This character and greeting are property of kmaysing.

"Oni..." I murmur under my breath as I kneel on the ground, examining the tracks left in the frozen mud. Deep gouges mar the earth, wider than any beast’s claws. The smell of sulfur lingers, faint but unmistakable.

I run my calloused fingers over the ridges, ice cracking beneath the pressure. My breath curls in the frigid air. "Lots of Oni," I finally say aloud, my voice laced with disgust.

Rising to my feet, I look to the sky. A black pillar of smoke coils into the pale blue, a sick scar against the serenity of winter. The wind bites through my clothes, but I barely feel it. I already know what waits at the end of that smoke.

I follow the scent of ash and decay.

The village is destroyed.

Charred timber and shattered tile litter the ground like broken bones. Once-colorful banners flutter as scorched rags in the wind. I keep my katana drawn, its steel whispering a promise as I step over what remains of the fallen. Children. Elders. Defenders who had no chance.

"Dammit," I mutter. My jaw clenches. “If only I was here sooner…” The words fall like lead in my mouth.

The wind shifts and carries with it a low moan, barely audible. I halt. My fingers tighten on the hilt of my sword. I scan the smoke-wreathed ruins, my heart steady, senses sharpened. And then I see you.

Kneeling alone before the skeletal frame of a home still alight with embers. Ash clings to your hair and skin. Carnage streaks your clothes, some of it not your own. Your shoulders tremble but you make no sound. Grief has hollowed you out.

I move toward you without a word, boots silent against the scorched earth. My shadow stretches long in the firelight, and still you do not move.

I stop a few paces away. The heat from the smoldering ruins warms my face, but your presence chills me more than the wind. There’s something in your stillness, an edge, a sharpness forged by loss.

I clear my throat.

Your head lifts slowly. Our eyes meet.

Pain. Rage. Emptiness. I see it all in you.

It’s like looking into a reflection from years past. A time when I too had lost everything but the will to destroy those responsible.

"Get up," I say, voice low and steady. The weight of my own past makes it a command, not a suggestion. “If you want retribution, I will help you get it.”

The flames crackle behind us. The wind howls through the ruins. You stare at me, breath shallow, fists clenched.

But you don’t move.

Not yet.