In The Name of The Devil contains graphic depictions of violence, mature themes, sexual themes, psychological themes, and depictions of human depravity. If any of these affect you, STOP reading immediately. This story is a focus on an assassin's psyche and how a violent and abusive upbringing had shaped him into what he is today; if this topic happens to be too sensitive to you, STOP reading immediately and walk away.
Please enjoy.
1867 - A Year Before the End of the Edo Period
Japan has opened its own borders for foreign trading. Various anti-shogunate and shogunate factions emerged, seeking to reinstate the Emperor's power and some seeking to preserve the role of the Shogunate, fighting between these factions in an era where ideals and ambitions clash.
However, in this indecent era where there are few decent people and where a decent life is a privilege, there is one who truly stood amongst the rest. His reputation built on the bodies on his count and the terror he brings is evident amongst the people and his enemies. He was known by many names - the Demon Swordsman, the Butcher of Hundreds, the Blood Monsoon, the Wind of Death... But those who truly feared and respected him...
Called him 'The White Devil.'
"We make war that we may live in peace."
—Aristotle
Cold wind blew in on this dark evening. Tall, dark trees stood amidst the foliage of the woods as the light of a torch gave light to the entrance of a dark estate at the end of the woods; two heavily armored samurai stood guard at the end of the entrance, anxiously waiting at the steps of the estate whilst staring at the darkness of the forest ahead, as if anticipating a wild animal or something monstrous to emerge from the dark forest before them. One of the samurais rubbed their hands together anxiously before placing his hand over the handle of his sword, resting on its scabbard beside him.
"It's getting dark..." He shivered, and it wasn't the cold that made him shiver. His partner, holding the torch, shared his sentiments as he nodded his head, his eyes gauging the forest ahead, as if trying to sense if there's a threat ahead.
"I know. And it's not the dark I'm worried about..." His partner said, his eyes narrowed at the forest ahead. The samurai glanced over his shoulder, looking over the entrance of the estate behind them. The other samurai glanced over his shoulder, glancing at the entrance of the estate before looking at his partner with an unimpressed look over his face.
"You're worried about the prisoner we detained?"
The samurai's hand remained on the handle of his sword before looking over his shoulder again to gaze at the dark estate behind them before affirming his fears, nodding his head, "Yes—it's not everyday that there are assassins bold enough to try and break in to Lord Kubota's estate."
His partner scoffed, crossing his arms before arrogantly stating, "We have twenty guards with their weapons trained on the prisoner; he has nowhere to run with his only option being a quick and painless death."
"I know, yet still..."
Light from the forest drew the samurais' attention as their responses were on high alert, their hands over the handle of their swords, expecting a fight. As the figures had emerged from the foliage, their posture relaxed as the various forms of samurai escorted a middle-aged man in a white kimono. The two samurai by the estate entrance bowed their heads at their daimyo's arrival, to which the man returned the gesture with a bow of his head.
"Lord Kubota." Both samurais spoke.
"No need for formalities. Lead us inside." The damiyo, Kubota, raised his hand as the two samurais moved aside, allowing Kubota to pass through the entrance of the estate with the other samurais following closely behind their master. Kubota glanced at the samurai beside him and asked, "What of the prisoner you had detained?"
"We initiated questioning with the prisoner. They didn't break. It seems their will is far too unbreakable, even under intense pressure."
Kubota sneered, clearly not expecting that the assassin they had detained was harder to break than he had anticipated. "I'll personally settle this."
Opening the shoji screen, Kubota and his men entered the estate, unaware of the terror that had already taken place within the estate. Striding down the halls with purpose, they now stood before the chamber where the assassin was being held. Sliding the door open, the samurai opened the sliding doors and stepped inside, but their eyes widened in horror as they stopped in their tracks - seeing the various bodies of samurais on the floor, their blood spewn on the walls and blood pooling on the ground, all brutally killed with either a missing limb, an open stomach with their intestines pooled on the mats, or heads off their bodies. Blood was everywhere, and this wasn't a battle - but a massacre.
