Saviours Have No Names
A fanfiction based on 'Sword of the Stranger' – the greatest anime of all time!!! Seriously, if you haven't seen this movie, check it out. It's available to watch online, just do a little bit of cyber searching and you'll find it :D
"Speaking"'thinking'
NB: Nanashi means 'No Name'
Chapter One: A Man's Needs…
The year was 1549.
Japan was a fractured land, broken apart by political instability and economic upheaval. The shogunate - the central government - had fallen apart. Regional Lords and their clans fought to seize power. Many separate provinces sprang up all over Japan, each one trying to conquer its neighbours. Troops of lawless, renegade warriors attacked towns, killing and raping and taking what was not theirs. Conspirators regularly employed ninjas to carry out dishonourable, shady assassinations they knew a samurai would never agree to. Death, violence and strife were normality. Change was in the air.
The year is 1549. This is Japan.
Our story begins in Akaike, a small, impoverished province by the sea. Akaike was a rural town. Most of the people living there were farmers or merchants selling goods imported from China. Like most places in Japan, Akaike had seen its fair share of conflict, and rulership of the town had changed a dozen times in recent years. Presently, it was ruled by a small samurai clan who had so far ruled fairly and treated the citizens well. But as for how long that would last, no one knew for sure.
Towards the Southern end of the town there were a number of shops and markets alongside the usual farms and agriculture. Many travellers passed through this part of town on their journey to the cities in the South, and various shops and establishments had sprung up to meet their needs, thriving on their fleeting custom. One of these establishments was a small teahouse that appeared to be a miniature version of the grand geisha houses in the cities. The teahouse thrived. Geisha had always made good money in spite of the widespread poverty – Afterall, there would always be men who desired the company of beautiful women.
The teahouse was a small but eye-catching building, made of ornately carved Cedarwood with a typical sloping roof. The entrance was decorated with colourful lanterns and charms.
To the left of the entrance, a lone figure stood. He had dark hair, much like everyone in Japan of course, but he was slightly taller than average. Nothing about him particularly stood out, and even if it did he was hidden in shadow anyway, because dusk had set in. However, the dark silhouette of a sheathed sword was visible at his hip. He leaned against the wall of the teahouse and sighed, his arms folded across his chest. Looking out over the twilight horizon, he mused silently.
'The stars sure are bright tonight…'His name was Nanashi… No Name. If he did ever have a name, he couldn't remember it. He got along fine without one, living an easy life, minding his own business, eating when he was hungry and sleeping beneath the stars. He answered to no one. He had no master. The only person in his life was a young orphaned boy named Kotaro. Oh, and Kotaro's dog, Tobimaru. Nanashi gave the smallest smile as he thought about the two of them. They were inseparable, the boy and his dog.
Nanashi had first met Kotaro four years ago. At that time, the boy was 8 years old. Kotaro was being hunted down by Chinese Ming warriors who sought to kill him and use his blood in a Chinese ritual for immortality. For some reason, Nanashi had been fond of the boy, although he didn't know why. In truth, Kotaro was a wild, disrespectful little brat, but Nanashi had grown to care for him as though he was his own son.
In a battle that had almost taken Nanashi's life, he'd saved the boy from that dark fate. Since then, he'd raised the boy on his own, and Kotaro was now almost 13 years old, and a little bit more respectful than he had been before… Although Nanashi supposed that he would never fully be able to change the child's savage temperament. He had just dropped Kotaro off at a farm nearby, where the boy would be working this summer.
'I wonder how that will go…'Again, the slight smile.
"You goin' in?"
Nanashi turned to see an old man grinning at him.
"Nani?"
"I said are you goin' in? To the teahouse I mean?" the old man replied, grinning even more.
"I was considering it" Nanashi answered nonchalantly.
"Heheh… watch out for them geisha, young man. They'll bleed you dry. They'll charm you into a stupour and then take all the money you've got… shameless vixens…"
Nanashi chuckled.
"You speak from experience?" he questioned.
"Heheh…" the old man's giddy grin remained fixed on his face. Then he shuffled past Nanashi towards the doorway of the teahouse, as excited as a child about to enter a candy shop.
"I thought geisha weren't to be trusted?" Nanashi asked.
"Still, I don't mind being bled dry every once in a while, if you know what I mean. A man has needs…" he let out a cackle and disappeared into the teahouse.
'Yeah…' Nanashi agreed silently.
