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Side-Story: Shuta 1

Reinforced heels clicked against the marble floor as three men stormed down the halls of that sacred place. The sound resonated through the space, warning any who were thinking of stepping out to think twice. Two guards walked at either side of a man in a suit and tie. They both wore white robes fitted with hoods, sheer black masks lined with polished steel covered their heads. He himself wore no such mask, preferring a simple silver-and-black metal hanpo designed to look like the sneer of a demon. His long black hair hung down his back, a single white streak tied with silver bands hanging over his shoulder and across his chest. A chime rang in his ear and he touched his earpiece.

“On my way,” He growled, dark eyes narrowed.

That man was back yet again. He came more and more often these days. He came to the sacred doors and stood there, shouting his fury at the sacred temple and demanding an audience. Every time he was sent away. He was a troublesome person who didn’t know how to keep his nose out of business that did not concern him, that was above him. Shuta strode down the hall as the guards on either side of him readied their weapons while he clutched at the saya of his own tool of death. A weapon he had earned in the dungeon. His head tilted forward as they drew closer to the front door of the temple, his lips forming a thin line.

“Do not engage unless threatened,” He hissed and the two masked men nodded.

Shuta pushed the doors open and stepped out into the beautiful courtyard. White flowers bloomed in a green garden dotted with small ponds. The solitary stone pathway leading to the outer gates was empty save for a solitary figure that stood on the wrong side of the gates. Shuta clicked his tongue, Despoiler, how dare you.

He crossed the distance quickly, the neatly cut lawn nothing but a blur in his periphery as he stalked indignantly towards the man who dared stand there with impunity. He came to a stop only a few meters away, tilting his head up and looking the hulking man in the eyes. Tanned skin, tattoos showing beneath a suit that was just a little too tight. Graying hair on his head and an unforgiving stare, “Hero Sapporo,” Shuta said, keeping his tone as steady as he could even as rage boiled beneath his skin. The international hero offered him no greeting. He only scowled. “You are trespassing in a sacred place, leave now,” Shuta clipped out into the silence between them.

Sapporo tilted his head up and looked down at Shuta, “Kato Shuta. Your organization openly worships a wanted criminal and praises her actions,” He said stoically, “The only reason I am not leveling this building in search of your so-called leader right this instant is that officially you have not committed any acts of villainy and my own shortening patience.”

Shuta took a step forward and tilted his head, looking into the man’s face, “You have no right to enter this place, you have been banned from the premises and a formal request put forward to the Pandora Committee demanding that you cease this harassment,” He said, “Again, I ask you to leave. The people here want to be left alone and I will protect them from you.”

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Sapporo raised an eyebrow, “A request that was denied, a ban that was countered,” The big man growled, “You are villains, I have no doubt, and I will defend this nation from the infection of Ishtar’s followers. We have suspicions that she has already made contact and it will be confirmed.”

“The savior has made no such contact,” Shuta insisted, “Now begone.”

Sapporo’s eyes glowed for a moment and he leaned forward, “Savior?” He growled, his voice dropping a full octave, “Move me, then, I will see your leader. She has to answer for poisoning the minds of Japanese people.”

“We have a right to practice our faith-” Shuta began but a faint wave of power cut him off. He clenched his hand around his weapon and steadied himself as Sapporo seemed to grow just a fraction bigger before his eyes. Sweat poured down his back, the mighty mythic and warrior that had faced the beast An Set in single combat loomed over him with a pitiless stare. Shuta felt his guts turn to ice and could sense his men trembling behind him. He set his jaw anyway and firmed every ounce of resolve he could, “-until you have proof. You may not come in. Even if I die I will not allow you to pass.”

All Shuta could see for a moment was a pair of glowing eyes and smelled the faint scent of alcohol in the air. It burned his nose, even through the mask, “You worship a mass-murderer and terrorist. Step aside.”

