Makato
Shi-Shi-O: The Boy Inside
She was shivering in his arms, pressing
her small body against his, wringing his torso with her arms as she seeked some
desperate shelter.
"Shi-Shi-O-kun," she whispered softly, as he slowly wrapped
his arms around her as well, and ran with her under the shelter of a nearby
roof-edge. They giggled quietly, as all
teenagers tend to do when they are happy and the weather around them is not. The rain came pouring down all around them,
falling hard and forcing even the most determined vendors off the street.
Even though she no longer needed
Shi-Shi-O's protection from the rain, Yuri clung onto his ragged and worn
clothes with all her might. She could
feel the beating of his heart with her ear, and she could sense his lustrous
smile with her soul. Shi-Shi-O was more
than content to hold Yuri in his arms, shielding her from harm, as he seemed to
have done his whole life. Fifteen years
he'd known her, since his birth, and for seemingly fifteen years, she had been
dependant on him to be her knight in shining armor; a role he enjoyed very
much.
"Yuri-chan," he whispered back
to her, resting his chin on her soft hair, and closing his eyes, comfortable to
the sound of the falling rain. His hands
were clasped together behind her back, and even though the evening air was cold
under the clouds of rain, he would never forget how warm his hands were at that
moment in time.
The rain slowly faltered away, and the
two of them headed back to their homes: Yuri, to her small house on the edge of
Tokyo, where she was the polite daughter of an accountant for a rice company;
Shi-Shi-O, to the training dojo in the heart of the city, where he was the
shining star in a class where stars were a dime a dozen.
Before Shi-Shi-O and Yuri parted though,
they clasped hands, and Shi-Shi-O looked deep into her eyes. He wanted to tell her just how different he
felt inside when she was around, yet he could find no words to do so. She had a sudden urge to pull Shi-Shi-O
close, and warn him just how deeply she cared for him, yet she was also at a
loss for words. Suddenly though, their
eyes spoke for them, and with the grace of the wind upon the skies, they kissed
one another as gently as two people ever could.
When it was over, Shi-Shi-O smiled, and Yuri beamed, then they set off
away from each other, blushing red as could be.
* * *
"Again Shi-Shi-O!"
"Hai!" Shi-Shi-O was already drenched in sweat, cut
and bruised from hours of training, and possessing a throbbing in his hands
that would not go away, no matter how loosely he clutched his sword.
The small boy rushed after his sensei at
full speed, attacking with as much power as he could muster; more than enough
to kill any normal man, yet not enough to touch the leader of the dojo, who was
renowned throughout Japan for his skill with the blade. The master was forced to quickly side-step
his student's weapon, which barely fell off the mark, before again knocking the
boy down with his wooden sword.
"Again, Shi-Shi-O!"
"HAI!" Shi-Shi-O screamed in anger off the
ground. Within him, it seemed, burned
the desire of a thousand dead samurai's, all of which wanted nothing more than
to finally defeat Shi-Shi-O's master once and for all. Shi-Shi-O pulled himself off the ground,
shook his head to clear it, and then once again rushed after his master, this
time trying a different attack he had learnt just a few days before.
He came even closer with this next
attack, yet still not close enough.
Again he was knocked aside, and again his master shouted forcefully at
him. "Good Shi-Shi-O! There is no give in you, never lose
that!" The small boy wanted to
almost smile from the compliment, yet he had no time to, as the master yelled once
more, "Again!"
They continued for many more minutes,
till finally Shi-Shi-O's body was un-able to respond to the warrior's spirit
that coursed through his veins. He lay
on the ground, bloody, bruised, and sore beyond belief. Never before had he known such pain, yet
somehow his hands were immune to it all.
They were cramped and tender, yet while the rest of his body was burning
with adrenaline and heat, they remained merely warm, like they had been under
that rooftop the day before.
