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The Monk and the Shadow

The Monk and the Shadow

Once, when old days were young, a monk traveled on a dusty road to a far off monastery. He had been sent there by his guru, a wise and noble man, to temper the anger that dwelled in his heart. Unlike his pupils before, this monk had blood, and the chance to regret. He had hope for the monk to become better than what he had been before. And so he set off, moving alone.

But hungry eyes watched from the dark. 

When night fell, he made his camp by the side of the road and began to meditate. From the shadows, a stranger emerged. Peaceful in mannerisms, he asked the monk why he sitting alone. He pressed and hemmed, for this stranger was familiar with the monk’s guru. Many had passed before, and all had fallen to him. 

As he tried his subterfuge, he found it more and more difficult to persuade the monk to go into the darkness with him. Asking became commands, and soon turned to aggression. When the stranger showed his true face and launched himself at the monk, it was too late. A swift death came, a mercy for such a beast. For the monk had seen his glowing eyes and sharpened fangs, and had known his path to be true.

You too, have come from the shadows of an unknown will. Bringing forth dossiers of the pupils of Banzan’s past, in an attempt to ‘warn’ me. Attempting to say that you care, have “only the best intentions” in mind. Strange, for someone that has no motivation to manipulate. It does bring up a question however. 

 Did best intentions save Joanna from her end?

Hem and haw about the blood on the hands of Banzan as much as you please. It drowns in comparison to the crimson that runs from your mouth. Anyone with eyes can see that you are more monster than man, unable to reach things as simple as dreams. The claws, the fangs, that hunger dwelling behind your eyes. You are built upon the foundations of sins dark and treacherous just to merely live. 

All that is really there is a beast, lurking in the shadows. 

But as the monster underestimated the monk that had come before, so have you underestimated me. I am not a feeble fable maker, nor a loon lost from life. I am a killer, a monster in my own right. I can tell when the shadows come to stalk, for I have hunted from them myself. Your movements, your postures. The way you compose and hold yourself. 

You read like an open book. 

To issue a challenge to establish your footing is merely an appeal to move a mind already set. You will show your red belly, and leave it open and exposed just long enough. All it will take is a single strike as before. Only then will you finally understand that I was not to be trifled with.

Leaving only a shadow of what once was.