Daimen starter

The departure of the Kyosauke's was harsh and brutal on how they broke apart. With Sato; his father having had been gone, the child was left alone. The only place he had left had been this isolated dojo out in the outskirts of Japan. Where the memories of everyone's laughter filled the thin, paper walls of the building, the screams of training students. Thin finger tips pressed against the smooth fragile paper of the sliding doors and pushed them open. A black trench coat fell upon the clean wood floor and the steps followed behind the walking boy. Darken purple locks fell across those purplish eyes. The pale features that loomed over the boy's body was almost enough to match up with the snow. Skin tight, black clothing pressed against his frail body, he was thin and some what tall, 5'2 for his age. Most features he'd taken from his father of course. Just as cold as the snow was, Daimen was left for cold.

His steps that walked across the floor board, the ghostly sounds of Blade yelling at Zoro whom picked on Kai and made him cry or Gin chasing after Kira who had a crush on her, the sounds of other students fighting over the bento boxes in the kitchen. Then there it was, the gentle voice of Simon and Amon who stepped in behind him, their presents were as real as a person. Not turning around, he knew what those voices said. Daimen continued to walk through the dorms of the dojo, one room he stopped at. His head turned to glance at it; it was Zoro's room. The very room he was taken care of by Zoro, when their bond of father and son soon built up. 'You didn't let me go,' the child whispered, 'There was no reason too, your shield is weak, I can see it..' Zoro's voice trailed off with the wind, the snow slowly falling in. It's been that long, huh? Daimen slowly looked up at the battered ceiling, he nodded. It has been that long.

Perhaps it was time to let this place go, leave it behind. Close his heart once again, his father, brothers, sister figures and most importantly, his father figure; Zoro, were all gone. Left to fend for his own now, Daimen's cold structure returned. "We shall meet soon, father." Daimen whispered, speaking towards Zoro who in his mind knew he was listening. He always listened. Zoro did, never did he abandon him til now. Closing the sliding door slowly, he turned away and headed towards the main entry of the dojo. On his way out, there was that loud laugh the sudden feel of the harsh pat against his shoulder. It was all in his mind, but it made the boy turn around to notice the blurred figure sitting on an old beanie in the living room. It had been Jinta. His one and true childhood love. Even he; was taken away from him. ''Jinta,'' Was all he could say, it was painful. "Til then, Daimen, remember," Jinta's soothing whisper spoke and pointed to his own heart before the figure disappeared, leaving the sound of innocence behind.

Again, he turned away and kept his head held up high, the grip at the side of his hilt from his sword was tight. Daimen leaned over to retrieve the trench coat and wrapped it around his thin form and proceeded out of the dojo and with a soft whisper from his soft lips, behind him; the dojo erupted into a blaze of angry flames, soon bringing down the building full of memories down to the ground. With this done, Daimen didn't look back, but continued out of the main gates and now towards the path of whatever may be in his own path. One thing he learned as a swordsman from his father figure was to never turn his back on an enemy and receive a cut to the back. This, was going to be his promise he was to fulfill to Zoro.