Disclaimer: I own nothing of Ronin Warriors / Samurai Troopers. This is written by a fan for other fans. This is my first real story. I hope you like it.
Reenie@Villainzuinte.zzn.com



Whispers in the Wind

All he could hear was his heavy breathing it was meticulously accompanied by the pounding of his heart. He couldn't believe he was still standing. The wounds and exhaustion was incredible. He stood there in shock as the trauma settled throughout his tattered body. He stood listening, listening for any sounds of his fellow warriors. As he stood straining the smoke began to clear. He could see silhouettes of bodies, bodies everywhere. As he started to stumble though the carnage he was over come with the smell and horror of death.

Heaving and heaving with excruciating force the only result was abdominal pain. He wiped the saliva from his lips and trudged on. Searching body after body, still there was no trace. Each body felt heavier with every turn. Then from the corner of his blood filled eye he noticed a familiar green armor. He wiped his eye in hopes to see better but it didn't seem to help, the rush of blood was too severe. As he dug himself from the pile of bodies he mustered up the strength to take a closer look at the demolished green armor. The pain in his brow began to grow stronger. He kept wiping his eye as he forced his body to stumble on top of the bodies. As he came to the demolished armor his breath stopped all that was there was unidentifiable pieces. He wiped off the blood and dirt from the chest piece only to recognize the Crest of Light. Tears mixed with blood ran down his beaten face as he thought that there must be more pieces close by. He strained and groaned as he flipped bodies. It was like he was in a race and the first to flip the most bodies won. He dug through with an obsession. Suddenly he stopped, almost in shock he found a limp, lifeless body. The body was still grasping his primary weapon, The Sword of Halo.
He sat next to the grave covered in mud, sweat, blood and tears. As he stuck the sword into the red drenched earth he said his good-byes. He looked back one last time. He could see the reflections of flames on the blade of the sword and he thought of a friend's face. Then he slowly looked at his feet then dredged on through the aftermath of war. The smoke was burning his eyes and throat. All he could taste was charcoal and half-coagulated blood; it made his stomach ache. After about a three-hour search he needed to rest, the battle wounds were increasing with pain. He sat down and tore a piece of his sub armor and tried to make a makeshift turn a kit around his sliced leg. The slice on his thigh was deep. Fortunately it was not the worst wound. While mending his leg he noticed a tear in is chest. As he pulled off his shirt it sounded like Velcro. The sound of tearing dried blood from flesh was echoing throughout the area. He could only remove half of the shirt. Then he just decided to leave the shirt on, it would help stop some of the bleeding. The blood from his brow was annoying him tremendously. He reached over and grabbed a helmet off a cadaver. While peering into the helmets' reflection he could see the gash. It was an inch thick and went from the middle of his brow down to the corner of his left eye. It was kind of crazy but all he could think of was Dais. After making a new headband he sat back and closed his eyes for what he thought was a minute. When he returned to consciousness it was dark. All he could see was faint coals. The coals would blink off and on as the smoke cloaked them momentarily. He looked up only to be blinded by the full moon. Packing his belongings he started to sort through the rubble again. It was dark but he needed to keep searching for his partners. Though clanging and thumps of the bodies he heard a faint groan. Stopping and standing completely still he strained to hear anything. Again he heard the groan. In a flash he dropped everything and headed in the direction of the sounds. Clutching his knife like a deadly commando he silently made is way to the noise, closer and closer. Suddenly he jumped on the body and put the knife to a throat. Just as the knife was ready to slice a flame flickered just right. It was Ryo Sanada; at least it resembled him. As he turned over the person, he saw the spear. The spear went completely through the chest accompanied with an arrow through the neck. While breaking off the ends of the arrow and spear he comforted his friend. Ryo's face was completely and utterly beaten. Beaten so severe that the swelling made him look unreal. He tried and tried to comfort his friend. He could see the tears flowing softly down once a handsome face. Trying hard to hold his own tears back he gently patted Ryo's forehead and face. He held his friend close, as would a mother. He gently wiped his blood saturated black hair from his bruised face. While holding him close he could see every heart beat. Blood would flow with every beat and breath. No matter how much he tried to stop the bleeding. He knew it was too late. There was nothing he could do. Nothing but hold and be there. As Ryo's breathing became less and less he kissed his cut lips, then his tear filled eyes. Just as an explosion occurred he could feel the life slip from his grasp. As strong as he was, he could not keep his friends life. He sat holding the battled bruised and lifeless body all night. He sat watching the fire and flames that seem to wash over the entire universe. All he could think of was the lights must look beautiful from above.
The next thing he knew the sun began to rise over the earth. It made strange shadows over the dead. It looked as if the souls were visible only in the first light. It gave him a morbid feeling to see the souls of the past leave their bodies. He couldn't stand to watch the shadows move. Though it was horrific he had to watch. Watch the shadows move silently then blend into the smoke. It was as the souls hitched a ride with the smoke. He thought of the irony, to have your soul rise to heaven on the smoke and cinders of your burnt and demolished body. The wounds of Ryo were even more horrific in the light of day. For some reason it was easier burring him than Sage. He wasn't sure why, maybe because he was with Ryo when he passed. Maybe because he couldn't find all of Sage. When he was finished with the grave of Wildfire he stuck both swords at the head, as if "x" marked the spot. As he stared at the swords, they seemed to emanate heat. Either that or the winds had changed and the fire was blowing his way.