"Very good Shi-Shi-O-kun," the
child's master said, motioning for some more students to help the younger boy
off the ground. "Keep this up, and
one day you'll be one of the most powerful warrior's in Japan."
Shi-Shi-O fell asleep that night, in
agony, with that very dream in his mind.
* * *
They ran through the grass as carefree as
any could be, their laughs ran clear and loud through the thin and motionless
air, and not a single doubt clouded their minds.
Six more months had passed since that
first kiss, and there had been many more since then, as their feelings grew
stronger with each fleeting day. And
ever since that first kiss, the
feeling in Shi-Shi-O's hands had never left, almost as though the warmth inside
them was a reminder of his care for Yuri.
He never told her about the way his hands felt warm, but, somehow, he thought
she already knew.
"Shi-Shi-O-kun, come over
here!" She was standing on the edge
of a grassy cliff, one that looked out on a small lake tingling with vibrant
purples, greens and blues. All around
the pond there was a grass richer than the most powerful politicians, and a sky
hung overhead that was more beautiful than any creature of creation ever could
be.
Shi-Shi-O joined Yuri on the cliff, and
together they looked down on the emptiness of the lake, which seemed untouched
by human hands. As he looked down on the
pond, the warmth in Shi-Shi-O's hands seemed to increase, and he had a sudden
longing to wrap Yuri in his arms once again, and look into her eyes.
Rather than trying to hold back on his
temptation, he gave in, and with a quick movement, had swept the petite girl
into his body, and stared long into her dark green eyes. She stared back into his own dark blue eyes,
and quickly pulled her arm out, and then grabbed onto his hands with hers. She pushed herself into his chest, and they
held hands for several moments before Shi-Shi-O lowered his head and leaned in
to kiss her.
Before their lips could meet though, a
cry came out from below them, at the foot of the hill leading to the
cliff. "Shi-Shi-O-Sama!" Shi-Shi-O jerked his head away, and Yuri
slowly lowered hers, releasing his hands to save the boy any embarrassment in
front of one of his friends. His hands
remained warm, but he still urged to kiss her, even if one of his friends would
see him do it. It soon became apparent
he wouldn't have the chance though.
"Shi-Shi-O-Sama!" The
voice rang out again, and Shi-Shi-O soon recognized it as a boy's from his
dojo. "Sensei wants to see you
right away; he says it's important."
"Hai," Shi-Shi-O murmured in
return, nodding towards his fellow student before looking back at Yuri, whose
head had dropped, and whose smile had been replaced by a mute tone of
anxiety. "What's wrong?" Shi-Shi-O asked, pushing Yuri's chin up with
his hand, so he could once again gaze into her eyes.
"Nothing…" she replied,
failingly hiding the truth.
"What is it? Tell me, please."
"It's just… you spend so much time
training your budo, it's almost as though you don't have any time to spend with
me."
"Yuri-chan," he said, almost
stammering, as though he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You know I care a great deal for you. It--it's just that I was born to be a warrior,
there's nothing I can do about that."
"I know that… and I,
understand," she replied, also stuttering slightly, a sudden lump in her
throat clogging her words. "But…
but, can warrior's love, the way you love?"
Shi-Shi-O was stunned, almost like he had
no idea what that word meant. He asked
himself if indeed he loved Yuri, and even though he had many misgivings about
it in his mind, his heart spoke true, and so did his hands. "Hai," he whispered into her ear,
as he again grabbed her hands, tilted towards her, and kissed her softly.
When their mouths parted, Yuri was again
smiling; but her smile was weak, nearly forced.
She whispered back, slowly, "Hai."
* * *
It turned out Shi-Shi-O's sensei had
wanted to speak to him about the training dojo's succession technique, which
the master thought Shi-Shi-O was ready to learn, even though he was only
fifteen years of age.
After the sensei had explained the
technique to him, and shown him a quick demonstration on a dummy, he gave
Shi-Shi-O a couple of minutes to practice the attack before calling him over
once again.
