by Mayv 'SpearBourne' Amaia

Created on: January 24, 2011

For years, he had known he would have to face an enemy that no one else could defeat. It was his destiny. Darien had no idea what this enemy looked like, nor where or when they would meet. All he had been told by the Elder was that he would know him when he saw him.

His parents, who had immigrated from a small village in Japan just after they had married, had taken their young son to the Elder for his reading, as had every child in their neighbourhood. The Elder was revered for seeing the futures of so many, and none dared attempt to change their fates. Whatever would be, would be.

And so Darien trained nearly every day at the dojo. It wasn’t that he believed he had some great destiny to face some fearsome enemy, but he did believe in being prepared. A healthy body and a healthy mind were his real goals.

He couldn’t tell his parents that, of course. They’d likely just scold him in hushed, angry tones that the Elder knew what he was saying and that he couldn’t escape his fate.

Not that any of that mattered to him. While he ran through routines, he thought of all the future held for him. He would be eighteen soon enough, then he’d go off to university and live in the real world. He’d leave all the ghost stories and superstitions to his parents and their friends.

Upstairs, in a large room above the training area of the dojo, the Elder sat meditating over a cup of very hot sencha. The boy called Darien had an enemy to face soon, he knew. Near his eighteenth birthday. What form that foe would assume, even the Elder did not know. But the battle would be one for honour, not for glory. Darien didn’t put much faith in the old ways, the Elder knew, but he trained his body and his mind to prepare himself for a battle he didn’t really expect to fight.

The Elder smiled as he stroked his long white beard. Yes, Darien would be ready when the time came; he would know what to do. Of that, he had no doubt.

Several weeks later, Darien was walking home from dinner with his friends. They’d had an early birthday celebration to congratulate him on receiving a scholarship to the university.

He must have been distracted in his elation, for he seemed to have taken a wrong turn and was now in a strange alley. The light was muted and grey here, unlike the bright colours of his neighbourhood. How had he wound up somewhere he didn’t recognise? He could not even hear the normal bustling sounds of the market place.

A hand reached out from

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