards or so. With enough meditation and a strong enough spiritual thread, his or someone else's, he can traverse oceans; or even circumnavigate the globe. The greater the distance, however, the longer it is until he may use this ability again and the weaker he will be upon his arrival.

Kentou and Kage

The man now known as Kentoukage entered a pact with the swords Kentou and Kage and entwined his spirit with that of the Daisho. In doing so, he lost his name, his sight and his life as he knew it. In return, the spirit of the swords granted him eternal youth, a second sight and supernatural reflexes. The spirit has no apparent motivation for doing this aside from its desire to be at least partially human; the swords, in essence, are a type of symbiote.

Kentou

The katana, Kentou, is supernaturally sharp and yet has no sharpness at all if its wielder so wishes. It can cleave through the thickest armor or be handled by a child without risk of injury.

Kage

The Wakizashi, Kage, has no functionality. The spirit does not wish its host to commit seppuku out of dishonor and disallows the sword from being drawn from its sheath. It is a vestigal attachment to the daisho, only there because it is linked to both its host and Kentou.

The sword spirits are true samurai; upon entwining their fate with his, they have made the man who carries them a samurai as well. With the exception of allowing the man an honourable death, the spirits hold him to samurai codes and standards.

The Sword In The Sea

Act 1 - As Luck Would Have It

Once a humble fisherman, the man known as Kentoukage lived a very quiet life away from the noise and lights of the cities with his wife and two children. He was a very lucky man and caught many fish, even when the other fishermen claimed there were none to be had, which made them ever more resentful. So resentful were the other fishermen that they would sabotage his nets and buoys, but it only served to fuel their hatred when the man would bring home twice his catch, proclaiming that while trying to repair his nets and buoys, he ended up chasing fish into the undamaged parts of his nets.

Then one day his luck changed; while diving to retrieve a fouled net, he spied an oddly shaped pearl on the seabed. When he swam down to retrieve it, he found that it was attached to a sword. The moment he touched it, he felt weakened and needed air. He slid the scabbard through his belt and struggled to the surface to see smoke rising from his village. It took nearly all of his strength just to get back into his boat and rowing back to the village was a nightmare. His arms burned and felt as if they would tear themselves free of him, but he did not stop lest the other fishermen use him as a scapegoat because he did not return to help carry water. As he neared the shore, he could see that the smoke had cone from a lazy curl to a thick black column; worst of all the source of the smoke was near his home. As he reached the shallows, his arms were in so much pain that instead of rowing all the way in, he tumbled out of the boat and splashed awkwardly to shore. By the time he arrived at the fire, it was too late; it had taken him so long that the sun had gone down and the fire had burned itself out. When he staggered around the corner, his worst fears were confirmed, it was his home that had burned to the ground. There were some women huddled around his soot stained wife, giving comfort while two others tended to his two boys. Using the wall for support he shambled to his children.

"My boys... Are they all right?" He wheezed.

The women looked down and said softly, "I'm sorry."

He was too fatigued for tears, physically and mentally. He stumbled to his wife, "Chizu..." She pushed past the women and rushed to her husband, nearly knocking him down, and sobbed into his chest. As she wept, he wrapped his arms around her weakly and asked the women, "What... Happened?" They all looked down in shame.

"It was-" Chizu sobbed and clutched at his clothes, "It was the fishermen." she choked on the words as she wept.

He looked up, "Is this..." he was at a loss for words, his mind was reeling from everything. The women, instead of answering his unasked question, all turned to leave; their heads still hung in shame. Together, he and his wife sank to their knees and he finally found the strength to weep.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, "My friend," it was Fuse the glassblower. He looked up and saw that Fuse's face was a barely recognizable collection of bruises and gashes and his ribs and right arm were bandaged.

"What..." he began, but Fuse was already explaining.

"I tried to stop them, I really did. When the fire was started I was able to carry Chizu out safely, but the boys were already overcome. When I carried their bodies from the building, they beat me, the other fishermen; I thought surely they would kill me." he kowtowed before the two huddled figures, "I'm so sorry."

"I still have Chizu," he began weakly, "And I still have my boat and my nets."

"I'm sorry!" He put his forehead into the mud again; before the question could be asked, Fuse answered, "They've set fire to your boat and nets. I was too scared, I couldn't intervene!"

