Author: Nami-chan.
Pairing : :DateSana, MotoMoto, KoSasu, IeMitsu, and some other I won't spoil
Disclaimers : I think we all would like to have the on right Sengoku Basara, but it's not my case
Dragon Tales Book Two
Part 36
When someone come out of a deep sleep, when they are caught between consciousness and unconsciousness, it became hard to fully trust sense Often, it remain the last function of the human body to emerge from lethargy, restarting like the embers of a dying fire that was gently stirred.
It is almost always necessary to go through the gradual awakening of those senses to awaken, first was the hearing. A noise, a different sound pushed our brain to be activated... but was not the case for Yukimura, no sound, not even the beating of his own heart reasoned around him.
The touch on the other hand, the sensation of a smooth thing passing over his skin was what awakened him, pushing a grunt of discomfort to rise from his throat. His rest disturbed, he was presently in this semi state of consciousness. He couldn't really move, not even start to realize that it couldn't be Masamune waking him so delicately.
And then it came back to him abruptly, it was not possible... because he was supposed to be...
He jerked upright in a sitting position, his eyes still full of life abruptly opened in front of an unknown landscape. The air entered his lungs in quick breath, his brutal awakening having consumed all the oxygen in his blood to activate the military reflexes he had assimilated over years of training.
This was far from a familiar place. The thought that Yukimura had the moment when his gaze swept over the empty and dark immensity that surrounded him, a gray dessert devoid of any relief or color, volcanic sand under his laying body… well maybe he was dead after all. Even if his chest rose in rhythm, even if the frenzied beating under his hand could only be that of his heart, Yukimura was certain that he did die.
The strangest thing being that the equally gray sky didn't seem to be obscured by any cloud and yet without the slightest ray of sunshine warming up his numbed body, it was as bright as in daylight.
Somewhere this place was something vaguely familiar, as if he had already come here before. It was as if his body remembered to compensate for lack of clearly identifiable memory. It didn't seem impossible to him, for as a samurai, he had already been near death several times.
However, this wasn't exactly how Yukimura imagined the limbo. Well to be truthful, he never really thought about his own death. Serving his lord was much more important and occupied the larger part of his mind when he it wasn't occupied by a certain Dragon.
Neither wind nor peculiar odor could reach him. The sand beneath him was hard enough to bear his weight and soft enough to remain comfortable at the same time. Sufficiently friable so that when he closed his hand on it, the grains cracked between his fingers before flowing out of his closed hand transformed into finer particle.
Yet, Yukimura was calm, at peace. The prospect of his death caused no anguish in him and in fact if he really paid attention neither any other emotion. He knew that he died fulfilling his duty. It was just that he couldn't properly recall how or when it happened exactly, or why.
But it was of no importance at this moment. Everything felt normal.
Straightening his head up at this thought, Yukimura startled as he noticed that he wasn't as lonely as the void on which he had opened his eyes suggested.
As if being frightened by his rude awakening, sort of small fireflies or orange-green luminous spheres approached him with what seemed to be wariness. Floating and twirling around him in a coordinated circle without any of them seeming to follow the same trajectory.
They formed a small cloud. There should be no more than a dozen now that Yukimura took his time to observe them. They danced in the air, sometimes leaving bright trails in their wakes. Little by little they crept closer to Yukimura who dared not to make the slightest movement. He was, however, always alert, for though they seemed harmless, they could always have been hostile.
Unless they were there to guide him to the boat which will make him cross the great river?
"Oooh." Yukimura could not hold back an exclamation of admiration.
His sudden exclamation frightened the fireflies again, and they lost their coordination in their desperation to move away from him, though they had nowhere to hide.
Seeing them agitated, Yukimura raised his hands in a sign of peace, "Ah, no, I-" but quickly realizing that he did not even know if these creatures would hear his attempts to reassure them, he stopped.
But this wasn't enough, and the fireflies soon moved away after forming a small luminous cloud. Yukimura followed their trajectory before trying to get up to follow them. He didn't want to risk losing what seemed to come closest to a guide.