Truth be told, there had never been a constant woman in his life. Of course, he'd slept with quite a few in his time, but he'd never felt the need, nor the desire, to get married. But once every so often, his physical urges got the better of him and he found himself in a place much like this one, seeking a brief release in the arms of a woman. He sighed and stepped through the door.
He was greeted by warm lamplight. The walls were creamy in colour, and red tatami mats covered the floor along with snug looking cushions. Silk screens were positioned strategically around the large room in order to deflect 'hidden arrows' of negative chi. These screens were delicately embroidered in expensive reds, blues, greens, silvers and lilacs, depicting elegant scenes of mountains, palaces, flowers and streams. Not that any of the customers particularly cared about the décor. The girls were the main attraction here.
Nanashi made his way into the room. It seemed like a slow night, with only three other customers beside himself. The air smelled like alcohol, sex and perfume. But the thing that struck Nanashi first was the sound. The sounds of music being played. Of course, geisha were skilled artists specialising in playing music. But this music was different. Nanashi scanned to the right-hand side of the room to find the source of the sound. There sat a girl, cross-legged, who appeared to be altogether lost to a different time and place as she played the strings of a shamisen.
"In the midnight rain, does the earth ask the sky:
Can my horizon and your moonlight combine,
And find a place in the indigo?"
The geisha sang the words softly, her hands instinctively adept as they played the instrument cradled in her lap. Her eyes were settled somewhere low, perhaps absentmindedly fixed to a spot on the ground as she sang, apparently oblivious to her surroundings. Nanashi made his way over, sitting nearby. It struck him that there was something odd about the song she sang, and he listened carefully to try and determine what it was that was strange.
"…From dark corners whispers wake,
In mornings I'm left wondering."
His brown eyes studied her. Her thick black hair was swept up on her head in a careful style. She was fairly young, her face painted pale and her rosebud lips scarlet. A pretty girl, as he expected. She would do nicely.
"Dark-cornered whispers call to me:
…Awake; relentless dreams; asleep…"
With a melancholic fall in tone, her song came to an end. No one else seemed to notice, or even care, but the girl smiled wistfully to herself nonetheless.
The subsequent silence felt unnatural, as if the space of the room missed her song. Nanashi began to figure what was strange about her music. Geisha usually sang inoffensive songs about pretty girls or flowers or festivals. The lyrics this girl sang were odd. Inconsistent and illogical, like the disjointed thoughts of a half-conscious mind. He wasn't sure whether he liked it or not. He never really saw much point in music or poetry anyway.
Another girl came and poured a cup of sake and handed it politely to Nanashi. He turned back to the song girl.
"Geisha, where did you learn to play like that? And sing too?"
The girl awoke from her dreamlike haze and snapped her eyes to the samurai.
"Geisha? Don't be insulting. And it's none of your business" she answered tonelessly.
Nanashi sighed and closed his eyes in lethargic exasperation. "I thought courtesans were supposed to be charming"
"I'm not a courtesan. I'm a musician. An artist" she stated proudly.
"Is that so?" Nanashi answered, thoughtfully taking a sip of strong liquor from the cup. "If I paid you, would you play another song for me?"
The girl let out a near silent scoff. "If you want sex, go to one of the other girls."
A large, brutish looking man sitting in the corner fixed his eyes on her at her loud mention of sex. The song girl saw and shuddered nervously.
"Pervert" she muttered under her breath. Glancing back at the brute, she saw that he was still leering at her. His fat tongue slipped out of his mouth and he licked his lips sloppily. The song girl cringed.
"Stop staring at me, Mr. Yeti" she breathed almost inaudibly.
Nanashi looked her over silently, musing on her strange behaviour. She certainly differed from any geisha he'd ever met before. He eventually emerged from his daze to find the song girl staring straight back at him. Her eyebrows were raised.
"Don't you start staring at me as well"
Nanashi's eyes cornered over to the large man. As Nanashi studied the other male, the geisha studied Nanashi. His long black hair was thick, tied at the nape of his neck. The locks at the front that were too short to be tied back formed a messy curtained style, like a fringe that had long since grown out. His expression was weary and serious, but his brown eyes had a certain kindness about them, or so the girl perceived. A long white scar began on his forehead above his right eye, continuing down his cheek and finally ending by his chin. Another scar, a horizontal one, was set across his cheek just below his left eye. His demeanour was casual, as if he'd experienced too much hard work in life and was now making up for it. His coolness was such that it seemed like nothing could ruffle his feathers. But if she looked hard enough, the song girl could see something beneath that. Something intense and still very much alive, flowing underneath the tranquil surface. His shoulders were slightly hunched, as if he carried a dark, invisible weight that he could never shake off. The geisha studied him, trying to guess his element. Without delay she decided that he must be earth. As steady and grounded as earth may be, an earthquake can destroy a whole nation without warning. Yes, he was definitely earth. His robes were shabby and worn around the hems. A very noticeable katana was fixed at his hip. His hand never left it.