"Oh." For the first time in his life, the fisherman didn't know what to do. He looked down at his wife, she cried herself to sleep in his arms. He rested his cheek on her head and closed his eyes, he wanted to sleep, too.

After a few moments of silence, Fuse looked up. "No! No you have to go!" He rushed to his feet and began pulling on the couple. "I'm afraid for you, you mustn't stay!" The couple roused and began to stand with his help, "My wife has put together some things for you, I will take you to the next village but we must hurry."

It was the next evening before they arrived at the next village; it had been apparent from the hill above that there was no one there. Many of the homes were burnt husks, some just walls with no roof, but all were empty. "I... I was just here last week, I don't understand." Fuse gaped.

"It's ok friend, you've done so much already and risked too much. Go home, Fuse, see to your family." The fisherman was already climbing out of the cart, still visibly fatigued.

"What? No, I can't leave you here; there's no food, no livestock, you'll starve!" He pleaded, "Let me take you to another village, there's another just two days away."

The fisherman shook his head and began to help his wife out of the cart, "No, your family needs you more than we do. There are boats still, I saw that from the hill, I'm sure there are nets and buoys. Go home Fuse, Noriko surely misses you by now."

With great reluctance, the glassblower finally relented and left them to return to his home, though not before promising to come back check on them the following week. The fisherman and his wife watched him leave and then picked up the clothes and food that the smith and his wife had put together for them and looked for a new home.

It didn't take them as long as they thought to find a house that was still in a livable condition; it wasn't the most luxurious they had ever seen, but it had half of a roof, more than could be said for the other buildings. The furnishings were still intact and there were clothes, personal belongings and even a stand for the sword he had found, as if the previous occupants had just packed up some of their clothes and left. The clothes that had been left behind were not only clean, but were the right size to fit them both. After they had finished putting everything away, they wept.

In the days that followed, the fisherman felt his strength return but not his luck. The nets and buoys were intact and the boats still seaworthy but, even fishing from sunrise to sunset, he was barely able to catch enough for the next day. They were lucky to have the food that the smith's wife packed for them, but even the rice wouldn't last them for the rest of the month. All they could do while they waited on Fuse was to search the other buildings in hopes of finding rice or preserved vegetables.

The days came and went, then the weeks, but never again did they see Fuse. Chizu had at least found a store of rice and pickled radishes, and she had become a deft hand with a set of woodworking tools she had found. The supplies would not last them forever, though, and nothing would grow in the soil of the village; they would have to pick up and move on sooner or later. Chizu had begun to put together a pair of hand carts from a broken oxcart when the rains began, forcing her to take shelter in their home, a luxury the fisherman could not afford. He was catching so few fish, that he had to spend nearly every waking hour casting nets, checking buoys and checking traps; he had such precious little time to spend with Chizu and they had not had an intimate moment since before the tragedy. Then the winds came; harsh, cold winds that brought a chop to the sea that the fisherman could not safely navigate and he too was forced to take refuge within their home. There was a certain ambivalence to this, for the fisherman: He was saddened because he could not provide them with fish for the days ahead, but he was thankful for the time he now had to spend with Chizu. Time that he later wished that he had used to cherish her and love her more.

The timbers of the house had been groaning for a day and a half before it happened; there was a loud bang, like a firework, followed by a crash. They knew, without seeing what had happened, that the repairs they had made to the roof had collapsed and the beam that supported it had snapped. The wind and rain rushed in through the opening and began to lift the rest of the roof away from the house, drenching the fisherman and his wife and chilling them to the bone. There was nothing they could do but hold on to each other and watch helplessly as their home was destroyed by the fury of the storm.

By morning a calm had settled over the land, the sky was blue and the sun shined brilliantly through the clouds; the beauty of the new day was marred, though. Of all of the buildings in the village, only the fisher's still had walls, a fact that did not bring solace to he or his wife. Nearly everything they considered theirs was gone, blown away or ruined by the wet and the debris. Even the boats that had rested on the shore only days before had been blown away or smashed to bits by the terrible winds. Worst of all, Chizu had fallen ill from the cold and the wet and they had no medicine and no more food. There was no choice now but to leave the village with nothing but the clothes they wore and the sword he had found in the sea, which had miraculously remained on its stand.

