Follow the Wind

Prologue: Howl of the Wind

The rising morning sun brought no warmth to Yasuo. He knelt with his back to it, his knees resting on his brother's makeshift grave. His hands, still stained with Yone's blood, shook as they gripped his knees. In front of him, Yone's sword jutted out of the ground like a tombstone, marking the place where his brother lay.

All around him, he could hear the constant howl of the wind. It tore through the Ionian mountains and over the grassy hills where he had fought Yone. Yasuo hated the sound. It reminded him that he could not escape the wind. All it had done to him was bring him pain; it had killed his master, stolen his future from him, and stained his honor with the blood of lies. And now it had killed his brother.

He gave an anguished cry, one that was lost in the wailing wind. His body still shook with heavy sobs and he placed his face in his hands.

"Why?" he shouted at his brother, "Why didn't you believe me? Why don't any of you believe me?"

Using his sword for support, he stood shakily. It took several minutes, and twice as many deep breaths, before Yasuo steadied himself. Though his eyes were still blurred by tears, they were also filled with a renewed determination.

For years, he had wandered without purpose, hiding and running. He had ran to escape his past, and ran to survive. He had outrun and outfought all those who had sought him, his blade cutting them down like so many leaves in the wind. Friends. Comrades. His brother.

Even Yone had just been another seed torn to pieces by the wind.

But now he had a lead. Yone had given him a fire to light his darkened path: the wind. Yasuo knew his journey would not be an easy one; it would be winding and thorny, that much he was certain of. But it would lead him to the truth.

Yasuo turned away from Yone's grave, his travelling pack tied securely to the blade of his sword.

"I will find them, brother. I will find who did this, and I will cut the truth from them. I swear it. On your sword and mine."

Even as he spoke his oath, the wind around him seemed to pick up speed. It tugged at him, pulling at his clothes and his hair, as if urging him to begin his journey. Yasuo looked back at where his brother lay, the sword marking Yone's final resting place. Yasuo knew that so long as his name was sullied, he would never be able to return to this place. He felt the wind pull at him again, and he relented, letting himself be led by the hands of the wind. He turned away from his brother's grave, looking instead to the rising sun.

"So it is, then. I will follow the wind."