This story is dedicated to kittyb78 for your support of this story and convincing me to upload it. You're the best!

Part One
Walking in the shadow of God

Chapter 1 Chokotsu

Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Chokotsu, son of the almost-legendary mercenary leader of the Band of Seven, Bankotsu. I am not sure what I think when I hear my father's name. I had never seen him or even heard him speak, but his presence in my life shaped its course from top-to-bottom. Sometimes, I wonder how I might have lived if my father was just a normal person. Even if he had played a role as Bankotsu in my upbringing (none, as he wasn't even there), I am sure I would have been a different person. Whether that would have been a good change is something I will never know. So I will dwell no more on it.

My mother never got tired of telling me the story of my and Tsubame's birth. When she was fourteen, she met a then sixteen-year-old Bankotsu on a visit to a feudal lord's castle; both he and she were children of high-born noblemen, and apparently, what resulted of this meeting was love at first sight. Or so mother said. The way I saw it, Bankotsu got pretty sick of her after sleeping with her a couple of times and left her for the thrill of a mercenary life.

"Ah, he broke my heart that scoundrel," mother would say in her dramatic way, dabbing her eyes with the sleeve of her kimono; although, after so many retellings, the emotional impact did fade slightly. "I honestly loved him but he could never be satisfied by the quiet, rich life. He wanted to kill, and I could not stop him doing so."

"Well, he sounds like a perfectly rotten person," Tsubame once told mother. "Why on earth would you want to have babies with a murderer?"

"It wasn't like that," mother said, shaking her head. "He was a beautiful person once you got to know him a bit. He just hated to be tied down by anything, and I was only making him unhappy by clinging to him. So I let go."

Mother, of course, hadn't foreseen that her little affair with Bankotsu might get her pregnant. She was naïve and she didn't have the heart to try and find Bankotsu so he could take a share of the responsibility. It couldn't have been very hard to contact him. Bankotsu had formed the Band of Seven and had become a very renowned fighter, although he never went back to mother. Not a word reached him when she gave birth to twins - Tsubame and I. Or maybe something did reach him, but Bankotsu soon afterwards died at the height of his career.

"My father and the other lords conspired to kill him," mother said sorrowfully, "Because the Band of Seven had become too powerful. It took a whole army to take down those seven, brave men. Once that happened, I feared for your unborn lives, so I left the castle."

I personally could never get away from my father. Even though he was dead, Bankotsu's deeds struck terror in the hearts of so many villagers that none made friends with me. It didn't help that I grew up looking exactly like Bankotsu, or at least, how mother said Bankotsu looked like. My hair fell long and Tsubame liked tying it into a braid. My skin became tanned because I spent too much time in the sun, playing games by myself. But, I suppose, I enjoyed the way other people were in awe of me. It certainly boosted my ego.

I had never told anyone about it, not even Tsubame, but like my father, I too liked killing. Not people, certainly not. At least, not yet. But I did love to catch small animals, squeeze the life out of them and watch them perish. It gave me a savage sense of superiority over other beings and that boosted my ego as well. People expected me to become a killer like Bankotsu and I did not disappoint. That was not my way.

Tsubame was different. Although she was given a certain amount of discretion like I was, no one would ever expect she was the daughter of a murderer. She was always loving, full of energy and laughing, not like I, who was, according to the villagers, "arrogant and indifferent to the suffering of others".

Mother told me that there were two sides to Bankotsu: The first side was like me: Calm, deadly and confident. The other side was like Tsubame: Warm, child-like and naïve. I had a feeling that mother loved the side of Bankotsu that was Tsubame more than mine. She loved to stay indoors with Tsubame and teach her lessons with needlework and writing, although I never received the same attention. I withdrew into myself, telling myself that I was destined for better things than Tsubame was. Perhaps I too might start a mercenary band just like my father. That thought gave me comfort and I practised sword-fighting at a very young age.

Don't get me wrong: I loved Tsubame. She alone was the one person who was not frightened of me. Many a day we spent together, although she loved the indoors and I loved the outdoors. We confided in each other and were closer than most siblings are. I think Tsubame saw me as a god and worshiped me; her existence was entirely devoted to my well-being. And I called her weak and pulled her hair! I looked down at her for fawning over me, but I felt an obligation to protect her, since she was my own little sister and I loved her more than life itself.

There was one time, when we were about eight years old, some of the village boys started picking on Tsubame. When I saw her, she was crying, not because they had struck her, but because they had said, "Well, aren't you going to hit us back like your murdering father or your violent brother?" Tsubame couldn't, of course; she was much too gentle; much, much too gentle.

When I told Tsubame that I would make those villains pay retribution for what they had done to her, she only cried harder and begged me, "Don't do it! That's just what they want you to do. Please don't! It's better to forgive."

I remember thinking, if my father was like Tsubame, he must have worked hard to keep that part of his nature suppressed. Whoever heard of a mercenary talking of forgiveness?

Obviously, I didn't listen to Tsubame. I said, "I'll kill anyone who dares try to hurt those who are close to me!"

And I think I would have killed those boys, too, if the adults had not smelled a rat and held me back. For the first time in my life, I saw true fear in the eyes of others; before, my violent nature was long held in suspicion but now the fact was confirmed. For the thing was, I was not angry when I started torturing the boys: I was calm as I did it nice and slow, and I enjoyed every minute of their pain. I was psychotic; I was… evil. Aged eight I could break the bones of those I fought and ensure my enemies lived in much physical agony. I was born to be a killer.

