Longish, but do give it a shot!
For my next act (or fanfic)...
Rurouni Kenshin! And do bear with me, okay?
I can't very well remember the names of various attacks and styles from the show. Heck, I don't know half their last names. I've only seen what's been aired on Cartoon Network, so if I don't know your favorite character, then that's just too bad!
You could help me out with that, I suppose, but this takes place right after Kenshin defeats Shishio. And let me tell you, this thing will get very violent in the second chapter (I think), but I don't go into that much detail with that kind of thing (i.e. blood, internal organs hanging out, etc. It's not something I really enjoy writing about.)
Everything in this is done according to my American upbringing, so it's Kenshin Himura, not Himura Kenshin. Get used to it if you're not.
If you can, correct any spelling mistakes that I repeat. It's embarrassing, really.
Some of this is based on actual events. My dates could be faulty, though.
Anyway, a super-special THANK YOU to the band BLINDSIDE!! YEAH!! YOU GUYS ROCK!!
I got some names out of the liner notes from "Silence." And they're from our new friend's country, which originally inspired my interest in that part of my world.
NOW, for the important part:
I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, its manga, or anime series. In fact, I don't own a single bit of merchandise from the show/manga/etc. Know this, though: the large, muscular, blonde in the story is mine, and if you steal him, then you'll have to deal with the big guy yourself, and I'll be there to laugh at you...
...you silly plagiarizing fool. And now, without further ado or threatening of life, limb, or property:
"Rurouni Kenshin: The Swedish Blade"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~
Chapter 1: Part 1
It was late on a July night, about 10:37 pm Japanese time, to be more precise. A passenger train's whistle blew loudly as it clamored down the tracks towards Kyoto Station. After the steam locomotive screeched to a halt, the doors opened to let the passengers off. From most of the cars, the people filed out, tourists, businessmen, and commoners alike. However, from a certain cabin, only one form emerged, and it was a giant among those nearby. The man was more than seven-and-a-half feet tall, and extremely muscular. He obviously wasn't Japanese, as his hair was a light blonde. It was swept back neatly into a ponytail. In the moonlight, his blue eyes shone brilliantly. The hulking form mostly wore blue and yellow, his home country's colors. His coat was reasonably fashionable, and navy blue, with golden buttons. Beneath, his shirt and pants were the dull grayish-blue of a special division of a certain northern-European military. On the foreigner's broad hands were black and yellow leather gloves. His leather and iron boots, the most rugged visible feature, aside from his stature, shone a dark gray, nearly black. Any embroidery on his outfit was done in yellow stitching. But he didn't believe in being too fancy. The most brilliant object on him hung from a silver chain around his thick neck. It was a small, golden Cross pendant. Inversely, one would have to notice the strange, shadowy form that could be seen on his right shoulder. The man took a look around, noting how most buildings were wooden.
"So this is Kyoto?" he pondered aloud, having a reasonably deep voice. His accent was thick with Scandinavian. In a few moments, a local police officer addressed the great figure.
"Mr. W-Wilkholm?" the deputy asked, quivering in the giant's shadow.
"That would be me. I don't suppose you could escort me to the local law-enforcement establishment, could you?"
"N-no problem, sir! Right this way!"
After walking a few reasonably deserted streets, the pair arrived at a large, two-story building. The shorter man opened a door for the foreigner, and Wilkholm followed the lantern-lit signs until he reached the office of the man he needed to see. The mighty guest sat down to join Hajime Saito for some tea over candlelight, and to discuss matters of national security.
"I trust your ride was comfortable, Tomas?" the manslayer-turned- policeman asked.
"Very. You Japanese have come a long way since then," the great European complemented, thinking of the country under the Shogunate. He took a sip of his tea, and couldn't help but notice how Saito had begun to stare at the weapon on his back. The thing was nearly thirteen feet long, three of which were taken up by the enormous blade. The handle was like a young tree trunk, and only someone with hands as big as Wilkholm's could even hold it. And his palms were larger than most men's heads. "So you've noticed my pike."
"That thing is massive. How do you even carry it?"
"You forget that I'm younger than you are, Hajime. And I've been training with these things before I visited you all those years ago."
"How much does it weigh?"
"About two hundred and fifty pounds, give or take."
Saito spat out his tea, and gave Tomas a skeptical look.
"You're lying!" the policeman accused.
"Nope," the foreigner disagreed. "I'd prove it, but I don't care to break anything."
"You always were one to be illogical. What do you call something like that?"
"A really big stick."
