My first ZoSan fanfiction! Go easy on me, please...

This chapter is like an introduction to the story so it's short and nothing much happens. ^^"

please tell me what do you think in reviews~

Cold autumn rain fell over the Samurai Country. Big raindrops hit the ground with unbelievable force. That strong rain hit the poor tiles on the roofs of wooden houses, creating a loud sound, like they were going to pierce through. There wasn't any wind but rain alone was making the weather cold enough. The sound of rain took over every other sound in the night. The moon was the only light that shone upon the country, making its way through the branches that already lost their leaves. The only other sound than the falling rain, which could be heard in that cold night, was a sound of footsteps splashing over the puddles and swampy ground.

The sharp sound of the whistle mixed with the rain and could barely be heard. A young man, about 19 years of age, ran through the woods, barely seeing where he was going. He held onto his rare katana, running as fast as he could, gasping for bits of cold air. The big wound on his chest re-opened, making it even harder for him to run. He still heard a large amount of footsteps coming closer after him, with the whistle fizzling every 30 seconds. Young man grabbed his blood-soaked kimono on his chest, trying to endure the pain but he also had his limits. He needed rest and a dry place, he needed medical help and food, but he just couldn't find any place to hide. He was being chased by the imperial police guards that whole day and his legs muscles hurt bad, mud making it harder for him to run. He was cold, wounded, tired, hungry and whatnot. Only his sheer will and his goal kept him alive and running.

He had no orientation in the rainy night, running through the thick forest. Three days of starvation effected his body, making it weaker than usual and the hard pouring rain only made it worse – he barely saw where he was running, his vision blurry both from hunger and the water of the rain.

The boy panted heavily as he stopped and leaned to a tree beside him. But, his break barely lasted for 5 seconds as the whistle was blown again and splashing footsteps were closing by.

'I need to get out of the woods. I can't outrun them forever. I need a place to hide.' he thought, gripping the bloody fabric on his chest. His wound was bleeding terribly fast, threatening his life. The young swordsman was in grave danger – if he looses too much blood he could die. But the muddy woods wasn't a place for him to die and nor was the imperial prison. He couldn't afford to die before achieving his life goal.

Somehow, after more hopeless running, swordsman was out of the woods and on the open ground, moon clearly shining on him. He looked around but couldn't see any safe place to go to – it was just more trees, more of the maze woods. He suddenly felt an unusual thing, which made him turn his head to the right. Before his eyes, on the full moon shining over him, from the shadows appeared an old runny building. It was barely noticeable, almost like it came from the ground, merging with the environment. The thing he felt was coming from that building and it was something like a presence but nothing human-like.

The familiar whistle broke his thoughts and without any more thinking, the swordsman went towards the building which resembled an old shrine. The rundown building was his only hope of survival, his only safe place where he could hide from the pursuing imperial guards. He was only hoping that it wasn't just another hallucination due hunger and fatigue. He dragged his feet as fast as he could and thankfully for him, the shrine was there, standing solid and hard to the touch. Still it gave out a feeling of illusion, like it wasn't there.

The wounded young man slid the wooden door and barely went inside, pain spreading through his body within the second he laid down on the wooden floor. He could barely think over the pain but the only thing he was hoping was for the guards not to find him, now that he was at his limit and couldn't move anymore. He was panting heavily but as soon as he heard the footsteps approaching, running and splashing through the mud, he closed his mouth with his one hand, muting his voice.

Heavy rain hit the old tiles on the shrine's roof, creating a loud sound, making it harder for the wounded man to focus on his hearing. The young man just wanted for the guards to pass and not notice the shrine he was hiding in. He heard the whistle one more time and after that came the footsteps that slowly silenced, meaning that the guards continued to run through the forest. The only sound that was left was the sound of the heavy autumn rain, hitting the concrete tiles on the roof.

The swordsman could now rest assure and breathe freely. But just that breathing was hard for him – the chest wound ached, still bleeding little by little. He was thankful that he found a safe place but… his strength was decreasing and he was starting to feel worse by the second. His life was hanging on a thin string. He could feel the temperature of his body rising, fever taking over.

'Is this really… the end?' he thought, unable to move because of the sharp pain dominating his body. He tried to stay strong and think of survival, but the pain was stronger.

A little sparkle of light came from the swordsman's right side. He managed to turn his head towards the source. It looked like a light from the candle, floating in midair. The man's vision was more blurry than before so all he saw was a little light, floating in the dark, like a firefly.

The young swordsman only panted, his eyes getting teary as a result of the fever. He didn't know if the light he sees is real or is he already a goner. He already discarded his life when he set a goal to himself so the part of him thought that the blurry thing he sees is just a part of the afterlife. However, the small candle-like light expanded and took a shape. To the ill man, it seemed like a human but on the other hand it didn't – it didn't have that human-like presence he knew of.

The glowing golden form came closer to the poor man and expanded an arm. The figure reached towards the swordsman but he couldn't lift his hand. He only held his katana, which he swore to never abandon, barely blinking to the light. He couldn't handle it anymore – the overall pain took over, making the man lose consciousness. He was ready to accept his fate.

x To be continued x