xxx
Murasame never had the talent to become a shinobi, but that never stopped the fire in his heart, always being in a (one-sided) competition with his sister. However, when a certain circumstance arose, a mysterious boy becomes forever in his debt. "Please, let me be your disciple!" Little did Murasame know that there was more to this boy than meets the eye. Post Deep Crimson.
xxx
Gunshots fired at an unyielding rate, pressuring the small shipping container. Nothing could even dare to pass by the barrage, leaving the people who were using this shipping container as a barrier with no means of escape. To wait this one out would have been a blessing, even with the fact that the nearest exit had been rather far, but they probably have the ammunition and the strength to either break through the shipping container or walk up to disable them.
The teenager sat up against the container, as terrified look to his face. His mind was just gone, with his eyes darting left to right, checking if any of the enemies had been approaching from either side. His short, brown hair shifted along, with a noticeable back-and-forth twist of his long side bang on the left side of his face. His hollow pendant on his necklace danced in a similar motion. His hands grabbed on to each other, with the only thing separating their touch was his gloves, praying that something good would happen in their favour. If he knew he was going to die today, he would have made a better effort to wear nicer clothes instead of his unzipped red jacket, exposing a bird drawing shirt, and his simple, black cargo pants.
Beside him was a man, in his early twenties, in a relatively nicer white suit with his collar poking out a blue lining. He appeared to be more calm than the teenager, but that may have been due to the obscuring black hair that blocked any obvious, clear sight of his eyes, with a few strands reaching his nose. Of course, no one could be possibly calm in this position, but it wasn't as if he should act like there's no hope.
There was a reason as to why they haven't advanced their attacks yet to disable them. The enemies were unsure of what they still had due to the entrance they brought down upon them, but only time would be able to expose their facade. Gulping, the man was unsure of what to do. Death was literally knocking down the only door they had.
"What the hell do we do!? What the hell do we do!?" It was harder to not lose it especially with a kid who was on the brink of insanity. It was ironic considering the fact that he began the entire 'enter with guns ablazing' thing, leaving the man to clean up for him. If anything, the man might have just started to scream as well. In fact, he should have been the one panicking (not that he wasn't, mind you).
The only thing keeping him from just losing it was his personal vendetta.
'C'mon, Murasame! If Sister can do this, you can too, and be better while you're at it! Anything she can do, you can do better! I'll do this, even without that innate talent! Of course she needs that talent, it wouldn't be an even playing field if she didn't!'
"You can help us out, right!? Can't you get us out of this somehow!?" A scream etched itself into his brain, making him regret some already questionable choices he made regarding this kid. The impacts of the bullets seemed to be louder. Were they managing to get through the container?
He needed to consider his options with what he had, since he was probably the only one who could at this point. The shipping container they were hiding behind was a considerable distance from the entrance and they could use other shipping containers as breathing spaces in between runs, but getting there would mean that they would run through the hellfire of bullets that never stopped. Even if they were to manage to get pass one gap, they would be at least several others, and it doesn't seem likely that all twenty or so enemies would stop their firing collectively.
Looking to his side, he still had a few grenades leftover in the kid's backpack from the whole beginning portion of their entrance. The nearby wall look strong enough that he couldn't break them down easily, but using a grenade would just injure the two at this distance. There was only a eight to ten meter distance after all, and he wasn't paying attention to how strong these grenades were. It was strong enough to injure some of the enemies, but since he noticed that they were still moving, it wasn't enough to kill them.
His only feasible option had been to throw them backwards, over the shipping container and hope that they hit his targets, giving them enough time to escape—or rather, him to escape. He wanted no part of this to begin with, but the likeliness of that plan working had been slim.
But maybe… If that condition had been filled… If luck had gone their way…
Murasame peered around the corner, and a lucky perspective managed to meet his end; he saw a black casing of interest. Whether or not it was what they needed had been another deeply-rooted issue, but he needed everything to align for this to be successful. This needed an absurd amount of luck.
Murasame scoffed. What was he so worried about? He didn't need luck. Luck needed him, if anything.
Also, it was either giving that method a shot, or die. That may or may not have influenced his final decision.
Glancing over to the boy, he took a deep breath. "Well, we still got options..." he muttered.
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Senran Kagura : Enigmatic Variables
Written by BlazingKeld
「The author of this fanfiction does not own Senran Kagura nor its proper characters.
Some original characters may be based off of other fictional characters.
This fanfiction was created to aid in the author's writing skills. Please do not expect frequent updates.」
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The Houou family was a distinct and wealthy family, capable of anything if they set their minds to it with the sheer power and influence they had. The financial realm hadn't even been free from their grasps, even with their workers doing much of the trivial jobs. However, there had been a rumor surrounding their oldest child, who had been excelling brilliantly and without any effort, that he would take the reigns of their family finances and turn it into something that no one would ever believe.
The real stories though… were less to be desirable. It had been true that the oldest child had been a prodigy in modern business, which was something he does take pride in, but if one took that away from him, they would be rather surprised at who this person was.
"Hah!" A single, lone voice resonated through the air of the empty warehouse, and from the origin of the battle scream, a sickle with a chain, wrapped and connected on its end, flew outwards towards its aim. It rushed towards a few tin cans in the distance, all on abandoned shipping containers that were left by someone that didn't matter. Blue, red, grey—they came in a varying colours.
Though, all Murasame cared was that there were certain smaller containers that were perfect from holding up the cans, so he can train his special move. He determined his problem to be that he hadn't been practicing the core steps, rather attempting to do the entire thing in one go every time. Even though he smugly denied such a tactic in front of his sister, it was actually a very good tactic to honing his art.
This special skill would involve him throwing the sickle, and once it reached the expected distance, he would spin, holding onto the chain that imprisoned the sickle, which would create a strong attack that would sweep and defeat any that came near. He needed to get down each step one stage at a time, until he's ready to combine that.
Many people didn't know about the hidden side to the Houou family, that they carried the legacy of the shinobi through their family tree. Murasame, as the only child, would had been the person that would inherit that family legacy, as well as the family heirloom, a katana named Hein.
