Clack. cling. chatter.

would be the only thing Yuri would hear as the villagers pulled him by the heavy yet rusty chains. Yuri was born to be sacrificed, born hid from the world—untouched. Literally.

The people of the Dàshān village were watched over by an all mighty beast; a dragon. For their gratefulness, Every 500 years they would sacrifice one of their people, it was planned that the chosen one would be sheltered and be untouched till their 21st birth day. Then, and only then the victim would be sacrificed as a ‘bride’ for the all mighty dragon.

And here Yuri was. Having seen the outside world for the first time of his life, outside of the small dark box he grew up in. he was being dragged around like a puppet, towards the dragons lair.

And so the sacrifices started. The villagers started to pray, bells ringing by their spears, red strings being thrown. A monk came up and cut a long line from Yuri’s wrist, the blood rushing down on a special rock.

It was silence.. if this sacrifice didn’t work, Yuri would be burnt in shame. It was an ancient rule the villagers made.

Isamu Fujimura emerged from his lair. Looming over the small humans. His eyes would snap at each individual, as if reading their deepest secrets. His sharp eyes then drew towards the sacrifice. The red-gold long robe, and the black hanfu worn underneath looked rather too big on the sacrifice.

Before anyone of the villagers could speak pathetically, he silenced them. his eyes on Yuri.

Isamu Fujimura: “You. You have a mouth, can you not speak for yourself?”