His left leg normally obeyed his command, his knee bending to help his foot reach the floor. His right leg, on the other hand, was nailed to the ground. Yukimura breath caught in his throat, not by surprise this time but by the horrible finding that he had something wrapped around his leg.
This thing was not there before, he was sure of it. His instinct told him that he maybe wasn't entirely responsible for the firefly's flight after all.
It looked like a snake ... no, it was a shadow, a cold shadow through which he could still see his captive member. And that shadow had wrapped itself around his leg like a snake or climbing plant would have.
Yukimura tried to pull his leg out of his grip but it was useless efforts. All the calm he felt since his awakening collapsed when the shadow came up on him; soon it was already wrapping itself around his waist. This feeling of impediment, of helplessness, the more he struggled to get rid of it, the more the shadow progressed and his reduced his margin of movements. It wasn't like him, Yukimura was strong. Yukimura was witty enough to get out of the most dangerous situations. He couldn't find himself paralyzed, devoured and then spit out by whatever demon of the underworld.
Panting under his efforts to free himself, he also tried to struggle against the anguish that was invading him.
If this was to be his own personal hell, well... Yukimura didn't even dare think about it.
The shadow suddenly stopped at his chest, as if it had heard the young man's darker thoughts. It relaxed but the constant pressure Yukimura felt on him didn't falter. He had been right in comparing it to a snake, for at that moment the shadow looked like an asp, strained on his chest ready to strike at his beating pulse with his fangs laden with venom.
But it wasn't really a snake. A snake's head didn't resemble five crooked and sinuous fingers attached to a human hand. A hand that actually pointed what should be his index right finger on him. Yukimura swallowed, a little curiosity supplanting his anxiety and pushing him to cease all useless struggle. He had to keep his strength and watch for the opportune moment. It looked more like himself, his strong will to stay live, although he was already dead.
The crooked index finger thing pointed to his nose, then the palm of the hand turned towards the sky, and the finger moved up several times like it was making a sign to Yukimura. To what? To follow it?
The shadow, (the arm?) withdrew from his body, releasing Yukimura slowly enough so that he had time to properly record the situation. Then Yukimura finally got up, still out of breath due to the somewhat traumatic experience he went through. Gladly he had recovered quickly and now felt only curiosity for the thing facing him.
The shadow seemed to wait for Yukimura, dragging on the ground like a long rope losing itself in the gray sand. Strangely, it seemed to have grown thicker and looked more like a cloud of smoke than a shadow, it was really fascinating.
When Yukimura stepped toward the shadow it withdrew, moving slowly, it hand pointing steadily toward him to see if he was still following.
With nothing to guess the time in this empty immensity, it was impossible to say exactly how long Yukimura had walked following the shadow. But what was certain was that Yukimura didn't have time to question this choice when he finally discovered that this shadow didn't come from nowhere.
It was connected to someone. A prostrate form on the floor was surrounded by a multitude of those shadow hands, cajoled by it. It looked like they were taking great care of this person hidden by a long curtain of black hair. Muffled sobs came to Yukimura's hear and he scowled. In turn, he held out his hand to try to approach this person.
"Nobody's supposed to be here, there's nobody here." the person sobbed.
Although her voice was muffled to a murmur, Yukimura had no trouble observing that voice belonged to a woman. Moreover, he knew this voice. He was persuaded of it, but his memories were far too vague.
"My lady, is something wrong?" Yukimura asked, leaning forward to start a conversation. He felt silly the second his words came out of his mouth, of course that this woman wasn't well. If she were here like that, it meant she was dead as well.
Several of the shadowy hands stood up, standing defiantly between him and the woman, effectively ceasing any attempt for Yukimura to approach her. He hesitated a second before reaching out again. He just couldn't leave her like that.
"Oh, Nagamasa-sama, why are you not with Ichi?" "Why did you not wait for Ichi?" She said before Yukimura could open his mouth.
The woman's words echoed in Yukimura's mind, interlocking like pieces of a puzzle, and it came back to him.
"Lady Oichi?" He asked. Who would have thought that the demon king's sister was the first person he would meet in death.