In any case, he aspired to become a shinobi. He had heard great stories of what the family did in their times as shinobi, and Murasame wanted to followed in their footsteps. Through his extensive training, it had finally been time to begin his shinobi entrance exam, where his true training as a shinobi would begin.
"Heh." Looking at the results of his sickle throw, he merely laughed. The sickle missed the can, and even the shipping container that it was on. "You got lucky, can. I'm a pretty merciful guy, so I allowed you to stand for this moment. But, I can't be playing around anymore." Pulling the sickle back towards with the chain, his weapon dangled, hanging a meter from his hand.
"This time, you fall!"
Needless to say, Murasame had failed the entrance exam spectacularly. No one had been beaten up that badly from that exam before, until Murasame came along. Actually, it was more like he beaten himself up, but the point had still stood. He lacked every aspect of a shinobi's innate talent, coming into the test as if a normal human thought they were going to get powers suddenly, and pass it in a snap of his fingers.
To rub salt in his wounds, his parents begun to search for a new heir to Hein, hoping that this new child would be able to upload the family legacy of shinobis. Their results had been a distinct cousin, a daughter of someone he hadn't heard about, and frankly, didn't care at the time. What he did remember was that she wasn't important, or rather, she shouldn't have been.
With the same pre-training given to her, if not less, she managed to flawlessly pass the entrance examination, granting her the status of shinobi in training, while Murasame was stuck with nothing, being forgotten.
He had hated the universe for their cruel actions, and he resented this new adoptive sister for stealing his spot as the heir of the Houou legacy of shinobis, and resented her abundance of natural talent of shinobi skills. It was an understatement to say he hated her; he denied her existence as his sister and a family member, seeing her as a thief of the inheritance despite his own failures.
Well, long story short, they pseudo-made up, with the relationship between him and his sister being stronger than it was at the beginning, but the matter of wanting to be better at his sister still stood the test of time. Thankfully, his parents noticed his excellence in business, with his father planning to pass on the financial legacy of the Houou family, which could have been argued to be just as important as the shinobi legacy.
However, being better than his sister meant that he needed to better his shinobi skills, and he knew he was getting close.
Though, the sickle missed its mark again.
"Sorry about my disrespectful manner. I simply have a interest in playing with my prey before doing them in. Don't be scared! It'll be over soon!" He grinned, knowing the truth in his heart, but managing to convince himself of his mercifulness in the moment.
"Oh man, that's so cool!" Even his mind had been cheering for him, like it was watching on the sidelines— Murasame widened his eyes. That wasn't him. A sudden voice had emerged from behind him as he prepared to throw his sickle once more.
"H-Huh?" Turning towards the voice, he glared through his bangs, laying his dark blue eyes onto the person who managed to sneak up behind him without his notice.
A boy shorter than him, but potentially still in high school, had his hand clenched while his arm had been pumping upwards into the sky. As his eyes met with the boy's brown eyes, the two froze in their stance. With the boy's hazel eyes blinking in confusion, Murasame noticed the open, red jacket with bird-eccentric shirt underneath, and black coloured pants. His golden, hollow pendant hung from his neck, allowing for his to see through to the would-be covered part of his shirt. On his hip, he had been a black school bag strapped over his opposite shoulder. He didn't realize that tens of seconds flew by, wasted simply by staring at each other.
The boy finally spoke up. "Are… Are you not going to try again?"
Murasame finally snapped out of the flanking trance, coughing to regain his composure. "O-Of course! And what do you mean, 'try again'? This is a simple task for me, but it's just a warm up until I can get into the real stuff. Sitting at an office, doing paperwork isn't going give me the best condition when I just get out. In my prime, I'm really strong! You just have to be smart about it like me, since using your full abilities from the start is a sure-fire way to be tired quickly!" He began to twirl the sickle around, to gather the momentum for his next, definitely-will-be-successful throw.
"I see!" Responding in a convincing manner, he pumped his fist close to his chest as he stared at every action and movement Murasame had been doing.
Murasame felt the tug of the chain against his palm as momentum took its course, accelerating over the short time. It had been slippier than usual, as the spin's reach extended slightly as he lost some grip.
Leering backwards, the boy was still there. It hadn't been a figment of his imagination. The boy was focusing his efforts on what he was going to do, and he didn't like the unexpected audience. He stopped his build-up, merely ragaining the sickle into the palms of his hands.
"Look, where are you supposed to be now, kid?" Murasame asked, diverting the attention back onto him. "It's almost evening, and kids shouldn't playing around in abandoned warehouses anyways."
The boy simply looked at him, as if he began speaking in an alien language. "Where am I supposed to be?" Bringing his hand onto his chin, he started to lose himself in deep thought. At least, it appeared that way to Murasame from all the "Hmm's" and the "Huh's" while he occasionally moved his thinking hand to scratch his head.
'This is a problem.' Murasame sighed, shaking his head.
"Either way, you—"
"Ah!" A audible noise squeaked out, interrupting Murasame's thoughts. He wanted to finish the thought beforehand, but the kid already overloaded his sequence of events. "I was trying to find my relic! It looks like… uh…" He paused, and restarted, hoping that the words would come out. "It's looks like… a thing? Something… Something..." His voice trailed off to be more quiet, as he twisted the long side bang around his finger.
"Okay, you have to—"
"Damn it, I explained my relic to people already, but the words are always different from each other. How do I describe the relic?"
Murasame blinked in silence. He couldn't believe the buffoonery he was experiencing. All he did was sigh in pain.
"It's a weapon-thing!" His arm leaped out, with a finger pointing at him. "It's like that thing you're holding!" Murasame looked down to his sickle, raising it up while mouthing for a confirmation. "Yeah, but the blade part is longer and the handle is longer. It's just bigger—it's almost taller than me, and the blade part is about my arm span."
A sickle with a longer blade and longer handle? Was that not just a scythe? Does he not know what a scythe is? Why would this kid have a scythe? Surely, he was someone who liked to act as their favourite anime character, thus having a fake scythe? Though, why would it even be here of all place!?
So many questions, not enough time to process them all, but there was one certain answer to this situation.
