This isn't Fabled Folktales

First Mission Arc:

Second Mission of Arc:

Third Missiom of Arc:

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Lightning, a brewing storm, the language of both darkness and light. Within the darkness veil of the night, lightning performs as the cackling intensity that crawls down from the skies, followed by the booming emotions of the thunder that shatters reality with its voice.

Some may cower at the sounds of thunderstorms, but Powder was the opposite. She couldn't help but find a form of tranquility in the presence of the intense chaos created by the storms amongst the Island. She spent many nights listening to the pitter patter of the heavy rain as it fell against the top of the hut's roof. Even sometimes, she'd find herself by the seashore, watching as the waves raged with the storm. Witnessing as the crystal blue water would suddenly transform into a dark torrent of rage.

That must be one of the reasons why she felt more drawn to Inazuma, the panther who’s paws once rained down the raw intensity of its power amongst the Island.

Her brother, on the other hand, had always liked Mizunosei for the Spirit's gentleness. It was funny how their favorite Spirit as children didn't match the element they had more potential with.

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Once more Powder found her hand clasping gently around the totem that hung from around her neck. It was a gift from her brother, who used to wear it everywhere he went. It was a carving that he made for her, and for some reason he waited much later before giving it to her. The carving itself was to represent Inazuma, the wood was finely cut into the shape of a panther and had a smooth polish. The totem was a priceless treasure that Powder could never lose.

As Powder clasped onto the totem, her striking eyes would gaze at the shrine before her. Despite the absence of the Spirits, islanders and others still loved and respected the Divines and would visit the shrines to pay tribute. Most of those who visit, had the courtesy to look out for the well-being and conditions of those shrines.

“Aizen~” Powder would turn her eyes towards the man that accompanied her still, before handing him one of the cloths that she had brought with them. “Have you ever heard about the Spirits.”

Aizen's eyes widened as the first crack of lightning split the sky, illuminating the sky in a blinding flash of light. The brewing storm unleashed its fury, casting shadows that danced in the darkness. Watching Powder clasp onto her totem, made him instinctually toy with his hair accessory that hangs from his ear. He never fails to remind anyone asking that it still is a hair jewel despite its whereabouts, It is for heritage purposes after all.

The booming voice of thunder reverberated through the night, shaking the very ground beneath them. While some may have recoiled at the raw power of the storm, Powder seemed to find solace in its intensity. Aizen watched her with a sense of confusion. Aizen can feel the carved word 侘び寂び (“Wabi-Sabi”) on his fingertips. The reminder that not everything is perfect, and should be appreciated.

Rain itself is appreciated by him, but those who admire it are unaware of its effects, He would be too if he wasn’t accompanied by a raven. The same raven that gave Aizen his jewel, is the same one he watched fail to fly due to the rain. His confusion for Powder’s interest in the rain turned to admiration, realizing without rain he wouldn’t have a feather friend during the roughest times of his life. He’s sure Powder has a story of her own where rain brings memories.

A quick both of lightning and the sound of thunder snaps him out of his thoughts. Powder’s question follows after the thunder echoes through the night. “Very little” he responds. “Why do you ask?”

Another strike of lighting cackled, the light of its chaotic energy glinting off of the ornament that adnored his ear.

After Powder handed Aizen the cloth, she would make her way to the shrine that stood before them. Marbled statues of the panther stood at the door, a representation of the Spirit Inazuma.

She ducked beneath the awning, leaving her shoes and damp shawl on the outer deck before entering the sacred building. The trees that surrounded the shrine helped prevent most of the rain from getting to them, and seemed to protect the shrine itself from the weathering. Only the occasional soft pitter of the raindrop could be heard.

“There are five Spirits that represent each base element of life. Furaibi, Mizunosei, Aetherius, Terranox, and Inazuma. Each one unleashes divine power that corresponds with their element.” Powder paused her explanation, as she lowered herself to the floor of the shrine. She proceeded to wipe the wood flooring with the cloth as the young Kunoichi set to work.

“As you are aware, Tengakure was a village that now lay in ruins. Before the village became alive, the Spirits once roamed the island and were well loved amongst the natives. Each storm that brewed amongst the sea, each gust of wind that whispered through the trees. Was a calling from the very Spirits.” Powder turned her eyes towards Aizen, hoping that he joined her in cleaning the shrine. “But Tengakure changed things. While some were distracted by the immensity of the village, and all its glory it had to offer them. . the signs of the Spirits ceased to be. The village itself was a plague to what was outside it, and to the natives that kept to their ways.”

“Although, after some years have passed since the fall of that village, there have been words spreading amongst the islanders. That the Spirits have been showing themselves once more. The ones that have never forgotten them, have been gifted with their return. Or so we hope.”

Aizen's eyes shimmered with curiosity and reverence as Powder shared the ancient lore of the island and its connection to the Spirits. The echo of thunder in the distance seemed to punctuate her words, emphasizing the weight of the history and the power that lay dormant within the land.

Taking the cloth from Powder, Aizen studied the marbled statues of the panther that guarded the entrance to the shrine. The craftsmanship was exquisite, each detail a testament to the reverence with which the islanders held the Spirit Inazuma. As he followed Powder into the shrine, he felt a sense of awe at the sacred space surrounding them.

Inside, the air was heavy with the scent of incense and wood, the quiet stillness broken only by the occasional soft patter of raindrops on the roof. Powder's words filled the space, weaving a tapestry of ancient beliefs and forgotten traditions that spoke to Aizen's soul.

As he knelt beside Powder, the weight of the cloth in his hands a tangible reminder of the task at hand, Aizen listened intently to her words. The story of Tengakure's rise and fall resonated with him, especially with the idea that when there’s change, there are those who are affected negatively by it. Truly a cautionary tale of hubris and loss that echoed through the generations.

The thought of the Spirits returning to the island stirred something deep within Aizen's heart. The promise of divine power and elemental magic held an irresistible allure, a glimmer of hope in a world filled with darkness and uncertainty. He felt a sense of responsibility to honor the Spirits and their legacy, to help restore the balance that had been disrupted by Tengakure's demise.


As he worked alongside Powder, the rhythmic motion of cleaning the shrine became a meditation, a way to connect with the ancient energies that permeated the sacred space. The presence of the Spirits felt palpable, their watchful gaze guiding their hands as they tended to the shrine.

The limitless questions Aizen conjures into his head only continue to pile up. He can’t help but beg the question, ”When faced with retaliation and neglect for the spirits, Why’d the spirits disappear?”. He asks this question unaware of which element aligns with which spirit.“Sorry, that’s a terrible question to ask, there’s just so much I don’t understand.”. His rhythmic motion quickens, losing tempo almost reflecting his uncertain thoughts. “Are you ok with telling me more?”. Aizen asks more respectfully. Awaiting her response, he hopes he hasn’t spoken out of line.