"Tomas."
"Well, good question," Wilkholm pondered, dropping his humor. "Well, it's from the family of weapons known as Swedish Heavy Pikes, and this is as large as they get. It's known as a Great Pike, and that's just what I call it, I figure. This one's different from most, as the handle's been reinforced with steel in many places. Makes it good and heavy. The armor comes out into blades, actually. If you're confused, just take a look at this baby."
The knight forgot the warning he had given earlier. He got up, grabbed the harness on his back, and undid a few straps. The great pike started to fall, but the soldier spun and carefully caught it before it fell a foot from the ground. He came back around and shot the colossal head within an inch of Saito's face. The Japanese man also stood, lit a cigarette, and looked around the side of the elongated arc of shining metal. The staff portion consisted of several hand-holds and tempered steel plates that formed ridges which somewhat-emulated eight reverse-blade swords for a few feet each. The weapon apparently had no weaknesses. There was an eerie silence for several minutes as Tomas beamed and Hajime pondered the structure. Just then, Saito realized that Wilkholm had been holding it with only one hand the whole time. He dropped his cigarette in awe, stooped to pick it up, and continued his wide-eyed gaze. The policeman was finally able to say:
"Well, you seem to have quite the skill. Nice pike."
"And I'll tell you this much: you could feed half of Japan a good three-course meal for what it cost to make! The king held a tournament to decide who could get the thing. I won, but some of those crazy warriors put up quite a fight for it."
The Scandinavian brought his weapon behind him, redid a few harnesses, and sat back down. He realized that he was quite off track and quit grinning. Saito also reclined once more, though he had gotten quite a shock.
"It figures why they call you 'The Swedish Blade,' Tomas," the policeman said.
"So, how's the wife?" the Swede asked nonchalantly, trying to avoid a formal tone.
"She's doing alright. And Elena?" Hajime queried, turning the question back at his guest.
"We're expecting our first child in several months. Can't be sure, but she gets these hunches, and Elena's usually right. We don't have a name yet, but I intend to be back in time."
"Now, let's not forget that you're here on official business. Top- secret, in fact."
"That's correct. Swedish foreign correspondents are telling us something big and nasty has found its way to Japan," Wilkholm explained.
"I'll be the judge of that, though I've heard a little bit about it. Something about a Russian war criminal."
"Yeah, his name is Dragomir Yanalimov. He was an officer in the Russian military. According to army records, he and his Cossack warriors refused to use firearms, and were all excellent axemen and swordsmen, many on the level of the manslayers of your revolution. Yanalimov is by far the strongest. They served under the Czar willingly, but many noblemen were frightened or disgusted with them, decrying their so-called primitive methods. Czar Romanov listened to their over-sophisticated pleas, and was also encouraged by the Czarina to disband them. It would seem that the whole thing was about 'modernizing Russia.' But Yanalimov and his unit refused to change, and would not leave the service when dismissed. In protest, they destroyed a few villages near Moscow in an effort to have vengeance. But retribution came in the form of the imperial army. Most of the Cossacks were killed in a hail of gunfire, but Yanalimov and a few of his most trusted lieutenants escaped into Siberia. Then they headed for Vladivostok, and caught a ship to Japan."
"And you know all this how?"
"The Russian army could follow the trail of slaughtered settlements. Those men are insane."
"So what exactly are they doing in Japan?"
"They intend to force your government into going to war with the Czar. Yanalimov was always fascinated with the samurai. He considered Japan as a worthy adversary for Russia. He intends to get revenge."
"And... what's that got to do with Sweden? This all seems very far- fetched, if you ask me."
"It's all about good will. No Russian soldier is willing to come here, but Sweden has had severe conflicts with Russia in the past. They've sent me over to stop the madman in order to patch up relations."
Saito nearly knocked over the small table between the two as he leapt up.
"Why did you agree to that?! All you'll do is save face!" he shouted, confused.
"You need to work on your geography, Hajime. Sweden is an empire, if you didn't know," Wilkholm replied coolly. "We've got some serious rebellions. We have to stay on good terms with Russia. We can't afford another war right now. And you should care that I'm willing to do this. If Yanalimov succeeds, then countless Japanese citizens will be killed!"
"Couldn't Sweden use you to handle the disputes over there?"
"I am confident that everything will work out fine. And I need a challenge. I've beaten down every local champion bare-handed about three times now. There's something else I haven't quite mentioned, though."
"Which would be?"
"I hear you're familiar with Kenshin Himura, correct?"
