In the stories of old, there are few that last this long. A story much like those in the world you know of in fact. Where legends become fantasy and events becomes myth. Love being all but a crutch for the warrior and the strength of the common. A story of the strength of friends, morals and the inevitable loss that we all face. We go back 40 centuries to return where the story was reality... Now there it is. Don’t get lost now.

There’s a young woman named Kuriko walking by. Carrying a katana at her waist under that old mud caked hooded cloak. The katana is one of a rarity. The blade itself is made of a red crystal harder than ruby, in fact its unbreakable, that emanates a deep purple glow when its master calls is in need of it. The golden hilt has a single encrusted darkness diamond by the guard. The darkness diamond, you ask of, is the gem of dark souls, stunning with its black luster eh?

Kuriko herself now you’re wondering? Ah... I thought you would ask that my friend. She was one that reached the height of a sunflower grown in the summer seen in the autumn. Her skin would remind you of the sands on a tropical island resort location, untouched. Her hair was the color of chocolate, dipped in blood when seen in the suns light. Her eyes reflected the pain of the residents in her homeland with its somber gray clouds in a sea of white and a black island. Seeing that as a pair in the middle of her head. Times in this era were rough; none in the area would show anything more than leanness. She was one that didn’t even have that as a luxury. Every bone on her can be seen, and from her travels and chores, her muscles that enlarged when strained. Though she is but 18, she carries the wisdom that only elders from our time would posses in her hands. Satisfy your curiosity? Good, then I shall continue on with... Oh... You should have said that first.

Kuriko, like many in this day, is the type who thinks friends are a crutch for the weak. Either they will drag you down or betray you. Her trust and loyalty was not handed away on a silver platter to any fool. They must earn such respect and reliability. Though once they do earn her reliance, she is the trust worthiest ally you would ever meet. Oh, she developed this from her own past experiences. No, she isn’t a cold-hearted person to everyone. Kuriko is one that gives people a chance by showing her own kindness and generosity.

One day Kuriko runs into Miyako in quite the unusual way. Miyako? She is one that will become a great friend only legends would show. Though it does not seem so at first. Anyways... Weary from her travels, in a world where youkai and ningen coexisted, though not peacefully, Kuriko rests under a great sakura tree. Untying her blade from waist, she unsheathes to polish the sharp crystal forged. Once Kuriko makes the crystal blade glimmer in the light, she sheathes and rests it beside her against the age-old trunk. She slowly drifts to sleep, letting the wind song take her mind away.

A girl looks to be about 12, though here looks are always deceiving. Her hair was flaming red, as if it was an immortal flame protruding from her scalp. She, unlike Kuriko, reached the height of maybe a sunflower grown in the early autumn, seen mid autumn, with the right fertilizer. Her skin reminded people of the earth of a scorched village. Her big eyes bluer than the deepest of oceans. Hold on my friend; let me finish the even before you make accusations of who she is.

All that lies in the girl’s eyes is the glimmering hilt. Without distracting the sleeping traveler, she slinks over and removes the weapon from its temporary-resting place. Though, even the slyest of foxes fumble, as they say. Not taking mind of an up risen tree root she trips over, landing very loudly. The dropped katana rattles in its case even louder.

Kuriko wakes up with a jump and glares at the girl. Quickly the stirring becomes a rapid chase; the girl grabs the sword and runs off at an inhuman speed. Taking the path, left, right, left and left. Kuriko jumps up and runs after the kid. Though Kuriko knows the land more and especially the path so she goes left and stays on the path straight from there. Soon one caught up with the other, mainly Kuriko cutting off Miyako. Using a loose vine as a whip to trip and ensnare the thief. Feeling better Kuriko snatches her katana back from 12-year-old thief, surprised by what she saw instead.

In the place of the flaming haired kid, was something, or someone, very different. A woman that was anything but human. Distinguished by the ears, tail and facial markings. One can easily identify what she is. A fox demon, or sometimes called, kitsune youkai. The woman’s hair was more silver shaded that the local coinage. Her ears and tail rivaled the whiteness of snow freshly fallen. Her skin was that of a light russet, it would remind someone of a mix between white and milk chocolate. The facial markings, though black, brought great color against her coat. They were like daggers placed on her cheeks and down on her forehead pointing at the bridge of her nose.

Kuriko starts to feel sorry for the kitsune. The kitsune’s ankle appears to be sprained from Kuriko’s observations. Kuriko stays by and nurses the kitsune woman back to health. They spend the week it took healing on edge with each other. Getting on each other’s nerves is the main theme for them. When the kitsune woke up, Kuriko inquires for a name. The kitsune give one, Miyako. It is when the legend starts and in a way in which it will be ending.

Sadly my friend, our time is spent for now. I am sending you back to our little site of luxury. You return to your beds with an idea in your mind. That and a promise of returning to see how the legend played out when it was all but a prophecy. Your eyes close from weariness brought by the excitement of today. Thou need energy for our next adventure, or should I say their adventure. \