'This kid is definitely a lost cause.'
"I haven't seen anything like that here, kid. You're better off trying your luck somewhere else."
"But I was told that the black-suited guys who ran off with the relic was seen coming to the warehouse! And since you wear a white suit compared to their black, you must be a good guy!"
Murasame didn't bother to ask anything now, and at this point, he was thinking that he should probably go home to and avoid contact with this weird kid ever again. It felt like a better outcome would result in that rather than to follow this rabbit hole.
"Even with all this bad luck, it might be good luck that I came across you though." Murasame's eyebrow had raised. "If you're as strong and as smart as I think you are, you could help me take them on. Everyone else refused to help me, but I feel like you're different!"
"What makes you think that I would help someone like you?"
"Why wouldn't you? You're strong, right? Then the likes of evil-doers are nothing before you." Equipping his hands with a karate-stance, he started to chop the air, imitating the hypothetical situation. "Those guys are just like the cans you knock down, and soon, they'll be at your mercy! Isn't that right!?"
"Heh heh." Crossing his arms, he was really fancying how the kid was painting him in his mind. It would have been a disappointment to lose touch with someone who had such great taste in shinobi. Helping him out was the least he could do for a fellow fan. "Very well, I'll help you out, but I won't be doing everything. You need to do some of the work, and follow my every command during the fight."
"I can't do anything though."
"...Huh?"
"I need my relic. The longer blade, longer handle, thing. If I can get my hands on that, I can do what you want me to do after."
"Then forget about it."
"Wha-What!?"
Murasame wasn't going to just walk in without knowing the entirety of the situation, and carrying the fore part of the operation. He was skillful, but he knows that even his sister gets a mission briefing a million times better than that whenever her shinobi skills were needed. This could have been a suicide mission for all he knew, and how was he going to outdo his sister if he was dead? Besides, maybe this kid was lying and—
"Look, maybe I could help out somehow." He twisted his body and opened up his black bag. "Maybe I have something that could help me out…" Rummaging through it, the kid pulled out something that Murasame had least expected. A somewhat spherical object with a green, grid-like pattern and a metal tip at the top. There was a place to poke through something through the hole—like a finger—just hanging out from the metal tip. Murasame's jaw fell open when he realized what the kid was holding.
The kid merely looked at the object like it was a toy. "I struck gold! I must have brought the wrong bag, but luckily it was one of those appreciated moments of mistakes!" Reveling in the item, he threw out his arm, showing a perfect sight of the object. "With this, I know I'm going to be helpful!" He grinned innocently,—
—all with a grenade in his hand.
This kid was seriously both full of surprises and bad news, but Murasame stared at the kid's face, showing a lack of common sense that a student his age should not have access to things like that—wait, did he say wrong bag!? He just had a bag containing grenades on a whim!?
This might have been a lowkey threat, Murasame wasn't going to lie to himself. That genuine smile did not seem genuine, and more like a face one would make on the inside when they have a royal flush hand in poker with no one expecting it.
"W-We-ell…" Murasame couldn't help to stammer nervously. Anyone normal person would, but he kept a brave face on. "If y-you insist so much, I suppose I could lend you a hand."
"Uh, sir? You're... sweating a bit," the kid pointed out.
"O-Oh!? So I am!" He grinned through his fear. "I'm merely concentrating to bring out my potential. It's rough work, you know."
With his hands grasping the grenade tighter, his eyes shot upwards, sparkling at the older man. "Amazing! You're powering up like those people in the screens, aren't you!?"
'W-Wait. Was this kid threatening me or not?'
~~Senran Kagura : Enigmatic Variables~~
After wrapping up some loose ends to their conversation, Murasame simply began to follow the kid, dragging the some of his long chain on the ground. He didn't expect the kid to give him some of the grenades as well, handing him a few just in case of an emergency.
However, despite the obvious potential danger, he couldn't help smiling. This adrenaline, was this what being on a shinobi mission was like? He could imagine it now, an enemy would jump out from the shadows, and throw a shuriken, then he would deflect the attack with the sickle like it was nothing, only to throw his sickle in a counterattack and quick succession, effectively knocking out the opponent. He couldn't wait to taste the flavour of victory in a shinobi battle.
He'll show them that that talent doesn't mean anything, and that he was and currently is better than his sister!
That warehouse had been the first one the kid checked, where he met Murasame. He hadn't dove deep into the area yet, but he was rather insistent that his relic, or whatever he was looking for, was somewhere here, and that apparently meant that the people in black suits were here too.
Peering into every warehouse's open entrance, all they were able to come across were countless shipping containers of the same three sets of colours with the same varying sizes. Though, they were in a terrible condition with rust along the edges compared to ones he was originally around. Graffiti and scratches were plentiful on them, and even extended to the walls of the buildings too. There were some containers lying miscellaneously outside the warehouses, but in few quantity.
After their sixth one checked, Murasame sighed, feeling like he was being led on. He wouldn't be surprised if the kid was trying to get a gang to jump him and take his money and belongings since he looked, and is, rich. "Are you sure about this, kid?" Murasame asked. "You aren't lying or anything, are you?"
The kid glanced over, a dumbfounded look telling the entire thought process. "Why would you think that? I needed help, and I asked you since I came across a strong and smart person. What type of terrible person would I have to be to lie to a random person I just came across?"
There would be plenty of reasons, but Murasame's mind dissuade him from thinking so. The kid probably couldn't do anything to him if he tried.
Oh right. The grenades.
"H-Hey, you mind if I hold on some of those grenades too? Just in case."
"Yeah, sure. I got too much to use properly in the first place," unzipping his bag, he swung his body to bring the opened bag to Murasame, "so get what you can take. Just be careful not to pull the pin when you take them out, or we both might die." With Murasame finally receiving a full examination, the bag was indeed filled to the brim with the familiar explosive. They looked realistic and the feeling when he picked one up had felt genuine.
