Izumi Takeda and the Curse of the Crimson Fang

By: Okizeme (okizemecomics@gmail.com)

Part One

With the sound of her heart pounding in her ears, and her soft-soled boots padding furiously against the damp forest floor, Izumi Takeda fled the Village of the Red Wolf at a dead sprint. The moon was high and full in the night sky above her, its pale light glowing eerily amongst the trees. It was bright enough to see, but the jagged, shifting shadows made for treacherous footing. Still, she ran, darting and weaving, dodging dangling branches and exposed roots, all the while clutching the dagger sheathed at her hip in a white-knuckled grip, fearing it might somehow work itself free. Prone to bungling and ill luck, it would be just like Izumi to successfully steal an invaluable relic from one of the oldest and most powerful ninja clans in all of Japan, only to drop it unwittingly during her escape. But not this time. She was determined to do better, to make her sensei proud. She would not lose the dagger, nor would she be caught. Not this time!

She ran and ran, as swiftly and silently as she could, watching and listening for any signs of the Red Wolves pursuing her. Where the branches above were densely clustered, she climbed them, quickly balancing and hopping from tree to tree so as to leave fewer tracks. She ran until her breath was ragged, and her muscles burned, and the night wind blew cold against her sweat-slick skin. Finally, when she was certain no one could still be following her, she stopped to rest, leaning against the trunk of a tree with a weary sigh. She had only been stationary a minute or two when someone called out to her from the darkness.

“That was quite the chase you gave me, little fox.” The voice was richly feminine, tinged with amusement.

Izumi was on her feet in an instant, eyes wide and searching. Her head snapped up at the sound of branches creaking, and then she saw the woman dropping to the ground in front of her, landing with the effortless grace of a predatory cat. She rose to her full height, at least a hand taller than Izumi, and grinned down at her. “Quite the chase, indeed.”

All was silent, then, as the pair stood gauging one another in the gloomy stillness.

Izumi was just 19 years old, a slender, athletic girl of average height. She had shoulder-length, auburn hair cut into bangs at the front, and bright, amber eyes still twinkling with the brashness of youth. She wore a black-and-gold yukata, sleeveless and short, wrapped snugly around her body and cinched at the waist with a sash. The matching cowl on her head was pulled back, pooling around her neck and shoulders, attached to a long scarf trailing behind her. She wore soft gloves and boots, and simple, light armour consisting of vambraces and shin guards.

The other was tall and at least ten years older, her voluptuous curves squeezed into a blood-red bodysuit with fishnet cut-outs down her arms and sides. She was strikingly beautiful, with long, black hair, and eyes the colour of violets. Her armour, like Izumi's, was minimal, but much more ornate, decorated with inlaid silver wolf heads, their ruby eyes glinting as she moved. She held herself regally, like a queen addressing a cobbler, Izumi seeming small and inconsequential by comparison.

To her credit, the girl was not intimidated. Izumi Takeda, for all her blundering, was never intimidated. She met the woman's gaze with fiery defiance. “Where's the rest of your pack, wolf? For your sake, I hope they're close.”

The woman laughed—a soft, musical sound tainted with cruelty. “You mean to fight me, then, little fox? I was hoping so. Of course, I could have darted you before revealing myself, but what fun is there in that?” She took a step towards Izumi, her face becoming grim. “You have stolen something very precious to us. That dagger belonged to the founder of our clan, and has been in our possession for 200 years. You will face torture, humiliation, and death for this grave insult.” She shook her head, feigning sympathy and regret. “Sending mere pups on frivolous suicide missions—has the Village of the Fox fallen so far?”

Izumi bristled at the woman's arrogance. “I'm no pup!” she shouted, holding herself as straight and proud as she could. “I am Izumi Takeda, apprentice to Shizuka Sato, The Twilight Lotus, greatest of all living kunoichi. She tasked me with the theft of this dagger, and I will not fail her.”

The woman quirked her head slightly, a smile returning to her lips. “Sato's apprentice? Ha! She would be mad enough to send you straight into our jaws.” She drew herself up proudly, as Izumi had, the effect somewhat more impressive. “Well, little fox, I am Aiko Kichida, first among the Blood Stalkers and Princess of the Red Wolves. I was hunting and killing your people when you were still in swaddling clothes. But it would be too much a mercy to simply end your life tonight.” She made a show of tracing her eyes over Izumi's bare legs and the swell of her perky breasts, licking her lips. “And a waste, at that. I would not deprive the men of our village the sampling of such a delicious morsel. Some of the women might enjoy a taste, too.”

