In a saga, many hundred years ago, there lived three families. Families of invincible power and strength. The last and youngest individuals that lived were of unknown blood and inheritance. They have possessed strength of their relations before them and, till this day, their family line continues. This is the prolongation of their story, their bloodlines, in our world.

The year is 2001, the start of the new millennium. All right! Time to refresh for today’s schedule. I know it seems weird, for a kid like me, to think of organizing, but that’s what I do.

My name is Seiki and it means "spirit (and mind) energy". In clearer terms, it stands for life energy. I don’t know why I was named Seiki, but I can be fun loving to wild and crazy sometimes. I’m a mixed-up girl.

I live in my hometown, Kyoto, with my grandfather, Senshi. It may seem weird but his name means "warrior". I think my family likes names with meaning.

Anyway, I live with my grandfather. My parents both died of some consequence when I was only 4. I don’t even have any pictures of them. No memory of my dreadful past. My grandfather took me under his custody and it’s been years ever since I’ve seen my parents. No matter what I do, my grandfather will never tell me why they’re gone. I don’t know what’s so secret about my parents’ end, but my grandfather is sure doing a great job keeping it away from me.

Sigh…

Okay, out of my misery and into my life. I’m now 18 years old and attending Shinku Hoshi Karejji (Crimson Star College). There, I’m learning business and management study as a major and it’s my first year. Soon I’ll be out of school and finding a job with no problems at all. In another three years!

As most people will recognize, I’m Japanese. I live in Japan, duh! I have long, night black hair with lavender streaks. It’s really my natural hair colour. Plus, I have sapphire blue eyes to match. Whenever my grandfather gets the chance, he’d say, "you’re one-of-a-kind". Whatever that means.

One thing about my gramps, he’s a master in the martial and sword arts. I train under his teachings. "Kenjutsu" is the sword art he is the greatest at. "The Art of the Sword". I like that. I’m only a Deshi at the moment (a student), but my gramps says that, very soon, I’ll move up to Renshi (an instructor), and not long, Hanshi (a master). My gramps only handed me a one-edged blade, if I could exceed his own strength in the art, he’ll hand me the double-edged Broad Sword that I’ve always wanted to try. He always told me that it was a family heirloom and no one is to use it unless they were worthy enough. He wasn’t worthy enough to use it himself and he’s the best master I know in this town. Yikes! I’d better skyrocket above his level to use that sword.

The martial art though, is a secret. He still trains me but I wasn’t given the name to it. I don’t know what style it is and he’ll only tell me after I have proven myself worthy. I just have this feeling my gramps is a very secretive person and keeps everything to himself.

To my daily rounds, it’s a school day and I walk from my house to get to the campus. I pass by a few streets and greet everybody. I’m a person of virtue. In plain English, I’m just downright friendly, but for the good of everyone, don’t push me over the limit. I do have quite a temper.

I arrive at school and make it there early. Walking towards the meeting spot under the cherry blossom tree. It’s been a while ever since I’ve done this, probably for a few days, and all the time he arrives late! Sometimes I wonder what takes him so long. Is it just that hard to get out of bed?

Come to think of it, ever since I’ve met him, I always have this strange warm feeling inside of me. It’s like I’ve known him my whole life. I don’t know but he seems so recognizable that he’s like a part of my family. Nah!

Nothing but darkness. Black is all I can see.

Where am I?; I thought.

I look around to try and find a way out, but there’s nothing. Just the extended shade of pitch black around me. Suddenly, bright lights illuminate the darkness that seemed to stretch on forever. It blinded me, momentarily. I struggled to open my eyes but all I could see now was white. I shut my eyes, tightly.

I wasn’t sure how long I kept my eyes shut but it seemed like forever. I was afraid to open them, but I was afraid to keep them closed. Slowly, I opened them and looked around. The blinding white light had vanished but it wasn’t total darkness.

I was in a field. A very barren field. Nothing but the wind blew. I had a bad feeling in my gut. I slid to my fighting stance and was ready. Talk about ready, something attacked me from behind. I went flying, and crashed headfirst into a building. When I got up to look at my aggressor, something fast sped towards me. Like a snake. At the last minute I recognized it as it kept flying towards me. It was a huge needle. And as it was heading for me, it enlarged and I was about to be…

"AAAAAHHHHH!!!!!"

