Writing Heartbeat (Update: Chapter 2)


Aspiring Trainer
Well, I promised myself that I would never ever go into Pokerbeach ever again (and I never went on at that), but I guess since I'm looking for critique on my writings, every bit of help is wanted...

Unless you're some sort of idiot, this is supposed to be a short story of mine. For those of you who's ever seen any of my past short stories, you may know me to only post like a couple chapters, have those chapters be kinda awful, lose all inspiration, and then ditch the dang thing. While I'm embarrassed to say that, yes, I hate those stories with a passion, looking back, those stories were too ambitious and not well-thought out. The idea I had in mind with those stories were to play it by ear, and it led to a messy, overly-complicated story. Plus, online stories are only supposed to be relatively short, not a Harry Potter 7-length-book. To deal with this, I chose a topic that would be simple, but enjoyable to write about.

Considering that I've been studying the ancient Japanese culture, I decided to write a drama about that. My goal is to keep the story short, sweet, and simple; I want to have this story done in no more than ten chapters. (Looking at how far I've planned and wrote, it looks like the story will be hanging around five chapters). And, as stated earlier, this story is based around the ancient Japanese culture, so don't expect guns and bombs.

Due to losing like all interest in anything Pokermans, if you've come here expecting anything related to Pokermans, please drop that expectation. This story has NOTHING to do with Pokermans; it's supposed to be realistic.

Also note that this story is rated PG-13. There will be blood. There will be "love" (so to speak). There will be some graphic scenes. There will be some harsh language. There will be alcohol. Stuff like that.

I'll try to update this as regularly as possible (unlike my past stories). (I already have chapter one done if it means anything.) However, I'm very busy. If I don't get to replying to some comments or if I haven't updated this story in a while, it's most likely because I'm too busy to do so.

Please post any criticism that you have on anything I have here. And please keep it constructive too. (If you like it, please explain in several sentences why you like it! I want to know what I'm doing well with).

So, lets get this shiz started.

~~Table of Contents~~
-Chapter One



The night-broken sky released flashes of lightning, each with a roar so ear-piercing that even the bravest of soldiers trembled in fear. The falling rain, along with the incoming clouds, painted the sky in shades of black and dark grey. Many soldiers, whom were scarred by the savagery of battle, collapsed out of either mental turmoil or extreme exhaustion, bathing themselves in a fast-forming sea of blood and corpses. A strong wind crackled the rain against the faces of any standing soldiers, who starred into the sky with disbelief. They had won a war to claim the land that they dreamt of for decades, to stand by their wives and watch their kids run in the fields, to lie under lush trees and gaze at the orange glow of the sun descending in the valley.

But what they found was a blood-soaked grave, filled with chilling memories of friends and families cut to death. No one could bear to live on the land. To them, their dream of living a carefree life was the ultimate reward for withstanding the hostility of battle. But now having experienced the truths of war, nightmares robbed their existence.

One man; however, wasn’t fazed by the heat of battle. He took a deep breath and limped to where he could easily be seen. The soldiers, all stunned by his ability to even move, stared at him in awe. Blood was seeping through his body and to his legs; he had many minor cuts in his stomach and chest. But, ignoring the pain, he grabbed his sword and raised it into the air. Lightning illuminated the sword, thunder shook the cross-guard, and rain cleansed the blood off of the blade. He declared, “This battle is over! This land is now ours!” He looked through the remaining soldiers, expecting cheers. But he was given mournful glances and agonizing moans. The man stared in bewilderment. “Why, why are none of you cheering?” he asked. “We- we won.” He finally lost his composure. “Are you all really this blind?”

One of the soldiers stepped up. He turned his head up towards the man, and when both of their eyes met, he broke into tears. “Jiro,” he cried. “I…” Trying to regain his competence, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and mumbled, “I don’t want to live here.”

Jiro took a step backwards. He was in awe with the soldier. Then he quickly looked back towards the other soldiers. “A- all of you want to live here, right?” he stuttered. But he only saw the same expression as the man before. “Hundreds of soldiers gave up their lives to claim this land, and you just want to throw it away? You- you ungrateful fools! You asinine oafs! You..!” Jiro couldn’t finish his thought. Grinding his teeth, he was ready to lunge towards one of the soldiers.