"Yes. I was there when he defeated Makoto Shishio. And I fought him once. What about him?"
"I'm gonna need help with this thing. There's another variable on the part of the Japanese."
"I'm listening," the policeman reassured, finally calming down.
"Someone who goes by the name of Mishazuma Marihama," the soldier revealed.
"The name doesn't sound quite Japanese."
"I'm sure he's insane. Nobody knows his birth name, but he created it from bits and pieces of your language. But that's beside the point. Marihama is one of the few remaining manslayers of your revolution. He was an underling of Shishio's when the Meiji came to power. And he's as angry with them as Yanalimov is with the Czar. The two are collaborating to bring the countries against each other. Marihama, however, just wants to see blood shed, though he prefers imperialist blood. The man is a monster. All he really knows is how to kill. His Japanese is said to be poor and incomprehensible at times. But he knows a lot of Russian."
"Now, how to do you know all this?"
"I came here over land until I reached the Sea of Japan. I've tracked down all the information I can from the Russians at checkpoints along the Siberian railroads. But you should know that the United States is in on this, too. American sailors encountered him on an island in the Pacific Ocean on their way to Japan under Commodore Perry in 1853. They pitied his state, and decided to grant his request to return to his homeland. It was very strange, really. They seemed to fall under his power. He's like Jinei Udou, that Kurogasa freak who showed up when the Battosai first came to Tokyo, in his manipulation of chi. No one really knows how he got out there, or why. But Marihama was here for the revolution, during which he fought for the imperialists. When Shishio was 'executed' by the Meiji government, he went completely mad."
"Why hasn't he appeared until now?" Saito asked, now quite bored.
"They exiled him to Hokkaido before he knew what happened. He could've headed back by stealing a boat, but Marihama intended to hone his skills with the sword. I've done what I can to interrogate foreign and Japanese officials who were in the loop. That's where this is coming from. They spoke clearly and concisely for me. The point is, Yanalimov's Cossacks and Marihama's group of manslayers are gathering together to start a war that's gonna be blamed on Russia, and will happen first in Japan. I'm gonna need help. Millions could be killed in something they don't know about. I need you to point me in the direction of Tokyo, Hajime Saito."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~
End Part 1
How was that? Part 2's up already, but I'd like some feedback on this one before you read on.
For my next act (or fanfic)...
Rurouni Kenshin! And do bear with me, okay?
I can't very well remember the names of various attacks and styles from the show. Heck, I don't know half their last names. I've only seen what's been aired on Cartoon Network, so if I don't know your favorite character, then that's just too bad!
You could help me out with that, I suppose, but this takes place right after Kenshin defeats Shishio. And let me tell you, this thing will get very violent in the second chapter (I think), but I don't go into that much detail with that kind of thing (i.e. blood, internal organs hanging out, etc. It's not something I really enjoy writing about.)
Everything in this is done according to my American upbringing, so it's Kenshin Himura, not Himura Kenshin. Get used to it if you're not.
If you can, correct any spelling mistakes that I repeat. It's embarrassing, really.
Some of this is based on actual events. My dates could be faulty, though.
Anyway, a super-special THANK YOU to the band BLINDSIDE!! YEAH!! YOU GUYS ROCK!!
I got some names out of the liner notes from "Silence." And they're from our new friend's country, which originally inspired my interest in that part of my world.
NOW, for the important part:
I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, its manga, or anime series. In fact, I don't own a single bit of merchandise from the show/manga/etc. Know this, though: the large, muscular, blonde in the story is mine, and if you steal him, then you'll have to deal with the big guy yourself, and I'll be there to laugh at you...
...you silly plagiarizing fool. And now, without further ado or threatening of life, limb, or property:
"Rurouni Kenshin: The Swedish Blade"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~
Chapter 1: Part 1
It was late on a July night, about 10:37 pm Japanese time, to be more precise. A passenger train's whistle blew loudly as it clamored down the tracks towards Kyoto Station. After the steam locomotive screeched to a halt, the doors opened to let the passengers off. From most of the cars, the people filed out, tourists, businessmen, and commoners alike. However, from a certain cabin, only one form emerged, and it was a giant among those nearby. The man was more than seven-and-a-half feet tall, and extremely muscular. He obviously wasn't Japanese, as his hair was a light blonde. It was swept back neatly into a ponytail. In the moonlight, his blue eyes shone brilliantly. The hulking form mostly wore blue and yellow, his home country's colors. His coat was reasonably fashionable, and navy blue, with golden buttons. Beneath, his shirt and pants were the dull grayish-blue of a special division of a certain northern-European military. On the foreigner's broad hands were black and yellow leather gloves. His leather and iron boots, the most rugged visible feature, aside from his stature, shone a dark gray, nearly black. Any embroidery on his outfit was done in yellow stitching. But he didn't believe in being too fancy. The most brilliant object on him hung from a silver chain around his thick neck. It was a small, golden Cross pendant. Inversely, one would have to notice the strange, shadowy form that could be seen on his right shoulder. The man took a look around, noting how most buildings were wooden.