'Why does he even have a bag of grenades lying around to begin with!?' he thought, taking a few grenades and promptly pocketing them. 'Hmm?' One of the textures of a random grenade had felt different. The shape was altered compared to the rest as well, being more flat and cylindular. There were a couple like those scattered infrequently. For safe keeping, he decided to stash at least one in his pockets before they continued.
This warehouse zone was quite big, and it took them about ten minutes in total to check inside each building. All with no evidence to back the kid's claim, but as they turned to the final building, Murasame noticed something off.
Along the outskirts of the zone, there are been patrolling men in a similarly descriptive outfit as the kid explained. The two quickly hid behind a nearby container, peeking their heads out for vision.
"Those are the guys!" the kid loudly whispered. "See? I knew they were here somewhere!"
"So step one is down," Murasame replied. "So, what's step two?"
"Well, finding where my relic is would be ideal, but I don't think they would appreciate me just walking in without a black suit." He turned his head to Murasame. "If you had a black suit, maybe you could have done it. How unlucky."
"I don't think that's the only reason why they wouldn't let us in," Murasame muttered under his breath.
The kid continued his brainstorming, not hearing Murasame's comment. "You think if we take one of them down, would the others notice? If not, we could try and steal that guy's clothes, so you could—"
"The clothing isn't the problem." Murasame asserted. To his knowledge, shinobis were typically briefed on what they would be up against, having the job of reconnaissance unneeded during the mission. However, it appeared that they would have to do the dirty work themselves if they needed to grasp the situation. "Look, we don't have any information on the numbers, so we should probably try and find a general amount. The main entrances are likely going to have the most amount of vision on it, but I wonder if they know about the smaller entrances to all the warehouses."
"Incredible, sir! I was definitely right to bring you along!" His eyes started twinkling.
Murasame grinned in the praise. "This is nothing to the likes of me. If anything, it's child's play," he bragged.
"Alright, lead the way, sir!"
Waiting until the patrolling guard had his back turned away, the two made their way over to the walls of the warehouse. More containers had helped them obscure their existence, quickly approaching the side door. It appeared to be unwatched, with no guards approaching this part of the area.
"It looks like they're just using this place without knowing the building, like a placeholder or something," Murasame thought to himself. "If they really intended to have guards to patrol, then they would have guards on all entryways."
"Well, in that case, we have the advantage." With a lack of subtlety, the kid simply pushed on the door and entered, ringing a surprise from Murasame.
"W-Wait, but that directly leads—!" The door swung wide open, crashing against the wall as the kid took a big step forwards. As the men used this warehouse as a placeholder, the teenager walked in without knowing the layout. He was about to recommend to peer in to get a better scope of the situation, but his words couldn't reach him in time. The kid blankly watched as the silence covered the room.
More than twenty men, all armed with firearms, simply looked towards their unexpected visitor. They froze. They blinked. The kid froze. He blinked. Murasame froze. He panicked.
"S-Sorry about that!" Murasame quickly came beside the kid, bowing as far in as he could. He merely spoke the first thing that came to his mind, improvising the most believable thing he could muster up. "I was helping this kid find his toy, but since you people looked like you were doing some important work, I just dismissed this place as off-limits. You guys seen a small ball… with a rod attached to it? No? Okay, we'll be on our way then!"
Only a single sentence had been their reply. "Capture them."
With Murasame ready to hit the gas and bolt out with the kid in hand, he noticed the kid's grin. "We won't surrender! I got the best person in the world helping me out! Let's do this, sir!"
Pulling out three grenades with a single hand, he deftly pulled out the tags and threw them in a perfect arc towards the men in black. Before the grenades reached their maximum point, he took another three grenades, repeating the action in similar speed.
'Oh God.' Murasame thought. 'Shit is actually going to hit the fan.'
"Give back my relic!" the kid screamed, as the men in the distance ran backwards in a frenzy. The explosions went off, filling the building with a blinding black smoke and Murasame's ears with a roaring pop. This would have been the opportunity to abandon ship, but the kid merely went further into the warehouse.
Clicking his tongue, he pulled out his sickle, readying himself for a skirmish. Through the smoke, gunshots were beginning to pass through, blindly hoping to hit a target. The flying bullets made his advances pause, while Murasame came from behind, throwing another grenade into the smoke.
The explosion went off, and he immediately tripped after the toss, thoughtless grabbing the kid and pulling hi down with him. A bullet passed through where the kid's head was supposed to be instantly after.
"Y-You saved me!"
"Dammit, kid! Don't just run up like that!"
Dragging the kid up, but laying low, he brought him over to nearby cover, which had already been a distance away from the original entrance. The teenager got onto his feet, and collapsed against the container's surface. He appeared not to be injured anywhere, but that was only one of his concerns covered. He didn't have the time to catch his breath before another issue arose.
"You!" A voice came from behind them. A guard who had been on patrol outside had found his way in, seperated from the rest of the group, but flanking the two from their side. "What do you think you're doing!?"
The iron sights were locked and pointed towards Murasame, but in a panicked reaction, he threw his sickle towards the man's arms. The chain followed in a circular motion. He initially missed the originally hitmarker of the gun, but pulling back caused the sickle to be dug into the man wrist, causing him to drop the gun and be pulled inwards. His fist instinctively flew forwards, smashing the man's face, which he collapsed without fail. He was surprised that had worked as well as it did, but now wasn't the time to bask in his glory.
"That was so epic!"
Okay, maybe he wanted to bask a bit. "He made the wrong choice in approaching me!" Though, he was quickly reminded of the situation. "And you! You just ran in against people with guns!"
"I had grenades."
"That's not the point! You aren't skilled enough to run in like that!" Murasame bluffed, not knowing the kid's actual plan.
The kid widened his eyes in realization. "Oh my god. You're right." He looked down, aimlessly at the ground. "I'm so used to having my relic, I just ran in thinking I could just pull it out whenever I needed it." His eyes darted back to Murasame. "T-Then, could you run in!?"
'Relic? Wasn't he trying to find his weapon?' Murasame mused over the difference, but his mouth had been on autopilot. "W-Well, not anymore! You messed everything up, especially my plan!" Murasame bluffed once again.
"I-I'm sorry!" the kid bowed down, and on cue, the bullets started to hail at their direction.