"Now," he said, "it's time
for the real thing. Come out now!"
From behind a nearby building, walked a
young man, perhaps 18, clothed in Samurai garb, and sporting an unsheathed
sword. The young man stared at Shi-Shi-O
as though he were a beast of some sort; the older boy's eyes were clamped wide,
and his face was dripping with sweat.
"He, is to be your opponent."
"What?" Shi-Shi-O asked, astounded.
"The succession technique of our
budo leaves nothing to chance, Shi-Shi-O.
It either kills, or does not connect, that's all there is to it. Up until now, you have been able to practice
without killing a man, but those days are over now. From this point on, it is survival of the
fittest. Remember, the strong survive,
the weak just die."
Shi-Shi-O was scared at his master's
words, yet he had been taught them from the moment he had entered the dojo as
an orphan. His hands were still warm,
but the rest of his body shivered with a cold sweat, the very thought of
finally coming face to face with the chance to kill a man overpowering the
years of preparation he had faced.
"Do you understand, Shi-Shi-O-kun?"
"…Hai."
The sensei backed away, and left the two
boys to fight in their duel. Shi-Shi-O
wanted to finish the fight quickly by using his newfound succession technique,
but his opponent would not give Shi-Shi-O the required opening. They played cat and mouse for several
seconds, and even though the older boy was much more powerful than Shi-Shi-O,
the young man seemed nervous and fidgety, as though every move Shi-Shi-O made could
propose sudden death. By the time the
first swing was cast, the older teenager's face was wrenched in agony, his
breathing coming in short and sudden gasps.
For a split second before the first move was made, Shi-Shi-O's eyes, and
the boy's, locked, and Shi-Shi-O saw, for the first time, the depths of fear
that he had pounded in the boy's soul.
It seemed strange to Shi-Shi-O at that time, but he almost enjoyed that
look, and as he witnessed it, his hands almost burned with pleasure. Makato Shi-Shi-O, a fifteen year old boy,
struck.
It took him perhaps a second to kill the
older boy, severing his head with a single swipe, and sending a shower of red
onto the ground. The succession
technique had proved useful. He looked
at the boy's detached head, and saw with pleasure that the boy's eyes were
still locked into that palatial level of fear.
He stared for several moments into those eyes, and ingrained that look
into his memory for his entire life. His
hands were merely warm once again, and he breathed deeply as his master took
Shi-Shi-O under his arm, and led him away.
"Very good Shi-Shi-O, you're a true Samurai."
That night, Shi-Shi-O fell into sleep
dreaming of that look, and how warm his hands had been just as he had seen it.
* * *
Another six months had passed, and even
Shi-Shi-O and Yuri could not escape the tidings of war in far off Kyoto.
There was talk running rampant throughout the streets of westerners
corrupting Japan, and an equal amount of talk of the
current government corrupting the very same country. Still, as Shi-Shi-O walked amongst the
streets, bearing the sword that he had kept after killing his first opponent,
his heart was light, and the talk seemed like only that, talk, which could do
no harm to a fully trained Samurai.
He was walking to meet with his love, his
life, Yuri, who had been spending increasingly less and less time with
Shi-Shi-O since the boy had mastered his succession technique, as his entire
waking life was being devoted to Budo.
The wind had been gusting all day, and it seemed to be picking up as he
headed to meet Yuri. Even that could not
put a damper on his heart though, as he had slowly realized that everything in
his life was going as perfectly as he could hope for.
When he finally met up with her, near her
house on the edge of town, he could almost instantly tell something was
wrong. Her clothes were very dark and
worn, unlike the usual brightly coloured garments she usually wore. Her back was turned to Shi-Shi-O, and he
quickly rushed to his side, where he tapped her on her shoulder, and said
loudly, "Hello!"
Yuri turned towards Shi-Shi-O, and
instantly, his heart sunk. Her eyes were
torn asunder, rings appearing beneath them, evidence of her constant
tears. "Shi-Shi-O-kun," she
said lightly, her voice soft and weak.