As the day went on he couldn't remember the last time he had eaten. I think I'm hungry but I can't eat he thought. Food he thought, it would be nice to be home with my family and friends. To be the way it used to be. The way it will never be again. He kept thinking about his past as he moved forward. It was the only way he could stay sane. After looking at so many dead he had to think of something positive. During mid-day the heat and stench started to effect him dramatically. The stench of rotting flesh and the continuous buzzing of insects was about to drive him mad. Then suddenly he realized the stench was coming not only from the dead, but from him as well. He hesitated as he gently peeled back the bandage on his thigh. It was disgustingly infected. The puss, blood, dirt and other things were oozing from the wound. With a flinch he covered the cut again. He figured he had a few more friends to find before he could worry about himself. After digging through the enemy's dead he found some food. He sat eating thinking only of Cye. In a way it made eating the so-called food more enjoyable and tolerable.
Another day went on and so did the search for his friends. After all he had been through he could sure use a comforting voice. A voice to assure him everything would be all right.

As he came to a forte noticed that the occupants were also dead. He couldn't believe that so many people have died. It was amazing that he only came across one survivor, only to later die. There just had to be others alive. He could not be the only one.

He held up at the forte for a couple days. While staying he was able to clean his wounds and regroup his thoughts. A few times he seemed to panic. He felt so out of control and all alone. Memories of his friends that passed kept him awake. The images of what he may find also kept him conscious. As much as he wanted to sleep he knew he had to continue his search. Who knows they maybe searching for him? Continuing his search he felt better. Better in the sense it kept him busy. He would not allow his mind to wander.

Evening started to hold the light. He could see faint gold flickering lights off in the distance. At first he thought it maybe a swarm of fireflies but as he got closer and closer his eyes could make out a large amount of dark clothed men. They all were lying with at least two golden arrows in them. As his heart began to pound faster he felt faint.

He had to tell himself to slow his breathing. The excitement was almost unbearable. He could feel himself running while searching, searching for the archer. He knew the archer was close. The glittering field of gold was breathtaking.

Finally he couldn't stand it any longer. At the top of his lungs he yelled for his friend. While standing still listening between calls. Hoping for some one to answer. Like a sound and owl makes he heard a reply. Off in the distance near the tree line, he could see a figure waving. The pounding of his heart had stopped. The distance to the tree line was still too much to identify the man, but in his heart he knew it had to be Rowen.