Murasame pushed the kid's head down, screaming, "Get down!" instinctively. The bullets were probably bouncing off at their torso level if they remained standing from the relative sound, but it was hard to judge of the thundering blasts coming from the tip of countless muzzles.
~~Senran Kagura : Enigmatic Variables~~
This is how Murasame came to this current situation. A screaming kid beside him, whose name he still doesn't know, death literally being served to them as a main dish, and only one mind to get them out.
"What are you thinking, sir?" the kid responded to Murasame's previous aloud thought.
"We surrender."
"What!? You said you had a plan!"
"That is the plan. Look over to the right, but be careful to not get shot."
The kid peered the same way as Murasame did, albeit more careful and slowly, but once he laid eyes on the black container, he gasped. "I think that's the one!"
"You can tell?"
"No, but where else would it be? They were really being careful not to break my weapon when they took it away, so it should be under a casing of some sort."
'That's really convenient, but hey, I'm not going to question it.' Pulling the kid backwards, Murasame held on to both of his shoulders. "Alright, kid. I'll go over to what you have to do. I'm banking on the fact that you're stronger with that scythe, assuming your first instinct was to run in a horde of gunfire." He was also banking on the fact that the scythe was in the casing, or else they were dead meat. "I also need to reaffirm some of my guesses here."
Grabbing onto his golden pendent, as if he was making a wish, he heavily exhaled. "Yes sir, I'm listening!"
~~Senran Kagura : Enigmatic Variables~~
"They haven't shown movement in a minute or so!"
"Split up into groups and approach slowly! Their number of explosives are still unknown!"
""Roger!""
The group of men begun their approach, desiring to smoke out the two intruders. Even though their legs had been moving slowly, they were ready to pounce out of the way in case they decided to launch another set of explosive attacks. Yet their movements didn't cause the rate of fire to decelerate.
One of the men watched carefully to the side of the containers, but noticed a familiar bag being thrown to the side, where no one had been. Bouncing on the ground, grenades spilled out and an obviously frightened voice followed.
"W-We surrender! Please don't kill us!" The gunfire almost came to an immediate stop.
One of the men signal another, prompting a small group of them to approach the container from one side, discovering that the two invaders had their bodies down on the ground, like how a police officer would tell criminals to get against the wall. The men noticed how Murasame's chains had been wrapped around his body, but thought it was simply his clothing style, dismissing it immediately.
With one of the men nudging the muzzle against Murasame's skull, he grunted a simple "hands behind the head, get up and follow."
As instructed, Murasame and the kid proceeded as the remainder of the small group had circled them, cutting off all and any direct paths to exit. Their decision was definitely locked in, as they followed the men to the center, where the rest of the group had been waiting, firearms locked and loaded.
The supposed leader didn't hesitate to point his weapon directly onto Murasame's scalp.
"Speak. Why are you here? Who sent you?"
"L-Look," Murasame attempted to explain, "we don't want any trouble. We don't even know why you guys are here, but I'm telling you, this was an accident, so could we all be friends and not kill us please?" Frankly, it was more of a plead than an explanation, but the message was sent regardless.
"You threw explosives at us, so I'm inclined to believe otherwise."
"Because you were going to kill us!"
One of the men raised their hands. "Well, technically, we were the ones that engaged."
The leader glared that the speaker, who quickly dropped his arm. "You, shut up." He turned to Murasame once again. "And you, us being the ones to engage doesn't excuse the fact that you have explosives on your body."
"Look, we're empty of any explosive—" Murasame gasped. "Wait, I forgot about one!" The leader raised his eyebrows. "Listen, if you don't trust me, just take the grenade out of my breast pocket. It's flatter, so I must have forgotten entirely about it."
The leader leaned over to get a better view, and upon seeing the same described grenade, he nodded in validating the claim. With the gun still on Murasame's forehead, the leader reached in and pulled it out for him and looked at the grenade. His mouth dropped a bit from a surge of confusion.
"What type of explosive grenade is this? Specialized container… You must be an idiot, clueing us in on your contractor or organizations like this."
In that one single moment, the muzzle wasn't pressed against Murasame, with him screaming his battle cry immediately.
"It's not an explosive though. It's a smoke grenade!"
Pushing the gun out of his way, he reached for the pin and pulled it out quickly, and dropped flat straight to the ground. The smoke instantly broke out, expanding into a deep fog. Like the kid said, though the size is more compact than the usual smoke grenades, the effect was superiorly better than the usual. Since they were surrounded by the men, they were awfully hesitant on shooting, worrying about friendly fire, but there had been random shots taken from the bold. Regardless, Murasame's plan had been on track in accordance.
"Kid, go for it!"
With the kid taking out two grenades from inside his shirt that Murasame handed him, he threw them in random directions, hoping for a disarray in formation, and deftly bolted straight after they left his fingers. He broke out of the makeshift mist, and reached out for the black box.
Murasame couldn't see with the obscuring smoke anyways, but that didn't stop him from from trying to help out. With his chained sickle hidden under his suit, he pulled it out and started swinging bladed end, twirling then throwing outwards. Without hesitation, he spun rapidly with the sickle gaining flashing momentum and becoming a deadly projectile attack. A violent assault on whoever dared to get in the way, a single scream roared.
"Hien Hosen! Mode Zero!"
This was it. This is the moment that he'll perfect his legendary ninja art! To be able to buy time for the kid, he would come clutch but performing his namesake art without error for the first time!
At least, that was the plan, but he didn't notice the sickle returning closer and closer to the center of original. The chain was getting smaller, as it unknowingly wrapped around his body in quick cycles. Before Murasame realized, he was caught in the familiar position that this secret ninja art had commonly resulted in.
He fell over, his arms and legs tied together by his own weapon, and he came face first into the ground. The fortunate part was that after the first hundred times, it didn't hurt as much as the first failure. Physically, that is.
Murasame laid there in the covering smoke, unable to do anything else. He didn't even know if he managed to get anyone in his attack, but it didn't matter much. This was all reliant on whether or not the kid was telling the truth, otherwise he was as good as dead anyways. Shimmering out another smoke grenade that the kid gave to him before their last resort, he wriggled his fingers out so that he could pull the pin, causing another visual barrier.
