Blood-Red Dawn
Disclaimer: I do not own Ronin Warriors or make any money off of it either. Wish I could.
Forward: A few words:
Ronin Warriors is probably one of the best anime no-one knows about. The first fic I did here was very ambitious and I hope Breaking Chu incorporates that and the very best of the Ronin Warriors timeline--the showdown against Talpa.
This fic has O.C.s, but everything will be explained in the plot.
The setting is when Talpa prepares to take over the mortal world, just before the beginning of the series.
Note--here, assume that time in the Netherworld just doesn't count, even though canonically it does a little. For example--the Warlords are the same age they were when they joined Talpa and became immortal. The exception is for children, i.e., Lady Kayura.
Name usage will be clear in the text, although I may not just stick with the exact English/Japanese correlation.
This is pretty much an introduction…if you find this boring, it will get better, crossed fingers.
That said…enjoy
--
With impatience the warden, Makino, noted the sunrise shining beside the fortress's copper spires from his perch in a watch tower. Hurricane-like winds whipped his cloak and long black hair in a dervish, although his sharply-drawn face was as emotionless as the bones in his spine.
One by one, the moons rose in the sun's wake. The horizon was like a rim of blood against the olive sky. Long ago the sight would have inspired young Makino to pen short, lyrical verses, but he was as much wiser as he was much older. One cannot pass the days writing something like--like--
"Crimson sunrises:
Ripe pomegranates
whose flesh
Rouse Inanimate palates--
And--and--and--"
He couldn't think of anything else he might write. This was the Nether World, he soon realized. Right now only those who sold their souls to the Emperor or who were captured by his minions would forever suffer here. But one day, he knew, the Emperor would have all existence under his foothold. It was coming soon as surely as the blood-rimmed sunrise.
"Excuse me, Tengoku-sama," one of his subordinate guards called from the cells below. "Honorable Warden. But it is time."
Today's duty had begun. Wordlessly Makino walked into the darkness within the guard towers' walls, down winding stone steps, which gradually grew so dark that the sunrise was a mere pinprick of gold and red. The warden could find his way only because he had had years of experience in the dungeons, for the blue-flamed torches offered almost no light down here. His robes swept across metal grates, beneath which the prisoners cried out. Block Seventy-Two's grates were unlatched today. Their occupants stood lined against the wall with their hands and arms in chained cuffs linked to the prisoner ahead of them and behind them. This was the same for the men, the women, the small children, all but the babies slung from their mothers' backs. Six or seven minor guards kept watch, but as the warden arrived they bowed dutifully.
"To the courtyard, let's go," Makino ordered, flicking his whip towards the other tunnels.
"You heard the tengoku-sama," one of them (was it Hoshina?) commanded sharply. "Let's go, lice!"
The warden followed the queue in the rear, though he felt uneasy seeing the poor wretches: old men, strong men, women (mostly mothers), young barefoot children. All of them were slaves who offended the master, Lord Anubis. He could not pity them--what good would it do? It was difficult enough to survive here. Pity more foolish than writing about sunrises.
"Come on, now! Don't tarry!" he shouted every once in a while, his voice echoing against the walls and no doubt their miserable ears, which had heard nothing but commands their whole lives. If only Makino could have them go with some dignity, maybe he would feel better about this lot and their wide-eyed children and dejected mothers. What could he tell them? Would they understand this was the only way he could survive? The only way he could make life somewhat more bearable for the wretches after them?
The courtyard was so bright, it was hard to believe he was watching the sunrise just a few moments before, although he could still see a rim of deep red along the walls. The courtyard's lavishness contrasted sharply with the slaves' misery. Only one of the slaves--perhaps an ex-blacksmith--owned shoes. Meanwhile Makino was not unaware of the jade tiles beneath his feet, the palm trees and exotic fruit and flowers that were in bloom year-round. Though only a warlord, Master Anubis lived like a king.
Makino glanced at one of the balconies facing them--the one with several grilled folding screens, where his master's wife knelt fidgeting, waiting, For it to be over with already, dammit, she thought in irritation. Lady Asuka peered between the gaps in the framework, feeling sick. Although now well past her four hundredth birthday, she hadn't matured a the day since she entered the Nether World aged twenty-one. Her shoulder-length black hair was parted in the middle just as it was four hundred years ago, framing her oval-shaped face, youthful cheeks, full lips, and petal-shaped eyes which studied the scene below like a pair of shining black onyxes. Several colorful layers of loose but well-coordinated kimono draped her lithe figure. She wished she could hide in her kimono and not have to watch the spectacle her husband planned, but he forced her to watch this every morning.
Two heavy doors on the north wall burst open, startling even Makino's arrogant guards. Luckily, they all remembered to bow when the warlord entered. The slaves began screaming.
"No!"
"Have mercy!"
"Forgive us master!"
"Please, no!"
Asuka held her breath, feeling sick.
"Honorable Mistress?" one of her maids murmured behind her. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, Wisteria," Asuka replied, watching Anubis spin his scythe on its chain.
Anubis surveyed the twenty or so slaves chained up before him. Like rats they backed against the opposite wall, begging for mercy. Feh! He thought. Mercy wouldn't save them any more than the damn wall. They had no idea of his power! Without hesitation he thrust the scythe across their bodies, it was as easy as slicing sashimi. Blood spurted across the walls. He killed from slowly, from the feet up, as he liked it. Their screams echoed against the walls, building to a sharp climax before everything softened to groans and then silence. His hair, hands, and face were drenched in their blood. He licked the it from his lips.
What a refreshing start to the morning.