The fishing village of Futomgata was remarkable for only one thing: the legend surrounding its daimyo. Peasants were eager to whisper it to any visitor who would listen, recounting how, many years ago, the dark god Amatsu Mikaboshi had visited the village. According to the legend, the local daimyo, Ugimitsu Michio, had a wife whose beauty was matched by no other. Ugimitsu Gin was so lovely, in fact, that even such a bitter being as Amatsu Mikaboshi could not resist her, and one night he came to her disguised as her husband. If the legend was to be believed, Michio’s only child had been sired not by the daimyo, but by a deity.

His daughter, a willowy girl with strange, haunted eyes, did not live past the age of twenty. After giving birth to a son, Yukio, she went mad, screaming about the monster in her head. A slash from a dagger ended her suffering and left her son motherless. Yukio grew up to be very handsome, but with a temper as destructive as a tsunami. Some of the peasants thought that he would be the death of them and they turned out to be right.

The daimyo desired only one thing in life: a courtesan named Komubishi Takara, who was not exceptionally beautiful but whose soft voice and gentle hands made up for it. Unfortunately, the woman’s affection was for another daimyo who was higher on the social ladder than Yukio.

Now, all he could think of was Takara even as another courtesan giggled at his side, irritating him. For the past hour her feeble attempts to arouse him had failed; all he could think of was Takara, in the same building as he was, probably making love to his rival at that very moment.

It infuriated him.

“Would you like some more sake, Yukio-san?” The courtesan interrupted his thoughts as she practically pushed the porcelain cup in his face.

“No thank you, Kameko-san.”

Kameko, well aware of the man’s legendary anger, did not press this and instead went back to playing her koto, the music from the instrument somehow managing to annoy him more. He went to the door, pulled aside the silk screen just in time to see Takara pass. When he smiled at her she did not return it, instead lowering her eyes and quickening her step.

Angrily he pulled the silk screen shut, ripping the delicate fabric as he did so. Kameko looked away, frightened by the daimyo’s rage. Yukio ignored her, gathering up his belongings and storming outside. Night had arrived, bathing everything in darkness. He could hardly see as he walked, not towards home but in the direction of the ocean.

For some reason, being by the ocean always calmed him. But this night, as he stood on a cliff overlooking the churning water, he found that not even this could sooth him. His mind kept wandering back to Takara, to the sure knowledge that she would never love him. Fury and sorrow welled up in Yukio as he faced the ocean and, perhaps due to all the sake that he had drank earlier, he began to shout.

“Amatsu Mikaboshi! If you really are my grandfather, then help me! Please!” His voice echoed around him and he stopped, realizing how foolish he sounded. Just as he was chiding himself for being intoxicated, the opaque water beneath him begun to bubble violently. Frightened, he tried to back away, only to slip and plunge into the black water below.

Somehow he survived the fall and the swirling water dragged him under. Yukio was a good swimmer, but he found that not even he could fight the ocean, which sucked him further and further down. Just as he was losing consciousness and was so far underwater that the light was almost completely gone, he heard a voice in his ear. Soft and raspy, the voice nevertheless filled him with an unnatural fear.

“You have the same gifts as your mother, my grandson. Use them.”

Amatsu Mikaboshi. The voice belonged to him.

The fear was replaced by exhilaration and he could feel his body reacting to it, changing.

The three elderly fishermen, packing up their equipment for the evening, were the first to see the giant raise up from the ocean, standing taller than even the emperor’s castle in Kyoto. Dressed in samurai armor the color of black onyx, the same shade as the Death God’s symbol, the living mountain looked around, first at the village, then at the men on the docks. Wisely, they fled.

Yukio smiled. His new size was truly a gift from the gods and he intended to use it. Not even his rival could keep him from Takara now. He began to quickly move toward the shore, dragging several boats under the water with his passing. The dock splintered as he stepped ashore, his expression one of intense focus.

Many of the peasants in Futomgata saw or heard their titanic lord approaching, and they ran for their lives. Some, for whatever reason, could not flee and were crushed along with their houses. He cared little for the peasants who suffered a grim fate as he moved through the village, leaving behind crater-like footprints and scenes of carnage. The only thing that was on his mind was the woman that he had been pining for.