"Yuri-chan," he almost gasped,
grabbing her shoulders in alarm and looking deeply into her eyes, "what's
wrong?"
Amazingly, almost forcefully, she slung
Shi-Shi-O's hands off her shoulders, and she whispered weakly, "Something
terrible has happened Shi-Shi-O."
Shi-Shi-O was almost speechless at this
sudden display of apathy, but he managed to get out, "What is it,
Yuri?"
"My father…" she began, choking
on her own words and shutting her eyes to keep back the tears. "My father, he's been called in to help
protect the government in Kyoto. We have to move
away in just a little while."
"Wh…wha…what?" Shi-Shi-O's words were stumbling, almost
falling over themselves in his lack of understanding. "What do you mean you have to, move
away?"
"We're leaving, tomorrow, Shi-Shi-O,
for Kyoto.
I've tried to convince my dad to stay, but he says he can't, he says he
owes it to the government."
"The… the government?"
"Hai," Yuri coughed, her tears
suddenly overpowering her, and streaming down her face. This time, Shi-Shi-O didn't even make an
attempt to hold her; he merely stared at her, his mouth hung open in disbelief.
He couldn't understand what was going on;
he barely even heard a word she'd said after "move away". His mind was suddenly falling apart,
screaming in confusion as to what was going on.
As he had been taught to do when he was confused, he grabbed the hilt of
his sword, and squeezed it as hard as he could.
His hands were still warm, as they had been for the entire year since
they'd kissed, but now they were a different kind of warm; a shearing, singing
and terrible kind of warm. They were
hot.
And it wasn't just his hands, his entire
body felt like it was boiling over itself in bewilderment. He began trembling, much as Yuri was, though
for very different reasons. "Why?
Why?!? Why are you leaving
me?" He suddenly began shouting,
screaming at the top of his voice, at Yuri.
She opened her eyes slightly and wiped
away enough tears to see just how angry he was becoming. "I told you Shi-Shi-O-kun, I don't have a
choice, my father… the government."
"The government…" he repeated
again, mouthing her very tone. "But
why Yuri? Why now? I love you!
You know I love you!"
"I know, Shi-Shi-O, I just, I just
don't have a choice."
"But you're strong Yuri, I know you
are. The strong always have a
choice!"
"No, Shi-Shi-O-kun, the strong don't
always get what they want. The strong
one's who have swords, maybe, but not all the strong ones." Her voice was low.
"Sword?" Shi-Shi-O again mimed, clutching his weapon
even tighter in his hand. "Is this
why?" He shouted again, pulling the
sword from his belt and holding it in front of him, with both hands. "Is this why you're leaving me? Because I'm a Samurai?"
He didn't even give her a chance to
respond, he merely acted. The sword
slipped from his hands, which remained in the air, and clamoured onto the
ground, where it rested peacefully.
"I love you more than I love a sword, Yuri-chan."
His Love was quite taken aback, but she
knew in her heart that he spoke only the truth.
"I know, Shi-Shi-O, but--but…" she whispered, stammering,
before halting for a moment, grasping his hands in her own, and sighing, "I
love you too."
Their hands stopped trembling in one
another's for as long as they were held, and Shi-Shi-O was again overcome by
the warmness that he felt in them, till they overrode the fear and confusion in
his brain, and all he felt was the warmth in his hands.
Slowly, Yuri pulled her hands away from
his, and, kneeling down, she picked up his sword, and placed it back in his
open hands. "I think you'll need
this, my love, Makato Shi-Shi-O-kun."
She slowly walked away, a single tear
running down Shi-Shi-O's cheek, and burning its way through his skin. The heat in his hands remained, even as he
clamped his hand around the sword, and again put it at his side. He was suddenly reminded of the look of the
young man whom he'd killed. The warmth
in his hands increased, while the rest of him was left colder. He let that single tear finish its course.