Izumi exhaled in disgust, blushing, finding no words to throw back at her enemy. Aiko laughed again, delighting in the girl's embarrassment.

“Shall we begin, then?” She raised her hand, gesturing for Izumi to make the first move. “Show me your teeth, little fox.”

Eager to oblige, Izumi exploded forward like a tensely coiled spring, attacking with a series of open-palmed strikes that the Red Wolf Princess expertly evaded. It was clear within the first few seconds who possessed the superior skill, as Izumi pressed her advance and Aiko danced easily out of reach, grinning all the while. Izumi didn't even realize she was being toyed with, intent and angry as she was. Eventually, one of Aiko's dodges left Izumi a little off balance, and seeing an opening, the older woman retaliated, jabbing two fingers sharply into the girl's exposed side, then rolling deftly away.

“Over already?” she jeered, expecting to see Izumi crumple to the ground in a half-conscious stupor. “I've just caused partial paralysis to your—“ Her explanation was interrupted by a wild strike aimed at her throat that she barely managed to avoid. Then another, and another, and another. If Izumi had been partially paralysed by the pressure point attack, she didn't seem to notice.

“How can you—?” Losing focus, Aiko was finally forced to block one of Izumi's strikes, rather than evade it. She could remember an accident as a young girl where she had been kicked by one of her father's horses. This blow was, perhaps, not quite as powerful as that. But it was close.

Her beautiful face a mask of shock, the Princess of the Red Wolves was sent stumbling backwards, arms wheeling for balance, her heel catching on a root. She fell, landing with a soft thud on her rump, eyes wide and incredulous.

“Impossible!” she hissed, her composure dissolving. “Just what... what are you?”

Izumi gave a little shrug. “Nobody knows. I've just always been like this. Are you frightened, wolf?” She dashed at Aiko, aiming another blow directly for her midsection. The woman rolled quickly away, leaving Izumi's fist to slam into the earth, the impact kicking up a puff of dust.

“I'm stronger than I should be, and I don't get hurt like other people,” the girl continued, rising slowly, gazing down at her stupefied adversary who now lay a few paces away. “Sato-sensei says I'm just special. That's why she's teaching me, even though she never takes students. She says one day I will surpass even her.”

Aiko got back to her feet, her face a mixture of anger and frustration, her confidence shaken. She had no playful gibe to offer this time. Izumi smiled at her, raising her hand and gesturing for Aiko to attack, taunting the woman as she had done to Izumi only moments before. “I've shown you my teeth, Princess. Now let's see yours.”

Too proud to consider retreat, Aiko snarled and launched into a dazzling offensive. She was, by far, the better fighter—faster, smarter, more precise. Izumi simply did not have the experience or the skill to defend against her effectively. Not that it mattered. She took several blows, two of which should have instantly disabled her, but apart from some grunting and the occasional wince, she appeared unfazed. And although Aiko was still able to evade all of Izumi's attacks, it would take but one small slip, one miscalculation, and the latter's monstrous strength would win through.

The Red Wolf Princess was getting desperate, starting to second guess herself, thinking too many steps ahead. Izumi may have been vastly outclassed, but she knew how to use her unique gifts to her advantage. She aimed a strike deliberately wide, giving Aiko the perfect opening. The woman took the bait, landing a blow directly above Izumi's left breast—a heartstrike. For any normal person, this would have been fatal; for Izumi, it was merely an opportunity to snag Aiko's extended arm in her inhuman grip. The princess gasped, seeing she was caught. Izumi threw the woman viciously over shoulder, then, sending her spinning through the air to crash into a nearby tree. There was the sound of wood splintering, and Aiko crying out in pain. Her body slid limply down the trunk like a broken toy, coming to rest in a crumpled heap among the roots.

Izumi fell to her hands and knees, panting, shaken by all of the lethal damage she had absorbed. While extremely hard to injure or kill, she was not invincible, and a heartstrike was no easy thing to shrug off. A few moments passed, and then she noticed movement from the sprawled princess. Aiko was groaning, stirring weakly, trying to roll herself over. Izumi would have to finish her.

With a sigh, she struggled to her feet, walking a little unsteadily. She stood over Aiko, reaching down to grab a fistful of her silky, black locks, jerking her upright into a kneeling position. The woman was dazed and could only feebly resist, trying in vain to pry apart Izumi’s clenched fingers. The girl cinched her grip tighter, tilting Aiko's head roughly to the side and brushing the hair away from her neck.

