Super Happy Katana Fun Time

Mizu Edo: capital.

The rising sun.

It is beautiful, yes?

The land of demons, waves and metal means 'home' to many. But, in times of abstract conscience, there are few that dare call Mizu Edo their birthright. Little ships across the borders maneuver away with white, salty sails. They say it's all forgone because of the mist. 'But, brothers and sisters,' the priest would plea, 'this is our land and our mother.' A wash of rain meet all who dare set foot in Mizu Edo, but other places, such as the entire country itself, are mending downpours. Neighpan, the capital of all technological trade and creativity, is a majestic mess of creativity, tragedy, brilliance and bizarre joy. In particular, one Tetsu Ishi Ryoku pondered it's beauty, watching the moon by the foot of one, lonely hill.

Luna, sweet incandesence, knew how to soothe her subjects. She watched pale, dusty light lick the lands and forests below. If only mother could see it, she noted, ignoring a rustle in bushes not a yard away.

A straggler accosted her, like petals in a battlefield. He was shorter. Stockier. The way every furrow took his brow and creased his forehead, the priestess watched someone troubled. The bandit threatened her in silence, fidgety and riddled with opium scents. A single, rust-ready wakizashi pressed against her neck and though she had reason to hate or submit, Tetsu Ishi Ryoku smiled.

"Where're the goods...!" The stallion growled, crackling his pipe he was so nervous.

He saw a solar blade at her hip, sheathed with ornate, but humile gold trimmings. The base was white with sacred ivory from the bones of sanctified elephant mounts. The monks blessed her weapon, which was her shield and faith. Sweetest Celestia taught her the art of laughter, magic and sincerity. So, in her strange elation, the sword priestess chuckled.

"Was there nothing in the shed, little bandit...?" Tetsu asked, hearing his ears droop.

"..." He sunk, letting the wakizashi slink away and soon, lay idly at his waist.

"You've come a long way to visit me," she told the prowler, "and you shouldn't return empty-hoofed. Please take my clothes as a gift."

The thief, wholly bewildered, watched her face dampen with rain. A wandering sun priestess, he figured, only brought damnation and conquest. So, in his guilt fully-realize, the stallion took her kimono and slunk away. Once, the pony glanced back, over his shoulder with anchored brows. The moonlight danced across her eyes and found his own. Someday, he reckoned whispered, they'd meet again. Tetsu Ishi Ryoku watched the moon as grass creaked. Slowly, his hoofsteps faded.

"Poor fellow," she mused, grinning crooked against Luna's light.

"I couldn't give him this beautiful moon."

Morning arrived that day and though she bled, Tetsu Ishi Ryoku woke on her tatami. Bamboo was a sturdy companion. It gave her back a  strong, rigid disposition for nights nobles might've hated. And, in her peace of mind, she heard cicadas calling. They were buzzing, bristly singers and meistros of music misunderstood. Crickets were out the night before, but, Luna's gift was far too encompassing. The mare checked her hanging ghost charm and sighed in relief, seeing it perfectly still. She stretched limber and fluid, tense with all her training beforehand.

'Today, I meet my goddess' path.' She murmured alone, but never left, watching the clouds from her barred window.

It took a while to make breakfast. Catching fish was aggravating. Even for a priestess, sinner she was, hunting came with duress. She envied the trappers and spearmares capable of miracles. Instead, she boiled a fine tea, using what she could from local trips to random villages. It was slow and easy that morning. And, in her study of signs, Tetus knew why. The storm would rage very, very soon. It took an hour of lounging about. They ambushed her mid-meal, ever-brimming with ravenous hunger.

Solar Zombies, she knew. Each one carried warm, leathery flesh and epidermises layered with stale petrichor senses. They weren't typical Mizu Edo monsters and whatnot. Instead of corruption-based ambitions, they were holy creatures. Which was why, of all ponies, she was breakfast, lunch and dinner all at once. Other hunger creatures would've wanted her loins. Those, wretched and balding in places, but ultimately akin to bad cosplayers, were simply a cure. Her back stung in recognition of the sinned. And, in her mark, Tetsu bolted upright. They swamped her from all ends, six, eight, ten and twelve. Fourteen, sixteen, eighteen crept out the bamboo forests and joined in carnage.