There was yelling from the men, many choosing to retreat outwards, but considering the size of the cloud, the kid was probably going to make it to the scythe first.
"Sir, I got—!"
At the same time a bullet echoed throughout the warehouse, his voice was interrupted. Murasame couldn't process what could have happened, but saw his bodily shadow in the distance. His momentum caused him to instead crash into the container, knocking it down as he flew over. There was only the sound of a collapsing case and an inaudible collision of a body against ground.
All Murasame could hear was the sound of gasping, then silence.
"K-Kid!?" Murasame called out, but there was no answer.
As the smoke cleared out, only he was choosing to stay on the ground where all of the black-suited men had gotten on their feet. There were a handful who were caught in his ninja art, but the result was nowhere near his expectations, as they quickly got up with the help of their allies. Peering upwards, the kid didn't have the luxury of choice. The opened casing was covering his torso upwards, but he caught a glimpse of still legs, free of any twitches. He couldn't even see if there even was a scythe inside.
That was one dead child, if he had to say something.
A small handful of men walked up to the defenseless Murasame, simply staring at him. There was a sudden silence compared to the scream-filled seconds that took place beforehand. One of the men finally spoke.
"You… uh… You doing alright there?"
"I'm fine," Murasame responded instantly. Since he experienced this consequence many times before, he technically only needed a few seconds to untangle himself out, but he supposed that wouldn't help right now. Acting like he was trapped was the best move, if he wanted life.
'Though… I feel bad for that kid…' The sudden remorse tapped on his heart. He was essentially the reason why the kid made that run in the first place, opting for a double down on their situation. However, he thought that he slightly deserved it for bringing him into this mess.
"I thought that kid looked familiar." One of the men, the leader specifically, looked to the decreased body. "Looks like he really wanted that scythe back. Too bad for him, our Commander wants it too." Redirecting his attention to the chained Murasame, he was looking at him out of pity like some of the others. He was serious business. "As for you, we're going to get answers about who sent you to disrupt this mission of ours, though I could already guess. You're probably one of those 'good shinobis', aren't you?"
As much as he wanted to say yes, he kept his silence. Saying anything would be bad in either case.
"Trained to not speak, huh?" the leader commented, pointing his gun towards Murasame's skull. "Well, it's not like I care. A dead shinobi only sends a message to them. I'd say send my regards, but..."
Murasame clenched his teeth. He never thought today was the day he was going to die. His mind flashed through his life as he felt the cold muzzle rubbed against his hair. Breathing hard, he couldn't bring himself to plead for life. His brain wouldn't allow words to spur out properly, so all he could do was clench his body.
'Sorry, Sister. Looks like you won't have anyone is best you anymore…"
He awaited for the bullet to break his head, but all he heard was storm of gunfire; none of them had collided with him. And one single scream, which wasn't his. 'Wait, that doesn't make sense.' The muzzle slowly lifted off from his head and a small thud came in front of him. He opened his eyes and look forwards to see what the commotion was about.
An arm had been right before his eyes. It wasn't attached to a body; it was just the arm.
A confusion struck his conscious, as he felt a slight tug on his suit. That tug transitioned into a full-fledged aerial glide, flying him right across the warehouse and landing uncomfortably like a pebble against a pond.
"Arugh! What the hell!?" He glanced over to see what exactly happened, but his eyes widened when the familiar sight stood tall and was very much alive.
That kid wasn't dead, and what's more, he had his scythe grasped firmly in his palm and leaned on his shoulder. The design had been very ominous, painting the blade's side with black with a single red eye laid in the middle. Blood had dripped now, mostly from its recent use. The rod had been wrapped around in bandages, not knowing the true colour underneath, but one thing had been sure.
The kid wasn't actually lying.
"Thank you, sir," the kid muttered, before facing the horde. "You're facing me now! Time for Round Two, and this time; I won't be at a starting disadvantage!"
"Grr…" The leader growled, now with a missing arm and trying to stop the gushing blood with his other hand. "Kill him! Kill them both, and retrieve the relic! It's a study piece, so don't worry about shooting it!" All iron sights had locked down on their target, making it seem impossible to avoid.
"As the mister said, this is 'child's play'!" At the sound of hailing bullets, the kid simply ran towards the shots, yet he didn't get hit by a single one. He simply disappeared in a blink of an eye before any landed, with every single bullet flying to Murasame being redirected into another direction. All other bullets simply flew past.
"Where did he go!?" One of the firing men yelled out in confusion.
"He couldn't have gone—" One of the men tried of reassure their position, but was interrupted. Blood immediately rushed up his throat, causing him to gag. A sharp pain pierced through his chest, and upon looking down, a blade had made its temporary home there.
The kid swung it backward and brought the other end of the scythe into the front from the side, and spun with the men's body dangling on the end. He aimed for the collection of people and tossed the dead man over to them, causing disarray in their ranks.
"Don't stop firing! Apply pressure!" the leader commanded.
"Kid, watch out!" Murasame shouted from the sidelines.
"Don't worry!" He flashed into nothingness once again. This time, he reappeared on the other side of a group. Time acted like it frozen for that single second, with everyone he passed standing idly, while he posed, holding his scythe out across. In a blink of an eye, a single deep wound appeared on each member of that specific group. Their blood practically leaped out of their bodies as they fell onto the ground limp. "They couldn't beat me in a million years, sir!"
"What the hell…" the leader watched in terror as almost half his total squadron had been wiped out in mere seconds. "What the hell are you!? That's not the power of any normal shinobi!"
"Shinobi?" The kid cocked his head to the side. He chuckled. "That's a funny joke! Shinobis don't exist anymore. Didn't they die off at the end of feudal Japan or something? I think you've been reading too many books, not that it's a bad thing to do or anything."
'Huh?' Murasame thought. 'He's not a shinobi? No, he might be playing dumb, but in this situation, there would be no point to do so. Though, if he's not a shinobi, then where did he get this power?'