I woke up in a cold sweat. Light seeped in from the bedroom window and shone on the contents, tossed everywhere around the room, like they were rag dolls. My room was like a pigsty, from my mother’s words. I had dirty laundry, food scraps, magazines everywhere. I wasn’t the type to be organized. Telling that to my friend is a different matter.

The name’s Ryuku. Living in a town like Kyoto wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be. My original home was in Osaka, where my old friends and old neighbourhood used to be. Using the term "old" isn’t what I’d use. The only reason I moved was because of my mother’s handling. She couldn’t handle the pressure of our loss.

Back at Osaka, my father was a police officer. He’d stop all sorts of crime and was credited for all his efforts. However, around 8 months ago, there was a terrorist attack at a federal bank. My father was involved and he risked his life to save one of the hostages. He was shot to the lung…and died of blood drowning. His body was cremated and mum allowed the police force to keep the ashes, to remind them of how great a man he was and how great a man can be.

I probably have a good guess why my name’s Ryuku. It stands for "dragon and tiger", but it also means "hero". A reincarnation of my old man, Jinn. The greatest police officer Osaka will ever have.

He was also a pro at the martial arts. He always taught me that honour was all that matters in a battle. Ever since I started to walk, he taught me the basic moves of a forbidden style of martial arts and went further and further in training as I got older. Teaching me how to find my inner self and exploit it, using weapons for defense rather than attack, and how to relax yourself. Since he was a police officer, he taught how to use the Baton in its martial arts’ style. In other words, its traditional name is the Tamah. I’m a pro at it. He also told me when I was ready; he’ll reveal the name of the style of the martial arts that was so secret. That’s never going to happen.

After his death, I found something in my closet (at Osaka). They were two polished wooden batons. The kind you use in battles. There was also a little note, of a dark brown colour, from my father before he died. He must’ve hidden them in my closet so I’d find them.

It said:

That was freaky. I didn’t know what my dad meant but I think I’ll just keep it in mind.

Now, I’m 20 years old and studying a number of studies. I really don’t have a major going, ever since my loss, it’s hard deciding what you want to do.

Aargh! How can I think with this ringing in my head! Wait a minute! I looked around and saw my alarm clock. I stopped the annoying ringing and swung my legs over the bedside. I took a glimpse at the clock, as my vision was pretty blurry. I rubbed my eyes and my sight came. I suddenly had a blank expression.

"AAAAHHHH!!!! I’m going to be late!"

I scrambled out of bed and rushed into my uniform, scattered everywhere around the room. I quickly gotten into the bathroom and cleaned myself up. I have jet-black hair, partially spiked, and dim black eyes. My father was always proud of me and always assumed I will do good in the long run of my life.

After I’ve gotten ready, I said goodbye to mum, and hopped onto my bike.

It was pretty good weather out. Just hope mum feels the same way. She’s the sensitive type. She and my dad met while she was walking to the old markets back at Osaka.

Sigh…I said "old" again.

Anyway, a pickpocket stole her handbag right off, but dad caught him, no problem. From then on it was history. I just hope she feels okay. She’s seeing someone for the last 2 months and I hate that, but I understand that she needs to move on and so do I.

I got to school in the nick of time. With only 10 minutes to spare. I parked my bike in the bicycle rack and chained it up. As I collected my books (and Tamahs) from the iron basket at the back of my bike, I hurriedly rushed towards the cherry blossom trees and met up with a longhaired female. It’s just my luck running into her after the last 6 months since I moved here. She’s sweet, kind, and actually offered to show me around the campus.

It’s a feeling I got, but she just seems familiar to me. Like a lost memory returning back to my mind. It’s freaky. It’s like a can tell who she is just by first glance. Maybe it’s just my loss.

"Sorry to keep you waiting. I got stuck in traffic," I gasped.

"That’s okay, you’re always late," she answered. "How can you get stuck in traffic with a bicycle?"

"It wasn’t my bicycle."

She was confused at what I meant. I could tell. She always has that cock-sided facial expression on her face whenever she’s puzzled. I put my hands on her shoulders.

"Never mind, Seiki. Come on we’ll be late for class."

Another day, another tiring school semester. That’s all I could think of. Work, work and more work.

Name’s Cargo and I live in Nagoya. As you just heard, I think school is a total waste of time. I mean all they do is teach you stuff that is totally inadequate to daily life. I mean, when do you have to use algebra in your life?! It’s freaking idiotic!