The sobs stopped and the woman raised her head to face him. Her porcelain face hadn't changed at all; no expression was visible in her beautiful face. A few black locks had stuck to his lips. Yukimura, however, was most concerned about how Oichi looked at him. Her eyes that he had known of a vibrant and deep color were now dull, as black and empty as the shadowy hands that wrapped protectively around the woman.
"It's only a dream, yes it's Ichi's dream. Should we keep looking for Nagamasa-sama?" She said in a monotonous tone.
As her words sounded, Oichi's expression warmed, the corner of her lips went up in a sort of smile, she seemed very happy with the prospect that Yukimura would help her look for this Nagamasa. At least that was what Yukimura had learned from this strange one-way exchange.
He nodded. The young man didn't know if it was against the rules that two lost souls help each other, but this wouldn't prevent him from doing so. This woman had perhaps been his former enemy; it didn't take away the fact that they were all equal before death.
"I will help you, Lady Oichi." He asserted with conviction and the fervor that characterized him.
The young woman answered with a kind of sigh that filling the air around them. Then, the shadowy hands that surrounded her began to make her stand, lifting her by the waist and under her arms. She staggered for a few moments when they released her before disappearing into the nothingness of limbo.
Arms swinging, her body lethargic, Oichi began to walk in front of Yukimura. And while she was advancing without haste, lolling, Yukimura heard her voice sing a gentle song that ran a chill down his back.
"He who calls the king… You wish to hear the devil sing ... On your knees you beg to know what seed of destiny the demon has sown ..."
Yukimura began to hope that they would soon find what she was looking for.
Oooooooooooooooooooooooooo
The demon was too close to them, towering over hem as high as a small mountain, casting its sinister shadow on Sekigahara. The creature roared and moved to strike with its head the humans that gravitated around it. It was difficult to look away from such a spectacle because the sense of danger called the primary survival instincts of all those present. Yet Mitsunari didn't even spare it a look.
It was as if there were only Ieyasu remaining standing in front of him and he had cut off all those who had tried to get in his way. Fast, Ieyasu had reacted, the will to move insinuating itself into his body. He had straightened ready to do what was needed.
The mocking sparkle in the demon's blue eyes hadn't gone unnoticed by those who faced it, and there was no doubt that Orochi would have used Mitsunari in his favor.
That's why Masamune and Ieyasu had exchanged a glance and had reached a tacit agreement sealed with a nod. Then, Ieyasu had begun to run back across the Sekigahara battlefield.
With his jaw set tight, Masamune's attention had returned to the demon, knowing that once again he should face it alone.
But he was not alone for long to his great relief. Although Ieyasu had undertaken to lure Mitsunari out of Orochi's reach. His men didn't need of other orders and had stood with Masamune. They knew that their lord was to lead his own battle. Masamune thought it would have been even better if it was his own men, but he wasn't going to argue.
"Coward, you're running away again!" He heard Mitsunari shouting as he went back to pursue Ieyasu.
Ieyasu's run didn't last long however, just enough for them to be out of Orochi's reach, and for Mitsunari not to hurt anyone else with the great movements he was making with his sword. Mitsunari was just too blinded to realize that Ieyasu had simply found them an appropriate place for discussion, even if they were going to talk through their weapons.
Ieyasu wasn't seeking to hide between the remnants of broken fortifications, their wood reduced to crumbs in the middle of still smoking crater left by the cannon balls. He understood that it was time, that he could no longer avoid this.
From the beginning he had dreaded this confrontation. His heart had clenched at the second that his eyes had landed on the other young man after so much time spent away from him. Beyond the pang of pain, he had recognized that he had felt relief. Glad that Mitsunari was always as keen and quick to fight for his convictions.
It was at this moment that Ieyasu understood that despite all his efforts to put his feelings aside, he never ceased to love Mitsunari.
He was a lost man, because whatever the end of this battle, it would be an additional burden to bear on the winner heart.
Ieyasu would never have become the man he was now by giving up, even if he was to suffer from it.
However more than ever at that moment, Ieyasu felt that there was perhaps a last chance to make Mitsunari listen to reason. If only he could make him open his eyes to see the true enemy.