But Jiro wasn’t going to let his temper get the best of him. He pulled out and presented a piece of paper from his bag. The soldiers recognized it instantly. It was the only map of the surrounding mountains. A few soldiers lifted their eyebrow. What is he doing with that map? They all thought.

A strong gust of wind blew against the map, as it rattled in Jiro’s hand. He stared upward towards the map, also taking note of the grim canvas in the sky. In just a few seconds, Jiro crushed the map in his hand. Dropping his sword, he used his other hand to finish crumpling it up. The soldiers gasped, astonished at what Jiro had done.

“This map,” screamed Jiro. “It is the only remaining map that has the trail through the mountains and to this spot. My brethren died making this map, and even more died fighting here. I will not let their death be in vain because of you contempt failures. If any of you even have the guts to defy me, then…” Jiro groaned and raised his sword. “You will die. On the spot.”

He received intimidated faces from the soldiers. But one man stepped towards Jiro. “No,” he said profoundly. “I don’t care if I have to go through those mountains. I’m taking my wife and I’m leaving this hell.”

The two men stared intently at each other, as Jiro’s eyes slowly began to widen. “Come here,” he calmy asked the man. The man imprudently walked closer and closer to Jiro with every step he took. He failed to notice Jiro clenching his sword. When the two men were only a couple feet apart, Jiro roared and lunged towards the man. A gushing sound followed soon after; the other soldiers witnessed the blade of the sword slowly inch outside of the man’s back. Jiro had impaled the man through the stomach with his sword. Blood oozed out of the wound, as more drizzled from the dead man’s red-tinted mouth.

Jiro breathed heavily. He finally let out a raucous roar, one that rivaled even the fierce pounding of the thunder. He shot his hand out towards the man’s head, and, in a blink of an eye, forced his head to its side. A snapping sound from the neck echoed into the ears of the other soldiers, who all gasped at the sight of one of their comrades dying to another. Some of the women broke into tears.

Jiro, still clutching the man’s neck, ripped his sword of the man’s chest, and threw him to where the other corpses lay. He picked up the map, straightened it, and shot his eyes into its contents. He then threw the map into the murkiness of broken sky. “This town,” he muttered slowly, with heavy breaths between each word. “Is mine. None of you have the right to rule.” With nowhere to go, the other soldiers had no choice but to obey Jiro. They exchanged glances and stared at Jiro in dismay.

The map swayed from side to side, following wherever the wind took it. It danced past many trees and withstood the ferociousness of the storm until it finally rested on a slope, where the rain soon washed the map downhill and into the violence of a running river. The map floated downstream and out of the mountain range. The soldiers did not memorize the path marked on the map, and it eventually flew out of their heads. The contents; however, wer not lost. One day, a man found it washed up on a riverbed and preserved it for future studies.



Aspiring Trainer
RE: Heartbeat (PG-13) - Prologue

It's very nice, actually. I like the minimal description and usage of words. You must continue. These sorts of stories are very, very rarely written.

I don't know what else to say.

The Yoshi

RE: Heartbeat (PG-13) - Prologue

Hope said:
He looked at the man in melancholy.

Hope said:
The contents; however, was not lost.

I think these are grammar mistakes. You might want to say "in a melancholy [manner]" and "The contents, however, were not lost". Anyway, the plot of the story is pretty legit, but I'm a little disappointed that the plot mainly takes a negative dive by the end of it. It's just an opinion, and it doesn't mean what you've written is bad maybe I'm just trying to look on the positive. I do hope you publish some more stories in the future, and I look forward to them. Next time just ask someone to proofread so you don't mix up your verb tenses, but at the end of the day the content is what matters, not the small grammar mistakes.

Also I read your second paragraph of the intro and knew exactly what you were talking about. IMO stories online should be short stories, not 4,000 word chapters that takes more effort to put out in every chapter. Anyway, good job on the story.


