Note: I had to do it eventually… we've got Kambei, we've got Shichiroji, Nasami, Katsushiro, it's time for Kyuzo. What struck me most profoundly is how absolutely he lives his life. He knows his role – assassin. And as the old saying goes, "The assassin sees only throats and hears only heartbeats." He brings death without hesitation, mercy, or remorse. But what would happen if once… just once…
He doubted?
The music for this story is an excerpt from the score of the film CRIMSON TIDE. (PM me for the link if you want it.)
The Assassin's Song
Where there is light, I bring shadows…
The moonlight was clear, its touch silvering everything with a faint caress, gilding the world in a mysterious stillness – the fields, the river, the waterfall, the homes… but there was one thing that the moonlight could not reach.
Where there is life, I bring death…
He stood poised, stilling every muscle, quieting his breath, calming even his heartbeat until he seemed carved from marble. The shadows flowed over him until he seemed as insubstantial as they.
Which is more dangerous?
Somewhere in his mind, he was aware of sound – the creak of the water wheel, the wind in the trees, the crashing rumble of the waterfall. But for him, there was only one thing that truly held his attention.
The threat that you can see?
The only motion, barely detectable but for the faintest of chimes, came from his swords. They hung motionless in the air, but they sang their siren song for movement, for power… for death.
Or the threat that you can't?
He had stood that way for minutes… hours… days? He had been standing like that forever, perhaps. The tension and ache in his muscles were like old friends, things he had become so accustomed to that he almost didn't notice them. Almost.
I hear only your heartbeat…
It was said that swords held the spirit of the smiths who forged them. A sword forged by a peaceful man would turn even a leaf away rather than pierce it, while a sword forged by a violent man would turn on anything, even its wielder, in its relentless thirst for bloodlust.
I see only your throat…
He wondered idly what sort of man would forge a sword that felt nothing.
Your fate belongs to me…
The song of the swords grew louder, the hum now perceptible in the night air, calling to him, urging him on. His soul had echoed that song with each death, had tasted oblivion with each life he had sent flashing into the darkness.
Your life belongs to me…
One face loomed above all in his mind, the obsession that taunted him awake each morning, and dragged him into sleep each night.
Your soul belongs to me…
At the thought of him, the katanas' song rose in pitch, vibrating in his grip as though he held an electrical wire, its power coursing unstoppably through him.
I am Death made carnate…
With an almost palpable shock, he saw him, as though the thought of him had summoned him like a spirit. Standing at the edge of the woods, hands at his sides, sword sheathed. His only movement was the rustling of his robes in the night breeze, his hair idly blowing around his shoulders.
I ignore the weight of a thousand souls…
All at once, his hands shook, and the song of the swords in his mind seemed to be screaming his name, howling for death. But now the only heartbeat he could hear… was his own.
But how can I kill you…
For an eternity, they stood and stared at one another. They knew what it would mean if they truly faced one another. This time, there would be no postponement, no escape, no reprieve. Only one would survive.
When you give my life purpose?
He clenched his teeth until his jaw ached, his muscles tensed to the point of agony, adrenaline sweeping through him… and yet he hesitated. And in that moment, everything changed.
I may be your death…
His breath hissed out as silently as wind on water, and slowly, he lowered the swords, their song fading away. The flame in his eyes dimmed, and he leaned back wearily against a tree as the other man turned away, disappearing into the woods.
But you are my hell.
Alone in the shadows, his swords at his sides, he closed his eyes and let his head fall back. Then the clouds parted, and a shaft of moonlight fell on his face, as the wind caressed his tears away.