"Mitsunari, stop this madness! Don't you see that our quarrel is of no importance at this moment?" Ieyasu tried to reason him for the nth time, gesturing to the obvious gigantic silhouette behind them.
"NO IMPORTANCE?!" Mitsunari roared, blinded with anger, "You took everything away from me and it is of no importance?!" His blade accentuated every word, striking with more rage and sweat, every of Mitsunari's breath dedicated to trying to hack Ieyasu's head.
Mitsunari's strikes increased in intensity because of Ieyasu hesitation; his gaze too often deviated to glace at the immense creature that was threatening their lives and their country, why Mitsunari couldn't see that? What should he do to make him come to? Leaving his heart uncovered and offer him his life?
Ieyasu will give him everything without hesitation if it mean Mitsunari will came back to be the man he fell in love with back then, but they weren't to only two affected. Ieyasu never was this selfish, was he?
His breath shortened when he blocked Mitsunari's saber with his two crossed fists, offering himself a window of time sufficient for his gaze to again deviate towards the demon. Allowing him to better observe the situation in which he had left his allies.
The bearded head had just thrown a row of spikes like lances heading straight on his troops. Ieyasu made a pained grimace and winced at the thought that at that moment he could do nothing for them. It was difficult not to be at their side and this just because he refused to end this with Mitsunari.
The only part of egoism in him that he couldn't silence.
Keiji and Tsuruhime had arrived in time to help Masamune, although their support was limited they had been quickly followed by Motonari and a hatted young boy whose name Ieyasu was unaware of.
Now everyone could distract one head at a time while Masamune dealt the most of the damage inflicted on the demon. All together, they managed to hold the creature at bay it seemed.
Ieyasu couldn't help but smile at that observation.
Keiji's brute strength protected the weaker ones. Tsuruhime's remote attacks had enough impact to hinder the demon. Motonari's weak powers, inherited from his demonic blood, proved equally useful. Ieyasu had rarely seen him them use them in battle. This showed that even the Kitsune had realized the gravity of the situation.
The young blond man wearing a black hat with wide rim was doing a sort of dance with hip thrust and all and it seemed to have grabbed the head with the brown scales attention because it undulated in rhythm. To this sight, Ieyasu could only raise a skeptical eyebrow.
The green gleam of Motonari's shields of wind brought the majority of the pikes the bearded head threw to the ground, allowing Ieyasu to sigh in relief.
Another source of relief was that this distraction prevented the demon to gather all its strength in order to free its paw, still caught in the deep crevice where Ieyasu had buried it. It was a welcomed fact for the fighters.
Defeating the demon was becoming possible. Ieyasu still had difficulty convincing himself of that. He wasn't blinded by raging emotion like Mitsunari and Masamune's gradual exhaustion couldn't escape him. Whether it was the sweat that accumulated more and more on Masamune's forehead his blue scales that were gradually replaced by his human skin or the trembling of his hands whenever Murakumo slashed into Orochi's flesh, the signs were right under Ieyasu's nose.
They were running out of time and Ieyasu had to find something quickly.
Only at this moment Mitsunari's sword passed too close from his jugular vein to allow him the necessary phase to think about a plan.
"Do you ever stop running away? When will you start fighting back?!" Mitsunari followed his every move, spiting at him, chasing Ieyasu and forcing him to dodge again and again.
"I don't want to fight with you!" Ieyasu insisted, trying to push Mitsunari away. "I beg of you Mitsunari. I promise to give you what you want when the time comes, but this isn't the moment! You must gather yourself. We can't ignore what's happening. This fight must stop!" He tried, pleading with an aggravated voice.
"I don't care about a liar and a traitor words! Waiting for the right times! We are on a battlefield! I won't give you another chance to flee!" Mitsunari replied still refusing to listen to Ieyasu.
As if it had heard Ieyasu's troubled thoughts, the demon chose that moment to let out a thundering roar, shattering the air around them, the sound wave lifting debris from the ground. And for a second he noticed that even Mitsunari had grimaced with discomfort.
How he had wanted to put his arm him and put lower him on the ground if only to protect him.