As he was making his way to his friend he could see reflections of many eyes around him. Through his sweat and desperation he could see more figures appear. As much as he tried he couldn't get there fast enough. Every time he got up from falling he could see less and less figures. The last time he stood up every thing was quiet; there was no motion. Running and jumping over obstacles like an Olympian, only to come to a halt. Every thing was still. As he went towards the pile of fury dark hair he could hear licking sounds. As he went to pull the beast away it turned and bit him in the arm. They both fell back on to the blood soaked ground. As they did he managed to move around behind the animal. With a flash of madness and revenge he twisted the animal's neck, breaking it with expert precision. He held the neck tight even after the limp twitching beast dangled from his grasp. With disgust he threw the large beast ten feet only to turn to horror. Heavy breathing and adrenaline surged through his tired body. He couldn't feel any thing but guilt, guilt and anger. He couldn't believe this was happening. Kneeling down next to his friend he could barely believe his eyes. He never thought he would ever see his friend's hair any other color, but blue. Never in his dreams and nightmares had he ever thought he would see it dark red and purple. He slowly scanned Rowen's face. As he came to his neck he lost all control. Falling to the ground like a young child. All he could hear was that sickening licking sound. Imagination was having its way with him, to imagine and to know where the licking sound was coming from was unbearable. That devil of a beast had ripped apart the archer's neck like it had a score to settle. Then it lay on top of him sucking and licking the blood flowing from the arteries. The only thing holding Rowen's head to his body was stretched flesh and mangled cords.
After coming to his senses he cleaned off the dead animals and stood there in awe viewing the body. He untied the blue sash from the archers' waist then carefully he tied the sash around the mangled and bloody throat. After digging the grave, he knelt down, pausing one last time before placing his friend in his final resting-place. Before placing him in the grave he carefully removed Rowens' headband and placed it in his shirt. Finalizing the grave he decided to stick arrows all around it. Standing next to the grave holding the bow he wiped away a tear. Then with the force of heaven he yelled and through the bow into the sky, it never came down. He knew it would remain in the treetops forever, there the bow would be safe. Safe he thought, it is the least he could do considering he couldn't keep his friend safe.

As he continued his search he started to feel exhausted. Exhausted to the point where every step, every breath, took all the strength he had. After another day of walking he came to a small village. The village looked really strange. It had a wooden log house looking wall around it. The first thing he thought of was please let them be safe. As he pulled the log door open a cloud of smoke came billowing out. Falling backwards from the heat, stench and fierce force of the smoke. Coughing and wiping his eyes he peered into hell.

Through smoke and watering eyes he could see a small pine forest in the middle of the courtyard. As he walked closer he could feel something odd, odd with the entire forte. As he got closer he could see that the forest wasn't really a forest. There was at least a hundred bodies impaled. Impaled on eight-foot poles. To make things worse they were all decapitated. It was very difficult to identify the bodies. Again to make things even worse all the bodies were burned. He could still feel the warmth coming from the chard bodies.

The yard was full of everything you would not want to see or imagine for that matter. While sitting on a bench resting, his body went numb. Suddenly he found himself cutting down the horrid poles of death. Piling them along side of each other very carefully as not to damage the bodies more than they already were. He couldn't believe that he had been cutting down poles all day and you could see the sun was making its way toward the treetops. He only had ten more poles or so to complete his task. While trudging through the ashes and debris he stumbled over a heavy metal. After catching his balance he noticed the metal shining in the suns light. He bent over and picked up the smudged metal only to see a familiar symbol. As the sun went down over the tree line so did his breath, it felt as if someone was squeezing his chest and choking his breath. Some how he managed to muster up enough energy to wipe off the chard metal. As he rubbed harder and harder the baby blue armor slowly appeared. While dropping to his knees he couldn't believe his eyes. Tears were falling from his face making small dark droplets on the armor. He could hardly breathe through the sobbing and tears. The sounds of his cries were incredibly distressed. With the crying echoes bouncing off the wooden walls it sounded as if the dead were accompanying his sadness. Finally after a few minutes he slowly lay down next to the warm cinders and slept.