Anyway, so you don’t get bored with my rambling, I’m 19 years old and attend Nagoya Kokugi Karejji (Nagoya National Sports College).

The only thing I like about my college is the sports they offer. My adoptive parents think that brains are better than brawn. Sometimes I think they’re referring me as brawn. If you’re wondering why I’m adopted, it’s because both my parents died in this freak accident. They were scientific engineers and I guess there must have been some explosive leak. That’s all I know, I don’t know if it was an actual accident or if anyone was behind it. I was only 10, and if I could get my hands on one shred of proof about my parents’ death, it’d be good enough for me. Anyway, it’s all in the past. All I have as a memory is my mother’s talent. Martial arts.

In her will, she bestowed me an unusual book. It was dull blue, leather-covered with light brown pages and an unusual symbol. Looked like some kind of anchor, but that wasn’t the weird part. The weird part was the actual contents of the book. It had all the techniques my mum taught me, written down. Well not exactly all the techniques. There’s a few that I still have to learn. Some of which I have no idea how to execute. But now I’ll never get to know what it’s called. There’s also pages missing at the end of the book. Puzzled at first, but I didn’t take into account.

One thing is it’s an heirloom. Weird, huh? Usually heirlooms are priceless. This is just a book. Oh well…

She also bestowed me these ultra cool Caimans. They’re kind of like scythes. My mum used to tell me that they were heirlooms. Now I’d call them heirlooms. I have to hide them from my adopted parents. They hate any violence. One rule of the house. Why did I get pacifists for parents?!

See, I’m not that stupid. I, at least, know what I’m saying.

Mum always said that I’d make her proud one day. I’m not sure what she meant by that, but I hope I do.

"Cargo! You’d better be ready for school! And tame that hair of yours! This is like the 100th time I’ve told you!"

That was my adoptive mum. She’s always looking out for the best of my interests. The thing is she’s always bugging me about my hair!!! It’s naturally spiked. She just can’t handle the fact that my hair will always stay this way. My hair is my favourite colour, navy blue and it sticks straight up, with a few thick strands of what looks like a fringe. Most of my pals at school think it’s weird, but I think it’s just natural. After all, my mum had hair like this as well.

I also have jet black eyes and everyday, a sinister expression on my face. Natural. But I’m not a person who angers easily. I mean, I might be a bit arrogant at times, but I’m pretty much laid-back.

At school, as you already know, I’m only into the sports. But, so that my "parents" get off my back, I have an athletic scholarship. Hey, at least it’s something to do with school.

I got ready for school and headed for the kitchen. I grabbed something small to eat and said goodbye to my "parents". Thanks to my mother, I have to walk to school with this guy. He’s all right, but he’s very…serious. I mean, he’s so uptight. He just won’t relax. But he does have a friendly side.

Somehow, he just seems very…very…I don’t know? Like I know him somehow. It’s like…I’ve seen him before. Oh, this is giving me a headache!!

Well, might as well wait. It takes him around 15 minutes to get here.

Like always, I’m late. I practically have to run flat out to get there in time. Luckily, I’m a fast runner. He’s probably waiting there, impatiently, like he always does. Why does my mother put me through this kind of stuff?

My name is Naraku and I go to Nagoya Tekunikaru Karejji (Nagoya Technical College). I’m not that organized and I’m late for most of the things I do. Why I’m named "Hades"? I don’t know.

I’m not that disorganized though. I, at least, know what to do around the house. I try to have this daily routine. Thing is, I never follow it.

At school, my major is, of course, technical engineering. I’m an ace at it. No bragging intended. I’m on my final year. Thank god.

I’ve lived in Nagoya as long as I can remember. My father’s missing, presumed dead. I think not. I only remember my father’s words before he left mum and me for a business trip. He said:

He told me that in secret, the morning of his trip. I might understand that, after all he taught me the martial arts. Don’t know what it’s called and will never know. He also told me how to use the Bo. I have one locked away in my closet. Away from my mum and step-dad. He hates the martial arts. I hate him! He’s a…I won’t.

Anyway, my Bo is locked away in my closet, but my father also gave me a map of some kind before he left. It looks like it’s of a fawn colour. He said something about an heirloom, hidden somewhere, and a place far beyond my imagination. After he given it to me, he also said:

Riddles! Why does it have to be riddles?!

