Broken In Loneliness

By Dilandou

            A small stream of smoke poured from aside the riverbank. Sitting near the water's edge was a handsome, lonely man with red hair and eyes of the same hue. Quietly he sat, very alone, a cigarette in his hand. Looking over the glassy surface of the slowly moving waters, he saw a broken reflection of himself. He turned his eyes away from it, slightly ashamed of his own image. Why had he had to carry the burden of being this way? Father a demon; mother a sweet woman, who had died in his birth. Stepmother dead in her attempt to kill him… She, too, had been ashamed to carry him on, even in his younger years. What would she do to see him now, like this? It was all just too much sometimes. Sighing, he hung his head in his hands. What now? He had no job, no money. Really, he was truly alone. A sad story, was that all he was worth? The thoughts running through his head, all the time they were driving him down. Sha Gojyo. That was who he was. Unknown to all but himself, and the few dead who had once cared for, or hated, him. He felt like white trash.

            Again he sighed, looked once more upon the surface of the water, and stood. Departing from the river, he shook his head. Gojyo, you fool, go and do something, his conscience told him. What to do was the question. Never had he wanted to experiment with the demon side of him… It was just too dangerous. It just came about far too easily. Dabbing in it would only bring him more trouble, and who knows what kind of foolishness, or danger, to the people who didn't even know him. Which was everyone he could see at the moment. That reminded him of every night, in his lonely little apartment, where nothing lived but a blanket and himself. But hey, it was somewhere.

            Gojyo walked through the market with little more than a glance from prospective merchants. It was odd to not get noticed, even when you were eight feet tall with blood red hair and matching, intently murderous eyes. Where would he go now? Just wandering aimlessly, it seemed. And that's really what it was, until he saw it. A beautifully crafted, wonderfully balanced, agile blade: a very fine katana. Every small marking on it was not overlooked by the half demon, half man.

            The blade was perfectly curved, with a fine, mean looking edge, sharp, and very bewitching. Gojyo supposed that only the finest samurai could ever possess that blade, and use it well. As he stood there admiring it, the time passed, minutes like seconds ticking away...

            "Excuse me, sir?"

            Gojyo was surprised someone had spoken to him. "Uh, yes?"

            "You have been looking at Harusame all afternoon. I can see you are very interested in it. May I offer you a price?"

            Gojyo thought about it for a minute. Looking at it all afternoon? But, he couldn't bear to leave the sword. "Yes, yes you may."

            "Harusame is the legendary katana used by the fiend Amidamaru. The sword picks whom it is next destined for, it's new owner. I believe it has found it, so I will give it to you for (Yen Sign) 1000."

            "That cheap?!" Exclaimed Sha Gojyo in awe. "Why so cheap?"

            "As I have said," explained the shop owner coolly, "the sword picks its owner, and I, too, have watched you all afternoon. I know that you much desire it, and you may have it. I believe it is better in your hands than in the museum – here, at least, it lives on."

"I think I see what you're saying, shopkeeper. Arigato gozaimasu." Gojyo gave the shopkeeper his 1000 Yen, and took the katana. I wonder why I wanted this so much, thought Gojyo. I don't see anything but steel beauty in this. Little did the demon-boy know that the sword was not steel – it was pure, reinforced silver with a golden core. Harusame was, no doubt, beautiful.

            When Sha Gojyo returned to his lonesome apartment, he set the katana on the floor, about three feet from his sheet of a bed, and looked at it. The sheath was intricate, as much as the sword itself, maybe more. It had jewels on it, rubies, emeralds, jade and sapphire. In color it was red and gold, with designs of the most beautiful kind. The hilt of the katana itself matched with the sheath, only it was black, with hints of red and gold. Gojyo thought it was more beautiful than any girl that ever lived, or would live, for that matter. He looked at the fine craftsmanship of it, and his dark side began to throb. Gojyo knew one thing – this blade was a killer.