Chapter 02
Silence
Silence.
All dark.
All calm.
Tight sleep.
Painful sleep.
And no dreams.
No, no dreams.
No nightmares.
No thoughts.
Numbness.
And darkness.
Then thirst.
Increasing with every unconsciously taken breath. Hot air filling his lungs. Little coughs due to the dry dust whirled up into the air by the fast pace of the black, majestic strong stallions. Running. Needing no rest. Blood pumping viciously through their thick veins, manes dancing in the menacing wind their speed produced, dark eyes wide open, focused, their bodies following their master's every command obediently. Running. And his thirst growing. Growing unbearable.
Sand grains in his eyes as he slowly tried opening them, focussing his remaining strength into this action. How many hours had passed since he first lay eyes upon the blonde Uruk? How many days?
Finally, after what seemed hours for Hijiro, he had is eyes open, the surroundings gradually coming into focus.
Where the hell was he?
Everything was shaking, hard wood beneath him, sounds of galloping horses, sand everywhere, no shadow. Remorseless sun. How I hate it.
Only slowly did he realize that he was trapped in a stable, metal cage on a cart, being pulled by one of the stallions, in the middle of the Uruk army passing through Hell's mouth.
Hijiro froze, kept lying still on the wooden surface scarcely laid out with straw.
Felt… watched.
Ever so slowly, pain racing through his neck and back, he turned his head to the right and once again looked into the pair of seemingly black eyes. There they were again, those tender strands of blonde hair. And that grin. That smirk.
Suddenly, the blonde Uruk yelled out something incoherent to the other soldiers and the whole convoy came to a gradual stop.
Without the wind of the speed the sun's heat was even more unbearable and only now did Hijiro realize just how much he was sweating.
Just how unbearably dry his mouth was.
The loud opening of the metal cage's gate pulled him back into this situation. Startled he looked up – right into the face of the blonde soldier who was holding out a flask towards him.
"Drink this." he commanded with his deep voice and shoved it into Hijiro's face. The sound of the liquid inside splashing against the inner walls was enthralling, Hijiro lost control.
Nervously he screwed open the rusty cap and hastily gulped down the warm water, ignoring some of the liquid running down his chin onto his chest. He drank up the flask's whole content, greedily. And it felt so good.
A strong hand snatched the empty flask violently from him, leaving a tiny scratch on his right palm. And again their eyes met.
"Sweet dreams, Zyuan…", the blonde said almost mischievously.
Why the fuck is he grinning at me like this?!
Anger. Bitterness. Mostly anger.
How I wish I could kill you all…
Closing the tiny gate to the cage, the blonde Uruk kept his eyes fixed on Hijiro. Waiting. Slightly licking his salty and dry lips in the unbearable heat that was enclosing the army.
What… What…
A strange and eerie feeling started creeping over Hijiro suddenly. It was as if each part of his body was slowly going numb, one after the other. All of his remaining, now pathetic strength was being sucked out of him. When his hands went numb, his head crashed onto the cage's bottom and eyes shut.
All dark.
And the blonde Uruk delighted. Laughing out lout. Screaming "Let's move it!", to the soldiers and saddling his black horse he was still laughing.
The convoy proceeded.
The journey through Hell's mouth took them maybe four or five days. They did not recall, did not need to remember. All that counted was that the arrogant nation of Zyuan was finally destroyed.
They had done their duty and secured their alliance with the country of Ibuku.
Now it would probably only take four or five more weeks to reach Uruk's capitol Zenshin.
They had time.
And there was no danger.
Hijiro could not recall the journey. He never left the cage. The blonde Uruk would give him food and drink – and everyday he would be drugged, drifting off to his weird fantasies of his decapitated friend and the screams of the people of Zyuan. He would walk the deserted streets in the dark, smeared in blood, and he would not know where he was and only upon the weak waking he would remember and then drift off to sleep again.
All calm.
All dark.
Ah, how beautiful.
Even when in a state one could hardly call 'awake' Hijiro did not know what was going on, did not know where they were, did not understand what the blonde was speaking to him, everything was blurred.
But he didn't mind.
Sleep, sleep and sleep.
And watch the black horses run.
Yes, what beautiful horses. He should get one of these. When he will go back to Zyuan.
But there is no more Zyuan!
The blonde Uruk laughing, telling him "Sleep, sleep."
Or something like that.
Thus Hijiro did not know that his 'kidnappers' had journeyed with him for a whole months and three days.
Still drugged he did not witness being pulled out of the cart by the female slaves at dusk, the blonde Uruk yelling at them, him being taken into this giant building, almost resembling an antique Roman villa, being washed and shaven, fractions of his hair being cut, but not more than five centimetres, the blonde had yelled at his slaves. He couldn't recall being carried into the enormous, highly decorated room with the huge balcony stretching out towards the golden city of Zenshin, and now, at night, the chilly and relaxing wind was blowing over this balcony, directly into the giant chamber, as there was no glass or no door separating the two. It was never cold in Zenshin. Only hot.
