Heat of the Rising Sun

Chapter One

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Tenchu characters, they belong to someone else. I own my original characters.

Author's note: this is my first Tenchu fic and I wanted to tell about when Master Shuinsai first found Ayame and the others. (Omon is Ayame's real name.) I hope you like the story. Please read and review.

The sun slowly set over a crimson field in the eastern sky, the smell of blood was thick in the air and silent cries for help could no longer be heard. As the sky turned gradually into a bitter darkness, a little girl emerged from the destruction and walked along the riverbank. As she walked, she watched the bodies of the people who were in the war float down the river.

'My parents are among these bodies. I'm alone now, but it doesn't bother me… All the people who tried to save me, the people I called family are gone; dead to the world…'

The tears welled up inside but refused to show, she was in a state of shock, but through all the death and destruction she kept a blank expression. Her mother and father died trying to protect her in the heat of battle; although they are gone she was thankful. Lifting an arm, the little girl wiped their blood off her face. The war of the states is no place for a child, it is something that she shouldn't understand, and yet she holds her own. Through her point of view on the war, it was a worthless and meaningless fight that has gone on for far too long.

'People and their stupid ideals, don't they realize that what they're doing only causes more bloodshed as each day passes with the rise and fall of the sun?'

As the little girl walked along the riverbank, for the first time in days, she heard footsteps off in the distance. If it indeed was the enemy, she would be ready and hold her own. As they grew closer to her, she ducked down into the tall weeds hoping that they wouldn't see her. The footsteps stopped short just behind where she was hiding, the persons' shadow towering over her. The weeds parted as the person moved them aside with a sheath, revealing the little girl. Shocked, she lifted her head up to look back at an old man looking down at her.

The man was old, in his late fifties, that much she was sure. His features showed his age well, hair slightly white and gray in most areas; his face was wrinkly and had a little beard growing on his chin. The man carried a sword in hand and one attached to his belt, his grip wasn't a weak one, he was strong for his age, probably a great swordsman in his prime. Crouching down, the man dropped his sword next to him and reached into his clothes and pulled out a rag. Reaching out, he wiped her face off, removing some more of the dried blood.

"Why are you out here on this night, little one? What is your name?" He inquired.

"My name is Omon, sir" the girl responded.

The man placed his hand on her head.

"Omon? Well, where are your parents, Omon?" He asked as he turned her head, checking for injuries. Moving her bangs away from her forehead revealed a small cut.

"They're gone" Omon said looking away from him.

"I see… so you're alone…"

The man thought about what to do with her. If he were to leave her there, she surely wouldn't survive on her own. Supposed he would to take her to his village, he could have someone take care of her there. The only problem was if she would fit in well with the others…

Not thinking about it for another second, he decided he would take her with him.

"A child like yourself cannot survive on their own, so I will not leave you alone, I'll take you to my village that is off in the distance, surround by the forest. Is that okay with you?" He asked, putting his sword back in its sheath.

"Alright" she replied almost hesitantly.

Even though he was a stranger, Omon felt that she could trust him. He seemed to have a calm, gentle presence about him that at the same time was protective and strong. She felt she could trust him. Without anywhere else to go and no parents, she decided to follow him. The man picked her up in his arms and carried her across the field. While walking, Omon would occasionally look around at the bodies of men that died in the heat of battle, their lives ripped from them, never to see light again. As she looked at their faces, she realized they had no regrets about fighting for their country, and in this she found deep meaning.

Upon entering the forest, the man sped up and leapt into the thick trees. In a few moments they had arrived at a clearing in the trees; a hidden village. Looking up, Omon could barely see through the setting sun's light the young man atop the gate that blocked the entrance. Upon seeing the man holding the little girl, the young man shouted something that she couldn't hear, and a moment later the gate opened slowly before them.

As they walked into the open area, Omon glanced back to see the gate closing loudly behind them. Turning her gaze forward, she admired the surroundings. The village was a big open space with many small houses made of sturdy wood which spread out from the entrance and scattered as they reached the back. Small hills and inclines gave the village an interesting feature to the land than just flat ground. The way the sun cast an orange and yellow pallet over the houses and through the trees gave off a peaceful, tranquil feeling.

Making their way to the back of the village, the scenery changed slightly into tall trees and high cliffs that loomed over the houses. The abrupt sound of metal striking wood to the left caught Omon's attention. Looking over, she tried to focus where the sound came from. Off in the distance through some trees, she could see a young boy throwing something at a target she could not see. Stopping, he turned around and caught her gaze. He stood still- watching her until she was out of sight.

'. . . Who was that?' she thought as she turned around in the man's arms.

Looking up at the old man, she saw him looking back at her smiling slightly.

"This is my village Omon; very few know about this place, you'll be safe here." He said as he looked in front of him as he walked.

Nodding, Omon continued to look around curiously at the new place, taking it all in. The man continued to talk, but the sound of his voice faded as she was lost in her thoughts. A slight nudge to her forehead brought her back to reality. The man chuckled softly as he watched her look around for the source of the poke.

"Are you off in your own world little one? Are you there little one?" he said tickling her lightly.

"Sorry, I wasn't . . . sir" she replied giggling.

"I said the villagers here are friendly, so that if you were in need of something and I'm not around, that you could trust them. They will help you." He paused and then continued so as to keep her attention. "After you are settled down here, you can go wherever in the village you may please, but do refrain from wandering outside of the village. . . . You may not find your way back again" Blinking, she looked up at him the moment he said that.

". . . Why?" she asked tilting her head to the side in wonder.

"Because there are traps throughout the woods . . . hidden paths that if you go the wrong way, you could end up back where you started, or fall into a trap along the way."

"But can't I go back the way you came?"

". . . It is not as simple as that little one. . ." he answered, shaking his head.

"How come?" she asked again interested in what he would say.

"That is enough questions for now; I'll explain it all to you later on"

From that moment on, Omon said nothing to him as they continued walking around. Along the way through the spread out houses, the man stopped abruptly and placed her down on the ground as a villager approached them. He walked a few steps toward the villager and exchanged some words with her before he returned. Grabbing her tiny hand, the man led her to a small basket that was set outside to dry in front of the house. Releasing her hand, he bent down to face her. "Little one, I want you to stay here and don't walk away from this spot. I will be back shortly" he said as he stood.

"Okay"

"Good girl."

Omon watched as the old man followed the villager to the house. Sitting down, she stared at the woven basket; irritated by the sight of it. The faint sound of voices coming from inside the house caught her attention from the basket. Standing, she kicked it over annoyed at it now and creped over near the door where she could hear them better. She recognized the voices of the old man and the villager he met a minute ago, talking in the room.

"Shuinsai, another one is sick after returning from the mission in the states, his health diminishes day by day." The villager explained in a troubled and shaky voice.

"I see, I'll send someone out to retrieve more medicine for him, do not worry just yet—"

"But I do! He's the third one to fall ill in the last few months after going out to battle. The others have died! I worry; I worry for his life . . . what if he . . ." she pleaded restlessly, interrupted Shuinsai before he could finish.

After they moved further into the room, Omon was unable to understand their conversation, so she decided to wait since there was nothing else to do. As she sat there next to the turned over basket, she saw people walking about the village. Some didn't pay her any attention as they hurried finishing their daily chores. The sun was almost completely set when the man emerged from the house, still talking with the man.

"Hang in there; it just might turn out for the better in the end. Goodnight." The old man said as he nodded a farewell to her.

"Thank you" she replied as she bowed and slowly shut the door behind her.

"You ready to go?" The man asked as he walked toward Omon fixing his collar.

To be continued.