This fanfic has spawned off of my "New Year's Party", where I involved Yamazaki quite a lot so far. I wanted to explore him without adding others to distract from his focus.
I also intentionally left out any dialogue that would have been added. His world is not about speech, but about silence-that is how he thrives, and the words of his enemies mean nothing-he is meant to deal with them accordingly.
Also, Yamazaki has little attention-it was fair to focus on him-I believe if he had lived, Yamazaki could have contribued quite heavily to the many lost, fallen battles between the Shinsengumi and their enemies-especially the ones where they underestimated their opponents, had they had their loyal spy amidst them to warn of the dangers ahead. Yamazaki is far more useful than he gets credit for.
The sky was filled with evening, a warm darkness. As often as most, he moved silently among his surrounding. There were angled roofs in both directions to his side, and infront one taller. Silent as possible, he shift between them.
Spying wasn't an easy job-but for some it came at ease. While He was regarded an officer, his most appraised skills were that of the shinobi-quietly, deadly and capable.
He looked about, consuming his environment. Erasing himself from the equation of his mind, he saw and heard what others could not, smelled what the common nose wouldn't. His awareness was acute, his eyes merely a way of transferring his sight physically-he could see without them in his trance.
He breathed in deeply, quietly, and exhaled. His vision in the darkness became clearer.
In the distance, he could hear his reason for calling. His target, violent and conniving hiding in a room, below, in a home across where he stood. He looked down, observing the structure.
As the voices grew louder, so did his hand reach a hidden pocket he wore, ensuring his tools were in place. Finding an opening, Yamazaki entered into the attic rafters. He slowly crawled towards the voices, light leaking from the rooms below. The man was conversing with several others. This was not the time. He waited, kneeling, paitient. This was when he was tranquil-his state of mind empty.
One must avoid all thoughts tracing back to time and place to evade the effects, he would not grow impaitient. He waited still, eyes steel and fixed.
Had he not learned to control the chi, his fixated intent would be eventually felt. Some men were used to being watched-their guilty conscience made them pick up things a content, innocent soul would not have need to be-they felt there was no reason to be paranoid. But his intent for easy death was cloaked.
Yamazaki knew samurai could approach similar experiences, but his was beyond that of the samurai-his was like the shadow to a shadow box-more than just the creator of it's shadow, but the shadow itself. Beyond the apprehension of the human world. The closest experience others had were called "Enlightenment". His was not such-for he was not in a state of tranquil, benevolent peace, he was meant for harm-after a kill, a mild scent of death would surround his shadow. He was attuned to killing. Perhaps some thought it as a benevolent, violent beauty-only to him, death was not beautiful-it was a way of life. It was work. Death was just as capable of taking his as it was for those he took-one day, Death would take him too.
He did not think of tomorrow, nor of yesterday. His mind rested on now, his current second. A shinobi had little predators in his own environment-except himself. Survival was about being ready for each second. His senses must be at all times prepared for anyone skilled in the arts of shadow. The second the shinobi considered the possibilities of being killed by one's own abilities, is when they lose to fear. There is not much more frightening than fearing the aura of death waiting in the darkness, silent, invincible and sudden.
For most missions, this was not an obstacle. Most targets were not guarded or protected by the elite killers. Most cases, samurai were good enough-it was when they decided to make themselves far too important.
Unlike the samurai, whose valiant actions and appearance were subject of scripts and stories, his was not meant to be remembered. Warriors were glorified as fearless, defenders or tyrants. His life would not be so-he would die in the shadows he were born admist-his feats forgotten. The Shinsengumi would remember him-that was all he needed.
Just as the hour turned, restlessness caught his attention. The men were finishing, moving with clumsy effort. They had sat for several hours apparently. 5 of 7 had already left through the front entrance. Yamazaki focused on the remaining two. He had death for one, but the other would die if he were to witness-after all, none of these men were innocent. It was not his only mission to spy today-he had to deliver justice as were his given orders. The others would be kept under his watch another day-he knew their daily whereabouts.