It’s not like I can find it with this stupid map. Every time I try, I either give up or get caught. It’s hopeless. I’d possibly believe this is nothing but a wild goose chase, but my father had a straight face. Every time he was serious, he’d never kid

It’s been around 6 years since my father’s disappearance. I’m now 23 years old and, as you already know, I have a stepfather. Can you believe I still live with them? I mean, it’s pretty pathetic. But I love my mum; it’s my stepfather. He’s the problem. If you want to know why, it’s because of this. He’s pushy, he’s demanding, he’s annoying, he’s pushy, he talks too much. Did I mention that he’s pushy?

To get that off my back, I’m a young adult with responsibilities. I have short hair, parted in the center. It’s a dark purple colour, weird huh? My eyes are black. Usually, everyday, I always have an arrogant expression on my face. But I can be friendly looking sometimes.

I caught up to Cargo. He’s the guy I walk with to school, since my mum forced me into it. After a month or so, I’ve gotten used to it.

Somehow, it seems like I know him. Who couldn’t miss him with hair like that? Actually, it’d be the same with me. Just somehow, I’ve met him before. Either that, I’m going nuts ‘cause of stress.

I gasped for air as I reached Cargo. He was standing there, impatiently, as per usual. With his arms crossed, military-like.

"Finally," he said.

"Sorry, got held up," I said.

"How?"

"You don’t want to know."

"Whatever. Can you hurry up catching your breath? I’m going to be late for school."

I sighed, annoyingly. He always acted like that.

Tokyo, a bustling big city. Filled with people of all ages with opportunities. Then there’s me, a girl with nothing to lose. I take chances and go for it. I live my life to the fullest. But I do have a job. It’s an okay job. I get to meet interesting people.

I’m a college graduate and I work for a dojo close to my apartment. Eiyo no Eisei Doujou, I abide all my respects towards the goals that are achieved there. My dojo is translated, "Eternal Life of Honour", and I devote my life towards it. After all, my mother would’ve herself.

My name is Tenrai. It means, "sound of the wind" or "beautiful poetry". Don’t ask me why I’m named that. My parents died when I was young, so you can’t ask them. I’ve been living on my own ever since. They died when I was only 12 and my mother’s friends brought me in and took care of me under her custody. It took a while since they weren’t related to me. Well, that’s what everyone said. But the wife of the couple was one good lawyer though, I can assure you.

In my mother’s will, she left me a book. It’s got loads of techniques about this mysterious martial arts. Some of which my mother taught me before she and dad died. Car accident, they say. Whatever, like I believe that.

Anyway, the book was a dull orange, leather-covered, with pages, colour of tan. On its cover is a symbol. I could barely make it out though. It looks like it’s been eroded away by something. In the front of the book, there’s pages ripped from it. I have no idea why. Sooner or later, I might find out.

It’s also a family heirloom. Don’t ask me why I’d call this an heirloom.

I also received chained Nanchakus. Also heirlooms of the family. I was one of the best. Especially because mum was one of the best. Everything she striven for in life was for me. The way of honour and abiding nature’s way.

I’m now 22 years old and I’m on my own. My "stepmother" usually visits. After all, she raised me for the past 10 years with my "stepfather". But, during those years, I’ve never seen their biological daughter. I was always kept in my room, and when their daughter got in her room, I got out of mine. It’s like some military routine.

Just now, I feel remorse. During my time with them, my "stepfather" died. I know we had no relation, but he was like my mother. Similar in every way.

My "stepparents", while my "stepfather" was alive, always said that I looked like my mother. I had short hair, and when I mean short, I mean short. It’s more of a crude cut at the back of my head, but everything’s spiked at the front. My hair is black with a few yellow streaks at the back and my eyes are black with a tint of blue hidden somewhere.

It was an early morning and I was up and ready to get to work. If only I enjoyed cleaning my apartment the way I enjoy my work. It was a war zone. I got clothes piled everywhere. At least I got my books and other essentials organized. I slipped on a shirt and some slacks, and was off to the dojo.

I would most likely walk, but I travel with style. With my dark orange skateboard and safety gear. My father gave it to me as a birthday gift when I was probably 8. Yet, my mother named it. Corona. I don’t know why my mother named my skateboard. I really didn’t pay much mind until their end. Looked it up and it means a variety of things. "Halo", "Aura", and "Nimbus". Maybe because I was such an angel back then…

…Maybe not.