'Celesita, forgive me for I will sin. I know what I do and though I carry your light, I sin regardless. Blindly. Selfishly. Happily.' The priestess uttered, drawing her blinding soul.

It's name was 'Fuyu' because the light, like her mane, was pink. And, in greatest splendor, she whispered it's name. Blistering chill, a silent fog leaked from blade exposure. It was a different kind of light. An extension of her soul-less body that contained her very, exceptionally mortal soul. Tetsu Ishi Ryoku took a defensive stance and left her blade hip-rested. They poured like ants in frenzy, swarming her flank, right, left, forward. They were robust, sprinting creatures, each one bursting with power and not once swift or agile. Instead, they worked like berserkers. Downward hammers and harsh, momentum-heavy arcs made their arsenal.

Diagonal, downward sing. She leaned right, fur barely scraped by hissing talons.

"Sweet~" She giggled, crouching amidst swipes to bull charge.

And one by one, they fell, apparently husks of musculature. The reason zombies were never a real problem wasn't their mental incapability, but how rotten they were. How weak the ligaments and whatnot hung. Tetsu Ishi Ryoku galloped elsewhere, heading toward a sturdy, little bridge. Her footfalls were vast whispers and each, hungry groan made them swifter. Being eaten was a horrible demise. One worse than death, she remembered, panting and maw-gaped. Still water sat below her as Tetsu glanced back. Over her shoulder, she saw legion. They were foul hunters. Foul light like missionaries with big rifles. She stood easy, Fuyu in her hooves as a graceful weapon. Not a true katana, it was more a maio dao too skinny for chopping trees, but great for balance.

She yawned, half-eyed in bubbly fatigue. The horde followed and there, she smashed a wilting rail section. Tetsu, elated to hear splintering wood, spent her morning whopping zombies into pond water. And, after they pruned, flesh was never so soft. Each monstrosity stood at six, maybe seven feet from her perspective. Any other scrub might've run or feared, but all she did was laugh out of curious anxiety. One-by-one, they fell. Throat slashes, torso-halvings and amputation leased her assailants. Impact left their water-kissed skin chipping and crunching with iced affliction. They ripped apart like ripe, ready fruits. Ribs splayed outward and mindless organs hung lazily about their pelvic regions. Tetsu would've heaved, but, she had a black stomach, too.

Her last assailant crawled across the rain-slick bridge. Stocky, shorter and hurt, he reached forward.

"Celestia..." She wavered, feeling her eyes water.

"You're a bitch sometimes."

Tetsu Ishi Ryoku stomped his head in. Strike after crush, she felt warm, acidic retribution kiss her hindlegs. Her hooves, worst of all, were eaten away and raw from divine punishment. Celestia wouldn't forgive her. After something like cerebral pudding caked her hind-hooves, everything felt... still. Peaceful. It made her giggle, both hooves covering her cheeks. In the pond, she saw her needle irises and shaking, naked hooves. The worst part, though... was feeling right. Wind swept their mane, pink like sakura; her yellowed, creamy coat ruffled at the chest. A splash of sickly, spoiled black hit her fur with one more slash.

The priestess watched him die and soon, she buried him with her clothes under the moonlight. Kicked, malleable soil filled her nostrils that night. It was all quiet and, at the foot of her isolated hill, Tetsu cleansed the meadow all around. It was ankle-height in wild, bountiful wheats. An old farmer tended the land once, she heard somewhere forgotten. That was why, in her silent tribute, she planted a single wish rose above his cremated urn. The pot was six feet below, toppled by earth and worms kicking with rain. But, his spirit, hopefully, was cleansed with her ceremony.

Tetsu Ishi Ryoku bandaged her stomach, watching it smear with black, hollow blood.