Disclaimers: i ownsssss itsssss, itsssss my Precioussssssssssss. Like in
another million years time....
A.n Okay on with the next chappie! I HAVE to finish this story. I MUST! I WILL!! I MUST!!! Whew.... exhausted already....... NO! I MUST!!!!
The Battlefield
The smell of fear loomed over us like a hauntingly black storm cloud
Raining down its arrow-like droplets of horror.
The feeling of awful cold settles around us
As we step cautiously over the littered floor,
Tripping occasionally on the debris that was strewn across our morbid path.
I inhale the foul air,
And choke as it catches in my throat.
The bittersweet taste of blood lingers on my lips
As I bite down on my tongue for fear that I might scream out.
In vengeance we draw our swords of hate and betrayal
Attacking the root of fear itself,
Hitting nothing as we swing blindly
For hope that we might vanquish our assailants;
The vicious feelings that stem from our very souls.
Unable to do any damage,
We continue our meaningless fight with ourselves,
The civil war from within,
The innermost struggle between our hearts and our minds.
The silence of our bloodless battle
Roars loud in our ears,
Nearly deafening all of us,
Like the screams of one in pain.
What seems like hours later,
I stare out onto the desolate plane of defeat
With eyes of a child beyond her years,
Pain far past that of her generation,
For I had seen the battlefield
Of love. ~~~~
The tension in the teahouse was so thick; you could slice through it like a knife through butter. The geishas were quiet, signs of life had died down to no more than hidden murmurs and slight shuffling of feet, not even Amamiya had experienced anything like this. Misao was kept in the storehouse, isolated form the rest, only allowed out during dinner time to eat a small bowl of stale rice and to relief herself. The rest of the time was spent cramped up in the windowless storehouse, fighting against the ever-increasing fear of claustrophobia.
Misao blinked in the darkness of the stuffy storehouse, running her tongue over her dried lips, her ears listening carefully for the sounds of approaching voices that would signal dinner time. On the brighter side, she definitely could sense ki better than ever being in such a dark room and at least they didn't made her wear the thick kimono in the stuffy room, although the thin pieces of fabrics may be a problem during winter time. Settling down on her bed of rice sacks, last week's incident at the minister's house played back in her mind.
She had returned home from the Takana's residence alone. Choosing solitude over Amamiya's whining and Kanjire's rage, Misao decided that travelling by treetops was the best way to forget her troubles. She rather be drenched in the rain and spared a few minutes to think than have the shelter of the carriage. Kanjire had thrown a fit when she returned, his voice ringing loudly through the teahouse; he had whipped her across her back, using a whip coated in diluted acid. The putrid smoke dulled her senses, a trickle of blood coursed down her face as she bit down hard on her lip when he hit her legs repeatedly with a hot iron rod. He then proceeded to punch her in her abdomen, causing her to cough out blood, and when she refused to cry, he kicked her in the face until she blacked out. When she woke up in a pool of her own blood, she was forced to clean up her own blood before she was dragged to the storehouse.
Misao winced as she shifted on her makeshift bed. Her back had angry red welts running diagonally across, raw and caked with dried blood, her stomach was covered with dark bruises and her jaw was swollen and hung open heavily, her neck was red and covered with marks from Kanjire's attempt to strangle her, her legs were covered with burnt marks where the iron rod had landed. She could taste the coppery blood in her mouth, she sighed, she definitely was in no shape to go against Kanjire now and attempted escape would be futile. She stared at the dark pile of hair in the corner. She had cut it off haphazardly when it started to irritate her by sticking to her face, her hair now was short and tickled the base of her neck, but she didn't regret it. It was time she had a change in her life, starting with her hair.
But pass the brave facade, Misao was scared inside. Scared because she didn't know what to do next, scared because she didn't know what would happen next. She had to escape, to get away from the mess she had landed herself into. But she was trapped, with nowhere to run to, no one to run to, she was all alone in the dark storehouse, with no one to hear her cries. No one would come and help her, to take her away from the nightmare. And she would be left in the darkness, probably forgotten by the members of the Oniwabanshuu, to be replaced by another Okashira. She was afraid that Kanjire would come in and hurt her, and beat her up. Memories of her abuse flooded in her mind, Misao choked back a sob, she couldn't go through the torture again. It had been twenty-two nights since she had gotten proper sleep, and now her restless nights were tormented with nightmares.