"Anyways," the kid lowered his scythe, the blade touching the ground, "I'll give you a choice since I got my relic back. I'm happy now, so you can leave if you want. If you want to continue this, I'll fine with that too, but I'm just going to warn you. You have a really good chance of dying if you approach me, and I know how much people treasure their lives. The question is, do you?"
The leader merely growled at the ultimum, but eventually clicked his tongue. "Regroup!" he ordered. His voice dropped to a deep, begrudging sound. "We're retreating."
"You sure?" One of the men asked. "The Commander isn't going to like the fact we lost the scythe."
"We can deal with that later! Besides…" The leader glared at the boy. "We know who has it, so it doesn't matter. We can get it back when we're in a better position! We're leaving now!"
~~Senran Kagura : Enigmatic Variables~~
It only took a minute or so to have the warehouse empty, let alone the winning side of two.
With Murasame loosening himself out of his own chains, he silently got up, rising taller than the kid. He didn't have the words to speak.
The men who escaped didn't bother to recover the bodies who those who fallen, leaving their corpses to leak out the final ounce of blood. They'll probably return for them eventually, so that a random passerby won't stumble upon the brutal scenery of bullet-filled containers and dead people. Surely, the two remaining couldn't clean up this by themselves, as they had no resources. They had to leave the place like this, if they didn't want to get blamed for the incident.
Though, it was entirely due to the kid smiling in the midst of the corpses. He stepped over the lifeless beings, careful not to get any blood on his shoes. Murasame questioned why he couldn't simply walk around, but he couldn't be bothered. The concern that the kid was this strong, to literally stand on top of others, had been baffling.
Eventually, the kid came before Murasame, a genuine smile expressed, and the successfully returned scythe within his palm.
"This relic is something I needed to protect and something that I was entrusted to protect. It's not far to say that this relic is my reason of being," the teenager explained. "And you helped me get it back. I could never come close to repaying the debt I made." He presented the scythe, for Murasame to see in its entirety. Regardless of the angle, it will always seem unnerving and unnatural in his eyes, even more so that the simple reunion between weapon and wielder could exert an incredible strength and ability.
The scythe suddenly covered itself in a black energy, and danced around his body before entering into the hollow portion of his pendent, radianting a dim light. Before he knew it, the pendent was no longer hollow, replaced with a symbol he was unfamiliar with. It wasn't anything in japanese, that was for sure.
Best that he stayed away from this kid.
"It wasn't much." Murasame glanced away.
"It was much though," the kid debated. His voice became outspoken as his eyes glided down, supporting his pendent with his hand. "I only have this power because of the relic, so it's kinda cheating if you look at it like that. I'm just a normal boy without it, but…"
In a spontaneous burst, his eyes sparked and twinkled with a sudden attention placed onto Murasame. "You sir! You're really, really incredible! You were the first person to lend me a hand, without brushing me away! Not only that, you were even able to take down someone with a simple farming tool and come up with an inconceivable plan that I would have never thought of! There's so much I need to learn with my lack of experience!"
"I don't think I like you referring to my spectacular weapon as a 'simple farming tool'," Murasame commented.
"Ah!" the kid gasped. "My mistake, sir! But, even so! There's a saying in my village that if someone saves your reasoning for life, you owe them the same." The kid dropped to his knees and bowed his head straight down. Murasame raised his eyebrow.
"Please, let me be your disciple! Let me learn your mindset and serve under you!"
This appeared more troublesome than he had originally thought, but the notion that he had a disciple was really rubbing against his ego. The analytical part of his mind had told him that this kid was bad news, and if those men had kept their promise, he would have to fight them once again. It was a shame though, that the analytical portion was a candlelight compared to the forest fire that was his overconfidence.
With his sickle brought over his shoulder, and his thumb aimed at his heart, he had a boisterous grin written and expressed. "A disciple? I don't see why not." The kid's face shot upwards as he spoke, but before he could respond to the decision, Murasame continued. "However! If you're going to be my disciple, you're going to have to be retrained in my technique of the chained sickle!"
"Question!"
"Yes!"
"Would chaining my relic work!?"
"Of course! A scythe is merely a bigger sickle!"
"Then I shall do that as soon as possible!"
"Then do it, and I shall accept you as my disciple! Uh… um..." Murasame wanted to call the teenager by his name, but he realized he didn't know it. He was rather sure he told him while they were looking for the men, but he merely dismissed it like dust. "What was your name again, kid?"
"Shigure Watanabe! I'll be in your care, Master!"
"Master, huh?" Murasame was taking a liking to that title. "Call me by that, then my name! Try that out!"
The kid paused for a second, an astonishment crashing onto him. ""W-Wait, I still don't know your name yet. I remember asking, but you dismissed it, saying I'm not worth being told your name. I understood why now, since someone as important as you shouldn't be worrying about weak people like me, so it's fine if you don't want to reveal it."
He did remember saying something like that. "It's Murasame," he answered quickly.
He smiled, turning his bow to a kneel. "Then, thank you! I'll do my best under your guidance, Master Murasame!"
This was not good for Murasame's inflated ego. This was definitely not good, but all Murasame was thinking—he wasn't actually thinking. He was just internally laughing like a maniac. On that day, Murasame accepted his disciple. On that day, Murasame didn't know what the future held for him. On that day,—
unnecessary fuel was added to his fire.
His heart beated excitedly, looking down on the kneeling, ecstatic Shigure.
'I can't wait to brag to sister about my new disciple!'
~~Senran Kagura : Enigmatic Variables~~
"Huh? Oh, I have a message from my father. Yomi, can you wait up for a bit?"
"Please make it quick, Princess."
The two girls walked down the streets of the city, specifically the lower slums that people typically avoided. It didn't seem right for two beautiful girls, one who graduated high school and the other who would have graduated, to be walking past the makeshift homes for leisure. It was simply because it wasn't.