My mother was terrified of me: I could see it in her eyes. But the strange thing was: The more violent I grew, the more Tsubame grew attached to me. She never tried to change me, either; she loved me for who I was. I could not understand that girl. Didn't she know I was vermin, not to be associated with?

I think I started to hate myself. I tried desperately to stop myself from violence but I couldn't do it. I began to realise that I needed someone who understood me, who understood why I needed to kill in order to feel happy. It was a guilty pleasure and I knew it. Tsubame, who was a kind and sweet girl, was good company but I wanted something else.

And in a flash, it hit me: I needed my father.

Pity he was dead.

At that time, mother became bedridden from a recent illness. Tsubame and I got it too but not as badly as mother did. Before our eyes, her face grew pale and her eyes became bright with the shine I later associated with death. When she looked at me, there was no longer fear in her, but something else altogether which I cannot describe. Perhaps looking at me reminded her of Bankotsu and during her last days, her old love for him came back to haunt or perhaps comfort her. For she faced her mortality without a murmur. But I figured this out later.

I was only ten when mother started dying, but I knew the end result already, because death was my acquaintance. Tsubame, though… she seemed to think people live forever or something like that and she kept telling me that mother simply could not die. She refused to believe. I told her she was a fool for getting hopeful and it would only be more painful for her in the end. Tsubame sniffed very pathetically and asked me that, if it was true that mother was to die, would she be happy in the afterlife?

"Don't be an idiot," I replied. "There is no afterlife."

In truth, I was rather afraid that, should there be an afterlife, I would go below rather than above. So I became a hypocrite and refused to believe in what I didn't want to believe in.

Tsubame clung closer to me in those dark days and cried more than ever. I… never learnt how to cry. Killers aren't supposed to. I suppose I displayed my grief by being more violent than ever, so much so that no one would even dare look at me. It was only a matter of time, they reasoned, before I would be out to kill them all in their beds. It was pathetic to reason that, since I would rather not kill men so weak.

Meanwhile mother's state grew even worse, and Tsubame started tending to the household in her steed. (She was a good little housewife, Tsubame was.) On the night before she died, mother called me to her bed in a very tired voice, and I knew then that her end was nigh.

"What is it, mother?" I asked her, frowning.

"Chokotsu," mother returned, coughing weakly into her white hand, "I want you to know that I have…" (Cough) "Always loved you as much as Tsubame, despite what you may think."

I didn't answer; I wanted her to continue.

"Chokotsu," mother began again, "I loved both sides of Bankotsu equally; I realise that now. Please, don't think ill of me." Tears were starting to stream down her eyes. "I love you, Chokotsu, I was only afraid you might leave me as Bankotsu did, and I'm sorry, so, so sorry." She started sobbing. "When I am gone, Chokotsu, I want you to do as you must in the world, but please, take care of Tsubame. She is your sister and loves you so much. Oh, please, Chokotsu!" And she could not speak because she was crying too hard.

I gently laid a hand on her and said softly, "Go to sleep, mother. You'll feel better in the morning."

At length, mother's sobs subsided and she closed her eyes and laid her head back on the pillow. "Thank you, Chokotsu," she murmured brokenly. She said something else but her voice was so low I did not catch it. I watched her for a few minutes until her breathing became even and I knew she was asleep. Then I got up silently and left the room, so as not to disturb my peaceful mother.

She never woke from that sleep.

I was a changed person when I touched mother's cold hand the next morning. I think I can say confidently that when I was ten, I ceased being a boy and became a man. I did not cry at the quiet funeral, and I buried mother myself. As I covered her clammy, lifeless body with dirt, I said, "Well, that's that, mother. I hope you had a good life. I don't expect we shall ever meet again."

"Oh, how can you say that, Chokotsu?" Tsubame sobbed, for she was quite distraught.

I sighed heavily, leaning on the spade as I stared into the blank expanse of the sky. "Now why should you ever see your loved ones after you die? It's pointless; they've served their purpose already." I looked back at Tsubame. "We've got to think about our present situation, Tsubame. We're orphans now and we've got to fend for ourselves. Got any ideas?"

The teary-eyed Tsubame shook her head.

"I would like to become a mercenary some day," I said.

Tsubame blinked. "L… Like Bankotsu?" she asked.

"Yes," I replied, "like Bankotsu. But to do it, I must become stronger, much stronger."

"Then," said Tsubame, drawing closer to me, "I will help you, big brother. I don't know how but I will." There were still tears in her eyes, but those beautiful, blue orbs showed now a fierce resolve. And instantly, I felt my affection for her magnify, if that was possible.

"All right, Tsubame," I said. "I'll find something for you to do." And I truly meant it.

That's where it began, I would say. All dreams, all ambitions, they all take root somewhere. Perhaps it was Bankotsu who truly started it all, but what I do know is that I never felt a stronger desire to fight and be a man at any time before then. Sure, I had a fancy for it, but now I was determined to carry out my wishes.

Two orphans, all alone in the world, ready to start on the journey of a life-time. I knew I was at the very beginning of a long and dangerous path filled with ups and downs. But hell, I was gonna have fun. Risking one's life was inevitably like that.