Prologue: Writhing path through ruins
"One sword keeps another in the sheath. Sometimes the threat of violence alone is a deterrent. Sometimes by taking a life, others can be preserved. It's the code the Samurai lived by."
Sakura, the cherry blossom tree. A withered one, like countless others. Just another grim silhouette of leaveless branches and gnarled, peeling bark. Fallen husks lied around, decaying in pools of dark oily fluid. No cure or salvation could save the plant now. Parsha deliberately took it's time, rapidly crippling victims' body, before making them rot from inside out. The incurable venom was brought here by foreigners, to serve as a weapon of war.
No could not deny it effectiveness.
Disgracing...and this was all he could offer. He had naught to pay proper respect, naught to give as compensation, besides few empty words, meaningless without the one to hear them.
The last memory of this deserted place, was painful one, forever kept alive in his mind. Under his very legs, was buried the last link to the old life, that was no more. Had he known were his path would lead eventually, he might have been able to alter it. However, not even the wisest scholars know what lies in distant future and neither can they change past. The present was his own doing, his own creation. It is a real shame, so many innocent had to be sacrificed to finally force his eyes to open.
Gusts of wind whispered gently, singing a familiar tune. Mute howl from thousands condemned souls. Of eternally wandering spirits, seeking redemption, yet never fated to.
Absent minded, he reached behind his back, hands in blind frenzy, searching for a flask. His whole arms were shaking, like in acute fever. Either he didn't notice or simply didn't care. Eventually he found the object, bringing it right before his face, hastily sipping liquor with speed bordering on choking, spilling some in process. Escaped liquor run down his chin, painting wet trail. Only the fact the bottom has shown up stopped him from guzzling more.
Living fire burned his throat, which clenched from the amount of alcohol. Oh, how he missed this! Too drain unwanted thoughts with fiery liquid, blurry them in drunken stupor!
Even this didn't help him any longer. Stings of remorse emerged undefeated, wave after wave, wearing down the wall of persistence he had erected over the years. He was conflicted. Two contradictory ideas restlessly battled inside him.
"Remember that old promise I made? This one when I sworn on my lost honor...when we were slipping away..."
"Off course you do. How could you forget?"
"I followed the trail for several years now, tirelessly pursuing. Even though I hadn't no idea how the murderer looked like...or what his name was...I still was able to find him. He couldn't elude...me forever."
"Not that truly couldn't...he simply didn't want to. It seems that even villains have more conscience that I do."
Sound of screeching metal brushing against metal, pierced the silent night.
"I wanted him dead, more than anything on this or another world...For years I fed on my hatred, on grief. This clouded my judgment...since our last days...making me blind to certain facts, I should have seen from the beginning...I am aware I have no right to ask you for anything...I strained your trust too many times...but please, listen to me this one last time."
"I didn't...I couldn't kill the murderer...I broke the promise...one last time."
Blade cut with ease, sending soft splash echoing through wilderness.
"Forgive me, brother..."