“A princess needs her beauty sleep,” Izumi teased.

Aiko’s struggles intensified as she anticipated what was to follow. “No… please…” she pleaded, weakly, forgetting her pride in her groggy state. “Don’t…”

Izumi pinched down sharply at the base of the woman’s neck. Aiko's body tensed at the pressure, and she let out a pitiful moan. Then her arms fell away, slapping against her thighs, and her violet eyes rolled back in her head. In a matter of seconds, Aiko Kichida, first among the Blood Stalkers and Princess of the Red Wolves, went completely limp, dangling in Izumi’s grip like a proverbial ragdoll, her defeat absolute.

Seeing a shiny thread of drool escape from the corner of her open mouth, Izumi was satisfied her enemy was truly unconscious, and released her. Aiko’s head slumped to her chest, then she pitched forward, falling with her face in the dirt and her posterior thrust prominently into the air. The tightness of her suit made the pose all the more humiliating, though she wasn’t awake to know it. Still, Izumi enjoyed seeing Aiko this way, humbled and helpless, where before she had been so haughty and cruel. The girl might have giggled if she had not been so exhausted.

With another sigh, this time one of relief, Izumi plopped herself down on the ground beside her insensible adversary. She needed a little more time to recover, and wanted to mull the situation over carefully. She had the dagger, and was eager to return it to her teacher, as it would be the first assignment she had completed successfully since beginning her training. “But what to do with you?” she thought out loud, studying Aiko thoughtfully. Izumi nudged the woman with her foot, tipping her onto her side. She crawled over and pushed Aiko the rest of the way onto her back, noticing a little enviously how the woman’s large breasts bounced and shifted with the movement.

“I could simply kill you and leave you here,” she continued aloud. “That would be easiest, and Sato-sensei would be pleased to have you dead, I think.” She gazed at Aiko’s slack features as if expecting some kind of protest. Of course, the princess could give none. “But perhaps she would want me to make a captive of you, instead.” Izumi reached out and took Aiko’s face in her hand, turning it, amused at how much less imposing she looked now with her mouth hanging open and a smudge of dirt on her cheek. “The Red Wolf Princess a prisoner of the lowly Fox—you would hate that, wouldn’t you?”

That decided it for her. She would return to her village with both the dagger and the princess—alive. But that meant making sure Aiko remained unconscious for hours yet, as even Izumi wouldn't be able to travel very fast carrying the woman's dead weight, and she didn't want her waking prematurely and causing any more delays.

She had exhausted her supply of poison knockout darts back in the Red Wolf village, but Aiko had mentioned earlier that she carried some herself. “If only you had used them on me, I’d be lying there senseless in your place,” Izumi chided, grateful the princess had so severely underestimated her. She began carefully searching the woman’s body, lifting her lifeless limbs, turning them this way and that to check for any crevice in her armour or hidden pocket on her suit where the darts might be tucked away. When she finished with an arm or a leg, she dropped it unceremoniously, letting it flop back to the ground, sending ripples of movement along Aiko’s supine form. The princess’ blank expression never changed, however roughly she was handled. She still slumbered deeply.

Not finding what she sought, Izumi rolled Aiko over onto her front, putting her face back in the dirt. There was a small pouch on the belt around her waist. Izumi flipped it open, revealing half a dozen needle-like darts, their tips dipped in anaesthetic poison. She pulled one out, carefully, and jabbed it into Aiko’s shapely left buttock, holding it in place for ten seconds or so.

“There,” Izumi said, tossing the dart away and giving the princess’ bottom a condescending pat. “Now you’ll have a nice, long nap.”

Taking one final precaution—Izumi's past failures were making her somewhat paranoid—she unwrapped the scarf from her neck and used it to bind Aiko’s hands behind her back. It was certainly overkill given what the princess had been through, and that she was now drugged to boot, but Izumi felt better for it all the same.

She stood, surveying her captive with satisfaction, feeling that, perhaps, her luck was finally going to change. More than anything, Izumi wanted to make Sato-sensei proud of her, to feel like she was a worthy student to such an esteemed tutor. Surely the dagger and the princess would go a long way towards that.

