Honour
Some people are too dangerous to keep alive. Shishio... Was one of these people. He had a special instinct in knowing who could harm him, and he knew when it was time to strike when they were the most vulnerable.
Blessings can be odd that way.
And when it is your time to depart from the living, it was your time. Especially when death was by the katana of the Tenken, Soujirou.
Sitting traditionally, with a sword laying across his lap, a peaceful if nervous expression on his aging face. Most of said face of the government official was lax, except for three tense worry lines on his inner forehead. They marked clear, deep lines into his skin.
They, brown eyes mostly calm snapped open. Staring into the darkness, the only light coming from the sliver of the moon, the plain brown eyes blinked slowly. Then, entire posture stiffened as if knowing, yet not seeing death approaching.
The official had made this vigil three times now, sitting in his room, alone and apart from his family. Dark shadows, under his eyes, were only deepened as he backed away from the light.
Every night Soujirou had watched this man, waiting until the third night when he would be weary and exhausted. It was near dawn, but still dark.
The middle aged man knew death was coming. He had made too many mistakes in a fragile world, he had been rocking the boat too hard. Too many people had noticed in their quiet way, now tonight, or maybe tomorrow, but soon he would face revenge and retribution.
Opening his eyes again, he gazed at the moon. The many shadowed facets, a mere slip in a crescent. The aging man seemed to shake in it's gaze.
From behind, Soujirou raised his katana, preparing to strike from behind and behead this man.
In the cool radiance of the moon, the official sighed.
Eyes widened as the rush of air hit his face from the swing of his blow. The sitting former samurai, skills weak from age and the modern West, had managed to deflect some of the blade's impact.
But not enough...
Gasping for air. his eyes bulging for his half hacked neck. His mouth wobbled, lips wet from saliva and blood.
"No..." A spasm of pain left him near silent. Soujirou watched him calming, willing to hear the last of the dying man's words. Resting on his blade, already embedded in the polished wood floors. "No Honour!" Came a near quiet exclamation from the shaking body.
Honour...?
Smiling, Soujirou shook his head, a small whispery laugh escaping his lips. There is only the strong... And you are far too weak.
Shishio was right, Soujirou knew this as he yanked his katana out of the ground, leaving a large crack in the surface, but briefly similar worry lines had appeared on his smooth forehead.
Staring back at the half decapitated body, eyes blank and already milking over, body tense from the soul's departure, frowning lightly Soujirou...
Flew the scene of the crime as the shrill scream rocked the house.
Someone had noticed the blood, slowly leaving the room via the doorway.
Soujirou had fled, without remorse, a smooth face with a small smile lighting up his face as he heard the chaos behind him. Shishio would be pleased
AN: Thanks to all the people who have reviewed, you're wonderful. The feedback has been excellent.