Aspiring Trainer
RE: Heartbeat (PG-13) - Prologue

Thanks, Lucky Fire and The Yoshi.

@The Yoshi: Thanks for pointing out the grammar mistakes. I ran by a few people to check over my chapters, and I guess they never caught them (although I can't blame them; I have to blame myself for not checking my own stories). I fixed everything in my non-Pokerbeach copy of the prologue, and I will put that in here once I find some time.

The Yoshi said:
Anyway, the plot of the story is pretty legit, .

Welp, I hope you don't get your hopes up TOO much, considering this is only the prologue. The main beef of the story is supposed to take place many, many, many years after the prologue. I included a few details in the prologue that do affect some of the events in the story.


Aspiring Trainer
RE: Heartbeat (PG-13) - Chapter One

Chapter One


It was just past dinnertime when Buroboso sprung into life. Its boney streets were teeming with villagers sprawling through its emaciated columns of shops and snagging any food or clothes being sold. The creaky, wooden shops were decaying, and they wreaked a fetid odor. Scented candles were placed on the counters of each shop to expel the stench and kept the packed streets well-lit, casting a radiant glow. Loose coins were constantly hitting the dusty streets, but the villagers were so boisterous that no one realized any change had fallen.

Perhaps it was only on this day could Buroboso be so alive. Tomorrow was the four hundredth year since Buroboso was founded, and the delighted villagers were eager to celebrate. Nothing could break them; the villagers’ spirits towered over the poor-economy-induced suffering. From an outsider, the ramshackle Buroboso resembled a metropolis.

Just outside of village and up on a hill, a man and a boy were sitting under a tree, gazing at the village. “Daddy?” the boy said, as he rubbed his long hair out of the way to allow his wide eyes gaze upon the moonlit-night.

“Yes?” replied the boy’s father.

“Why can’t we go down to the village? I wanna see what’s happening!”

“Your mother won’t let you, Charikou. You know how dangerous it is for someone as young as you to be in the way of the villagers.”

“But I’m the descendant of Jiro! They’ll step aside if I just look at them.”

“You certainly don’t look like one.” Charikou’s father sounded more condescending than he intended.

“But I wanna go down there!”

“No, you will not. It’s not safe for a child like you.”

“Fine!” Charikou crossed his arms and turned away. “I wouldn’t wanna go to a dump anyways!”

“Charikou! If I hear you say such a thing ever again, I will have your head! You hear me?” Charikou, intimidated, backed away from his father. He saw a stern look in his dad’s sharp eyes. Charikou’s father, tightening his fists, did a poor job of hiding his anger, but he finally let out a sigh. “Your ancestors nearly died claiming this village. Dishonoring Buroboso is dishonoring you, me, and the rest of our family. Sure, the village has seen better times. But with the will of a dragon and the determination of a warrior, our hope is unbreakable.”

Charikou looked straight at his father, almost forgetting his and his father’s rage. Hypnotized by his father’s confidence, Charikou ran up towards the top of the hill. He spoke proudly, throwing his hands in the air, “When I grow up, I wanna be just like you, daddy! I wanna protect everyone!”
Charikou’s father, smiling, walked up towards his son rubbed his hand through Charikou’s fuzzy hair. His hands were too big for Charikou’s head, though, so he had to be careful not to mess up Charikou’s tidy hair. Putting Charikou’s head by his knees, he hugged his son.

The two of them walked home towards the south end of Buroboso, the aristocratic – although still quite poor – part of the village. Anyone who passed by the two of them instantly recognized who they were, considering Charikou’s father is the head of Buroboso. Along the way, Charikou noticed a lush berry bush. Tugging his father’s kimono, he pleaded, “Daddy, I want some berries!”

“No, Charikou,” he replied. He tried to push his son away from his kimono. “It’s almost dinnertime; your mom will be upset if she finds out you ate some berries.”

“But she won’t know! And I want berries!”

Charikou’s father shook his head. He let out a sigh and grumbled, “If your mom yells at me, you’ll seeing your face in my sword.”
Delighted, Charikou ran over to the berry brush and carelessly threw berries into his mouth. His father, resentful about letting his son eat the berries, couldn’t hide a slim smile.

