Cómics, Mangas, Comunidad!

ahvia:

paraciteknights:

Page 21! Ahvia really knocked it out of there this time!

wahh thanks ;A; i was really excited to finish this page! thanks everyone who’s been reading paracite knights! *A* <3

RT @Ahvia: THE NEW PARACITE KNIGHTS PAGE TOOK ME AN EMBARRASSINGLY LONG TIME BUT IT'S DONE~~~ \o/ i'd forgotten how to animation http://t.co/ZJKdDeOj1w

De @jisuk - Post original

lampton:

Commission: Michelle L’s character, Baron Robert Guiray as human. 

Commission information

@remchan Here's another one just for you~ (it's ramen) http://t.co/dNpRTiX2TL

De @jisuk - Post original

randomtengureporter :
[[Another inquiry! How does the metabolic speed of a Karasu compare to a Human? Standing heart rate, body temperature, and such.]]

Reponse:

Excellent, I always like hearing from you! It is definitely higher. I hint briefly at this in Part 6: “He remembered that humans had a lower body temperature than tengu, but it had never been more evident to him than now.”

Like birds, they have faster heart rates, higher temperatures, etc. Tengu also can’t sweat, so it’s important for them to stay cool in the summer.  They rely on methods like panting, shade, or bathing in cool water. Hope that clears that up, and thanks!

@Hamlet_Machine Wow, you guys still have cherry blossoms? They've been gone for weeks here. ;-;

De @jisuk - Post original

Karasu (烏) - Part 13 - This is where the story begins. Full Story: Chapter List ————————— Karasu, Part 13... http://t.co/Ect0CxRu3d

De @jisuk - Post original

Karasu (烏) - Part 13

This is where the story begins.

Full Story: Chapter List

—————————

Karasu, Part 13

For the first time in his life, Shichi was utterly alone. He had no home, no direction to face, and no one to ask for guidance. Two of these problems were inescapable, but one could be dissolved with a simple decision. He would have to choose his path.

Having lived in a secluded temple for decades, he knew little of the surrounding land and its affairs. His concerns had been limited to yellowed books and changing seasons, never once visiting a larger city, never even considering the vast stretches of land that expanded beyond the horizon. The only thing he knew was that he must find others to help.

Shichi leaned back onto the tree he had climbed, keeping himself steady on the high bough. From here, he could see miles of the mountain range, its peaks shrouded in low clouds. Tengu were naturally drawn to mountains. Their great heights were as close as they could get to the skies they had once called home. Mountains were often isolated, offering protection from the troubles of humanity. Human troubles, however, were exactly what he needed to find. If he wanted to help people, to truly put his skills to use, he would have to leave the mountains.

He closed his eyes, taking in the scent of the air and the direction of the wind. The largest cities were northeast, on the main island. He had only heard vague tales of conflict — of sickness, war, and famine. Perhaps he could be of use in these places, though his truest wish was that he wouldn’t be needed at all — that the tales he’d heard were only tales, and nothing more. He had also heard that there were tengu that lived among humans, that towns existed where a yokai could walk the streets like any other. He found these rumors much harder to believe; he would simply have to see for himself.

When he glanced back up, the answer was suddenly quite simple. His mind, his heart, and even the wind, they all told him the same thing — go north.

Shifting his weight, he slipped back down to the ground. As he began to walk, he could feel a weight in his chest. It felt as if the mountain itself were tugging at his heart, reminding him of what he was leaving behind. The years he had spent in its embrace, his intimate knowledge of every stone and tree, the people that he had loved — he was abandoning every one of them. Each step towards his future was a step away from his past, from everything familiar and safe. He lowered his head and pressed on. Before the mountain could let go of him, he would have to let go himself.

Days passed before he reached a valley he had never seen before. A river ran between the hills, its edges banked with gray stone and moss. The mist over the water filled the valley with a gentle, silent haze. He crouched along the shore, dipping his hands to rinse the dust from his face. Though he had not traveled terribly far, he noticed that the water still tasted differently. Bright red leaves drifted from the surrounding trees, many grazing the river to be carried downstream. He found himself envying them — not having to decide where to go, not needing to struggle with their destination.

Though the riverside was quiet, an odd sensation ran up his spine. He felt unsettled, as if he were being watched. He had experienced this disturbance countless times before; the forests surrounding the temple were full of spirits — some placid, and some restless. Unable to shake the feeling, Shichi glanced up.

He could find nothing to lay blame on. The only signs of life were a few dragonflies hovering by the water’s edge. He shook his head, taking one last look before turning back into the cover of the forest.

As he followed the river east, he felt himself grappling with the same feeling time and again. He constantly looked over his shoulder, his eyes trailing between the trees to find nothing but fog. Shichi wondered if his emotions were getting the better of him, manifesting his homesickness into physical anxiety.