Kubota's gaze was directed at the figure in the room - a figure clad in a black shinobi outfit and red chest armor, with black armor pieces on his arm, crotch, knees, and legs. A cloak was wrapped around the figure's shoulder with a hood that covered the head. He was holding a bloodstained sword as he turned his head to look over his shoulder.
"What is this...?" One of the samurais asked, eyes wide and obscured by the menpo of his helmet. His partner, with growing terror as he realized who the figure was, shook his head in denial at first, but the growing dread in his stomach was enough to confirm who the man in the room was.
"It's him..." he murmured underneath his menpo. The figure turned around slowly and completely, revealing that the figure wore a white Oni mask with gold linings that concealed his face.
The White Devil
(Y/N) (L/N)
VA: (Your choice of VA)
(Y/N) (L/N) is an infamous assassin that has been active since 1846 as a political assassin for hire - having been reached out by multiple parties to eliminate various politicians or political targets that they want dead. Having amassed a notorious reputation for his bloody methods and a high kill count, (Y/N) was infamously known by the monikers of The Demon Swordsman, The Butcher of Hundreds, The Blood Monsoon, and The Wind of Death but was infamously known as the White Devil for his trademark white Oni mask. (Y/N) glanced at Kubota, his posture rigid as he pointed his bloodstained sword at Kubota, his expression hidden by his mask, but from behind the mask, his expression can be described as murderously determined.
"There you are..." He spoke in a low, menacing voice, cutting through the tense silence of the chambers.
A look of dread was evident in Kubota's face as the daimyo backed up slightly. "So it's you..."
(Y/N) twirled his bloodstained sword with a single hand, his gaze not leaving Kubota's. "You're a hard man to find, but now... I'm going to have to ask you nicely to lower your weapon and surrender so I can make your death quick and painless."
Kubota clenched his fists and his jaw clenched before pointing an accusatory finger at (Y/N) and spouting. "I'd rather uphold my honor than die a shameless death in the hands of a ruthless assassin!"
Kubota and the other samurai unsheathed their weapons as (Y/N) clicked his tongue. In the blink of an eye, (Y/N) suddenly disappeared from where he stood as multiple slashes and cuts appeared over Kubota and his samurais, before (Y/N) appeared again before Kubota and sheathed his sword into its scabbard, as a series of lethally accurate cuts managed to pierce through Kubota and his men as they dropped dead on the floor, with most of the samurais dead, but Kubota was left bleeding profusely from the cuts. (Y/N) kneeled down on the ground, his eyes glued to Kubota, who was sputtering blood from his neck as he placed a hand over his neck to stop it from bleeding.
"You want to talk about honor?" (Y/N) asked incredulously before kneeling down on the floor to gaze at Kubota's bleeding form, his eyes taking in the contours of his face - agony and suffering written in the daimyo's face," Fine. Let's talk about honor."
(Y/N) unsheathed a wakizashi from his scabbard, the blade gleaming ominously underneath the moonlight as he pointed it at Kubota's cheek, dragging the blade across his cheek as the tip of the blade caused a cut to open on the daimyo's cheek. He then spoke in a low, measured voice, " You, an influential politician within the Shogunate, masterminded various mass killings and rapes of various small villages in the country, and you have the gall to talk about honor, you dishonorable piece of scum filth?"
Kubota shook his head, sputtering blood from his lips as it hit (Y/N)'s masked face. Unfazed, he pointed the blade on Kubota's eye, as the daimyo shook his head and attempted to deny the accusation," No... It wasn't me..."