Yet, this roar sounded like a signal deep inside Ieyasu.
This unnecessary thought tore at his very soul with the conflict it brought within Ieyasu. Still this signal was the one he needed to reach a dark conclusion and he almost lost his breath but the resolution was there. It was now too late to try and convince Mitsunari, he had to stop him.
Mitsunari wouldn't stop until one of them had let out his last breath. Ieyasu hadn't gone so far to let his love for a single man endanger the whole country.
He lowered his fists and changed his stance, moving from a defensive position to an offensive one.
Ieyasu was going to make his acceptance to fight known to Mitsunari, except that, too disturbed by his own thoughts, it took time for Ieyasu to noticed that his enemy's repeated assault had ceased.
Mitsunari was still facing with Ieyasu, eyes narrowed, one hand holding his long sword and the other hovering over the pommel, ready to pull his weapon out of its sheath at full speed. But now he was waiting, listening as his body finally reacted to the demonic creature presence, almost forgetting his thirst for vengeance for a second.
"Enough! We are tired of this game," growled the demon's powerful voice.
The instant after all of Orochi's head pointed toward the sky, their long neck extending at their maximum and letting out short but racking screams. It echoed like an alarm bell across Sekigahara.
"So that's what Gyobu was talking about?" Mitsunari muttered. He scrunched his nose, disturbed by the noise that the demon was making. Even so, the distraction was only momentary and it didn't take long before he completely forgot about Orochi, his attention falling back on Ieyasu. "If you cowardly ways work and for whatever reason I can't cut your neck today, I'm a least content with the certitude that this creature would kill you."
Ieyasu shook his head in disbelief, sorrow finally winning over his features. His eyes were burning, his ears were suffering from Orochi cries, but even more his heart was bleeding at Mitsunari's words. Because he knew Mitsunari was fully aware of what he was saying.
And it meant that Mitsunari will gladly sacrifice the world for his vengeance.
And it hurt, more than anything.
The distress Mitsunari saw appearing on Ieyasu's face was only the reflection of his cowardice. Confronted to his crime, he wasn't showing grandeur. Still, fighting an unresponding traitor to death wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to break him to bring him to his knee and make him beg, but not like that. Ieyasu's refusal to answer to his blows only fueled his hatred. But uselessly chasing Ieyasu started to really make him mad with annoyance, which wasn't the right emotion to fuel him.
For a long time the adrenaline in his blood had silenced the pain of the wounds this damn dragon had inflicted on him. If only this gigantic demon could crush that snake for him, it will take away a very big thorn in his foot and would help him refocus his hatred on Ieyasu.
Had this damn snake really thought that wounding him would change Ieyasu's fate? Had he believed he would protect Ieyasu like that? Masamune was like all the idiots who believed in this traitor word. When he had seen them side by side on the field of battle, smiling at each other and completely ignoring his presence, his blood had boiled.
And to say he was doing Masamune the honor to avoid him knowing the suffering it was to be stabbed in the back by Ieyasu.
Ieyasu was his! That dragon didn't deserve any second of Ieyasu's attention.
Mitsunari's blade cleaved the air while a hoarse cry of anger pushed out from his throat. He resumed the fight with his renewed rage, intending to make Ieyasu move. His eyes widened in delight as he realized something had changed.
Barely avoiding a brutal punch that would have broken his ribs filled his veins with euphoria.
"Finally !" He exclaimed triumphantly.
Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Since the firing of the first cannon, Otani couldn't find in him the strength to believe in the Western's alliance victory. And not being able to believe in the victory of his own side didn't help keep his mind clear.
Something deep in his bones, something far crueler than his illness, told him that he should never had left Mitsunari alone.
The southern front held, he could at least be comforted in the fact that he had fulfilled his mission. Honda Tadakatsu's forces continued to try to penetrate but he managed to block them every time, using all the resources available wisely as his intellect allowed
He could hold a siege like this for days he needed to, but he couldn't say the same about his opponent. Even so, holding ground was more the point, this battle was not a siege and he was in a hurry to come back to Mitsunari's side with good news.