She bent to pick up her prize and carry her back to the village, but froze in shock as a sudden, piercing pain shot through her right thigh. Izumi looked down to find a long, needle-like dart sunk deep into her flesh. Yanking it out immediately, she glanced back at Aiko in a panicked confusion. No, it could not have been the princess, still bound securely and heavily sedated. The dart had come from somewhere in the surrounding darkness.

Izumi’s vision began to blue, and she stumbled, light-headed, but managed to keep her balance. She was not as resistant to poisons as she was to physical attacks, yet it still took more to affect her than a normal person. A single dart should have knocked a girl her size out instantly, and it must have confused her concealed assailant to see Izumi still standing. Another dart struck her, this time on the neck. She grunted and grabbed it, tossing it angrily away.

“No…” Izumi whimpered, her head swimming, falling to her knees and wavering there, willing herself to remain conscious.

Three figures emerged from the shadows in front of her. She watched them approach as if in a dream. They were women, clad in snug, black bodysuits, with shimmering, scaled armour gleaming pearlescent green, and half-masks covering their faces. They regarded Izumi curiously, spreading out around her and chatting amongst themselves.

“She can’t weigh more than fourteen kan,” commented one woman, incredulously. “How is she still conscious?”

“Madoka prepared the darts,” said another, accusingly. “The poison’s potency must be too weak.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the poison, Sachiko,” said the third woman—Madoka—defending herself. She was smaller than the other two, about Izumi’s size. “We can test it on you right now if you require proof.”

Sachiko scoffed, walking around Izumi to examine Aiko, who still lay face-down and unmoving nearby. “And who do we have here?” She grabbed the princess’ hair, lifting her head up so they could inspect her face. Dirty and dishevelled, expressionless in sleep, she didn’t look much like herself, but the first woman recognized Aiko immediately, her eyes going wide with shock.

“Aiko Kichida, of the Red Wolves,” she said, stunned.

“The princess?” Madoka questioned. “Asuna, are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” she asserted. “Truly, a loathsome woman. Highly skilled, though.” Her gaze returned to the semi-conscious Izumi, still swaying on her knees. “No easy conquest for someone so young. There’s something very strange about this girl, I think.”

Izumi could only partially comprehend what was being said around her, but it was enough to know that these women were ninjas from the Village of the Snake, an even more hated and dangerous enemy than the Red Wolves. They were notorious demon-worshippers, and practitioners of dark magic. In her delirium she could think only of escape, as impossible as that was now. Falling forward onto her hands, Izumi began trying to crawl away, while the three Snakes watched her with sadistic amusement.

“We’ll take them both back with us,” Asuna decided after a moment. “Sachiko, see if you can’t put her all the way out with some ether.”

A smile touched Sachiko’s eyes above her mask as she let Aiko’s head drop back to the ground. She stood, reaching around behind her to pull out a small, ceramic vessel from her belt. She emptied its contents onto a scrap of white linen, dousing the fabric thoroughly. The other two Snakes watched with interest as Sachiko approached Izumi from behind. She was a tall, powerful woman, looming over the girl menacingly. “Where do you think you’re going?” she taunted, reaching down and snagging Izumi under her breasts, lifting her clear off of the ground.

The combined effects of exhaustion, injury, and a double dose of knockout poison had stripped Izumi of most of her strength, but even so, she fought valiantly as Sachiko clamped the cloth down over her nose and mouth. Her bare legs kicked wildly at the air; her sleek, toned body writhed and twisted, desperate to break free. She tried to bite Sachiko through the cloth, but got only a mouthful of ether for her effort. The taste made her gag, and the sickly-sweet fumes filled her mouth and nostrils, waves of dizziness crashing over her, threatening to pull her under.

“Incredible!” Madoka remarked. “She seemed barely conscious a moment ago.”

“Yes,” Asuna agreed, watching Sachiko wrestle with the girl, the larger woman struggling to keep her pinned in place. She noticed the dagger at Izumi's hip and quirked an eyebrow, calmly approaching the pair. Ignoring Izumi's flailing limbs, Asuna reached out and slipped the dagger free, turning it over in her hands. Izumi's muffled protests intensified. Although she had failed her mission the moment that first dart struck her, this was a final, symbolic defeat, to be stripped now of the relic she had worked so hard to acquire. She had never felt so completely helpless.

“The Crimson Fang,” Asuna marvelled as she examined the dagger. “The Red Wolves have lost more than a princess tonight, it seems.” She looked back at Izumi, who was now beginning to wilt—her eyelids fluttering, her movements sluggish. “You'll have quite the story to tell when you wake up. For your sake, I hope you offer it willingly.”