When the two finally returned home, Charikou’s mother was at the house, greeting them. Charikou, seeing her wide grin and smooth face, ran up and hugged her, leaving a red stain on her silk, floral dress. Charikou’s mother, in shock, glanced towards her husband and snapped, “What’s on Charikou’s mouth?”

“Sorry, it’s just-” mumbled Charikou’s father before he got cut off.

“He didn’t eat Kohaku’s strawberries, did he?”

“Sweetie…” Charikou’s father kissed his wife. “It’s okay; I’ll talk to Kohaku about it.”

“Just tuck Charikou in bed and then we’ll talk.” She quickly turned away; her long, black hair swaying along with her. Tucking her hands into her sleeves, she stomped away, rolling her eyes. Charikou briefly saw his father give him a cold glance.

The full moon shined in the cloudless night. It was just past midnight, and most of the villagers had already returned home, preparing for tomorrow’s celebration. The now-quiet down was a dark, yet peaceful row of beaten houses and shops. But, not everyone had drifted to sleep. Charikou’s father and his wife, both with a worried look, were concerned with the news. They were both at their house, barely above a whisper.
A man was pointing directly at Charikou’s father. “Saihan, the safety of the villagers should be our highest priority!” exclaimed a man. He was disgusted at Saihan’s negligence.

“Our villagers are safe, Giroku,” replied Saihan. He was trying his best to hold in any annoyance and anger towards Giroku.

“How can you be so sure?”

“The mountains surrounding Buroboso are large and hazardous. The weather there is unpredictable; if people don’t get lost navigating through the mountains, they’ll get lost during the violent snowstorms. Only the villagers know how to traverse the mountains, and even then it’s only a select few people who can make it through only a part of the mountains and back. A map of the mountain range doesn’t even exist!”

“But we are dealing with the Izaki! I assume you’ve heard them. They are the most violent barbarians in the region. We can’t take any chances!”

“Have you forgotten that it’s these mountains that have protected this village for so many years? While it might have damaged how village’s economy and its expansion, it’s because of how difficult it is to go through these mountains that have kept Buroboso safe for so many years.” Saihan took a deep breath. “And even if the Izaki are able to get to Buroboso, there’s no way for them to do it in a day. These mountains are miles long; it’ll be another week or so before they arrive in Buroboso, assuming they do. We can celebrate tomorrow and prepare ourselves for any possible battle later.”
Giroku rubbed his pointed beard. His thin face first glared at Saihan, and then to Saihan’s wife. “What do you think we should do?” he demanded, almost insultingly.

Saihan and his wife exchanged glances. Trying to be as sympathetic as possible, she said, “I wanted to stay out of this discussion as much as possible. I know nothing of the politics, defenses, or anything related of the village.” She took a deep breath. “But, Saihan is the head of Buroboso. He knows the potential and the security of our poor village better than any of us. And above all, he is my husband – I have to trust him.”

Saihan turned back towards Giroku. Saihan smirked, “Even if – and that’s a big if – the Izaki attack Buroboso, they won’t go down without a fight. I’m the leader of this village, and the descendent of Jiro. I think I can hold my own.”

“What makes you so sure?” replied Giroku.

Saihan slowly began to reveal his chest. Scars were racing across his muscular body, and into his arms and hands. Giroku’s eyes, believing he was staring at a beaten tree stump, widened. “You look awfully surprised,” Saihan joked. “My father and his father have trained me in case a day like this would come. Their methods were, vexing, to say the least.”

There was a brief silence in the room. Giroku stared at Saihan, his mouth wide open. Then he sighed and calmly mumbled, “Both of you are hubristic fools. I’m leaving this pathetic dump.” He turned away and made it towards the door. Slamming it open, Giroku finally lost his temper. “Because unlike the two of you, I value my life and the life of the villagers!” He stormed out of the house.

And then another brief silence. Saihan’s wife turned towards her husband. Trying to force a smile, she wrapped her arms around Saihan. “Maybe Giroku’s right, honey,” she whispered. “Maybe we should focus on protecting the village.” She closed her eyes and squeezed Saihan tightly.