He searched the room from his line of sight. There was a table between the figures, a lamp on a smaller one in the corner. Seating surrounded the table. He needed to acess the best method for execution. He could put the lamp out and end the target's life. The last witness man's fate depending on the importance of whether or not it was worth hiding the death before him. He decided he wanted to scare the man a little-he was already drunk, Yamazaki observed. No one would believe him.
He leaned in through the hole just enough, his hand whipping a shuriken faster than a blade could travel in his possession. The lights dimmed, a second object hurled at a further lamp across the room.
The men panicked, hustling in fear, mixed with confusion. They were disorientated. One flew his hands in the air, as if it would help him. The second man grabbed a knife from his haori, a useless attempt, flailing it about.
Before Yamazaki let the target attract any outside attention, he dropped down into the dark room, landing behind his prey. His blade stabbed the man effortlessly through a pressure point, nowhere near his throat but tipped in odorless toxin, holding steady so he the body would not drop. He held the lifeless form enough to ease it aside him, that touched the second's throat with his short sword. As the delinquent froze in terror, he smirked. This man wouldn't remember much tomorrow, he barely gave him reason to-the lights went out, and he felt a blade...yet he saw no face..he could have just collapsed from bad stance and fell...except his companion was dead.
The fearful victim fainted from shock. Yamazaki concluded his blinded witness was not used to violence-he could have been pampered by security his entire life. He let the fainted body lay on the floor, maneuvering back into the rafter. Monotonously making way back out the make-shift entrance, he leapt outside, landing on a nearby roof. He quickly dropped ground level, his fabric made more sound than his soundless feet.
Knowing better than to linger, Yamazaki made a casual haste, curving this way and that, around buildings and alleys.
As he paced, he picked up sudden presence in front of him. How did he not notice before was beyond him-all that mattered was the form before him, blocking his way, seemingly by mistake.
He noticed a young woman before him. She was somewhat mysterious-why she was wandering around, it was not his business, but it made him wonder. She had been leaving out the back door, her face told no grudges-but she seemed to have her own share of secrets. She was quite beautiful he observed, enough to distract him momentarily. Her presence he didn't notice was answered as he found a familiar weapon glimmering, vaguely visible under her dark-shaded obi. Her overall outfit was bleak, unlike the traditional dress of woman. She must be a kunoichi-but seemed to have no business with him-rather they felt entranced by one another...
He had lingered far too long.
Yamazaki glanced at her, their eyes met, as he left. He dissapeared past her into the black that had become. She understood. They would quite likely never see another again, but considering their profession, one had to consider not even being alive tomorrow. It was for the best, even if it felt a strain on their hearts, no matter how strict-grown they were. She turned, and continued her own way, to whichever path it took her in the end.
As Yamazaki escaped the city, he felt the success allowing itself to leak into his conscience. Another day passed as it were, he looked forward to being of use tomorrow. Despite his sly nature, he was of great loyalty to the Shinsengumi-well-trusted, and carrying the flag of his comrades on his errands.
The headquarters neared. Yamazaki effortlessly leaped onto the wall's edge, balancing himself. Taking observation of his home grounds, he ensured it was safe before retiring for the night. His efforts were important in regards to detecting the enemy when the other men were busy-and he could detect other assassins far easier-it was only natural he would undertake this.
Gracefully he landed. Hijikata-sama knew he was back, and they exchanged greetings as his Vice-Commander often did on his return, a casual welcoming as a reminder of his place in their stronghold.
After a short briefing, they made agreements and plans for further action, and Yamazaki stood up. He had finished his daily work, and now it was time to rest-ninja indeed need to sleep like any other mortal, no matter how sinister and inhumane-however, Yamazaki was not such a monster-he was a person with a place in his world, and a strong understanding of his duties to the leaders of his group.
No matter how different, any member of the Shinsengumi were to work under one flag-for that means, he put his life on the line everyday. His pride was as strong as those holding the Samurai titles, his spirit just as willing to fall for his cause.
He is Yamazaki Susumu, the only shinobi of his banner. Tomorrow was another day, but tonight he would rest, he was still alive.
The End
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Not sure if I like how the ending was written, but I didn't want to add any more and make it harder to end, and it came out like this.