I rode my skateboard to the café at the corner of my street. I always have my morning coffee there. I’m a close friend to some workers there. Been one ever since I first walked in the door. I’m always a friendly person.

After that, I got my skateboard and geared up. Said goodbye to some old friends and departed for work. Tokyo is one city where you’d always be yelled at or criticized in any way. As for me, I brush it off. That’s how cheerful I am. I’m never angered by anything, except if it were a confrontation.

I continued travelling through the streets, around the corner of the café, only to crash.

"WOAH!"

"YIKES!"

I stacked it off Corona, flying headfirst towards the ground. I flipped and only landed on my rear. As I got myself up, rubbing my back, I looked back to see what had happened. It seemed that I crashed into that woman who goes to the same café as me. I never see her there much, but she orders a couple of cups while she’s there and mingles with everyone she sees. She must be one spirited woman.

To make things feel weirder, she even looks like someone I’ve seen. Might as well apologize, I crashed into her anyway.

Hey, my name’s Sajen and I live in the capital city of Japan, Tokyo.

I’m 21 years old with short black hair. My fringe is naturally blue. It’s longer then my hair and, yeah, I’m serious, its natural hair colour is blue. I think it’s pretty cool. My eyes are a clear blue colour with a tint of black, which looks really pretty. Guess I don’t have to wear coloured contacts.

I’m a college graduate on my own. Having a job in the fashion industry, I design and model all of my styles. I’m just an artist…and a model.

I have a dreary past. My father died of some disease he caught while on one of his trips for one of his major campaigns in his business. At that time, I was 18. Three years. Just three years. I sometimes wonder how he caught it in the first place.

He was a great man. He taught me everything I know today. The martial arts. Don’t know what it is though. He never told me.

I trained everyday ever since. All katas, and all techniques he has shown me. I also have the Pinwheels. Passed down from generation to generation. My father told me that it was called "Connecting Elements", but I renamed them "Wind Fire". It’s still on the same basis of its original name.

Anyhow, I have lived with my mother from then on. She couldn’t handle the grief, but knew to move on. Now I support her as she did with me.

Back to reality, I was rollerblading, in my "different shades of blue" inline skates and gear, from my stylish apartment to work. Chanel is the label I work for yet I have my own. It’s called Kou Hinote Fashion, which means, Female Phoenix Flame Fashion or Phoenix Flame for short. I mostly make evening nightwear, which people would wear to nightclubs and all. But I’m broadening my horizons from pyjamas to business suits. As you know, from my label, I make clothes for women of all ages. But, someday I might make another label for men. Remember, I said someday.

I kept on blading towards Chanel, with loads of men breathing down my necks. It’s so irritating. Just because you look beautiful, men start staring at you like a pack of dogs. I think the last time one was to reach out to me, and punched his lights out.

I took a break at Café Four. Had a few cups while I was there and socialize too. The one thing is, I never get to meet everyone, especially this one woman. She just sits near the window, sipping her cup of coffee, staring into space. I usually think "What does she think of?", but I’m always too busy chatting with everyone. She eventually leaves without a "hello". That’s pretty rude.

After my couple of cups, I got geared up to take the rigorous trip to Chanel. As I was about to leave, I ended up in the collision course of a shadowy figure.

"WOAH!"

"YIKES!"

I fell on my rear as the figure was hurled in the air with her skateboard. She also landed on her rear as well. As she was getting up, I was in a daze.

That was a rush; I thought.

The figure soon walked up to me and took out her hand.

"You okay?" she asked.

As I looked up, I realized who she was. She was the mysterious woman who I never get to talk to. Always keeping everything to herself. Well, now I’ll get to know who she is.

"Yeah I’m okay," I replied.

"That’s good. At first, I thought I injured you. With those type of clothes you’re wearing, I would’ve been sued," she joked.

I had a little laugh. It could’ve been true.

"Well, I’ll see you around," she ended, departing to leave.

"Hey, wait!" I shouted.

She stopped and looked back towards me.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Why not hang out. After all, I always see you in that café and you’re always looking out the window," I said. "What do you say?"

"Sure."

We both had our equal perspectives. She left on her skateboard and I left on my skates.

This was great. Now I’ll get to know who she really is. After all, it seems like I know her already, yet want to know more.