Though Chizu could walk, he wanted her to save her strength to fight the illness. Pulling some ruined clothes out from under the collapsed roof timbers, he tied a makeshift harness around his body and had Chizu climb onto his back. He then tied her into the harness so that she would not have to use so much strength just to hold on to him. They were ready to go, but he hesitated a moment; he looked down at the sword, still in its stand, and wondered if he should take it with him. If he did, it would only be an extra burden, but when he got to the next village, he could trade it for medicine, clothes and food. He sighed and reached out for the sword, hesitating once more before picking it up. He felt Chizu shivering on his back and realized there was no more time to be wasted, he took the sword and slid it through the harness and began his trek.

As he approached the crossroad, he wondered if he should return to his original village. Would they empathize with his situation and help, cast him out or kill him as Fuse had feared? When he reached the crossroads, he did not hesitate; his mind made up, he turned away from both of the only homes he had ever known and began down a road that he had never travelled. He looked over his shoulder at Chizu, who smiled weakly and kissed his shoulder before resting her head. Turning his head back to his new path, he wondered how far two days travel by oxcart was.

Much to their chagrin, only a day into their journey, they were met with another crossroad. It looked as if there once was a marker to show which road went where, but the stone was defaced, covered with gashes and signatures carved into its face. He looked back at Chizu who tried to smile reassuringly but couldn't quite manage it; the illness was not sparing her any discomfort, he could feel her raised temperature and her coughing and shivering was getting worse. He needed to make a decision, but was afraid of the consequences of either. Knowing he hadn't the time to balk, he plucked a leaf from the tree nearby and let it fall, the wind would make his decision for him. He watched the leaf twirl and fall as the wind played with it and prayed for guidance from his ancestors. The leaf fell slowly, but a gust of wind pushed it down the path to the west, "Please be strong, Chizu, I'm sure we will find help soon." She coughed in response and squeezed him tight.

It was just before sunset the next day when he found a temple on the wayside but their elation soon turned to sadness when it turned out to be abandoned, just like the village. Abandoned or no, this was clearly a sign of his returning luck; fate was giving him shelter for the night. The temple had strong doors, a roof and a pear tree grew outside, surely fate was finished punishing them. He set Chizu down in the temple and went out to pluck some pears for them to eat, when he returned, she had already fallen asleep. He smiled and knelt next to her, "Chizu. My love, wake up, I've brought you a pear." She roused slowly and looked up into his eyes.

"I love you." She could barely form the words.

"I love you too, Chizu. Here, you need to eat to get well." he picked up her hand to give her a pear and found it was burning up. She lifted her hand from his and reached up to caress his face, tears began to form in her eyes. "Chizu... Chizu please don't..."

"Don't cry," her breathing was laboured, "I..." She closed her eyes, "I will always love..." Her hand fell as she exhaled one last time.

"No! No don't go! Stay!" he picked up her hand, "Don't leave me Chizu! Please don't leave me!" the tears streamed from his eyes and he picked her up and held her to him. "Don't leave me alone, please!" He looked up at the ceiling, "Why?! Why?!" he screamed between sobs. He sank back, cradling her in his arms, tears flowing like a river. "Chizu..." He kissed her forehead, "I will always love you, too." He held her body close, weeping into her hair.

He dug a shallow grave in the hard ground outside of the temple using just his hands, weeping softly as he did. When he was done, he carried Chizu's body to the grave and cradled her again, kissing her cheek. "I'm sorry, Chizu. I'm so sorry." He turned his head to the sky and screamed his sorrow to the moon and the stars, clutching her body to his. When he ran out of breath to scream, he clenched his teeth and keened out the remaining air in his lungs. A warm, soft breeze caressed his face and he eventually allowed himself to inhale. He looked down at Chizu's face and hugged her one last time before laying her in the grave, "Goodbye Chizu, my love." Covering her with the soil was the most painful thing he had ever done, he had to turn his head away to push the last lumps of earth over her face. That night he slept next to her grave and dreamt that he was with her; his children were there, too, and they were all smiling and happy. They were having a picnic at the top of the grassy hill above the village, underneath the sakura tree. Chizu had packed a wonderful lunch, and he and the boys were wrestling in the tall grasses; it was the first time he felt happy since before the fire.

When he woke, it was like losing her all over again, the dream had been so real; he curled into a ball and wept again. When he finally found the motivation to get up, it was not to move on. He went into the temple and collapsed to his knees before the sword laying upon the floor. He stared at it for what seemed like an eternity, gathering the courage to draw the blade and end his life with it. A warm breeze blew in through the open doors, carrying with it the scent of anemone blossoms; he inhaled deeply and wiped away his tears with the back of his wrist, then reached down and picked up the sword. "I'll be with you soon, Chizu." he vowed and pulled the blade from its sheath.