It didn’t take him long to reach his goal. Yukio knelt before the tiny Tea House and, very gently, as not to cause the building to cave in on itself, he removed the roof. Inside, the frantic movements of the tiny courtesans reminded him of a colony of ants in an anthill. He bent down closer, his gigantic face looming far above the women and blocking out the sky as he searched for Takara. Spotting a courtesan who was clad in the peach kimono that his beloved always prized, the giant reached in, flicking aside the other women and killing most of them under fingers the size of fishing boats. Unfortunately for the courtesan he was after, she tripped, giving him ample time to gently snatch her up.

Bringing the struggling woman closer to his face in order to inspect her, he saw that it wasn’t Takara at all, but an older prostitute wearing a similar kimono. Disappointed, Yukio crushed the little courtesan almost reflexively, her blood staining his fingers, and peered back into the Tea House. It was almost empty by that point, except for one woman who was paralyzed by the sight of the murderous titan. He recognized her as Kameko, the courtesan that had been with him earlier that night, and he looked straight at her.

“Where is Komubishi Takara?” Yukio demanded, his voice as loud as thunder. Kameko winced at the deafening sound of his voice, afraid to even move. But when the scowl quickly spread across his massive face, she answered.

“T-the garden! She’s in th-the garden!” The courtesan shouted.

How Yukio could hear her tiny voice was beyond him. He decided that it didn’t really matter. After all, he had the information that he needed and with that, he stood back up, smashing the Tea House (as well as anyone still inside) under one foot. Then he turned his attention to the garden and the prize that he was sure to find there.

He had been in the garden before, with its cherry trees and carefully-tended flowers. Much to his annoyance, Yukio couldn’t see past the trees to the people who could have been hidden beneath them. When he had first visited the garden, he had thought it was beautiful; now the vegetation stood between him and Takara. So he stooped down and began to rip the cherry and spruce trees up with the same ease as a normal man pulling out weeds. It didn’t take long for him to find the object of his desire and her lover.

The other daimyo was brandishing a katana, which was comically small. Cowering behind him was Takara, her face contorted in terror at the approach of the giant.

“Don’t worry, Takara-chan! I will protect you!” Yukio’s rival told the courtesan, who was both awed and frightened by the sheer size of the giant.

Yukio simply watched as his rival charged at him before he slowly lifted one foot, hovering it over the tiny daimyo and relishing the scream of horror that resulted from it. Then he brought his foot down on the man but restrained himself from putting any weight on it. Takara let out a shrill cry and she ran to her love, who was trapped but still alive. She was almost in a frenzy as she foolishly tried to move Yukio’s sandaled foot, throwing her whole body against something the size of a large building.

Smiling wickedly, Yukio put some pressure on the man beneath him, pleased when his victim gave a high-pitched yelp. Takara raised her hands to her mouth, tears streaming down her face and ruining her makeup. She glanced up at the armored titan who was quietly watching her with dark eyes.

“Please, let him go!” She begged.

There was no response whatsoever from Yukio. The other daimyo continued to shriek in pain and terror, the sound mingling with Takara’s sobbing. She dropped to her knees before the giant in a position of supplication.

“O please, spare him! I beg you!” Her weeping increased, and Yukio found that he rather liked it. This newfound power was wonderfully arousing and his eyes gleamed with lust as he looked down at Takara. Forgetting about the man under his foot, he moved toward the courtesan. Yukio’s rival crunched like an insect, his end coming so quickly that he didn’t have time to even cry out.

Takara did scream, however, a high wail of anguish at losing her love. Yukio hardly heard her, though. The thought of the pleasure that he would soon be experiencing had fogged his senses. In the bright moonlight, Takara saw the massive hand reaching down to grab her. The giant may have been faster and bigger than she was, but he had lost the dexterity that he had had when he was normal sized. The courtesan was too small for him to pick up without seriously hurting her, and he growled in anger as she avoided his fingers.

She ran toward the edge of the garden, only to be stopped by Yukio’s other hand, which came down and blocked her path.

“Aizen-Myoo!” Takara shrieked out to the patron god of courtesans, a plea that went unanswered by the deity. Instead of trying to pick the woman up with his fingers again, Yukio dug his hands deep into the earth, lifting the very ground that the courtesan stood on. She clung futilely to the chunk of earth as he tipped it, eventually slipping onto his waiting palm.

