In ancient Japan, a secret sect worshiped a race of towering, immensely powerful beasts known as the daikaiju. Ageless and cruel, these creatures reveled in vanity and wanton destruction. The followers knew, if not given sufficient tribute, the beasts would rise up and cast their shadows across the world, driving the feeble-minded mad, leveling everything mankind has built and throwing the world into chaos.

Using forbidden knowledge passed down from ancestor to ancestor since the dawn of time, the men and women of the sect created haiku, a powerful form of poetic verse that could appease the violent daikaiju. They knew using three lines, each with a calculated number of syllables arranged in a specific, deeply symbolic pattern – five, seven, five – could invoke tremendous spiritual power and soothe the great creatures into a deep slumber.

For generations, a small group of poets, both talented and otherwise, have continued to appease the daikaiju through the power of haiku. Buried in the earth, frozen in ice or cradled in the depths of the ocean, the creatures sleep, their dreams gravid with death and destruction. May they never wake.

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