A Creature of No Importance

Authors note: I shall make this quick. This fic will delve into the females of SDK. The title is an actual quote describing women in the warring state period. Do not leave just because your favourite female charater isn't here, I am doing the stories one at a time and will get to them all. This fic is for all of you who wish for an in depth look into characters who are just touched upon in the manga.

Enjoy.

Part 1: The Tempest.

Death and the Unwelcome Revival

1.

It was the battlefield.

The roar of men as they leapt forward. Fast flashes of white; bared teeth and gleaming eyes, quickly smothered by crimson blood as it spurted forth from their own bodies.

I bare my own teeth at them; long hair mattered with dirt, sweat and blood. Same goes for the rest of me. I brandish my naginata before me, challenging.

'YARRRRR!'

A battle cry sounds hoarsely. My gaze flickers towards him a moment before my body reacts on impulse. The blade sears through him, his cry cut short as the blood gurgles in his throat. His hands still clutch his faithful sword.

Still, more come.

I turn, sweeping long cuts around me that sever limbs and slice flesh. They scream at me, they curse, they rage, but I will not let them pass. I slice up, samurai falling to his back as another tries to close the distance and strike me down. My grip on the wooden shaft shifts, and I jam the metal butt through the front of his face. He falls.

They are closing in.

To my right, one of my captains crumples under a heavy blow. Stepping back to maintain the circle, I reach out and cut his killer's midsection.

On and on, these misshapen warriors come, and we fight them. Oh how we fight. We become machines, reacting on instinct, hot blood pumping through our veins as we release it, in turn, from our foes. We give and we receive death simultaneously, side by side.

Life exists on a knife's sharp edge after all.

And one by one we fall, defending our lord. Our storm of death rages on.

Seventeen, then twelve, then nine, then five.

My Lord's horse has long been slain, and he fights here, beside us. He truly is a man of valor, and I shall give my life for him.

He is next to me, and I sweep away his foes so that they shall not touch him. Not while I stand.

My Lord shouts over the sound of steel clashing.

'We are lost, my love, run! Run and live!' He bares down on an unlucky soldier, cutting through flesh and bone.

'Never!' I scream, running towards a tall warrior. I leap up, beheading him in a single cut, before back tracking to where my Lord is.

Another captain, Jian, has fallen. We are all falling.

They swarm, there are so many. I struggle, screaming as I fight my way towards my Lord. Already the berth between us is so wide. I see his bloodied face; his fierce, desperate eyes and I struggle harder. We try to breach the distance between us, but we cannot make it.

We are falling, falling, and I reach out to him even as their swords plunge into me. I hold onto his gaze as the dark swarms my vision.

Our eyes, our eyes are mirrored. Imploring, desperate, unafraid.

At least we shall die with honour, together. I would not have it any other way.

My Lord, my love, my husband.

We fall, together into the gates of hell.

2.

Burning light sears through me. I am meant nothing, oblivion, yet now, like soft dough, my body is being brutally ravished by invisible knives.

And all I can see is white.

My dough body twists and convulses in agony.

I thrash and turn and flail, searching for an escape. But I feel claws digging at my soft, shapeless body and hooks seeking to trap me, hold me tight and bind me together.

Death is oblivion. This is not death.

My form is being bound, tighter and tighter. I feel my spirit being trapped, snared in burning wires that weave around me, in me, creating me.

I am being pulled out of death.

Hot wires still weave, closer, tighter, knitting together a new body. Weaving my spirit into the threads. The light, the light is everywhere and I am being wrenched cruelly out of my peaceful oblivion. It HURTS.

NO, I do not want this!

Another wrench and flaring agony, still burning. I can feel the body forming, coming together. Bone, muscle and flesh joining, growing, becoming one. With my spirit, trapped inside it.

I gasp.

My first breathe in over three hundred years.

I scream.

3.

The intense heat is gone, but the white is still there. I feel so heavy, so weighed down and sinking. Gravity has been of no concern to me for so long I struggle as it pulls me down.

This new body of mine writhes and contorts itself. I flail on the ground; I do not remember how to move. Something warm and gentle caresses my skin. Clumsily, I try to differentiate between limbs and muscles, between air and flesh, but it is so hard.

Slowly, the white is fading, becoming less intense. It no longer causes me to clench my eyes shut in pain.

When did I last have eyes to see?

Control is coming to me, slowing. My own voice pants and groans as my muscles gradually learn or remember to co-operate. They shake and sweat at the effort. I have established the ground; it is solid and smooth beneath my trembling fingertips. I realize I am in shallow water.

On my knees, I keel over, shaking. The water reaches my elbows and I stare into it. I blink, uncertain at the reflection before me.

My own.

I look up. There are figures surrounding me, all dressed in white. They surround me, fazing in and out. Slowly, I gaze around the room. Slow movements are good; my new body is listening to me.

A rectangle wall holds me in, hold in the water. A bath, I remember, it is a bath.

'Well then, it appears to have succeeded, on the surface…'

I snap my head up and the voice. My ears ache, they are not used to sound. My head hurts and my throat feels very raw.

'Ohhh, she's beautiful! Just how I wanted her!'

