The figure garbed in a black flight suit was the epitome of patience. There was a tranquility to Kusari which mirrored their style of combat, distinct from fighting elsewhere in Sirius -- each attack was like a flower fluttering in the breeze, alighting gently upon the ground. Every nuance was emphasized and drawn out. Kusarian samurais, the "noble" breed of warrior, were trained repeatedly in the art of the warrior-poet. Much different from the comparatively overt and bludgeoning style of combat favored by Libertonians, Rheinlanders, and Bretonians. Much different.
The ship design mirrored the art of warfare they carried out. Fast and delicate, but also brutal. Chimeras and Katanas clash like angelic guardians or demons from the pits of Hell itself, dancing through the forms and visiting fiery destruction upon each other. The size of the vessels was small, of course. Hard targets, especially given the speed at which they clashed.
Isolationist tendencies meant that the Kusari people were both a proud and sequestered race. They knew of war; the Dragons were fed tales of combat and bloodshed of years past with their mother's milk, and the samurais of the Kusarian upper-class were brought up from an early age with the blade. Honor, respect, skill: all meshed together, molding them into formidable foes. And unlike normal nations their isolationism, that constant self-honing, had made them stronger.
The Ookami had had to teach herself how to fight again. She was Bretonian, and had come to realize in her time fighting the Kusarian why they were winning the war. Their style of fighting was designed to win, and it took every ounce of her natural talent, skill, and luck to pull off victories in the first days of her tenure.
One factor in Ookami's success was her time amongst the Gas Miners of the Sigmas. They relied mainly on guerrilla warfare with a flare for the Kusarian, nimble and full of finesse. With the Crow Nebula, and all the dangerous gas pockets in Sigma 13, it was necessary to adapt or your ship would be caught between two explosive gas pockets with a coolant leak.
And their style had been proven in the 80-Year's War. Holding the Rheinland war machine back with a seemingly "inferior" force was a feat that would be embedded on the Gas Miner's collective consciousness for a long time to come. Pride became a major identifier of their culture. Patriotism. They soon began to not see themselves as Kusarian, but rather a separate state. Perhaps their pride would prove their downfall, eventually. But it is what attracted Ookami to them to begin with. She could not stomach the Kusarians, yet the Gas Miners welcomed her. And she worked for them, destroying Outcasts, Corsairs, and any of the Gas Miner's enemies she found.
She earned herself a nickname: Ookami, the Wolf. She was an efficient hunter. However, she, too, had the weakness of pride and patriotism. Bretonia was losing a war against the Kusarians; countless men had died holding the line in first Tau 31, then Leeds. The hatred and rage built up within her. There could be but one outlet -- assume the identity of Ookami. Become the hunter of the Kusarians in their own home, where the Bretonians at large could not reach them.
The first step was buying a Wasupu: a craft which served her well. The lights were switched blood red, the IFF came to read Dragon. She was a friend of the Dragons and Chrysanthemums, as they were "friends" of Bretonia in those dark times.
I will remember the first day I met Ookami for some time to come. It was the first time she ever set foot on Kyoto, and her stride -- it was so sure, so stately. As if she was used to commanding the loyalty of men. Commanding using only the authority granted to her by respect. Of course, I did not know that she was anything but a Kusarian at that time. Who could? She was garbed head-to-toe in a black flight suit, the wolf-head insignia proud on her left breast. The tinted visor of her flight helmet blocked any view of her head. She walked up to me and asked to be taken to someone of authority. A voice modulator obscured her accent.
"Konnichiwa, if I may say so, you seem to be of authority yourself." I was taken with her, even behind such smoke and mirrors. There was an aura about her.
She chuckled at my comment. Ducked her head in recognition of the honor I had done to her.
"'Seem', honorable Dragon. My authority is over my own mind, no more, no less."
So I took her to the Traditional Sake Bar, where I believed a man of importance to be. Daimyo Akuji was indeed present.
I never did learn her name. I don't think anyone did, except maybe the Taishogun. He is a wise man, and I recall once Ookami entered his hall to speak to him. Ah, what I would have given to see that meeting. But I digress.
Soon, Ookami gained notoriety throughout Kusari as a feared warrior. The Naval Forces tried again and again, yet even their elite fighters failed; it was not that they could not best her in combat, but that they could not catch her when they did. Some considered her a terrorist. Others a hero. I'm not sure she was either of those, though. It seemed to me she was more of a warrior with a mission, one which she pursued relentlessly -- to the detriment of the Kusarians.
Then, as I'm made to understand, news of her actions reached Bretonia. Perhaps it was through Queen Carina's Privateers, or our brothers who visit Bretonia on rare occasion. She became a media sensation. No one knew who she was, because they never saw her face or heard her voice. The mystery surrounding her filled everyone with wonder, and suddenly ever missing woman was turned into a warrior fighting all of Kusari, alone and far from home.
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