“No,” Shuta bit out even as he felt his knuckles creak around his weapon, a madness inching into his mind, telling him to lash out, strike first. He shook his head and glowered at the man before leaping back and striking his two guards in the back of the neck. The two men who were on the verge of drawing their weapons crumpled to the ground, “I will not strike first.”

Sapporo straightened and the pressure vanished as if it had never been there. The sweat on Shuta’s brow increased and he felt his muscles tremble under the strain they had been put under, “You put our homeland in danger,” Sapporo growled, “Unforgivable. I will return again and again until your leader sees me. They cannot escape justice even if the law protects them, for now,” He snarled and turned away, “I will be watching.”

With that the mighty hero vanished, leaping into the sky with such force that the air had to rush to replace the space he had vacated. Shuta coughed and watched after him before looking down at the two men who were starting to get to their feet. They rubbed the back of their heads and looked up at him, “Your fear almost pushed you to strike first,” He explained and turned away, marching towards the doors, “I did what I had to do.”

They hurried to follow him, offering apologies that he barely heard. He was fuming. It was a dirty trick the man had tried to use on them. He knew nothing about what happened in this place, what it’s true purpose was. Nor would he ever know if Shuta had his say in it. He passed by those who had awakened with the flash, their bodies altered by physiological abilities, their minds struggling under the weight of their new powers, their lives changed forever. Families had turned them out before abilities had become normalized, jobs lost, livelihoods destroyed in accidents. From mundane to even heroic, they hid under his protection.

If that makes me a villain, so be it. He thought bitterly as he made his way through the halls to the elevator. He summoned it and gestured for the guards to take their positions on either side, “Call security and-” He paused when a chime came to his ear again and he frowned, “-Understood,” He murmured and glanced at them, “Nevermind, just remain here.”

“Yes sir,” They both said in unison as the elevator opened and he stepped inside.

Moments later he was deep beneath the ground, clean wallpaper, wood, and stone floors replaced by metal halls. He rounded a corner, passing beneath security cameras that followed him until he arrived at a large circular door. There was a pause before the door opened and he strode quickly inside, passing through a faint cloud of smoke before dropping to a knee, his hair falling over his head, “Lady Setsuna,” He rasped, “I am here.”

“At look me, dear,” A gentle voice called out to him.

He looked up and into the center of the room. There, sitting on a dais, was an enormous circular cushion surrounded by nearly-transparent silk drapes. A silhouette hid behind it, that of a woman sitting and looking down at him. He couldn’t see her face, but he could feel the gentle smile. He returned it from beneath his mask before his expression fell a little, “He-”

“Unimportant,” She corrected him, “He gone is, well did you, you thank, little Shuta.”

His lip twitched and he had the sudden urge to rub his neck a little. He held his posture at one knee, though, his fist on the ground until she gestured for him to stand. He rose and when she gestured for him to approach he did without question. She reached through the drapes and delicate hand extended to touch his cheek, “Busy soon, be he will, not worry, ease at, ease at,” She whispered.

He let out a breath and nodded, relaxing his shoulders, “Yes, mother.”

“A vision soon comes,” She said, “Listen.”

He nodded again, “I am here.”

She pulled her hand away and rest her hands in her lap. For a moment there was stillness as her head lulled back behind the curtains. Then the smoke in the air began to gather, a cloudy mist that clung to his nose and made him feel a little dizzy. He shook it off and concentrated, not daring to miss a single word as a sound like a death rattle escaped his mother’s lips.

Kato Setsuna, the Oracle, the leader of Hope’s Disciples, spoke, her voice echoed in the room with a powerful resonance. Every word was spoken with a different tone, a different accent, a different voice, yet not a single syllable could be lost:

“The terrible pendragon grows mighty, the seas shall boil with the madness of a king, storms fall from above and the shadows dance. The enemy at last is revealed, reveling in the praise of the ignorant. The hammer of vengeance falls. The Savior’s mask is consumed, forever changed. Her eye shall open, her wrath will fill the sky. We will see her soon, in this place, behind the mask of an enemy.”