"Hey! I asked for your name!" The girl's voice broke Nanashi out of his wary staring contest with the brute.
"Nanashi" he answered.
"No Name?" She screwed up her nose. "Why so evasive? You can tell me the truth, y'know. I won't tell anyone… I'm real good at keeping secrets…" she said, her eyes wide and earnest, as if that would prove her trustworthiness.
"There's no secrets. I have no name" he answered blankly.
She sighed dramatically as if to say she found his lack of imagination boring.
"Fair enough, Mr. Samurai"
"What makes you think I'm a samurai?"
She frowned. "Your sword. And your scars" she stated, pointing.
"Hmm…" he continued to survey her, as if trying to decipher whether or not he was wasting his time with this one. "Aren't you going to play a song, artist?"
She smiled at how he addressed her. "That depends. How much would you pay?" she asked, a playful twinkle appearing in her eyes.
Nanashi sighed wearily and reached a hand into the pouch tied to his side. He pulled out one gold coin and placed it down firmly on the floor before her. She looked at it in disgust.
"Is that all my songs are worth to you, Mr. Samurai?"
"Yes" he answered bluntly.
She pouted, aggravated by the man. "Very well"
She repositioned her shamisen and one hand held the neck. The other clasped the pick. She adjusted her grip slightly and then paused in thought, trying out lyrics in her mind. Nanashi waited, intrigued to hear what she would sing for him. She cleared her throat delicately. Her hands began to pick out a gentle melody.
"Do you think me submissive,
And you, untouchable, with sword?
Samurai, you're seeking more
Than you can afford.
One coin will not suffice here,
It's not the going rate.
The fact is, you're a bad flirt…
…And a real cheap skate."
With an abrupt slam, her hands silenced the strings, and with that, she stood up and flounced past him, knocking into him roughly on her way out of the room. As she was about to leave, he called after her.
"Is there a name that goes with the attitude?"
She turned and smiled.
"You can call me Aika". And then she was gone.
"Aika… 'love song'…" Nanashi repeated, musing on the irony.
'Some love song.'
He let out an irritated sigh that lifted his shoulders markedly before deflating him to his regular slightly hunched posture. Maybe he now realised why he'd never gotten married. By staying single, he'd avoided a whole lot of stress. His thoughts were interrupted as a familiar yearning feeling nagged his lower regions. He glanced around the room to find another girl. He noticed that the large brute had disappeared somewhere.
He instinctively reached down to his side. He grasped for the pouch where he kept his money, but his fingers were left empty. Nanashi frowned and looked down. Sure enough, the pouch was gone. He remembered when Aika had barged past him. The crafty little siren had stolen his money. Well, he had to give her credit… she was a good thief.
With no money, it looked like he wouldn't be getting a girl tonight afterall. What a waste of time. He stood up wearily and paced out of the teahouse. It looked like he was going to have to sate his desires by himself tonight. He stepped out into the cool night air and decided to find some shelter for the night.
*****************
The girl who calls herself 'Aika' paced briskly through the streets. A little smile played on her lips as she fingered the cold metal coins in the pouch she had stolen. Her heart was hammering so hard she could see her chest move with the force. Adrenaline pulsed through her body. She couldn't believe she'd just stolen from a samurai. Maybe it was a dangerous thing to do, but this was what she'd always dreamed of… adventure… something to make her feel alive. She laughed to herself uncontrollably because she just couldn't hold it in. The excitement was too great.
'Damn! You did it Riko, you actually did it! Just like in one of the old legends!'
She thought about the nameless samurai. The smile on her lips grew. He seemed like the real deal. She longed to know more. To know about his life, his dreams, the conflicts documented by the scars on his body. What she wouldn't give to tag along with a man like that. She was sure that adventure would be the norm with him. And it would no doubt inspire her with new material for her songs. She smiled and set off running, feeling the freedom as her feet sped over the ground. Her whole life, she'd waited for this feeling. She headed back towards the abandoned barn she currently called home.
Eventually her limbs tired and she slowed down to a steady walk, panting. The night was dark, and there were no lanterns, no sources of light around here. There wasn't another soul in sight. She treaded carefully to avoid falling over. As she squinted through the dark, she suddenly heard the sounds of heavy footfalls behind her.
