Author's Notes: This is for those of you who actually read this. Um... don't read my other three stories, they're not really worth it, I probably should just pull them off anyway since I don't think I'll finish them. I wrote them like 2-3 years ago and my writing style has greatly changed. As well as my circumstances in life and my views on things in general. Well that said, enjoy this one. I'm not quite sure what I'm gonna do with this story but as long as I get reviews I will finish it. By the way, I don't generally like crossovers but I've read a few that I have really liked and so I hope to accomplish at least a decent one, but then again we shall see. Have fun reading!
Zya ne, Rose
Chapter 1: The Red-Haired Demon
She took a step back and looked at the area surrounding her. This, however, would be of no use considering, there was nothing but pitch-black darkness. So looking around really wasn't going to help her. In actuality she was glancing around in the hopes that she would see something before she met and or hit it.
Thunk "Well apparently not." She muttered to herself.
She rubbed the growing bump on her head in irritation but continued to move anyway, one hand on the grass-like wall for support and guidance. She ran her hands up the wall to feel what it was she hit. When she couldn't find it she became frustrated and began to swing her hand around wildly until her hand came in contact with it again, only this time with a softer yet more painful thud. Steadying it with her injured hand she realized that the reason she couldn't feel it iniatially was because it had been swinging from the impact with her head. She cursed softly to herself and muttered how idiotic she could be. After feeling around for a bit she could tell it was a type of lantern, most likely the way the indigenous people lit up this corridor.
Growling in frustration she continued on her way and ran her fingers along the cold damp wall. Soon after the incident she felt a corner and knew she was coming closer to the end. As she turned the corner she tightened her grip on her boken, holding onto it rigidly for the support she knew it would give. Once around the corner of this dank and forbidding passage she saw it. The light at the end of the tunnel! At this point, however, the humor was lost on her. The situation was no more ironic than anything else she'd found herself in recently. On this trip she discovered that she had a real knack for getting herself in trouble, especially when it came to tall men of gang-like material.
Flashback
She had been running for awhile now and was about to give up as her lungs began to burn and tears began to water her eyes. She was not going to cry though, the pain in her leg had caused tears to spring to her eyes, but of course they never fell. About a mile back or so she had landed on her ankle wrong and now the pressure and pain was beginning to get to her. She, however, could not stop. Not if there was a chance to catch the Battousai! He had disgraced her fathers memory! He had disgraced her fathers honor! And she would hunt him down and make him restore it, even if she had to beat him to a bloody pulp to do so.
She came out of her musings (dreams of beating the man's face in) to see a village loom before her. Well to call it a village was an understatement. When she thought of villages she imagined grass huts scattered this way and that, children playing and laughing, and smells of wonderful foods drifting over the air. This village on the other hand, had the grass huts, but that was where the similarities ended. This village was a little larger than most villages and was surprisingly organized. It had houses back to back with each other in a rather large square surrounding a central area. There were three such back to back huts coming out from the ring, and in between each was a covered walkway. So from her distance it looked as the there was a really big flat grass plain at the bottom of this valley. If hadn't been for the shadows the roofs cast you never would have know that the village had height. Sh wondered briefly how such an organized people could be doing still living in grass-huts. You'd think they'd have move on by now. But despite it being well organized and slightly fantastical, it was completely devoid of sound, as if every man, woman, and child down their were dead or collectively holding their breath.
She approached the city with what she thought was caution but apparently a bum leg doesn't help when you want to proceed with stealth. She knew the instant she wasn't quiet enough because out of the forest came some voices. Angry voices. Not surprisingly angry voices of men, and as usual they didn't sound very nice.
End Flashback
She hadn't even made it to the village before the men caught up with her and tried to capture her. What they wanted to do with her, she'll never know, because she beat them off with her boken, and pretty hard too. She beat them back far enough that she could make an all out run for the shelter of the village, and as soon as she had reached the village she swung into the covered walkway. Not long after that she realized that the thugs hadn't followed her in there. However, she was too busy gasping for air to wonder why they hadn't followed her. All she knew was that for the moment she was safe. Her head pounded as her lungs drew in the long needed oxygen down her rasping throat. But as soon as she felt a little better she had started down the walkway, and now here she was after two corners about to leave the covered walkway and safety.
She crept closer to the edge of the walkway, squinting as she went. The light pierced her eyes after being lost in the darkness for so long. She stopped briefly and waited for her eyes to adjust. It would so be her luck that she would walk out of there blind and be captured instantly. Well at least she was taking care of that possibility. As soon as her eyesight returned she peered out, to see what she could. Standing three feet from the doorway was one of the bandits. Surprised she gasped, threw her hands over her mouth and propelled herself back into the walkway. Taking long, refreshing breaths, she calmed herself enough to try again without making an unusual sound. Leaning against the wall, which was surprisingly sturdy, she peeked around the edge and grimace as she watched the man scratched himself.
'Ugh. Barbarians... no my mistake, men.' She thought cynically to herself.
As he stood there completely oblivious she slowly pulled out her knife. As he yawned she jumped out and put her hand around his mouth and the knife to his neck and pulled him back into the shadows. Luckily for her he hadn't let out a sound and also lucky for her he wasn't that big, tough, or strong. He was just ugly and she wondered briefly if that was his defense.
She pushed him roughly against the wall and not being very careful let her knife dig into his flesh just a bit. However it was enough to get a whimper out of him. She snorted. A whimper? Boy had she lucked out in picking off the weakest of the pack. She continued to keep her hand over his mouth and her knife up to his neck, but then positioned herself so that her knee was in the perfect position to cause severe pain and sterility.
She glowered at him and in a soft, yet as rough as she could manage, whisper she asked, "who are you and what are these men doing in this village?"