Misao jumped as the door of the storehouse was flung open. Misao blinked at the figure standing at the entrance before realising he was Kanjire. His eyes searched the room menacingly before they found Misao, flashing a smile; he stepped into the room before closing the door, darkness engulfing the room once more. Standing up to meet him as he crossed the room, Misao stuck her chin out defiantly as he moved closer to her.
"What do you want?"
Kanjire smiled placidly, as he leveled his face in front of hers, his breath tickling her face. Her eyes narrowed in disgust at their closeness.
"You."
Misao's eyes widened as he answered, he was obviously drunk and reeked of alcohol. Making a move to get away from him, she decided to back away when Kanjire pushed her up against the wall of the storehouse. Opening her mouth to yell, Kanjire took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth, pressing his lips roughly against hers, making her cry in pain as he bruised her swollen lip. His right hand gripped her chin tightly to prevent her from moving her head to pull away from the kiss. Thinking quickly, Misao bit down hard on his tongue that invaded her moist cavern, tasting his blood in her mouth as he let out an enraged yell.
"YOU FUCKING BITCH!" He yelled, striking her brutally across the face. Misao let out a scream as she fell, too weak to stand up.
"THAT'S RIGHT, SCREAM ALL YOU WANT, NOBODY WILL SAVE YOU!!" He screamed at her face, spit flying from his mouth, his face red with fury, his pupils dilated, as he pinned her on the floor, kissing her fervently on her exposed neck, his teeth grazing against her skin, licking the tears that streamed down her face.
"You know what, you are very pretty when you cry." He said, smiling maliciously as he pulled down his western trousers. Misao gasped when she realised what he was going to do as he forced her to her feet, pressing her up against the wall.
"Oh God, please.... no... stop... please, please, oh god.... stop.... no!" Misao babbled incoherently as he ripped off the rags that she was clothed in, tears clouding up her vision. * Oh God, somebody help me! Please...... help! HELP ME! HELP ME! Make him stop! Make him stop.... please... * Misao's pleas for him to stop had turn into no more than a mere whisper. * AOSHI!!! * Misao screamed in anguish in her head as pain ripped through her body before the world shattered and everything went blank.
A.n: Sorry, don't like it but it had to happen. I don't like writing about rape but it's crucial to my story. * Makes a face * Well at least now i have a fantastic reason to kill Kanjire, review and tell me what you think should happen to him. Flames will be used to burn Sano's hair.
A.n Okay on with the next chappie! I HAVE to finish this story. I MUST! I WILL!! I MUST!!! Whew.... exhausted already....... NO! I MUST!!!!
The Battlefield
The smell of fear loomed over us like a hauntingly black storm cloud
Raining down its arrow-like droplets of horror.
The feeling of awful cold settles around us
As we step cautiously over the littered floor,
Tripping occasionally on the debris that was strewn across our morbid path.
I inhale the foul air,
And choke as it catches in my throat.
The bittersweet taste of blood lingers on my lips
As I bite down on my tongue for fear that I might scream out.
In vengeance we draw our swords of hate and betrayal
Attacking the root of fear itself,
Hitting nothing as we swing blindly
For hope that we might vanquish our assailants;
The vicious feelings that stem from our very souls.
Unable to do any damage,
We continue our meaningless fight with ourselves,
The civil war from within,
The innermost struggle between our hearts and our minds.
The silence of our bloodless battle
Roars loud in our ears,
Nearly deafening all of us,
Like the screams of one in pain.
What seems like hours later,
I stare out onto the desolate plane of defeat
With eyes of a child beyond her years,
Pain far past that of her generation,
For I had seen the battlefield
Of love. ~~~~
The tension in the teahouse was so thick; you could slice through it like a knife through butter. The geishas were quiet, signs of life had died down to no more than hidden murmurs and slight shuffling of feet, not even Amamiya had experienced anything like this. Misao was kept in the storehouse, isolated form the rest, only allowed out during dinner time to eat a small bowl of stale rice and to relief herself. The rest of the time was spent cramped up in the windowless storehouse, fighting against the ever-increasing fear of claustrophobia.
Misao blinked in the darkness of the stuffy storehouse, running her tongue over her dried lips, her ears listening carefully for the sounds of approaching voices that would signal dinner time. On the brighter side, she definitely could sense ki better than ever being in such a dark room and at least they didn't made her wear the thick kimono in the stuffy room, although the thin pieces of fabrics may be a problem during winter time. Settling down on her bed of rice sacks, last week's incident at the minister's house played back in her mind.