Her heart jumped to her throat. Had the samurai followed her? Maybe he wasn't as kind as she had thought…
Bracing herself, she turned around, only to be knocked from her feet by something very, very heavy. She landed painfully on the hard ground. She tried to see what was going on, who was attacking her, but in the darkness all she could make out was a large, dark figure. Suddenly a strong hand grasped her hair and she was pulled to her feet. She cried out and tried to free herself. The hand in her hair tightened and she winced. A thick voice laughed.
"That's right angel, scream for me"
She gasped as she recognised the face now illuminated in the moonlight. It was the brute from the teahouse. With a firm movement he twisted her arms behind her back and smashed her face-first into a wall. The girl whimpered as her head bounced painfully against the hard stone.
"W…what are you doing? …Please…"
She was silenced as he smashed her head upside the wall again. She felt a warmth trickled from her forehead. Excited by the sight of her blood, the man made an animalistic noise of arousal.
"I've raped and slaughtered many of your kind, whore. No one knows you're here. You're mine now."
She whined desperately, her body shaking, more convulsing with fear.
'Is this how it ends? Is this really how it ends?'She switched tactics in a desperate attempt for survival.
"Do you have any idea who I am?" she announced, as confidently as she could manage in her present situation. "My father will have your head, you sick bastard!"
"Not before I have yours" he murmured, forcing her down to the ground roughly. He laid all his weight on her. Her crushed lungs screamed for air. He fumbled at his hips, trying to free something. The girl didn't want to think about it. Tears began to spill from her eyes.
'If only I'd stayed at the teahouse, I wouldn't be about to die…""Please…" she begged, her voice a desperate sob.
"I'm going to fuck you and kill you at the same time… fuck you, and kill you… at the same time…" he hissed maniacally as he hiked her kimono up around her waist violently.
'If only I wasn't so hard to please… If only I'd been happy with the life I had instead of being so ungrateful…If only I'd stayed at home instead of searching like this… I'd still be safe within the palace walls…'
She tried to push him away, to push him off of her, but even using all her strength she was helpless against him. The brute finished 'freeing' himself from his robes. The stink of his arousal was terrifying. His huge, bear-like hands worked there way to her throat.
'No…'The pressure in her head built up dizzyingly as the hands around her neck squeezed her airways in an unbreakable vice. Her mind was chaos, and so she began to sing her beloved songs in her head as she prepared to be raped. She told herself it would all be over soon. Everyone has to die at some point. Tonight was her turn. The man positioned himself and prepared for his first satisfyingly violent thrust. She squeezed her eyes shut.
There was a scream. Whose scream was it? The girl knew it wasn't hers. She refused to open her eyes. She sensed heat spreading over her body. Or was it… moistness? Then she heard a 'thwack'. Something heavy and round landed on her chest. It had hair. What the hell was going on? What was he doing to her? Slowly, she opened her eyes.
She looked down at the object that had landed on her. Her eyes adjusted. The object on her… was a severed head. The brute's head. She screamed in terror and scrambled to throw the rancid thing away from her. The dead weight of the headless body was still slumped on top of her. She screamed and screamed again. She carried on crying out, although she wasn't aware of it. She was drenched in hot blood. Looking up, she saw a figure standing over her. He was holding a large sword, its bloody blade glinting in the moonlight.
"Samurai…" she called out, crying helplessly. "Samurai… don't…" she choked on a sob. "Don't kill me…"
Nanashi stood motionless, looking down at the affected girl, her kimono hiked up in the most undignified way, her tears streaming, her make-up smudged.
"I… I tried to push him away… tried to push him away…" she murmured, before her eyes rolled back and she passed out, unconscious.
Nanashi looked at her blankly for a few seconds. He let out a heavy breath. She had fainted from the terror, most likely. Still, he'd never seen someone so affected by violence before. In this world, violence was something people were used to.
He stepped towards the brute's corpse and wiped the blood from his katana on the dead man's robes. After re-sheathing his sword, he hauled the body off the geisha. He straightened up again and looked at her, trying to figure out the most proper way to do this. He couldn't exactly leave her here. He bent down and lifted her unconscious body over a broad shoulder. Just as he was about to leave the scene, he noticed a pouch a few meters away. The one she had stolen from him. He grimaced and retrieved it. Then he noticed the girl's shamisen. No doubt she would want it. He retrieved that too, and then walked away, with the girl out cold on his back.
A/N: I would like to thank Wikipedia ;D Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this first chapter! If people like it, I will continue with it, if not, I will go drink tea.