A/N: My second SW fic, also featuring Mitsuhide. I love writing about him. XD Thanks to windkitsuneofdarkness, always a willing beta-er.
Disclaimer: Samurai Warriors is owned by Koei.
The dead silence of nightfall.
A carrion-bird cawed harshly, disturbed from its feast by the sound of approaching footsteps, and took to the air in a flurry of midnight-black feathers.
"So this is a land without war. There is no struggle now...I made sure of that."
The words formed on his lips, his voice a dull monotone. His expression was dazed, as though he had just been dealt a blow.
He was surrounded by countless motionless figures. Samurai, mercenary, peasant, woman, child – it made no difference. Many were still bleeding from the fatal sword wounds they had received, the dark crimson liquid slowly seeping into the soil. Others had clean holes in their torsos where bullets had passed through. Arrow shafts were visible all around the battlefield, protruding from the bodies of those who had been shot by the Oda archers. The village had been reduced to a wreckage of ash and blackened wood. None had been spared.
The first time he'd claimed life was when he had been but seventeen. Being the son of a noble family inevitably came with danger, as the two bandits who ambushed him on the road had shown. Years of training kicking in instinctively, he cut down the figures – it was over in a matter of seconds. He remembered gazing with a horrible fascination at the bodies, dyed bright red, unable to tear his gaze away. He'd almost passed out, but somehow held himself together. This is what it means to be a samurai, he had told himself grimly. Such are the times we live in.
He had sworn fealty to a lord, naively thinking he would walk the path of bushido, the samurai ideals, and fight for justice. He soon saw the man for what he was: power-hungry, ever scheming to expand the amount of land he controlled; not even hesitating to order murder in cold blood when he saw fit. He eventually broke his vows and left to wander the land. He became a ronin – a warrior without master or direction.
He wandered for many years, but no matter where he went, it was the same. Entire villages razed to the ground on a single word. Groups of men savagely overpowering women they had captured during raids. Bone-thin children with bloated bellies, starving because the crops had either been destroyed or snatched from them as 'tribute'.
Death no matter where he wandered. And so he despaired.
Then one day, word reached him of a man by the name of Nobunaga Oda. It was said that his army had completely routed and destroyed the Imagawa force ten times the size of his own. It had been done by this man – this man people called the Demon King.
This man was rapidly rising in prominence; numerous lords had allied themselves with him, and his power had grown exponentially. He was a charismatic and visionary leader, but absolutely ruthless when putting his plans into execution. Yet, people whispered that he was different from the others, that there was something more – that he would be the one to end the chaos that had engulfed Japan. Filled with a sudden hope, he sought out Nobunaga and eventually joined him, pledging his loyalty.
He soon gained the trust of his new lord, the latter impressed by his strength and skill. Many powerful clans the Oda continued to subdue - the Saito, the Asakura, the Takeda. He did not enjoy fighting; at times, it seemed to him that the battles were never-ending; that there was always one more enemy to overcome. But he took comfort from the knowledge that each victory brought him one step closer to fulfilling his and Lord Nobunaga's dreams.
Then Nobunaga decided to launch an assault against the Saika clan; a large group of mercenaries often hired by his enemies, he had decided that they were a threat to his forces and set out to annihilate them. The Oda army marched to their village and Nobunaga gave the order to eliminate all in their path, leaving none – whether warrior or innocent – alive.
He could not erase from his mind the look of pure terror on the faces of a group of children, all barely perhaps eight years old, when he burst into a hut, sword raised high in the air. Or the screams of a woman when he slashed her open as she stumbled into his path. The wails of grief when someone discovered that his son or daughter, brother or sister, was dead.
He had killed many before, but only those who had chosen to fight against him. Those who had taken up the blade and were prepared to fall by it.
But this...this had simply been a massacre. A senseless, ceaseless slaughter. And he had become the very thing he had sworn to destroy.
"What...What was I thinking...?"
His sword hit the ground with a clatter, joining the mass of weapons already lying at his feet. Above him, the bloodstained moon shone with a cold clarity, pale light glinting off the armour of the lone figure, illuminating the corpses and ruins that lay smouldering on the silent plain.
What...have I done?
A/N: So, how was that? Do review and tell me =)