Full moon, when he awoke.
He was laying on a futon, spread in front of the curved entrance to the balcony, the wind caressing him gently. No more drugs, his sight was focusing slowly. No dizzy feeling. He knew his name. He knew what had happened.
He sat up with a start.
He had been washed, he instantly felt that. And he wore new clothes. A light pair of khaki cotton wool pants and around his waist a red shawl was tighed loosely. No more.
"Ah, you are awake", said the sinister voice Hijiro had heard in his most wicked dreams.
He turned around instantly to where the voice was coming from and happened to look directly at the blonde Uruk who was sitting on a giant bed. Shirtless, his well formed chest and stomach visible in the full moon light. He wore black loose pants with a white shawl around his waist and black leather sandals. Both his arms were ornamented with silver bracelets. Around his neck he wore a silver amulet and also he had silver, long earrings dangling from his ears.
He stood up and with firm, quick steps approached Hijiro, who was too confused to make a single move, as if all his warrior-qualities had left him, and grabbed him by the left arm, with one pull lifting him up.
Now, they were facing each other. Hijiro being around two inches smaller than the blonde Uruk.
"Tell me your name!", the latter demanded in that deep voice.
Hijiro merely stared into his black eyes. So cold they seemed, so hard.
"You name!", the Uruk screamed that Hijiro's ears seemed to tremble from the inside and instinctively, just to stop this feeling, he answered.
"Hijiro."
"Well, the. Hi-ji-ro," the blonde man mockingly said, then changing into his usual deep tone continued: "I will ask you one more time as when I did the last time, you fainted like a weak woman."
Hijiro gritting his teeth. The blonde grinning, still holding Hijiro's arm tightly. Then he asked his question.
"Lover? Or Slave. Which position do you choose, Hijiro?"
Blood pulsing.
Images of his dead companions flashing before his eyes.
Embarrassment.
And anger.
Sheer anger.
Urge to destroy something.
Urge to hit.
Urge to pull out the sword.
But there was no sword.
Only his fists.
And he would use them.
Stretching the right arm out, hands shrinking to a fist, aiming at his perfect face and beating only into air.
Where did he…?
A kick in the back sending him right onto the floor and before he could so much as turn to one side, an elbow was hammered into his spine. Hard. A scream escaping his throat.
Turning around trying to hit now, but being hauled off the floor, hit against the wall, then, in one instant only, his two hands being grabbed, trapped above his head, him being pressed with his back to the wall. Looking straight into the anthracite eyes. Hating eyes. Superior eyes. Eyes of a winner.
"You made your choice!", he said. "Fine!", he grinned, pulling him across the room by his hands, hauling him onto the giant bed.
His back hurt viciously where the elbow had hit him. His arms burned where he had grabbed him. And now was grabbing again, pressing them above the head deep into the bed-linen.
"Now", he almost whispered. "I hope you understand by now that your power is inferior to the strength I possess. I killed a hundred of you comrades in merely minutes and I can kill you in less than a second. I know of every move you would do in a fight before you even get to action. I am your superior. I am your master and you will do anything I tell you to do. And now I am telling you not to move, slave, and let me enjoy you a little while." Grinning.
Grinning ripping down the cotton khaki pants in a single hand movement, turning Hijiro onto his stomach, hands gripping him at his waist, pulling him to his knees, spreading his legs with his own knees and then entering him with something hard and sharp.
Hijiro screamed at the impact filled with unbearable pain. His hands dug deep into the sheets, he bit his tongue until it was bleeding as the blonde Uruk brutally, quickly, without remorse thrust into him. Another thrust and he felt himself being torn inside. He screamed and right at this instant, his master grabbed his hair and brutally pulled back his head, in his sinister, deep, angered voice hissing directly into his ear: "Did I not tell you to be quiet?!" and after that pushing Hijiro's head with sheer brute force back against the sheets, almost making him suffocate as he continued to thrust into him.
Hours of pain it seemed for Hijiro when the blonde Uruk finally filled him with his warm liquid.
Slight relief, when he pulled out, blood dripping onto the sheets.
Instantly he was thrown onto the floor, the master kicking him over the floor onto the futon he had awakened on. Hijiro couldn't say anything. The pain taking over the whole control of his body. Ignoring the shame. Ignoring the hatred. Sheer pain eating him from the inside.
He startled as the blonde Uruk put his hands and legs into heavy metal cuffs, then, leaving him laying naked and tied on the futon, got dressed and went to the door.
Before leaving, he turned around and looking into Hijiro's miserable eyes said:
"My name is Satsuki, just in case you feel like screaming my name next time."