The gerbil sat in between his sister and Ansei and was eagerly watching the stage. Next to Asami was his mother, followed by the Oyakata himself, and then Botan and Ezra. Hiroshi had noticed throughout the evening that Kenjiro would take time to engage his mother with conversation and general niceties. Of course, Hiroshi thought nothing of it. Hikari was a mother, and as far as he was concerned, she was still married to Jiro, his father. It was, of course, the Oyakata just being friendly to the visitors to his beya.

  Botan was very much unlike his usual self. The man was almost giddy with excitement at the prospect of the show.

  They sat in the very middle of the theater. The Hajima stable took up a sizable block right in the middle square of the main audience portion. Not only random people who wished to see the show, but also other stables who had purchased seats for the show surrounded them. There were box seats above the main theater where different lords or ladies had special seats. Then there was also a large grand box in the very middle and set back from the rest that was the Emperor’s own seat.

  The chairs were lush and fabric, and Hiroshi wasn’t sure if he had ever sat in a seat that relaxed his bottom so much. Even the larger men of the group, like Nishikigi, seemed to sit comfortably in the red fabric seats.

  “Do you know who’s telling the story?” He asked Ezra when Ezra asked him why he was acting so weird.

  Ezra just shrugged. “Some storyteller I’d imagine.”

  Botan sniffed. “Not just any storyteller,” he said before launching into the story of Ami and how Daichi himself had gifted him a peach of immortality. “Besides that, the man is a powerful cultivator in his own right. We’re in for a great show, I suspect,” he finished with a firm nod.

  Hiroshi looked over in awe at the story of Ami and nodded his head in approval. This only made him more excited about the evening.

  Kenjiro seemed rather bored with the entire ordeal. “Yeah, yeah. Another evening where we see the story of Kentaro told wrong.” He tsk’d and shook his head.

  Botan looked like the Oyakata insulted him personally. Before the two could argue about Kenjiro’s statement, though, the lights to the theater went dark, and a voice called out through the entire building.

  “Welcome everyone to the Emperor’s theater here in Yoshino.”

  Hiroshi looked back to the stage where the voice was coming from and a man sat on a stool. The man didn’t look extraordinary at all, from what he could tell. He was just a bald guy with pale skin, like he had come from the Island Kingdoms or the Western continent. The man had a short beard that was an almost red color. He wore a red outer robe with orange inner robes and looked like he came from the Clear Lake Monastery. They were a sect of pacifists who Hiroshi knew cultivated, but not like cultivators. He wasn’t too sure of the differences since he wasn’t and didn’t care to be a cultivator.

  “Tomorrow begins the Summer Sumo Tournament and I’m told it should be a very exciting tournament. Zo-Ichi and newly roped Nishikigi will both be in attendance and vying to win the yusho,” he said.

  The yokozuna announcements prompted random applause, but Kenjiro glared around to ensure his stable remained silent.

  Ami laughed and raised and lowered his hands to get the crowd back to silence. “Yes, it will be exciting. While sumo might be while we’re here, we aren’t here to celebrate those two, are we?”

  Without waiting for an answer, he continued. “No, we’re here to tell the story of the first Sumotori, Kentaro. Kentaro, who saved Kokokan and arguably the entire continent from the war god and fire kami Kenichi, is the man whose story we’re here to tell.

  Ami stood then and grabbed his stool and carried it off to the side of the stage. Once seated again, he waved his hands, flooding the stage area with purple mist.

  “Those of you in the audience who might be cultivators, it might be best if you lowered whatever guards you have up to experience the show,” Ami said while he worked his mana.

  Hiroshi heard a disgruntled noise from Botan, but then a grunt as Kenjiro elbowed him. The boy wasn’t sure if Botan actually did it, but he tried to ignore the commotion, as he wanted to concentrate on the show.

  The purple aura in the air swirled and expanded throughout the audience. “Those of you who aren’t cultivators. Have no fear. Just relax and let me tickle your senses as I take you through the tale.”

  Before Hiroshi had the chance to do anything, everything around him was gone. He was no longer sitting in an audience in a posh royal theater. He was standing on a battlefield away from an army that was facing down a large walled city.

  ‘Ryoku,’ he mouthed to himself and blinked rapidly.

  _____________________________

  “You think you have what it takes to stand against me? I am Kenichi, War God and Fire Kami! You stand no chance!” Kenichi roared. He stood in the sleek armor plates of the Warrior and held a long slightly curved sword at his side. To stress his point of being the Fire Kami, two large bursts of flame erupted on either side of the gate that led into the grand city of Ryoku.