However, it wasn't that place to confront Tadakatsu directly. Not yet. Or that was what he told himself while he could only remain spectator to the fight before him. Yoshihiro Shimazu, his ally had waited for this confrontation all his life. Who was he to deprive him of such an opportunity to confront his longtime rival?
The gruff old man seemed ecstatic, letting a cavernous laugh escape his throat every time his huge sword- a knife made to cut whale it seemed- come in contact with Tadakatsu's equally massive spear.
These two men were of great size, two forces of nature and it was almost natural that they would confront each other. Shimazu was one of the few men on earth capable of competing with of Tadakatsu's inhuman power. Otani had dealt a master move when he had convinced him to join Mitsunari forces. And Otani, whom the disease gnawed at, slowly depriving him of all honor and death worthy of his name, could only understand Yoshihiro's need for this last battle before retirement. It was certain that the old man was hoping to find a true the warrior respite.
Only, his death would mean a defeat and Otani couldn't agree with that, so he made sure that Shimazu understood it too.
The only thing he would have gladly gotten rid-off with Shimazu was that young savage whom he had brought with him, whatever praise the old man might give to the young runt. This little one had the same look as this cursed Yukimura and Otani recognized trouble when he saw them.
It felt troubling that he hadn't thought back to him until no. Was it the first time such forgetfulness happened? What was his name already? Otani must have forgotten, because it wasn't that relevant and of any real interest. But at that moment, he thought he would have liked to see him at work. Shimazu pupil he was, that must be a sight to see. Hadn't he also been sent to the southern front?
Otani stopped distracting his mind with futile thoughts preferring to refocus on the occurring battle.
What seemed several hours later and the sound of their confrontation was still the only sound in the forested area. All other forms of combat had stopped; the simple soldiers and infantryman contented themselves with observing the confrontation of the two titans at a good distance.
Narrowing his beady eyes, Otani continued to watch the fight from his seat when a shiver ran over his back. The southern part of Sekigahara was much more wooded than the part where the larger parts of the two armies clashed, the sun thus hidden by the shadow of the trees, it was only now that Otani noticed the darkening of the sky.
Again, he wasn't alarmed, he was aware that an eclipse would be happening; it was only a small counter-time.
The torches of his base camps had already been lit in anticipation when the sky became completely black. Undoubtedly, the surrounding noise of the fighting ceased because Tadakatsu and Shimazu were men of honor of they didn't intended attack their opponent in the dark.
Then, the earth quaked. They were so far from the epicenter and the shockwave couldn't really hinder them. On the other hand, Otani soul shook in its very core. His blood was stirred by the earthquake, his weak and ill carcass feeling the danger from miles away.
It was already gone when the sunlight returned. The orders he shouted had been clear, the men didn't need him to hold their side of the battlefield. Although he knew it didn't matter now. Even Ieyasu couldn't have remained indifferent to this.
The poisoned aura he could feel made him suffer even worse over the perpetual pain imposed on him by his condition. Still, Otani could only think of him whose name remained on his dry lips.
"Mitsunari..." Otani couldn't allow evil to fall on that person.
Tadakatsu's whirring motor that rose above the trees gave him even more power to go forward, the speed of his floating palanquin increasing with his sense of danger.
So, Tadakatsu and he weren't so different in the end.
The safety of their lord prevailed over everything else.
Oooooooooooooooooooooooo
Kojuuro had agreed with himself that standing beside Masamune has he was would be out of question. Not after having dishonoring himself when he had raised his claw again his lord, not after he tried to bite him with his fangs.
He had, however, found a way to repent himself for his misdeed, for he wasn't the only one to whom Orochi had done the wrong to deprive them of their free will. And Kojuuro had said to himself that somehow, returning to Masamune's side with the news that all the Dragons who had been confronted to Orochi's malevolence were safe and reunited whit their kind where they should be, would be for him a means of repenting of his sins.
Trying to cope with the dejection he felt at the thought that Masamune was confronting Orochi without him being there to protect his back, Kojuuro had set out to find his fellow Dragons.