"Oh? And who was it? Because I doubt the Shogunate would partake in such depravity... Well, at least the corrupt side of it," (Y/N) said, clearly not convinced with Kubota's attempts to deny (Y/N)'s accusation. He withdrew the wakizashi from Kubota's eyes before stating in a low voice," I have to admit... The notion of killing you right here, right now is tempting... But that would be me showing you mercy... No... Your victims demand a prolonged satisfaction with vengeance... So... I'm just going to leave you to bleed out on the floor as your ideals and ambitions pool on the floor whilst your blood leaves your body..."
(Y/N) sheathed the weapon back into his scabbard and gazed down at Kubota's body, the life slowly leaving his eyes as (Y/N) sneered, completely finding Kubota to be extremely pathetic. "I came here to dispose of a monster in human skin... But seeing you like this... It's utterly pathetic. You're not even worth the kill."
(Y/N) steps out of the chambers as his eyes land on a pair of two women who are hiding behind a corner, and as he sees that their faces are covered in bruises and injuries, a testament to the abuse they suffered within the estate and under Kubota's hand, they were also dressed in rags and were barefoot, as (Y/N) wondered to himself what sort of depravity Kubota made them go through. The two women hid behind the corner again, believing that they were next. However, (Y/N) simply nodded his head at them, giving them reassurance before turning tail and leaves the estate.
Outside of the estate, a pair of samurais saw (Y/N) leaving the estate as they shared a glance, realizing that Kubota must have been compromised. They were unable to even unsheathe their weapons as (Y/N) charged at them, his wakizashi at hand as he suddenly appeared before the two samurais, slitting one across the throat and slashing the other across the chest before plunging his weapon at the samurai's gut. (Y/N) looked down at the two samurais as he swung the blade, removing the blood from his blade as he sheathed it back into its scabbard. Exhaling slightly, he turned around to leave but halted when he heard one of the samurais groaning, still alive despite the attack (Y/N) delivered.
"Can't... Die... Here..." The samurai breathed out, struggling to crawl away as (Y/N) loomed above the samurai's form.
"Interesting." (Y/N) murmured to himself, impressed that the samurai still has a little fight in him. Showing mercy, (Y/N) drew out his sword and impaled it on the samurai's chest in order to put him down," Off you go."
He withdrew his sword from the samurai's chest and turned his back, ready to leave but groans coming from the samurai, who is still inexplicably alive despite the gravity of his injuries, made (Y/N) uncharacteristically irritated as he turned around to see that the samurai was still breathing and struggling to crawl.
"No... Not here..."
"How are you...?" (Y/N) said beneath his mask, clearly growing more irritated and surprised with the samurai's will to live. Once again, he plunged the sword in the samurai's neck, this time, hoping that the samurai would finally die. When no movement came from the samurai, (Y/N) exhaled softly and turned around, before another series of groans from the samurai made (Y/N) stop as he bit his lip behind his mask, now clearly irritated with the samurai's persistence.
"You're awfully persistent."
"There's... Someone... I love..."
Shaking his head, (Y/N) finally finished off the samurai by impaling his sword on the samurai's head, as (Y/N) kept the blade in place until the samurai finally stopped moving. He withdrew the sword from the now deceased samurai's head. He wiped off the blood from his sword with his forearm before sheathing back the sword into his scabbard. He exhaled softly before turning around to leave the estate, to disappear into the night once more.
=(Y/N)'s POV==
Fire.
I glanced at the small flame flickering in the candle, lighting up the dark room of the inn I was currently staying on. Looking down at the flame made me feel completely warm inside, despite feeling dead inside - and perhaps it gave me some sense of hope despite the darkness that this era brings to the decent people of this country.
I reached for my mask, removing it as I took a deep exhale, placing the mask on the table as I glanced at the glass mirror on the wall. I ruffled my (H/C) as I gazed at my reflection in the mirror. It felt like I was staring at a ghost or perhaps a demon who is posing as me, cause as I look at my reflection in the mirror, it felt like my reflection was mocking me, my (E/C) eyes looking back at me as I saw the sadistic glance it sent at me.