"So this is Kyoto?" he pondered aloud, having a reasonably deep voice. His accent was thick with Scandinavian. In a few moments, a local police officer addressed the great figure.
"Mr. W-Wilkholm?" the deputy asked, quivering in the giant's shadow.
"That would be me. I don't suppose you could escort me to the local law-enforcement establishment, could you?"
"N-no problem, sir! Right this way!"
After walking a few reasonably deserted streets, the pair arrived at a large, two-story building. The shorter man opened a door for the foreigner, and Wilkholm followed the lantern-lit signs until he reached the office of the man he needed to see. The mighty guest sat down to join Hajime Saito for some tea over candlelight, and to discuss matters of national security.
"I trust your ride was comfortable, Tomas?" the manslayer-turned- policeman asked.
"Very. You Japanese have come a long way since then," the great European complemented, thinking of the country under the Shogunate. He took a sip of his tea, and couldn't help but notice how Saito had begun to stare at the weapon on his back. The thing was nearly thirteen feet long, three of which were taken up by the enormous blade. The handle was like a young tree trunk, and only someone with hands as big as Wilkholm's could even hold it. And his palms were larger than most men's heads. "So you've noticed my pike."
"That thing is massive. How do you even carry it?"
"You forget that I'm younger than you are, Hajime. And I've been training with these things before I visited you all those years ago."
"How much does it weigh?"
"About two hundred and fifty pounds, give or take."
Saito spat out his tea, and gave Tomas a skeptical look.
"You're lying!" the policeman accused.
"Nope," the foreigner disagreed. "I'd prove it, but I don't care to break anything."
"You always were one to be illogical. What do you call something like that?"
"A really big stick."
"Tomas."
"Well, good question," Wilkholm pondered, dropping his humor. "Well, it's from the family of weapons known as Swedish Heavy Pikes, and this is as large as they get. It's known as a Great Pike, and that's just what I call it, I figure. This one's different from most, as the handle's been reinforced with steel in many places. Makes it good and heavy. The armor comes out into blades, actually. If you're confused, just take a look at this baby."
The knight forgot the warning he had given earlier. He got up, grabbed the harness on his back, and undid a few straps. The great pike started to fall, but the soldier spun and carefully caught it before it fell a foot from the ground. He came back around and shot the colossal head within an inch of Saito's face. The Japanese man also stood, lit a cigarette, and looked around the side of the elongated arc of shining metal. The staff portion consisted of several hand-holds and tempered steel plates that formed ridges which somewhat-emulated eight reverse-blade swords for a few feet each. The weapon apparently had no weaknesses. There was an eerie silence for several minutes as Tomas beamed and Hajime pondered the structure. Just then, Saito realized that Wilkholm had been holding it with only one hand the whole time. He dropped his cigarette in awe, stooped to pick it up, and continued his wide-eyed gaze. The policeman was finally able to say:
"Well, you seem to have quite the skill. Nice pike."
"And I'll tell you this much: you could feed half of Japan a good three-course meal for what it cost to make! The king held a tournament to decide who could get the thing. I won, but some of those crazy warriors put up quite a fight for it."
The Scandinavian brought his weapon behind him, redid a few harnesses, and sat back down. He realized that he was quite off track and quit grinning. Saito also reclined once more, though he had gotten quite a shock.
"It figures why they call you 'The Swedish Blade,' Tomas," the policeman said.
"So, how's the wife?" the Swede asked nonchalantly, trying to avoid a formal tone.
"She's doing alright. And Elena?" Hajime queried, turning the question back at his guest.
"We're expecting our first child in several months. Can't be sure, but she gets these hunches, and Elena's usually right. We don't have a name yet, but I intend to be back in time."
"Now, let's not forget that you're here on official business. Top- secret, in fact."
"That's correct. Swedish foreign correspondents are telling us something big and nasty has found its way to Japan," Wilkholm explained.
"I'll be the judge of that, though I've heard a little bit about it. Something about a Russian war criminal."