She had returned home from the Takana's residence alone. Choosing solitude over Amamiya's whining and Kanjire's rage, Misao decided that travelling by treetops was the best way to forget her troubles. She rather be drenched in the rain and spared a few minutes to think than have the shelter of the carriage. Kanjire had thrown a fit when she returned, his voice ringing loudly through the teahouse; he had whipped her across her back, using a whip coated in diluted acid. The putrid smoke dulled her senses, a trickle of blood coursed down her face as she bit down hard on her lip when he hit her legs repeatedly with a hot iron rod. He then proceeded to punch her in her abdomen, causing her to cough out blood, and when she refused to cry, he kicked her in the face until she blacked out. When she woke up in a pool of her own blood, she was forced to clean up her own blood before she was dragged to the storehouse.
Misao winced as she shifted on her makeshift bed. Her back had angry red welts running diagonally across, raw and caked with dried blood, her stomach was covered with dark bruises and her jaw was swollen and hung open heavily, her neck was red and covered with marks from Kanjire's attempt to strangle her, her legs were covered with burnt marks where the iron rod had landed. She could taste the coppery blood in her mouth, she sighed, she definitely was in no shape to go against Kanjire now and attempted escape would be futile. She stared at the dark pile of hair in the corner. She had cut it off haphazardly when it started to irritate her by sticking to her face, her hair now was short and tickled the base of her neck, but she didn't regret it. It was time she had a change in her life, starting with her hair.
But pass the brave facade, Misao was scared inside. Scared because she didn't know what to do next, scared because she didn't know what would happen next. She had to escape, to get away from the mess she had landed herself into. But she was trapped, with nowhere to run to, no one to run to, she was all alone in the dark storehouse, with no one to hear her cries. No one would come and help her, to take her away from the nightmare. And she would be left in the darkness, probably forgotten by the members of the Oniwabanshuu, to be replaced by another Okashira. She was afraid that Kanjire would come in and hurt her, and beat her up. Memories of her abuse flooded in her mind, Misao choked back a sob, she couldn't go through the torture again. It had been twenty-two nights since she had gotten proper sleep, and now her restless nights were tormented with nightmares.
Misao jumped as the door of the storehouse was flung open. Misao blinked at the figure standing at the entrance before realising he was Kanjire. His eyes searched the room menacingly before they found Misao, flashing a smile; he stepped into the room before closing the door, darkness engulfing the room once more. Standing up to meet him as he crossed the room, Misao stuck her chin out defiantly as he moved closer to her.
"What do you want?"
Kanjire smiled placidly, as he leveled his face in front of hers, his breath tickling her face. Her eyes narrowed in disgust at their closeness.
"You."
Misao's eyes widened as he answered, he was obviously drunk and reeked of alcohol. Making a move to get away from him, she decided to back away when Kanjire pushed her up against the wall of the storehouse. Opening her mouth to yell, Kanjire took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth, pressing his lips roughly against hers, making her cry in pain as he bruised her swollen lip. His right hand gripped her chin tightly to prevent her from moving her head to pull away from the kiss. Thinking quickly, Misao bit down hard on his tongue that invaded her moist cavern, tasting his blood in her mouth as he let out an enraged yell.
"YOU FUCKING BITCH!" He yelled, striking her brutally across the face. Misao let out a scream as she fell, too weak to stand up.
"THAT'S RIGHT, SCREAM ALL YOU WANT, NOBODY WILL SAVE YOU!!" He screamed at her face, spit flying from his mouth, his face red with fury, his pupils dilated, as he pinned her on the floor, kissing her fervently on her exposed neck, his teeth grazing against her skin, licking the tears that streamed down her face.
"You know what, you are very pretty when you cry." He said, smiling maliciously as he pulled down his western trousers. Misao gasped when she realised what he was going to do as he forced her to her feet, pressing her up against the wall.
"Oh God, please.... no... stop... please, please, oh god.... stop.... no!" Misao babbled incoherently as he ripped off the rags that she was clothed in, tears clouding up her vision. * Oh God, somebody help me! Please...... help! HELP ME! HELP ME! Make him stop! Make him stop.... please... * Misao's pleas for him to stop had turn into no more than a mere whisper. * AOSHI!!! * Misao screamed in anguish in her head as pain ripped through her body before the world shattered and everything went blank.
A.n: Sorry, don't like it but it had to happen. I don't like writing about rape but it's crucial to my story. * Makes a face * Well at least now i have a fantastic reason to kill Kanjire, review and tell me what you think should happen to him. Flames will be used to burn Sano's hair.