An ancient proverb once stated: "Inside each person is the potential for evil. Its a matter of how we use or don't use that potential which defines us and defines what is evil."



The wind blows, as it always does, through the trees bringing a refreshing and cooling breeze through his hair damp with sweat. Carrying with it he smell of tree sap leaving a slightly sweet smell in the air. Crickets in the distance making their nervous chirping in the quiet evening. The humid night makes the breeze that much more refreshing. A lone figure in the darkness moves in a silent deadly dance. Sweat beading on his brow and running down his face. His muscles burn and scream for him to stop and beg for more at the same time. One slash after the other cutting into the air disciplined and precise. Sweat flying from his bare arms off into the darkness with the repetition of each fluid stroke. The moonlight shimmering and gleaming off his bare sweat-soaked arms and chest. His Muscular legs planted firmly on the ground giving him absolute support and unmovable stability. Trying not to make a sound as he trains in solitude listening only to the sound of his own heartbeat, breathing and the scream of the air as its sliced by his knife.

The darkness and quiet of the night used to help him forget his troubles, if only for a short time. Now only the training helps distract his mind. But it also serves as a punishment he inflicts upon himself. He cannot forgive himself, even now so many years later. Feeling twinges of guilt and despair creep up his spine like a snake slithering along his vertebrae. Forcing his body into a faster pace he tries to burn the images away. Throwing twice as many punches and kicks to push the physical pain into view and the memories away, replacing his conscious thoughts with the savage burn of his muscles. His fist swiftly crashes into imaginary foes then curl under becoming twisting pile drivers intent on punishing the sad imaginary fool that got in their way. His feet fold and unfold in vicious motions using his entire body's power in each strike. Stepping forward three times and performing a perfect roundhouse kick to the side of the tree. The crack accompanied by the shaking of the tree gave him a feeling of satisfaction and with it came a slight pulse of pleasure at the though of a person receiving that kick and a similar sound resonating from them. Accompanied with the guilt of that realization in the back of his mind hitting him as hard as he had hit the tree.

Moving forward with a step into the next kick he catches something out of the corner of his eye. With a snap of instinct controlled reflexes he snatches something straight out of the air. Looking at his hand he opens it slowly only to find nothing in it. Hearing the sound of a feral growl coming from his left ear he spins around in a defensive stance after leaping a few feet forward and way from the threatening sound. But was encountered with only more darkness. "Hello?! Anyone there?" Thinking to himself after the words left his mouth that he would feel very stupid if he finds himself talking to an animal looking for a meal. His head suddenly starts to feel like a great pressure is growing inside his head accompanied by severe pain. His vision begins to blur and for a moment and he begins to see what it was that growled at him. Two red glowing orbs floating in the darkness just close enough to see through his blurry eyes. Trying to fight it he feels the pain spread to the left side of his face and ends rather abruptly with a loud pop in his left ear and a sharp stinging in his left eye forcing him to close it, wincing reflexively. Upon opening his eye he gets a clear image of the rest of the creature belonging to the two glowing orbs floating in the darkness. Unbelievably, attached to those orbs was a maw filled with many sharp teeth. The gaping maw being the first thing of note followed very closely by the appearance of two clawed hands also protruding from the darkness. "This can't...you...can't exist. I must be seeing things. I mean, a Celestial Dragon! You don't exist!"

The creatures face seemed to turn upward in an almost sinister smile as it sits there and stares at him. Like a snake waiting or its prey to die. The unnerving nature of what he was seeing began to make his hands shake. The fear he felt was now showing quite plainly on his face and body as it trembled. Staring at him with what seemed like a bored expression for a moment and as if it just realized he could see it the expression on its face changed to what can only be described as a smile.....or a sneer... "Hhhhhhello Mamoru." The way it spoke made it seem like the two of them were familiar friends.

There it was, *it* began to speak to him. That voice. The one he hears every day in the back of his mind. The one he can't seem to shake or ignore. That voice was the cause for his guilt and torment. The voice was always calling out to him, it told him to say things and do things. Things that he couldn't believe he could ever say or do. "That voice.. ?" His fists tightening around the knife in his hand to the point where the knuckles turned white. The fear that he felt a moment before now turning to anger as his mind tries to wrap around those words. Blinking in disbelief he rubs his eyes and just like that the creature was gone, almost as if it was never there to begin with. And that is exactly how he let it play out in his mind. He was imagining things. After all, given the state of events that transpired there was only that one conclusion to be had. Still the image of that creature was blurred into his mind and he went straight home. After showering and trying to relax a little he found himself still preoccupied by the creature that had manifest itself in his imagination. The stress he put himself through had to have brought it on but why that particular image? After researching that particular image he found that the image he had manifest was the visage of the Celestial Lightning Dragon. According to the manuscript the Dragon was known for its arbitrary cruelty and its temper. Lightening is sudden and dangerous. Maybe he chose it because of his lightning attunement. Subconsciously he must have remembered it from something he read as a child. Or it was just a weird coincidence.

Obviously he didn't tell anyone about what he saw. However the dragon began to be conjured up by his imagination more and more often. Once on a mission in the heat of combat. Taking Mamoru completely by surprise and causing him to foul up at a critical moment. Much like the first time he heard the voice on a mission. Screaming out in fright at a critical moment had caused a chain of events that ended in someone he considered very close to him to be injured. Paralyzed from the neck down. Some say that's better than being dead. Mamoru would beg to differ. There are many fates worse than death, and at this moment in time he is beginning to think this figment of his imagination is one of them.

After a year of the figment showing up more and more often, at the end of the year he could always see the dragon. And could actually interact with it. Attempting to keep it to himself as much as possible he learned how to deal with it as best as he could. He even gave it a name so that he didn't feel like a total idiot talking to himself. He called it Moushuu, not very imaginative but hey...get your own imaginary dragon and you can call him/her/it whatever you like. He can be often heard saying something to the effect of "Moushuu says..." followed by some form of profound wisdom, heavy handed insult, or just as heavy handed truth. Stating it in a way to seem like this Moushuu person told him this a long time ago. Or as if he was quoting a proverb. Either way he has learned how to live with it.

However one thing still seems to bother him about "Moushuu." He seems to know things that Mamoru himself had no way of knowing. Often times he finds Moushuu explaining things to him about something that's happening around him that he just doesn't seem to be paying attention to, or didn't notice. Moushuu actually warned him once in combat and gave him just enough time to dodge. However its usefulness ended then. Just saying "If you want to die that badly then you're welcome to just keep being oblivious, insect!" Insect was the "Nickname" Moushuu gave Mamoru. And as it would just so happen he can only communicate with Moushuu by speaking out loud. You would think that Moushuu supposedly being a part of his subconscious taken form in his mind that he would just have to think the words...but nooooo. Not that easy buddy! He still has no idea why the thing manifested in his mind, or failing it being a figment of his imagination and being, as laughable as it sounds, real. Why its there and what it wants. Only time will tell cause he's obviously not telling....