"Yeah, his name is Dragomir Yanalimov. He was an officer in the Russian military. According to army records, he and his Cossack warriors refused to use firearms, and were all excellent axemen and swordsmen, many on the level of the manslayers of your revolution. Yanalimov is by far the strongest. They served under the Czar willingly, but many noblemen were frightened or disgusted with them, decrying their so-called primitive methods. Czar Romanov listened to their over-sophisticated pleas, and was also encouraged by the Czarina to disband them. It would seem that the whole thing was about 'modernizing Russia.' But Yanalimov and his unit refused to change, and would not leave the service when dismissed. In protest, they destroyed a few villages near Moscow in an effort to have vengeance. But retribution came in the form of the imperial army. Most of the Cossacks were killed in a hail of gunfire, but Yanalimov and a few of his most trusted lieutenants escaped into Siberia. Then they headed for Vladivostok, and caught a ship to Japan."
"And you know all this how?"
"The Russian army could follow the trail of slaughtered settlements. Those men are insane."
"So what exactly are they doing in Japan?"
"They intend to force your government into going to war with the Czar. Yanalimov was always fascinated with the samurai. He considered Japan as a worthy adversary for Russia. He intends to get revenge."
"And... what's that got to do with Sweden? This all seems very far- fetched, if you ask me."
"It's all about good will. No Russian soldier is willing to come here, but Sweden has had severe conflicts with Russia in the past. They've sent me over to stop the madman in order to patch up relations."
Saito nearly knocked over the small table between the two as he leapt up.
"Why did you agree to that?! All you'll do is save face!" he shouted, confused.
"You need to work on your geography, Hajime. Sweden is an empire, if you didn't know," Wilkholm replied coolly. "We've got some serious rebellions. We have to stay on good terms with Russia. We can't afford another war right now. And you should care that I'm willing to do this. If Yanalimov succeeds, then countless Japanese citizens will be killed!"
"Couldn't Sweden use you to handle the disputes over there?"
"I am confident that everything will work out fine. And I need a challenge. I've beaten down every local champion bare-handed about three times now. There's something else I haven't quite mentioned, though."
"Which would be?"
"I hear you're familiar with Kenshin Himura, correct?"
"Yes. I was there when he defeated Makoto Shishio. And I fought him once. What about him?"
"I'm gonna need help with this thing. There's another variable on the part of the Japanese."
"I'm listening," the policeman reassured, finally calming down.
"Someone who goes by the name of Mishazuma Marihama," the soldier revealed.
"The name doesn't sound quite Japanese."
"I'm sure he's insane. Nobody knows his birth name, but he created it from bits and pieces of your language. But that's beside the point. Marihama is one of the few remaining manslayers of your revolution. He was an underling of Shishio's when the Meiji came to power. And he's as angry with them as Yanalimov is with the Czar. The two are collaborating to bring the countries against each other. Marihama, however, just wants to see blood shed, though he prefers imperialist blood. The man is a monster. All he really knows is how to kill. His Japanese is said to be poor and incomprehensible at times. But he knows a lot of Russian."
"Now, how to do you know all this?"
"I came here over land until I reached the Sea of Japan. I've tracked down all the information I can from the Russians at checkpoints along the Siberian railroads. But you should know that the United States is in on this, too. American sailors encountered him on an island in the Pacific Ocean on their way to Japan under Commodore Perry in 1853. They pitied his state, and decided to grant his request to return to his homeland. It was very strange, really. They seemed to fall under his power. He's like Jinei Udou, that Kurogasa freak who showed up when the Battosai first came to Tokyo, in his manipulation of chi. No one really knows how he got out there, or why. But Marihama was here for the revolution, during which he fought for the imperialists. When Shishio was 'executed' by the Meiji government, he went completely mad."
"Why hasn't he appeared until now?" Saito asked, now quite bored.
"They exiled him to Hokkaido before he knew what happened. He could've headed back by stealing a boat, but Marihama intended to hone his skills with the sword. I've done what I can to interrogate foreign and Japanese officials who were in the loop. That's where this is coming from. They spoke clearly and concisely for me. The point is, Yanalimov's Cossacks and Marihama's group of manslayers are gathering together to start a war that's gonna be blamed on Russia, and will happen first in Japan. I'm gonna need help. Millions could be killed in something they don't know about. I need you to point me in the direction of Tokyo, Hajime Saito."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~
End Part 1
How was that? Part 2's up already, but I'd like some feedback on this one before you read on.