Far, far above her, Yukio’s eyes glittered as he studied his prisoner. Whenever he had looked at her before, any lust that he had felt had been thoroughly disguised; now, that lust was very apparent. Takara shuddered under the scrutiny of those gigantic eyes. There was no way for her to escape; he was holding her far above the ground and a drop from that great height would kill her instantly. Still, she couldn’t bear to be near the monstrous colossus who had robbed her of her true love…

“You’re mine now, Takara-chan,” the giant informed her. Much to his irritation, she was trying to climb over the side of his hand. With one finger he nudged her back to the center of his palm, which caused her to start to scream again. It didn’t help that he had pinched the back of her kimono between two fingers and was trying to yank it from her body. The fabric tore, leaving Takara nude and shivering. Yukio felt his manhood stir within his armor as he watched her small breasts bob with each frantic breath.

Takara gasped as he began to strip off the armor and revealed the erection that stood out stiffly from between his legs. Aware of what he planned to do, she tried to escape again. But her plan was thwarted as he pushed her back once more. This time her captor wasn’t so gentle; his mammoth fingers knocked her carelessly backwards.

As soon as he was finished taking off most of the black armor, he placed her on his shaft. The skin underneath her was hot and he let out an earth-shaking moan as soon as she touched it. One of his hands sneaked down to caress his testicles, his head tilted down to see the courtesan on his cock. She was so tiny compared to his member, so…helpless. The thought sent a wave of pleasure coursing through every one of his nerve endings.

Takara desperately tried to crawl away, the quickening of his breath an ominous sign. The feeling of her little body drove him over the edge, his eyes rolling up in their sockets.

He involuntarily trembled as the climax hit him, nearly throwing the tiny courtesan off and onto the ground far below. Despite the intense pleasure, Yukio could still see that his semen had smashed down onto the homes that were along the outskirts of the Tea House’s garden. The inhabitants of those houses were thrashing about in the sticky liquid, drowning in it like bugs. For some reason, he found it funny and began to chuckle at the peasants’ predicament. Ignoring their muffled screams, he plucked Takara off his malehood and, after putting his armor back on, brought her up to his face.

Her makeup was a horrible mess now, her previously perfect hair disheveled. When she was close enough, she howled in anger and pounded his nose with both fists. The grin that appeared on his face only enraged her further and she continued to hit him until she had exhausted herself.

He responded by kissing her with a mouth large enough swallow her and ten other people whole. The courtesan was too tired to fight anymore and allowed his lips to brush her entire body. Luckily, she didn’t have to put up with it for long. Something at Yukio’s feet was distracting him.

Several samurai, all of whom were loyal to the daimyo that Yukio had killed, had shown up in a futile attempt to stop the giant. The warriors showed courage, attacking from all sides, but they couldn’t defeat a demigod whose gigantic body was protected by magical armor. Yukio snarled and stepped on several of the them at once, their bones crunching like dry twigs. He easily herded the survivors together and raised his foot over them, letting them see the mangled remains of their companions on the bottom of his sandal.

“Your lord is dead,” Yukio announced. “And you shall join him.” With that, he ground them into nothing, his eyes wide with sadistic delight and his expression as terrifying as the masks at a Noh performance. Casually scraping his sandal off, he smiled down at the woman that he held, chilling her to the bone.

“Let me go!” She pleaded, beginning her struggle anew. All she got for her trouble was a small squeeze that forced the air from her lungs.

“I told you, Takara-chan,” Yukio boomed. “You’re mine.” As is to emphasize this, he closed his hand around her, engulfing her in a prison of flesh. Takara squirmed in his closed fist, her wails unheard by her captor.

One of the surviving peasants, a middle aged woman, watched the bloodthirsty colossus from behind a copse of trees. She prayed to her family gods that he wouldn’t see her. He didn’t, much to her relief. The giant daimyo had seemed to lose interest in Futomgata and was heading toward the ocean. As she watched him go, the middle aged woman felt sorry for the courtesan that he carried with him; whatever the giant planned to do with her couldn’t be good.

She looked on as the colossus stepped into the water, walking toward some unknown destination. Eventually the grandson of Amatsu Mikaboshi and his beloved disappeared beneath the waves, his black armor melting into the dark ocean.