* * *
Makato Shi-Shi-O, and the vision of that
boy within him, had been in many strange places in the four years after Yuri
had left him, but nowhere as strange as the forest floor that lonesome night.
He had not killed a man for several days,
and he could feel the heat in his hands fading, as it tended to do when the
smell of blood was not around him. He
had long since determined that death, and the fear he created in those he
killed, was a more than suitable replacement for Yuri's hands. Still, when he went without that warmth, he
tended to get agitated, which often lead to useless murders, which even he
hated to perform.
He sat down in the middle of the forest
clearing, as he had been instructed to wait for the resistance's general, and
he performed some quick meditation practices, that focused on bringing out the
calmer side of him. In his trance, he
tried to recall many things, but none of them worked as well as the memory of
one rainy night five years past. By the
time the general had come, he was well relaxed, and he could almost feel the
returning warmth in his hands.
It didn't take Shi-Shi-O long to realize
just what was going to happen to him, nor did he care. He had accepted his death for several years,
ever since becoming the replacement Hitokiri for the Meiji Restoration group
that was fighting in Kyoto.
Still, he didn't expect his death to be that painful.
The bullets tore through him quicker than
he had imagined, but gave less pain than he had envisioned as well, while the
gasoline they poured on him smelt worse than anything he'd experienced in the
past. The fire though, was something
else entirely. It hurt, that he couldn't
deny, but more than that, it heated his whole body, as though the heat in his
hands had been passed on throughout his entire being. He let the fire burn him, he let the flames
burn the blue colour out of his eyes, and he let the warmth reach a point no
human could endure; and then he screamed.
Makato Shi-Shi-O recalled a word that had
held some meaning for him a while ago, as he walked away in writhing
agony. He could never say why he
remembered that word at that time, but the warmth in his body, and in his
hands, seemed to recall it for him.
"Government," he whispered, hoarsely. "They, will burn too."
* * *
Shi-Shi-O looked down on everything he
had lost in his fight with Himura Kenshin, and he felt like laughing.
There was his empire, the one that had
never been created, and the one he had envisioned of bringing down the Meiji
government with. There was his Ju Pon
Gatana, which had been created as ten of the most deadly swords in Japan's history, only to fall to a bunch of
brat's, and a man who had vowed to never kill again. There was his assistant, who was the closest
person he had ever trusted after his heart had been so brutally shattered at
the age of sixteen. There had been his
fire's, which had always reminded him just what true affection was.
Then, there was Yumi. He had liked her, not like he had loved Yuri,
but he had truly liked her. When he was with her, the rest of him turned
cooler, leaving his hands warm: that was the way he liked it the most. He had little misgivings about killing her
though, he had often wondered what her touch would give him when combined with
the look of fear that one got before dying.
It proved to be less exciting than he'd hoped.
And as he flailed through the air, a
victim of the Hitokiri Battousai's succession technique, he looked back and
could vaguely recall someone telling him that he had turned from a boy into a
man, into a Samurai. As he crashed into
the ground however, he felt nothing like a Samurai; he felt like a boy, one who
was frightened and dead. He realized
that he was now that boy whose face he had carried around all those years. The boy inside had been turned loose, and he
was terrified; he was dead.
Makato Shi-Shi-O screamed inside himself,
and lost all feeling throughout his body, except for his hands, and his eyes,
one of which was warm, and the other of which was viewing the look of a young
woman whose eyes had looked into his, and caused his hands to burn with
pleasure.
Makato Shi-Shi-O died a happy man, burned
to death from the inside out.
* * *
Author's Note: At the time I was writing this, I was
practically unable to find any other Shi-Shi-O fanfics, so I decided to give it
a try. It may seem off base, but it does
perhaps shed a bit of light on the subject.
Also, so you know, I've never seen/read the final battle between Kenshin
and Shi-Shi-O, so if some information is wrong, sorry.
