Near the frosted peaks of the Shirayama Mountains a quaint village sat wreathed in winter. Smoke billowed from stone chimneys and snow weighed down wooden rooftops. Banks of snow lined the dozen or so criss-crossing roadways, cleared aside by diligent villagers with wide-mouthed shovels. Winter visited the mountaintop village each year, and each year the hardy Akashiman inhabitants adapted to the chilly temperatures and piling precipitation. But this winter had brought another new element to the village, whose residents called it simply Yutori. An element with broad shoulders and twin Y-shaped scars on his cheeks, and limitless hazel eyes.
Joshua "Breaker" Cronen stood at the center of his dojo, watching his students work all around him. They sparred and grappled in pairs, exchanging punches and kicks, tossing one another to the ground, and rolling over and over in the struggle for victory. Breaker had come to Yutori to teach after his last dojo, which had been little more than a rented out basement of a bar in Radasanth, had become overrun with potential students. Breaker's notoriety as an instructor of martial arts and magic had grown exponentially following his participation in Sei Orlouge's Cell, and while the demigod had enjoyed the popularity for a time, before long he found himself seeking a quieter, simpler life. He'd journeyed east over the Comb Mountains, called the Shirayama Mountains in Akashima, and discovered the small town by accident.
The dojo's walls were paper thin, its ornate ceilings barely strong enough to hold up the snow, and braziers flickering in the corners did little to provide warmth. Even so the students sweated, their bodies heating the single-roomed building more than the flames in the braziers could hope to. They were all youths of Akashiman lineage, young men and women who had heard of Breaker's presence and journeyed to Yutori to seek his instruction. Most had come with some prior training in martial arts, and the wide variety of fighting styles had led to some of the most interesting classes Breaker had ever taught.
"Good throw, Saza," he called as he watched a female student toss her male sparring partner like a shovel full of snow, "next time, follow his hips to the floor with yours, and he won't escape so swiftly!" Breaker smiled broadly, his twin scars dimpling, hazel eyes twinkling as they scanned the room. When he was busy teaching he could almost forget how long it had been since he last heard from Am'aleh, the Goddess of the Sea. She had been his lover and his patron for some time, and habitually made use of his talents in shaping the world to her whims. But she had been silent for months now, leaving Breaker to find his own path through Corone's harsh winter.
"Stop," he commanded. Although he had spoken in a normal voice, every student in the room heard and obeyed swiftly. "Line up," he instructed, and the youths did so, aligning themselves from youngest to eldest. He had long since given up attempting to order them by rank; they all came from different instructors, who rewarded progress in different ways. Best to keep them arranged by something that would not change, in any case, and they all aged at the same rate.
"You are all doing well," Josh said proudly. He strolled up and down the line like a commander addressing troops. His black metal boots ticked on the wooden floor, his traditional white Akashiman gi swished with each step, and the ends of his knotted red belt bounced off alternating legs. "Very well," he added after a dramatic pause, and a sigh passed through his students like a breeze through the trees. They always waited with bated breath at these moments, eager to discover what new technique or wisdom Breaker would care to share. "So well, in fact, that I have decided to skip ahead in your instruction. I would trust each of you with my life, and so I feel comfortable teaching you... the touch of death."
A gasp ran down the line, and when Breaker clapped his hands forcefully, most of the students jumped.
"Who would like to volunteer for demonstration?" He asked with a wolfish grin.