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” he finally brought himself to say. “We’ll be fine. I promise.”

Saihan wasn't looking at his wife. His eyes were stuck on a spider, slowly descending from the ceiling. It found its way to the floor, where it let go of its silk and quietly crawled its way to the door, with its legs moving as diligently as a sewer threading a needle. The spider squeezed its way through the tiny crack made by Giroku when he slammed the door, and waltzed down the porch and into the garden.


*Author's Notes:
-In Japan, not killing a spider at night is bad luck.


Aspiring Trainer
RE: Heartbeat (PG-13) - Chapter One (October 6)

Nice, very wonderful to see that you're still working on the stories. There's only one mistake, which I think you should notice near the end of the chapter. :)

Keep it up. We need as much authors as we can.


Aspiring Trainer
RE: Heartbeat (PG-13) - Chapter One (October 6)

Alright, the long-overdue critique I shall now do. Frankly, this was another well-crafted chapter, Futa. The simplistic description and dialogue I appreciated much, and I definitely admire the approach you take in your stories. I don't think there is anything worth noting in terms of critical errors in spelling and writing approach, although, there were quite a few things I've picked up along the way as I read through it.

to expel the stench and kept the packed streets well-lit
No, this doesn't sound it harmonizes with the sentence. It should be 'keep', not kept. You have 'to expel' in the beginning half of it, so add in a verb in the present tense to make it sound good.

The now-quiet down was a dark, yet peaceful row of beaten houses and shops.

Mild spelling error. You might want to change that to 'town'.

Otherwise, keep rolling out fresh content. I'm looking forward to reading more.



Aspiring Trainer
RE: Heartbeat (PG-13) - Chapter One (October 6)

A hosoekaede leaf blocked the sun with its yellow coat. A bright glow was cast around the leaf, leaving its underside in a dismaying shadow. The leaf was the last to drift away from its tree, where it descended to the ground below. Commanded by the wind, it followed its path to the ground, where it swayed from side to side, pondering on whether it should fly away from its king or remain restrained to the wind. But, like all leaves, it had no choice. It landed so gently in a small stream – like a drop of water falling from a leaf into a river - in Saihan’s family’s garden, where it floated down the current, still unable to decided its own future. It floated by twigs, dead flower petals, and rocks, until it joined with its friends at the end of the stream.

Saihan’s wife was staring into her family’s garden, not looking at the serene beauty she created. Last night’s talk with her husband and Giruko kept on floating to the surface of her head, and that conversation, along with all of the memories of her, her husband, and her son living happily together… She couldn’t finish that thought.

Charikou was peeping out of the door at his mom. He couldn’t understand what she was thinking, being unaware of his parents’s meeting. He slowly slid the door open and walked up to his mom. “Mommy?” he asked. His mom did not reply. “Mommy?” he asked again. Still no reply. Charikou frantically began to shake his mom. “Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!” he wailed. Tears started flowing down his cheeks. Saihan’s mom gasped, and then turned towards her son like a man slowly turning a doorknob. Charikou, with tears clouding his eyes, inspected his mother’s face. And then with a scream, he stepped backwards.

Saihan’s wife eyes were wide open – as wide as Charikou has ever seen – and she was definitely looking towards Charikou, but wasn’t looking at him. She never even blinked. Her hazel-brown eyes, the ones Saihan said were more gorgeous than a wet sakura flower bathing under the glimmer of the sun, were dull and gray. A mountain of bags rose beneath her eyes, further emphasizing her lifeless eyes. In between her once-pink lips, which now have little color in them, was a large gap where her tongue and teeth lay motionless. An army of wrinkles overthrew her smooth, exuberant, yellow-orange face, and left her skin in a pale tone.

“Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!” Charikou continued to shriek. On his final scream, life finally returned to Saihan’s wife. A wave of brown splashed in her eyes, slowly drowning away her lifeless stare. Saihan’s wife’s tongue inched out of her mouth, circling and slathering her lips. Her face, while still tainted with death, managed to force a sly smile. “Char… I… Kou…” she barely murmured. Saihan’s wife finally took attention to Charikou crying. She shot her arm out to Charikou and clutched his shoulder tightly, while pulling him towards her. Her other arm found its way rubbing the back of Charikou’s hair. She pressed Charikou’s face against her shoulder and squeezed Charikou. “It’s okay. It’s okay!” she cried. She began to cry too.

A breeze that would normally rustle the leaves in the garden’s trees was unusually silent. It carried no nothing with it; only the brisk air that comes with the changing of seasons. It sent a chill through Charikou’s and his mother’s body. The macabre puff headed from the house, through the vacant streets of the desolate town, and finally reached the setting sun, which lay just above the mountain range, where it went into hiding.

Setup for the festival had completed, and the village was already masticated by hoards of hungry people. Darumas, with a monsoon of villagers dusting up the streets, distancing them apart, faced at each other, like an army staring down its enemy before the intensity of war. Strings of foliage danced and dangled along the shops, as if they were trying to avoid the light and heat of the powerful blazing torches that swayed side to side every time a villager bolted by it. The paint-decorated shafts of the lines of yari impaled the dirt next to each shop, shining a bright red, green, and yellow with the help of the torches.

In the heart of Buroboso lay the village’s most exuberant, well-lit square. Only the town’s wealthiest – although still quite poor – merchants have shops surround the perimeter of the square, and it is these shops that have taken the most decorative effort, bombarding the area with majestic candle lights and lanterns. In the center of the square lay a large, overseeing statue of Uke Mochi, and in the surrounding pool – containing water that the villagers cleansed as crazily as a dirty wedding dress – that circled around the statue and beneath the crusty bridges to it, were schools of koi dancing vividly in the moon god’s eye.

Just in front of the statue, a small chorus chanted a traditional town poem that is recited every festival,

Noble sister of the storms,
Come out of hiding.
The evil in his hateful heart
Is beneath your glowing sun.

Of the darkened days,
Please, goddess of the heavens,
In a little while,
Bless us with your shining love
And give us your blazing light!”

Charikou stood at the top of a hill under a lonely tree, the same place where he stood before. His wide eyes were fixed on the village, and his mouth was as a wide as an apple. His mother sat under the falling leaves of the tree, staring into the moon. She awaited Saihan’s call to come home, since Saihan decided to hold a feast in honor and to make up for Charikou being unable to participate in the festival. She imagined mounds of rice cakes, a favorite food she shares with Charikou.

Hearing a man quickly running up the hill, Charikou anxiously whirled around, hoping the man was a servant delivering the message about the feast. It was one of the family’s servants, and Charikou screamed and lunged at him like a full-body tackle. His mother, on the other hand, was more concerned. “Lord Saihan orders that you and your son returns home immediately,” the servant said into Charikou’s mom’s ear. Charikou was too busy shouting to notice their conversation.

“You sound so serious. What’s wrong?” she replied.

“It’s best that you just return. And please, Lord Saihan requests that Charikou does not hear any of this.”

Saihan’s wife barely made a nod. She hastily picked up Charikou and rushed alongside the servant home.

A brisk air loomed around the house. Like an angry mob roaring through a street, countless town councilmen overtook the zaguton; all of them were pushing amongst one another to speak to Saihan. Saihan’s wife shoved her way through the councilmen, and arrived at her husband out of breath. Saihan couldn’t avoid her terrified look – it was as if her dead look from earlier in the morning stole her face again. “What’s going on? Why are so many people here?” she demanded.

Saihan didn’t respond to her immediately. He slowly got up on his cushion – putting one hand on his knee while rising – and astatically trudged over to his wife. He, one-by-one, gently cuffed each of his fingers around his wife’s hands – his dry and bony hands crippling with each finger - and slowly rose them up into the until both of their hands were locked into each other at chest-level. As both of their hands met, so did their distancing eyes, shifting focus from their hands to each others’ faces. But, Saihan’s wife was appalled to see his husband’s face soak with sweat, releasing a bright – yet disgusting – shine and emanating each of his facial marks. He leaned closely towards her, until finally, when his mouth was next to her ear, he whispered, “It’ll be alright. Just stay in the house with Charikou and the two of you will be fine.”

