Iron
Hidden in the Leaves
It has been ten years since the Iron Army began their quest for genocide. Their extermination. Now, as he waits in the trees, his hooked wrist blade dug into the bark, it is not fear that grips him, only restlessness.
A heightened sense of things. The breeze, moving through the mighty trees. The swaying boughs filling the air with a gentle rustling. The armor of the Samurai below clanking. The acrid scent of their sweat and fear.
The stink of spoiled blood and senseless murder soaked so deeply into their bodies that no ammount of washing will remove it.
He shifts his weight, loosening the bite of his hooked blade on the tree. His deep blue eyes sweep across the trees. His sharp ears picking up the steady breathing of his comrades where his eyes fail him. His nose scenting his allies when his ears fail him as well.
It is not fear that grips him. But restlessness. Anticipation.
He smiles, and lets his grip on the tree loosen completely.
His form is perfect.
He drops on the back of a straggler, his hooked blade sinking into the man's shoulder even as a knife of black glass slips into his throat.
One of the man's allies turn, hearing the muffled grunt as his compatriate dies.
He sees nothing. The killer and his victim are gone.
He turns.
The glass blade slips into his throat as a hand covers his mouth.
The killer lowers his second victim to the ground, silently. He should show these men no respect, but he closes the man's eyes anyways. Let Shinigami judge him in the afterlife, now that his time had come.
Once more the killer darts up a tree, the hooked blade extending from beneath his left wrist so that he might hang for a moment.
A flash of pink to his left.
Two more Samurai fall, their throats torn open by the girl's blades.
The killer counted four more Samurai.
Their fear had grown.
The killer smiled again.
With his free hand he motions to a pair of his allies. The call of a jay responds.
Again he drops from the tree, his glass knife driving into the back of another man's neck, cutting his spinal cord.
The remaining three Samurai turn, their blades ready.
The killer smiles.
The three men don't see the attack from behind until two of them are dead.
The third. The last. He falls to his knees and drops his sword.
The killer frowns.
He does not want to show these men mercy. But killing an unarmed opponent who has surrendered? It did not sit well with him.
He sighed. An idle gesture with his hand and the pink blur from earlier reappears. Her knife drives into the man's eye.
The killer turns away, preparing to take to the trees once more.
A slim hand rests on his left shoulder. He winces involuntarily.
"Thought so." The girl's voice is almost motherly, chiding, "You're putting too much weight on that arm. That's why most of us use chakra to hang onto the trees. You of all people have enough of it."
The killer shrugged.
"Just take off the shirt and let me take a look."
The killer's grunt was a negative. He scaled the tall trees once again. There were more patrols to hunt.
And he would hunt.
He had to.
The fox was restless.
AN: Alright, so that's done. First fic on this pseudonym, but not my first fic ever. First chapter is short as fuck. Second should be much, much, much longer.
If anyone wants timelines or anything, drop a review and I'll put it in the notes of the next chapter.
Review, comment, follow, blah blah blah. Ya'll know the drill.