"Sagara!" A disheartened and rancorous yell broke the hours of darkness brusquely. Ownership to the voice unknown, a figure fell to the ground, taking the look of a famished young boy if perhaps the onlooker had not the time to come even the slightest distance closer. Fingers scraped against the cold terrain as that same outline tried to pull themself from the ground, unsuccessfully. The unfamiliar and uninvited blackness fogged a pair of aberrantly-seeming scarlet eyes with the impact of the soil, and in a whirl of black were covered by the slipping of their eyelids. Fallen beside the familiar Captain who had recently been gunned down when trying to save one of the Sekihoutai troop, Sanosuke, the limp and thinned body lay still on the earth, yet the guards were already gone.
Though an exhausted heart slipped away from the normal quick beat, still it did beat, and in the same way as does a drum when the drummer is ordered to play a slow and staccato version of some soft and dismayed song. Hope was little for the one who laid there, color fading from the already pale cheeks, bruised and stained with the blood from many a warrior. No tears welled those hidden crimson jewels, it was not right for a soldier to shed tears, no matter what be the reason. Thudding of thick boots striking the dirt shook people from their dojos as the governments' finest troops passed through, examining all the dead men that strew their land. Blood tinged their uniforms; they passed the one who had been known as Sagara and the one who had fallen beside him. Discontinuing motion a mere five or so feet from the two, one of them lowered their filthy and mud-splashed face down toward Sagara. "This one's dead, Captain. The other one looks dead as well, splashed from head to toe in blood, I'd assume it is his own."
As the lower-ranking man spoke the one called Captain listened intently, "Well, rid of them then," Came the rough and dry voice of the man.
"Hang on Kyuko; this one seems to be breathing, the small one." That low in rank man had spoken again, he being younger and his voice not as rough.
Laughing at his perverse thoughts, the one called Kyuko glanced over the bodice of the breathing one, "Do you want him; he's not one of ours. Maybe a little play and he won't feel the need for treason."
The other spoke again, his own eyes falling over that figure, "Can't I just shoot him?"
The Captain shook his head gently, shoving a coarse hand violently through a dark russet mane, "Think about it, if you don't want him, I think I'll take him."
An eerie wind silenced the two and the imperceptible breeze brushed over the shoulders of the men. Almost as if something had spooked them, they ran off into the darkness, leaving the two lying there. The petite one's heartbeat was beginning to fade away, slowly, slowly, slowly….
