The Agent of Darkness, the End of an Legacy.

Izumo had spent the last three days in and out of conciousness, no illness had been found. He was just dying. Doctors from all corners of the globe had been summoned, no one could help him. Life ebbed away, and as tears filled the eyes of his students, his friends, and fellow islanders, Izumo himself was quiet, and distant.

His life was dedicated to Kyoshi, to honoring her, and her legacy. Now, even with all his training, death was coming to collect his soul. "Forgive me...that I am not strong enough to serve...you..." Alone, in his room, he spoke to Kyoshi. He often wondered if she heard him. "I will be gone from this world soon...though I wish I wasn't."

Silence.

He closed his eyes, he had told no one of his wound. Not a soul. The poison that had been on the blade was incurable, irreversible, why waste everyone's time? He smiled softly, a slight warmth creeping into his limbs. "I have done all I could..."

Three days earlier...

The young man, the young assassin, slipped into the master's dojo, the dojo of Kyoshi. A simple training hall. Standing there, training, was the last person who still taught Kyoshi's fighting style. He had to be quick, and with silent steps, he took two small leaps forward, and slid the fine, steel blade between Izumo's ribs. To the surprise of the young man, the master did not cry out, or even make a sound. He took two short steps forward and collapsed against the wall.

The man shuddered. Izumo glanced up, sweat already beading his face. "Well, go on then. Finish it." The assassin was shocked, never before had a man suggest he finish the job. He took a step forward, "Come on, coward...end it." The assassin couldn't move, he felt frozen. How could any man show so little fear in the face of imminent death?

Izumo straightened out, and began approaching him, "Kill me." The assassin suddenly came back to reality, and, in a sudden panic, fled the dojo, still clutching the knife. Izumo returned home earlier than usual, his students realized this, and, at first, let the unusualness of his behavior pass. The next day, when he didn't arrive at all, they immediately sent for help.

Present...

Izumo laid still, his breathing becoming more and more labored. He felt his limbs becoming like lead, and felt his soul passing out of his body. And then he felt nothing.