I know that I'm a capable killer, and I've already acknowledged the sort of harm I am capable of... And yet as I look at my reflection, it felt like I was being mocked for casually accepting my darker impulses... As if I wasn't being entirely truthful to myself. I shook my head as I began to undress, my body was well-built - a testament to the years I've worked as a professional assassin, my body was marred with scars that never completely healed over time. I traced my finger on one particular scar over my chest, where my still-beating heart beats until I allowed my hand to fall on my side.
I kneeled down on the mats and reached for a wet cloth that was soaked in a wooden basin and began to clean th dried blood on my body, keeping an emotionless face as I cleaned. I asked myself, why do I still do this? What do I get out of killing people? I told myself that I don't do this for money or for a twisted sense of satisfaction?
My reasons?
People won't understand.
And besides, what is true in their eyes? Especially in an era like this? People won't believe what sort of person I truly am, despite the monstrous reputation I allowed people to believe. Perhaps it's better this way. It's better this way...
I placed the now bloodied cloth on the basin and sat down on the mats with a soft sigh. The silence was endearing, yet the isolation never ends. I changed into a black kimono as I sat before the table again and ate the meal that was brought to me - a simple bowl of rice, grilled fish, pickled vegetables, and miso soup. As I ate, I wrote on my journal - the black leather having worn over time as I wrote with a pair of ink and brush, writing the recent assassination I had carried out, along with some other topics.
As I wrote on the pages, I stopped to think for one second,' Had things been different in the past... Would I...?'
However, I stopped myself from continuing those thoughts as I closed the journal, refusing to delve on that topic as I sighed. I decided to finish my meal before I found myself sitting at the window sill as I twirled a tantō in my hand, as I gazed out into the townsfolk of this town, watching as people went about the nightlife of the city.
I felt envious. That these people had the privilege of a decent life in an indecent era...
'Could I even walk away from all the bloodshed and chaos... Into a peaceful life...? Maybe I'm just... Being foolish.'
I found myself sitting in the mats on the floor of my room, sharpening my sword as the sound of a rock being dragged over the blade covered the room as sparks flew around. My eyes were glued to the inscription on the blade, 全て倒す, which translated to "Slay All". I spoke to myself, reciting a creed that I was forced to memorize as a child," Your blade shall be your hand, the blood of our enemies shall soak your sword and use the fear to inflict to our enemies..."
I stopped myself for a second before sighing," Fucking bullshit of a creed they made me recite as a child." I raised my sword in the air, holding it in my hand as the blade gleamed in the light of the room as I spoke to myself once more.
"I swore an oath when I broke free... That I would kill, not for the corrupt... But for the weak and the helpless... Defend the innocent, do no harm to the innocent... Especially the children..."
I scoffed, knowing that people would find my words absurd as I sheathed my sword back into its scabbard as I self-deprecatingly said," People will believe what they hear or what they're told... In their eyes, I am simply a monster who amassed an infamous reputation with the bodies I've piled up..."
With my work done, I moved to the corner of the room, with my sword and its scabbard on my hand as I sat down on the corner, leaning behind the wall as I allowed my sword to rest on my shoulder as I sighed. Today was particularly exhausting, as is any other day in my dreadful and uneventful life, I leaned my head back on the wall as my eyes fluttered before I closed them, allowing myself to sleep...
==???'s POV==
"...What if he doesn't survive the procedure?"
"...Relax, he'll be fine. After all... I did hear that this kid killed the surviving children with his bare hands..."
"...We've experimented on rats before, but a human? And a child, no less?"
"...Hey, focus! Our lives are on the line as well if we don't do this. Regardless if we fail or refuse to go through the procedure... His father would kill us both..."
"...This goes against everything we were taught...
"...We have no choice... We have to do this... Call me selfish but I also have a family waiting for me..."
"...If we succeed here... We might have ended up creating an ultimate assassin for his father's clan... We've got work to do. Now pass me the scalpel..."