But his wife couldn’t accept his answer. A red-hot chili pepper shot her eyes and exploded across her face. “Are you gonna fudge with me or tell me what the hell is going on here!” she exclaimed.

Silence snatched the room – Any noise came from Charikou’s moaning after all of the noise. All of the councilmen’s attention was fixated towards Saihan and his wife. Saihan instinctively stepped back, with eyes the size of peanuts. Saihan’s wife, realizing what she had done, suddenly grew pale. Her chest instantly shot up, and she stood as still as a statue, trying to avoid eye contact with her husband. Her hands and face grew moist, and her heart was screaming.

“Hajime,” muttered Saihan. The only thing that moved was his mouth. “Take my wife and my son and escort them to my room. I’ll have someone summarize this meeting for you”

Hajime nodded and did as instructed. Saihan’s wife, without any fuss, followed him, and Charikou, still sobbing, went with his mother.

Saihan took a deep breath and collapsed to the floor. The other councilmen tried to help him up, but he rejected any aid. “I’m sorry about this, everyone,” he finally said after lots of breathing. “Once I explain what’s going on, you’ll understand my stress.” He analyzed the councilmen to test their reactions.

“Anyways,” he continued. He got up and trotted over to his cushion. The councilmen turned towards him, taking note of the grit in his eyes. “For many generations, the mountains surrounding Burobuso have been our greatest source of security, but with such tranquility comes with lack of trading and communication to any village outside the mountains, as no one can traverse through these mountains. Our village as suffered through economic hardships as we have lost farmland, wood, and other necessities. Regardless; however, I believe I speak for everyone when I say that we are thankful that these mountains have guarded us for many years.”

Saihan paused and clutched his fists. “As many of you may know,” he continued. “Giroku, one of the councilmen, suspected that the Izaki, a group of ferocious barbarians, had been lurking in these mountains. Now, how he drew this conclusion is beyond me. He says he has many ‘resources’ in this village. With this in mind, I, along with a lot of you, ridiculed his theory, believing that the mountains were impenetrable. But, after exploring the mountains for a couple of hours for upmost certainty of his theory, some of the explorers and I came across multiple torn branches and beaten dirt trails in one of the few mountain paths.”

Saihan slammed his eyes shut and grinded his teeth. He murmured, “I’m very sure you all know what I’m getting at at this point. I have reason to believe that Giroku is correct and that there is someone or some group of people who were somehow able to roam through the mountains and into Burobuso territory. And, under the assumption that we are dealing with, I wanted you all to cancel tonight’s celebrations and warn the other villagers to seek shelter. I also want any men capable of fighting to gather here in preparation of a battle.”


*Author's notes:
-Hosoekaede leaves a from hosoekaede trees, a common foliage in the Chubu region of Japan.
--The Chubu region is around central Japan, and is the most mountainous region of the country.
-Darumas are Japanese dolls that are placed around as a good luck charm.
-Yari are ancient-Japanese spears.
-Uke Mochi is the Japanese goddess of food. In Japanese mythology, Uke Mochi held a feast for Tsukiyomi, the Japanese god of the moon, and one way she made the food was by vomiting fish. Tsukiyomi, out of disgust, kills her.
-In Japan, poetry is the most common "literature art"
-Amaterasu is the Japanese goddess of the sun, and is the sister of Tsukiyomi and Susano'o, the Japanese god of storms. She is also the head of the gods. In Japanese mythology, Susano'o attacked Amaterasu and her belongings out of rage, and, as a result, Amaterasu hid in a cave for many years.
-A zaguton is a Japanese living room.


For people who liked what I had so far, I'm sorry about this long delay. Seriously, I am.


Goin Rogue Baby :DDD
RE: Heartbeat (PG-13) - Chapter Two (January 17)

Adding in the authors note for Chapter 1 isn't necessary, you can easily incorporate it into the story :)

Anyways other than that I'm liking it, I'll go through and be picky and pesky like Zyflair does sometime within the next week.