Four of them had been easy to find, wandering and distraught without Orochi's mind controlling them, alone on a battlefield left empty by frightened humans. Only a few orders were shouted and they had recovered their will and soon took back their human form.
Those who remained had proven themselves more difficult to apprehend, because they were still flying around and the smoke from fire pits and other fumaroles made them almost impossible to distinguish.
The heart of the battlefield was stifling as all the smoke made the air thick and Kojuuro had to advance between fallen bodies trying not to step on them. He used his sleeve to somehow breathe through the nauseating odor that would haunt this place for years to come. The complaints of few of the soldiers who had accompanied him on his mission punctuated their progression, and from time to time, when the body of one of their own was identifiable, a volunteer undertook to grant him the last honors, bringing back an object belonging to the fallen for his family.
The precious time was passing by and there was still two of their comrade to be found, testimonies indicating that one had headed on the southeast front, right toward Mitsunari's men. However the other had been seen in the area where they currently were, rummaging among the wooden pikes planted on the ground.
As time was running out and the second dragon was to be at the exact opposite from where Masamune was, a quick dialogue with his men was enough for Kojuuro to let them have the task of retrieving this one while he will take care of the one still roaming Sekigahara front line.
He advanced on the dragon's trail, following the traces of fresh burn and bitten bodies.
It was also something with which these Dragons were going to have to live, not the fact to have killed humans, no, they were at war and they were prepared for that eventuality, but the fact of having killed them using form of their ancestors, sullied the purity of their beast that the ancients had put decades to create and bringing down a semi-trust between human and dragon had that had required so many sacrifices...
Once all this was over, Ieyasu wasn't going to be the only lord to have so much to rebuild.
A distinct growl alerted Kojuuro, pulling him brusquely out of his musing.
His boots slipped into the dust as he entered a small crater made by a canon ball, guided by the increasingly strong cries of the dragon.
Kojuuro steps left print in the scarred heart, and he sank slightly in the disturbed soil when he stopped short in front of the scene he met.
He had just found his fellow Dragon, and as he had feared, the cries that had led him were cries of anguish.
There, lying on the ground, his serpentine body shaken with spasm, the little rust-scarlet dragon was agonizing as his throat slashed from side to side poured his blood on the ground in a continuous stream. Kojuuro could only helplessly look at the light that was extinguishing from brown eyes so similar to his own.
His lips formed a scowl when the dragon resumed his human form in his last breath, becoming the very young man he once had been.
Standing in front of the still body while his sword dripped with blood, his white and black coat immaculate, was his assassin.
His back to Kojuuro, the man eyes rose toward the side were they both knew the battle against Orochi was taking place.
"Oh? Isn't it one black dragon, am I wrong?" The assassin began in a detached voice. "Tell me, would you know by chance what could make an entire race act together?" The question sounded like a reproach, and the man gave no time for Kojuuro to respond, "What can isolationism and an irrational need to preserve a race blood could bring?" He pointed to the young dragon with the sharp end of his sword, "Whatever the race, the result his always the same. And so is the answer." He finished, as if this simple phrase were the expected answer to his questions.
Kojuuro's knees bent when he stood to fight if necessary, his left hand immediately resting on his katana handle. He had quickly stopped to paid attention to the man's incongruous words.
And it was for the good reason that Kojuuro had already heard these questions before. Even today they haunted some of his nights by reminding him of the only real time he had failed Masamune.
"Matsunaga Hisahide." The name rolled over his tongue like rotten food that he to spat. "You were supposed to be dead."
The man chose this moment to finally face Kojuuro, his mustache adorned lips turned in a kind satisfied grin, as if the whole situation was for only an amusement for him.
"Growing older seemed to have some good for you, it seems. So, I would have though you would have understood with your intelligence that the only one who died that day was indeed this good King, Terumune."
TBC
A new chapter at last, it's not a dream. Well, we were indeed coming near the end but then I had some more things to the plot, silly me.
Thanks in any case to those who are always following me. I promise the next update won't happen in six months.
Well, the truth is my laptop finally died and I have to write on my phone which is uncomfortable and take forever but I can't afford to by a new own before Christmas so I have to manage.