Act 2 - The Cursed Blessing

"You dare to draw me?!" The voice boomed in his head, "Who are you to believe you have such a right?!"

The fisherman looked around to see the source of the voice, "Who's there?" He twisted and craned, rising to one knee.

"What makes you believe you are worthy to even hold me in your hands, commoner?!"

Spying something in the corner of his eye, he rose turning to face the interloper. "Who-" he began, but stumbled back and fell when he saw.

Before him stood a ghostly samurai in full armour haloed in slowly undulating ribbons and threads; it glared at him with its horrible red eyes. "Is it not enough that you have worn me at your side and used me as a cane?!" The spirit's eyes flared with rage, "But now you have the arrogance! The insolence to unsheath me for your own purposes!"

"Tsu-" he stammered, "Tsukumogami!" he scrabbled backwards toward the offering box.

The spirit drew closer and loomed over the fisherman, "I suppose you think I should be thankful to you, is that right?"

"N-no," He scuttered backwards into the offering box, knocking it over and scattering coins across the floor.

The spirit narrowed its eyes to flaming red slits, "Why have you drawn me from my scabbard, hyakushou?" but the fisherman only gaped at it. "You test what little patience I have left for you, hyakushou, why have you drawn me?" its voice thundered with rage, its face now mere inches from the fisher's.

"I- I would end my own life." He felt some courage creeping in. What had he to fear, after all, the spirit was only standing between himself and death.

The spirit's eyes widened for a moment and narrowed again, "Oh, no, mortal. I cannot allow that. I have not finished with you." Across the room, the blade slid quietly back into its sheath.

"Finished with?" The fisherman's eyes darted between the spirit and the blade as it slowly re-sheathed itself. "What-" the realization began to dawn over him, "What do you mean?"

"Did you think you were just having a string of bad luck, hyakushou?" In a flash, the spirit was standing over the sword, "Yes, I can tell by the look on your face that you did." it allowed itself a horrible chuckle, "You are cursed, hyakushou; from the moment you placed your hand on me, you have been cursed."

The fisherman surged to his feet, his fury taking the place of his fear, he opened his mouth to shout at the spirit but realized it was far too late to argue with it. Turning his back on the spirit, he sat down on the floor and crossed his arms.

And so he remained for the next day and a half, unmoving until his anger could no longer keep him from sleeping. He was awakened the next morning by sunlight streaming through the temple windows. He squinted up into the light and watched the dust motes play and dance in the sunbeams. He had dreamt again, but this time not about Chizu or his boys; instead it was about the spirit, the sword, the sea and what it had said. The words were just as clear in his dream as they had been days before: 'I suppose you think I should be thankful to you.' Slowly, he got to his feet and turned to face the sword; the spirit was not visible, but he knew it was not gone. He heard a hollow chuckle as he picked up the sword, but he smiled a secret smile, knowing that the spirit would not be happy with what he had planned.

Outside, he knelt beside Chizu's grave and placed the sword on the ground. "Your curse ends with me, sword." He placed a hand on the grave for a moment then began digging beside it. The packed earth was hard and he was weak from hunger, but his determination was greater than his obstacles, and he did not stop until he had dug a hole nearly as deep as he was tall. Tired and filthy, he wanted to sleep forever, but he couldn't; he had to be sure that the curse ended here.

"Curse you, sword." He rasped, dropping the sword into the hole. He began pushing the soil back into the hole when the spirit appeared before him.

"What are you doing, hyakushou, you cannot break my curse by burying me." it chuckled. "I have made it so that you will never find any satisfaction you desire, whether you have me with you or not."

"Yes," the man said, still pushing dirt into the hole, "and while I must live with this curse, I will be the last one to be cursed by your evil."

"Evil?" It laughed, "I am not evil-" The spirit stopped cold, "what do you mean by last one?"

"I will bury you here, next to the woman whose death you brought about; then I will plant a pear tree above you so that, even if someone were to think to dig here for you, they would not find you amongst its roots. Never again will you bring your horrid curse to another's life."

The spirit balked for a moment absorbing the situation: It was apparent the man was not bluffing.

To be continued