Leviathan Of Seers

Chapter One: "First Impressions"

RYOKO

I didn't receive letters often, but there was one given to me today. I knew who it was from before I even opened it. My younger brother, Takashi. I took a seat, gingerly tearing open the envelope.

I wished there was some other sort of way I could communicate with him. Writing letters back and forth sufficed, of course, but it wasn't the same as it had been years ago. I wanted to see him on a regular basis, and that wan't possible in his line of work.

His letter was full of information about some of the recent trips he'd been on. Takashi was a samurai, and so he got to travel often. I used to be a samurai alongside him, however, I was not one any longer.

I cried a little as I read his letter, wishing more than anything that I could be at his side. Staying in Japan while he was off exploring the world was really hard for me. I constantly feared for his safety, and I was also very jealous of the freedoms that he had.

As I began to pen a response to him, I found my mind drifting to several years ago. My career as a samurai had been ended prematurely, due to my being framed for a murder. I'd been disgracefully released before I had a chance to prove my innocence. I was lucky I hadn't been killed, but my career had been permanently terminated.

I finished my letter, and reflected on what my life had come to in two short years. I began to brainstorm ways to see my brother again. I'd do whatever it took to travel with him.

ROAN

The night I arrived in London was spent looking for leads. Unfortunately, there weren't many to find. I was coming up short in every place I looked. No one seemed to know anything substantial about Drax.

I continued my search regardless. I pulled people aside on the street, but they either ignored me, made rude comments about the fact that I was American, or didn't have any information to give me.

I was going to give myself a rest, find a spot to lay down for the night, when I spotted a man darting into a dark alley. I started after him. Even if he wasn't related to my case, he was still pretty suspicious, and so I hurried to catch up.

"Who are you?" The man asked once I'd cornered him, "I've seen you pullin' people aside on the street!" His accent was thickly British, just like everyone else in the city.

I ignored his question, and instead said, "If you've seen me, you know what I'll ask."

He folded his arms over his chest, meeting my gaze with an intense glare, "What makes you think I know anythin'? Drax is all over the news, for sure, but I'm just tryin' to make an honest livin'! I'm not any kind of-"

I pulled my gun from the holster on my waist, holding the barrel against the man's forehead. I wasn't actually going to fire, but I wanted to scare him into thinking I would.

"Okay, okay!" He broke, all of his former confidence fading away. He met my eyes, fear clearly showing, "I run a fight club. It's all underground, so don't go spreadin' it! A man who goes by Drax comes by often. I don't know if it's really him, I swear!"

I put my weapon away, "When can I swing by this fight club of yours?"

He trembled, eyeing my gun, but he reluctantly answered, "Tomorrow night. Just knock on the wall a couple times," He pointed, "Someone will let you in."

I tipped my hat to him, and then sought out a place to get some sleep.

I awoke when the sun began to set, splashing color across the horizon before fading to black. My investigation had led me here, to the middle of Whitechapel, and though it was incredibly different from Sante Fe, Texas, I enjoyed the peacefulness of it.

I knocked several times on the brick wall, and the man I'd confronted earlier opened the door, "Welcome," He said. He held the door open barely wide enough for me to go through. I was a heavier set guy, and so it was a bit of a struggle, but I managed. The man closed the door immediately after I was inside. He really didn't want to be found.

"Fresh meat," Someone on the sidelines muttered, glaring at me.

"Gentlemen!" Another man, presumably the owner of the club, called out, "Please welcome our newest fighter!" He looked directly at me. I hadn't planned to be fighting, and I almost said so. The owner pulled me over and whispered, "What do you want to be known as?"

"Roan," I said stiffly. It was my last name.

"Roan!" The owner yelled triumphantly. A few people cheered. Others complained. Most were silent. The owner smiled, "Since Roan here is new, we're going to put him up to the ultimate test! Roan will be fighting none other than...Drax!"

Everyone cheered that time. I watched silently as a lean but muscular man with curly black hair stepped into the ring, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans and some leather boots. He looked me up and down, and under different circumstances, I probably would've tried to buy him dinner. Then he spoke, "Let's dance, Cowboy."