As if in response, Izumi let out a long, sleepy moan. Her eyes were showing all whites, her limbs drooping and swaying as Sachiko held her suspended, still pressing the cloth firmly against her face. Oblivious to everything around her, Izumi’s last sensation was a sharp pang of regret. She had blundered yet again, landed herself and her bounty in the hands of a vile enemy. Sato-sensei would not be pleased.

“She's just now succumbing,” Madoka noted with amazement. “That's as long as any of us would last, and she has two doses of poison in her already. Very interesting, indeed.”

As her enemies looked on with morbid fascination, Izumi let out one last muffled sigh, then her eyes slid closed and she knew no more. Her body sagged lifelessly, signalling her complete surrender.

“Finally,” said a weary Sachiko, panting from the effort of subduing the girl, and relieved to feel how flaccid she was. She tossed the cloth away and smoothly scooped up Izumi's legs, holding her now in a cradle-carry. The girl's limbs dangled and her head fell back, stretching her throat tight, pulling her mouth open. Her breasts rose and fell with the steady rhythm of her breathing. Sachiko surveyed all of this as she held her, admiring Izumi's supple contours with an intent and lustful gaze. “I'll volunteer to interrogate her,” she offered, glancing up at Asuna with a smirk. “I like her spirit.”

“You like more than her spirit,” Asuna replied, sounding a little disgusted. “All in due time, Sachiko. First, Madoka will examine her, try to figure out who... or what she is. We will take extra precautions with this one.”

She walked over to the discarded, ether-soaked cloth and picked it back up. Pulling out a length of thin rope from her pouch, Asuna replaced the rag over Izumi's nose and mouth, tying it in place so that the girl would continue to inhale the chemical as they transported her, ensuring she remained docile. Before dropping her head, she peeled back one of Izumi's eyelids, satisfied to see the amber eye beneath staring vacantly back at her.

“I will carry the princess,” Asuna continued, turning away from one of their slumbering captives to approach the other. “Madoka, you scout ahead.” Madoka nodded and disappeared into the trees, heading west.

“A Wolf princess, a priceless dagger, and a mystery girl, all in a single night's patrol,” Sachiko mused, watching Asuna pick up Aiko's inert form and fling her over her shoulder. “Our reward will be considerable.”

“We still have to make it back to the village,” Asuna reminded her, “and the Wolves will be out looking for their missing treasures, no doubt.” She regarded the sleeping Izumi warily. “If she so much as twitches, inform me immediately.”

Sachiko laughed, swinging Izumi up over her shoulder as well. The girl was light, but they had some distance to travel, and it was much easier to bear her weight that way. Her torso hung down behind Sachiko, arms swinging limply, gently curled fingers brushing the back of the woman's thighs. Izumi's yukata was bunched up around her hips, exposing her little black panties, her soft, intimate curves. Sachiko happily held the girl in place with a hand on her rump, giving it a firm squeeze. Izumi would have been furious, mortified, had she been conscious, but she was utterly oblivious to the abuse.

“You're always so paranoid,” Sachiko said, dismissively, picking up Izumi's leg in her free hand, dangling it to emphasize her limpness. “She'll be out for hours.”

“Maybe so,” Asuna conceded, “but we must be at our most cautious when faced with the unknown. You look at her and see a new plaything; I look at her and see a lot of unanswered questions.”

Sachiko laughed again, turning to begin the journey home. “I'll get your answers,” she called back at Asuna. “And have my fun. Just stay out of my way this time.”

Asuna frowned at Sachiko’s back. She stood for a few moments more in the darkling forest, silently considering all that had transpired. Despite having the Princess of the Red Wolves slumped over her shoulder, and The Crimson Fang tucked into her belt—invaluable acquisitions, both—her thoughts were only of Izumi, and what rare secrets she might hold.

She jogged a short distance to catch up to Sachiko, and followed a few paces behind her, intending to keep close watch on both her comrade and the captive she carried.

* * *

Hours later, a sleek, shadowy figure arrived at the site where Izumi had fought the Wolf princess, where she had been darted and smothered with ether and taken by the Snakes. The figure studied the ground intently, gliding from one spot to another with a ghostly grace, making no sound at all. It found the discarded darts, and the faint imprint of a body that had been rolled in the dirt. The investigation lasted mere moments, all told. Having pieced the clues together, the figure turned its hooded gaze decisively west—the direction of the Snake village. Then, it vanished.