  Behind him stood hundreds of soldiers with all sorts of weapons of war. Some with naginata, some with katanas. None used the odachi like their lord did. None of them could wield it with such power as the lord of war himself. They all shouted and screamed, their fury in their bloodlust. Kenichi waged wars in the lands east of the island, stopping here en route to the continent that would later be known as the Sasuke Empire.

  One battle to blood his newer recruits before they pressed on to the more organized lands. Get them ready for the sort of war Kenichi waged; bloody. They had fallen to his army and decided to join it instead of losing their lives.

  Kenichi looked at the gates, his impatience growing. Before he could yell and demand once more, the gates slowly opened.

  “There will be no truce or bribing to send me along my way. My troops are hungry. We demand war,” he called.

  There was one lone man who walked out of the gate, a bear of a man. People in these parts generally didn’t make it past six feet tall. This man, though, had to be almost seven feet tall and as wide as an ox. His hair was jet black and worn in a topknot where the top resembled a ginkgo leaf. It wasn’t a style often seen, except for a particularly rowdy bunch. He didn’t look back as the gate closed behind him.

  “No, there will be no truce, Lord Kenichi. Just a simple offer from me, to you,” he said. He spoke low and calm. The war god seemed not to have any kind of effect on him. “Just a simple challenge.”

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  An elaborate loincloth clothed the man who had journeyed from the city. A thick material that wrapped around his girth belly with the cloth that covered his privates. The mawashi was a simple dull gray color that was stained from years of training and sweat.

  The area between the gates and where Kenichi stood with his army was an open field of dirt and clay. The man who walked out towards the army looked to the overcast sky. He hoped silently it would wait to rain until after his challenge. Though he supposed, if they did fight and he lost, at least the rain would help put out the fires these people would burn the city with.

  Kenichi laughed and took off the sleek helmet he wore. He was bearded where the large man had a smooth faced. Kenichi had a topknot, but he’d shaved the middle of his head. Something warriors sometimes did to help make sure their helmets sat firmly on the tops of their heads. He looked over at the much taller, physically superior man.

  “Tell me, what is your name and what is this challenge you wish to issue?” Kenichi asked him.

  When the man reached Kenichi and stood about 15 feet away, he bowed to the fire kami. He wasn’t a cultivator, so he didn’t clasp his hands in front of him. Instead, he kept his arms at his sides and he bowed deep, showing the kami the respect a god deserved. When he looked back, he answered.

  “My name is Kentaro. Just a simple civilian here in Ryoku. The people have faith in me, though, Lord. They have faith in my skill. I wish to wrestle with you. If I win, you pack your army and you go away from not only this city or island, but you also leave the entire Empire alone,” Kentaro said simply.

  _____________________________

  Kenjiro’s loud snorting broke Hiroshi’s illusion. When people glared over at the Oyakata, he shrugged and defended himself.

  “That’s not what happened,” he said simply.

  The only one who gave him a second glance was Botan. The rest shook their heads and looked back at Ami letting the purple aura bring them back to the story.

  Hiroshi missed part of the show. Upon his return to the illusion, he saw two men grappling.

  _____________________________

  “This is how real men fight,” Kentaro growled.

  Kenichi had shed his clothing and was left with only his loincloth, that was as white as snow and held with thick braided rope around the sides. Kenichi had an inside grip on Kentaro’s mawashi while Kentaro’s arms wrapped around the smaller kami’s shoulders.

  “We look our opponent in the eye. We don’t send savages and miscreants to destroy homes and cities,” he growled once more, then he squeezed Kenichi’s upper body.

  Kentaro shifted his grip on the smaller being. Instead of being wrapped around his shoulders, he moved and went for Kenichi’s loincloth. Kenichi’s arms were now clenched between Kentaro’s arms. It went quickly from there. Kenichi fought to escape the larger man’s grip, but he couldn’t. They engaged in a deal and even though Kenichi may have been a monster and warmonger; he had his own code of morality. He wouldn’t break the deal they made.

  _____________________________

  Hiroshi was even more annoyed now. He knew he had missed some things with Kenjiro’s outburst. He knew the story anyway and knew that Kentaro and Kenichi had agreed to fight. Knew that Kenichi was so confident that he would use the strength of a mortal and wouldn’t tap in on his power.

  Still, it was annoying not to see. He frowned and immersed himself back into the illusion, not wanting to miss the ending.