He was suddenly awakened by a soft whimpering noise. As he lay there listening for the sound he realized it was coming from him. He had no idea how long he slept. It was dark but you could see that the sun was coming up in the east. The twilight was making thing difficult to see. One thing he noticed through all of the last few days that his wounds hurt less and less. He couldn't believe that there was absolutely no pain or discomfort. For a few moments he thought he was dead or did he want to die. As much as he wanted he could not think straight. He couldn't keep on one thought all of his thoughts were racing with no destination or meaning. As he stood up slowly he held the armor tightly in his hand. Blood was already crusted and dried from the cut it made in his palm. Without thought he started to walk away from the rising sun. The weapons he was carrying started to get heavier with each step. While he walked and walked he periodically dropped a few weapons and article of clothing along the way. The setting sun blinded him over and over again. He had no idea how long he was walking or where he was going. After of what he thought was a couple of days of walking west he realized he had lost his weapons and the headband he had placed in his shirt. Slowly he seemed to rationalize what had happened to him and his friends. While standing there looking at himself he noticed that his shirt and pants were torn to the point of looking like he had wrapped rags around his body. When he slowly looked at his remaining pants he noticed that there was a wound on his thigh. The so-called bandage had grown into the meat to the point where he wasn't sure where the scab and puss was and where the cloth was located. After looking at his leg for a few minutes he shrugged his shoulders and began walking again. Soon he found himself being scratch and poked by thorns. He was walking through a field of thorns and for a brief moment he paused with concern. Then without thought he began walking. It was as if the wind was pushing him towards something or someone. Every now and then he could hear the voices of his fallen friends in the wind it would comfort him to the point of bliss. The voices would remind him of a time when he was child the time when he felt peaceful. He wanted to be free, light and airy like it was back then with his family and friends. He would have conversations with his buddies along his walk. Without notice he realized that the terrain had changed. He had walked to the western side of the province. There the terrain was of canyons filled with trees and small streams. As he came to the largest canyon he could hear his friend Cyes' voice calling his name, Kento. He had heard that voice numerous times calling his name especially for dinner. Then he realized it had to be the wind blowing through the canyon walls. While the sun was coming up he decided to sit on the rock next to the edge of the canyon. The sun began to rise slowly as if to sneak up on the darkness. The only thing he could feel was the pain in his heart and the warmth of the sun on his face. Again he heard his friends voice calling to him, this time it sounded closer. Kento stained to hear the voice clearly, only to have the voice muffled by the river below. The numbness in his body was beyond bearable. As if in slow motion he stood up and walked closer to the edge of the canyon. As he stepped closer and closer he could hear his friends voice calling his name. Kento answered softly; my friends I am almost there. Wait for me, for it will be just moments until we are a family again. Standing at the edge with his face towards the sun he could see a shadow, a shadow in the sun growing larger with each passing moment. While leaning backwards he closed his tired eyes and took one last breath. Just as the shadow as almost out of sight he realized it was Cye, he was running towards him calling out his name. It wasn't the wind after all the voice was real. Falling and falling he kept his eyes on the ledge above hoping to catch a glimpse, a glimpse of his friend. Suddenly there he was reaching down with tears in his eyes. Suddenly with a crash of hope Kento began to fight gravity. Reaching for Cye with conviction and desperation. Without any help he fell further and further away from Cye. His view of Cye became less clear with every second until there was nothing but darkness. As fast as Cye could he climbed down after his friend only to get there without gain. Standing over Kongos' lifeless body he dropped to his knees. The water around Cye was no longer blue but blood red. With no time wasted Cye clutched his friend close only to watch his friends blood disappear down steam into infinity. Through teary eyes he pulled out Rowens headband from his pocket and placed it next to Kentos' chest. "Here my friend you dropped this." Is all Cye could say, while rocking his friend to sleep.

After digging a grave he placed his dear friend inside and started to cover him with earth. When he finished he tied Kento's orange headband around his arm then placed his buddies weapon into the earth as a headstone. During his walk to the ocean he could not help but blame himself for the death of his beloved. Cye could not help but feel alone in the darkness, though the moon and stars were out. At sunrise he reached the ocean and immediately entered the cold water. With the sunlight behind him he could see his shadow stretching over the waves. Just as the water and waves reached his waist he saw four other shadows. With a content smile he kept walking deeper and deeper into the dark blue water until he was completely submerged.
As the sun rose into the sky all you could hear were the waves and seagulls accompanied with the soft whispering of the wind. A new day has begun.

The End