'She may be defective, or too weak, like the last one…'

'Oh nonsense, look she's already aware of her surrounds, the other one didn't even…'

Have I been here before? Their words are so hollow, they confuse me. I blink again slowly.

'Still, we must run more tests to be sure.'

'Of course.'

They.

They are the ones who have brought me here. Back to life, where I should not be. My fists clench in the water and my jaw tightens.

I did not want to be here. They have torn me away. My breath deepens, and I begin to remember more. More about what I and this body is capable of.

Something tentatively grabs my shoulder.

Eyes wide, nostrils flared, my spine straightens and my hand snaps out to grab the throat of the one behind me. Slowly I turn my head, squeezing tighter.

The clay mask falls and smashes on white tile and three eyes fearfully beseech me as he weakly claws at my hand.

I feel their gaze on my back; I have their attention.

The one before me gurgles, eyes now bulging. His tongue flaps uselessly in his mouth and I capture him in my gaze.

'Return,' I whisper to him 'be free.'

I snap his neck and let the lifeless body sink into the water. I cannot help but stare at it; he does not know the mercy I have granted him. Bile rises in my throat. I want to go back.

I want…

4.

My Lord's face hovers before. I reach out to him, but my limbs will not move. He smiles sadly at me. No longer a spirit, I am trapped in this earthly body.

I cannot reach him now, for I am alive.

I wake.

Alone, and bound to this life.

Bound in it as well, it seems, for my wrists and ankles are bound in shackles. The room is small, not quiet a cell. I stare at the ceiling, wishing to die.

SsshhHhh…

My ears prickle at the sound of the screen opening. I continue to stare straight above me. Soft footfalls approach the futon.

'Ah! You're awake!'

The face above me is smooth and white, female. Her eyes are very wide and very dark. Mahogany, it reminds me of, the colour of a dark, rare wood. I cannot help but look at her

She smiles brightly at me showing neat, round teeth, but it is so cold. A long, slim hand reaches up and runs its fingers through my hair. I jerk my hand up instinctively, but it is pulled short by my chains. She pauses; smile dimming a little for a moment. The smile returns slowly to her features, predator-like, and she leans closer to me.

'You are a feisty one, aren't you now?' Sounding pleased, she brushes a strand of hair away from my face 'A feisty, beautiful, strong woman warrior…'

Her voice trails off and I meet her gaze steadily.

'Hun…just what I wanted…you gave us such trouble!' She sounds delighted, bunching her shoulders up and closing her eyes for emphasis 'You knocked Doctor White down beautifully, you even managed to scratch Shinrei.'

Names, names, they mean nothing to me. They are irrelevant. Her voice is breathless in excitement.

'You are perfect.' She sculpts each word carefully.

I want to strangle her.

Those dark eyes flicker as I strain against my bonds. I grit my teeth as she laughs lightly at me.

'You won't break those,' she stands, softly smirking 'we made the especially to hold down things like you.'

And I am left alone in this silence.

5.

He prods me and pokes me, taking samples from me using fine needles and delicate tools the likes of which I have never seen before. I struggle, but they have drugged me, and bound me.

I feel…so heavy and tired.

His hands run over my body and I shudder involuntarily. I feel shamed, abused. This is not honour. I have killed men for less then this.

He is frightening; this 'Doctor White' is clinical, thorough. Maybe if there were some trace of lust in his gaze, in his actions as he examines my body I would be less afraid. But there is none. He is cold, calculating, and completely scientific. He is not swayed by the desires of normal men.

He does not regard me as a person, much less as a woman. He does not eye my body appreciatively, stroke my skin in an absentminded display of desire or wring his hands in anticipation as they wheel me in. I am nothing. An object of no importance; not to be regarded, considered, wanted.

He manhandles me, checking my eyes, teeth, ears like a horse. Indignation rises, only to be diluted and numbed by the drugs they forced down my throat. I succumb.

'Gn, she has turned out very well,' he smiles slyly at someone 'A real achievement indeed, my dear.'

Laughter, but my eyelids feel like lead.

6.

In my sleep I am plagued with dreams of the dead. They hurt me, my heart, to watch them call to me. They know I am out of place, they want me back.

My Lord comes every night, asking why I have left him. When he turns to leave I cry and reach out but I can never reach him.

So, I have decided not to dream.

I sit and keep vigil; I try to remember my life before I died. It was difficult, at first. The memories would fall away like sand through my fingers. Gradually, though, they are gathering, pooling around me.

Breathing deeply, I relish the night air, and the memories that come with it.

Faded patches of memory, my mother, singing softly as she rocked me to sleep, her long hair spilling like silk around me.

My sister, holding my hand as we walk along the streets watching the festivities of midsummer's eve. The light from her lantern flickers on our best kimonos.

My Lord, my beloved beside me, arms around me with the feel of his heart beat pressed against my chest. Fingers through one another's hair and lips mashed together as we become husband and wife.

I do not cry or weep at these memories. I let them nourish me.

For what else do I have?


Authors other note: Tempest is the story of Saisei, formally known as Tomoe Gozen. Reviews would be lovely but I won't hold readers ransom if there isn't any, as I understand that most people only want stories focusing around kyo/yuya.

Ah well, such is life.