  _____________________________

  Kentaro lifted the smaller man, who restricted himself so much with a loud growl. Kenichi yelled as he felt like his arms were going to break off from the pressure the larger man was putting on them. His legs were kicking underneath him as the larger mortal picked the yelling kami up like he was a screaming baby. A few steps and he set the god down outside of the large circle. Kentaro drew in the sand.

  “There, you have lost,” Kentaro said, huffing as he let Kenichi go.

  Kenichi stood there and looked up at Kentaro with a slack jawed look. “How did…”

  Before he could finish his stammering, there was a bright light. A white fiery light that encompassed the entire field. When it was gone, there was a new person who stood beside Kenichi and Kentaro. They both went to their knees in front of Rei, the one known as the Father of the Kami. He stood there in white robes trimmed with gold and had golden designs. His white hair was long and worn loose and seemed to hang in the air. The golden eyes of the god had looked over them.

  Rei favored Kentaro with a smile and a slight nod, and then he frowned when he looked at Kenichi. “My son,” he said, the disappointment evident in his voice.

  “Father I… forgive…” Kenichi stammered, but a wave of his hand and a sniff and the fire kami fell to silence.

  “It was one thing to run around with this army. It wasn’t good to defeat the mortals in such a way, but you were acting in your nature. You are the god of war after all,” Rei said. His voice was deep and soft, but there was a resonance to it.

  “It brought a sort of glory, I suppose,” he continued. “But now you lose to a mortal in single combat? In a wrestling match, of all things. Such interesting rules the mortal had even.”

  Kenichi tried to stammer a response, but a glare from the father cowed the war kami. He may be powerful, but even he knew his place against such a being as the father.

  “You though,” Rei now looked at Kentaro. “Will be favored by the mortals, I expect. What do you call this style of wrestling you fight?”

  Kentaro’s eyes went wide and his forehead hit the clay. He spoke from the dirt. “Sumo,” he said simply. His mind searched for a title to give to the man in white and golden robes, but he couldn’t think of one good enough.

  Rei didn’t seem to mind the lack of a title, though. He just nodded his head. “Sumo,” he said slowly, as if he was trying to taste the word in his mouth. It took a moment, but he gave an approving nod. “I like it. I expect the mortals shall sing songs of your praises here for years to come.”

  “Thank you,” Kentaro said, still unsure of what exactly to call him. He didn’t know exactly who this man was, but there was an overwhelming feeling that this being was somehow more than Kenichi. More… everything. More powerful, more… he wasn’t sure, but there was one thing that ran through his mind. ‘Power.’

  “Stand now, mortal. Look upon me,” Rei commanded.

  It took Kentaro a moment to realize what the man was saying, and when the warning bells of alarm rang in his head, Kentaro jumped to his feet. He looked at Rei uncomfortably, but he followed the command of the one who appeared in a ray of sunlight.

  “A hero of the mortals like this already has some power. The entire city has faith in you to save them. Believing in something so strongly was how the kami were born on this world to begin with,” Rei explained and then put a hand on the mammoth man’s shoulders.

  Even though Kentaro was much larger of a man than Rei, he still seemed small in comparison. He felt like a mouse in front of a lion. No, that didn’t even quite give the comparison he felt at the moment.

  “Welcome to the family,” Rei said simply, and smiled. Then it was as if he commanded it. The rain started and a burst of lightning struck the ground near where the three were.

  _____________________________

  Hiroshi blinked, and he was once more sitting in the theater. He stared up in awe at the red bearded, bald man up on the stage.

  Ami stood there in the middle of the stage, his arms outstretched. The purple that hung in the air was no longer a simple mist. It had transformed into thick purple balls of pure mana. They were thick and almost like ooze. Hiroshi only saw them for a moment, though, and then they were dissolving back into the glittering mist of the aura.

  Hiroshi looked around and even saw Botan’s struck face. Even the firm, ever unimpressed man had a look of shock on his face from the display of power from the storyteller. He blinked and then looked at his little sister, who had fallen asleep. He frowned and then looked at Ansei next to him.

  “That was awesome!” Ansei yelled when the two made eye contact. Hiroshi could only nod his head in agreement.

  Kenjiro snorted again and shook his head. “It was alright, he got some details wrong.”

  The group looked at him with incredulity at the Oyakata’s statement and he shrugged. “Let’s get out of here. You guys need your rest for tomorrow.”

  ROYAL road.

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