They were carrying lunches, more than they could eat themselves, but they intended to have this amount. Yomi, wearing her regular green tracksuit, had asked Ikaruga, who just came from her university classes, thus still had her white suit, to help distribute the lunch to the people in the slums. It took awhile for her to be comfortable even asking her, but now, it only irked her slightly. Her bias against the rich and wealthy had been changed, but her original beliefs were very deeply rooted, ingrained, and covered in cement, after thinking like that her entire childhood and school life.
Though, Ikaruga was different. The kids who were living in the slums had actually looked forward to seeing her, after her frequent trips to entertain them with her BC Mask persona, a rival to her own Sprout Mask. It only took the kids about a year to realize that the nice person who visited to help them out was the same performer, but the kids still enjoyed her presence regardless. Almost as much as herself, as Yomi muse sometimes.
They stopped before the slum's main pathway, as Ikaruga pulled out her phone and glancing at the text message. She was to be home in about an hour. It appeared that her father had a mission for her from the government. She'll need to ask for details, but it isn't something she could easily deny. She had committed to helping her friend out first, but luckily, it shouldn't take too long.
Yomi knew what the general topic was from Ikaruga's drastic expression shift from her previous giggling. She wasn't going to say anything though, and allowed it to play out for itself.
"Sorry, Yomi," Ikaruga said, slipping back her phone. "Let's go now."
From the corner of her mouth, she smiled. "Alright," she simply said.
Taking only a few steps into the deeper part of the slums, the two girls were caught by eyesight by the people who lived there.
"Hey! BC Mask is here!" A child yelled from the doorway of the small housing. The alert caused the kids from the streets and within their homes, since sound could easily break through, to run out and greet her.
"Ikaruga, I'm happy you're here!" "Sister Yomi! You came today!" "Are you going to make another performance!?" "What's that you're holding!?"
The kids were all excited. Based on their reactions, you couldn't tell if they were any different from the fortunate kids who did have the money, who did know where their next meals were coming from, who did have the leisure accessible to any other normal kid.
Yomi crouched down to meet with all of the kids. "Tell your parents and neighbours that we brought lunch for everyone. A special stir-fry bean sprout dish by the two of us!"
There was mainly cheers from the small crowd, with the remainder laughing at the fact that it was another bean sprout dish, as expected. With the group dispersing to Yomi's order, Yomi turned to Ikaruga.
"Thanks for helping out. I would have made more trips to get everyone their food."
Ikaruga smiled back. "It's not a problem, Yomi. You're my friend, and I also want to help these people out as much as you do."
"Well, you should get going, Princess. That text message was about—"
"Achoo!" Ikaruga sneezed again, surprising both girls.
"Princess? Do you have a cold?
She embarrassingly laughed. "N-No, I shouldn't…"
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Senran Kagura : Enigmatic Variables
Chapter 01 - Sickle and Scythe
END
──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────
Author's Notes:
Okay, so things I need to explain.
I'm testing the waters if I myself, like this concept, and if the general fandom likes this concept. Murasame is unironically my favourite character out of the Senran Kagura games, though I've only played Burst and Deep Crimson. (In gameplay, please don't crucify me. Have you seen those ridiculous invincibility frames? They're broken, and he's super fun to play! His secret ninja arts are super good too! How is he a joke character!?)
However, considering the… lack… of fanfictions with Murasame as the focus in them, I'm taking a shot at murky sea territory. At the time of writing this, there's one fanfiction with Murasame tagged in. Don't worry, people. As you may expect, it may be Murasame-focused, but it's also Ikaruga-focused and Yomi-focused as well (not just because they are the best girls imo). That is, if I manage to kick this fanfiction off the ground.
Edit in January 2019: I removed the tags for Yomi and Ikaruga after a consideration of how I wanted to structure this story. Yes, they will be more involved eventually, but for the first few chapters, they won't be as prominent. I didn't want to make people's expectations high or be accused of false advertisement.
And characters. Don't worry, I was trying my damndest to nail Murasame's character, as if he progress somewhat in the sibling relationship. Though, I gave Murasame somewhat of a analytical mind, since I thought it was to be expected. Since he's a prodigy in business, he has to be somewhat analytical since business courses are all about practicality and creativity, crunching the numbers and knowing what to do.
So, time period. I'm taking this place to be after Deep Crimson, specifically during Ikaruga's first year at university, meaning she graduated from Hanzo as a student and shinobi. That's how it worked, right? So, it's about a year passing to be more accurate, since Ikaruga was already in her third year.
And length. If I continue, it's not going to be lengthy like this one. This is the pilot chapter, so of course it needs to be lengthy. My intentions are to make a slice-of-life styled fanfiction with short chapters (maybe around 3k to 5k?), with the exception of certain chapters when plot needs to get heavy.
(No, not that type of 'plot'!') *slams hands on table*
So that's everything. If you got something to say, go ahead and comment! I don't mind!
So, BlazingKeld is logging off.
*SMOKE SCREEN*
(Fun fact, the acronym was completely unintentional, but ironic, considering how Estival Versus isn't being mentioned.)
Update Log:
Why am I doing a placebo's Author Notes here for other chapters in Chapter 1? Because when each chapter ends, I actually want them to end. No other reasons than aesthetics. Also, there will be some details that should be seen to new readers.
01/21/2019 (Chapter 3)
Her's the plan. Every month will get a chapter added in, maybe even a bonus if I can find the time. At some point. That had been the plan, but we're going to be entering one of the main story arcs chapters eventually and it's going to get long. I want to finish the entirety of the arc before continue so expect about two - three more chapter after uploads to this will seem to stop. At that point, know that I haven't abandoned this (because I actually want to finish a fic for once), I'm just stockpiling the chapters and getting everything right. Once I get the details and write it all out, it'll be weekly for that story arc until it ends, continuing back to normal planned uploads.
This tactic will be intact for all future main story arcs, and I will be giving a heads up beforehand each time.
... Also, my time management sucks. Sorry.
02/14/2019
Got around to altering the ending portion to Chapter 1, to make things flow more nicely. Nothing major changed though. You know, I wanted to have Yomi call Ikaruga by 'Princess' originally like in the subtitles, but her screams of "OJOU-SAMA" when I switched between her and Ikaruga during combat were imprinted in my brain. And I switched alot.