On top of his mental worries, Shichi also had to tend to his basic needs. There were plenty of edible vegetables in the autumn, but without cooking supplies, their preparation was woefully limited. His eyes caught the leaves of a taro plant on a slope near the river, and he knelt to dig up the root below. It was toxic before cooking, but boiling without a pot would be a bit of a challenge.

His daydreams about cooking utensils were suddenly cut short by a whistle of metal.

Before he could react, a knife snapped deep into the root in his hand. The tip missed his palm by a mere inch, leaving him speechless as he dropped it in shock. His eyes darted upwards, scanning the trees for the source of the attack, barely able to think above the panicked thumping of his heart. As a figure moved in the corner of his vision, he did the only thing he could think to do — scrambling to his feet, he bolted in the opposite direction.

He was aware that his reaction was simple cowardice, but that mattered little to him. What frightened him most was not the speed of the knife, nor the ease at which it had plunged into the root. What made his breath short was the fact that it had clearly missed on purpose. It would be foolish to think he could defend himself against such an attack with a mere walking staff. His run was frantic, nearly slipping on layers of leaves before catching his balance. He could hear his attacker’s smooth pace behind him — there was no struggle in their breath or pauses in their gait. Whoever it was, they were experienced in moving quickly through the forest.

A sharp whistle pierced the air. A moment later, Shichi could hear another sound — four legs rushing over the dry leaves, panting, and snarling. An animal had joined the chase.

The beast was much faster than he, easily catching up to his side and snapping at his legs. It snatched his clothing between its teeth, dragging him to the ground with a painful thump. Shichi rolled onto his back, gasping for air as he glanced up. It was a dog, the type bred for hunting with thick brown fur and alert, pointed ears. It growled, daring him to try and stand. He shuffled backwards and it snapped at him once again, having no intention of letting him go.

“Ah. Good work, Bou,” came a voice from the side. A man emerged from a cluster of trees, his eyes trailing over the tengu’s frame. At the sound of its master’s voice, the dog calmed, yet its focus remained squarely on its prey.

The human was clearly a hunter. He had dark hair, pulled back into a tight, unkempt tail. His gloves and shoes were lined with fur and a row of throwing knives lined a strap across his chest. One of the knives was in his hand, glinting as he toyed with the handle. Shichi’s spine stiffened at the sight of it.

The hunter stepped over a thick root, looming over his target as he approached.

“I wonder,” the human said, tilting his head curiously. “If you would come willingly to the village… or if I’ll have to carry your corpse.”

He tapped his fingers on the side of his unshaven face, appearing to be genuinely pondering.

“It’s a three day journey and I’m certain that near the end of it, you would start to smell.”

Shichi was still trying to catch his breath, barely able to wrap his head around the human’s words. He had mentioned a village — could it be the very same that Shichi had just left?

“I don’t understand,” he finally said, his throat dry.

“You should have killed that village guard,” the hunter replied with a grin. “He went straight to the samurai with news of your survival. There is a rather attractive bounty on your head.”

The news overtook Shichi, heavy and molten; he felt as if he were sinking right into the solid ground. Despite escaping the mountain, he still hadn’t escaped the village. If he didn’t die at this moment, it seemed as if it would follow him until he did.

“That’s why?” Shichi asked, his eyes narrowing in disappointment. “For money?”

“Well, personally, I’m tired of animals. I thought chasing a demon might be fun,” the hunter said, shrugging as he spoke. “Unfortunately, you have proven to be a rather pathetic target. I’ve tracked boars that were more clever.”

Shichi had no argument to offer; he had been fairly easy to catch. In fact, the human seemed so unimpressed with the hunt that he wasn’t even keeping an eye on his prey. Shichi’s hand remained tight around the staff at his side. An escape might be possible, but he would have to be fast.

“Who are you?” Shichi asked, stalling as he examined the trees from the corner of his eye.

“I am Zaisei,” the man replied, oddly cordial in his tone. “I don’t know your name, nor do I care to. Animals don’t deserve names, and until you can prove you are something more, neither do you.”

Just as Zaisei finished his sentence, the shakujo swept across the ground, taking out his ankles and sending him tumbling backwards. The dog immediately lunged, snarling as Shichi began to run once more. His claws hooked into a tree, hauling himself upwards as the dog’s teeth missed his foot by mere inches. It jumped relentlessly at the trunk, barking as its victim moved higher up into the branches. Shichi dared a single glance down and what he saw startled him into pausing.

The hunter was sitting upright, neck arched to watch the tengu scale the tree. His eyes were wide — not with anger, but with excitement. A grin ran across the man’s face, exposing his canines as he gazed back up. Shichi tore his eyes away, trying to shake the image from his mind. The tree had grown straight against the face of a small cliff, allowing Shichi to pull himself up onto the rocky ledge. The last thing he heard was the voice of the human from the forest floor, cooing as he hushed his pet.

“There, there, Bou. Don’t you worry. This will be more fun, I promise.”

@ananthymous I remember when Yuko fixed my thesis film postcard design with about 7 of them.

De @jisuk - Post original