"Shhh. This is her, do not let her scream. The boss does not want
her waking up Shinomori."
"But, she is a woman!"
"Shut up!" Cowards, they held swords (she could hear it) but they were just as delusional as Shinomori. The way of the sword was dead; it died with the Meiji era. Still there were those families that held on to those days before the revolution. That is why her family existed, to finally end those families. Besides, it was very rare to find people who were actually trained in the art of swordsmanship. It was impossible if one did not have the discipline. So many of her opponents did not posses discipline, or were ignorant of other techniques. Idiots, all of them. Haru never felt sorry for killing her opponents, death comes to everyone, their's was just quicker.
They were surrounding her bed now. Before they knew what was happening, they were all dead. Haru's bed was now a pool of blood. God like speed came in handy during those types of situations. Jumping off of her bed, Haru followed the smell of blood. She knew that there she would find Aoshi.
As she crept along the mansion floors, Haru tired to recall everything that Aoshi had told her. Apparently a man had challenged Aoshi a couple of months ago, claiming to know the Hiten Mitsurugi Style. The man had beaten Aoshi and promised that next time, Aoshi would die. But when Aoshi had described the attacks, Haru had known that there was no way that the man had been using the Hiten Mitsurugi Style. No, he was just another little boy who was playing with swords. He and Aoshi were only little boys playing samurai. Ironic, everyone thought that the Himura family had given up their samurai ways, and in the end they were the last samurai.
Haru ran outside into the garden. She could feel the light rain splash across her face. Normally it would be here that she would lose the scent of blood; instead it remained to haunt her. It was Aoshi's blood that she smelled, and no on else's. She stopped when she came across the two figures. Aoshi was kneeling in the mud. His blood was literally splayed everywhere.
"His opponent must be fast; it took me only a minute to get here." Haru mused. She stared intently at the other man and sized him up quickly. There was no doubt in her mind that she could out run him. Though he had the advantage over her height and weight wise; judging by his leg structure, he did not have her god like speed.
"Now Shinomori, you will know what it is like to die at the hands of a master of the Hiten Mitsurugi Style." That was Haru's cue to come in.
"Liar!" Haru screamed from her hiding. The man turned to face her. Obviously amused that a woman of barely five feet would dare challenge him.
"Little boys should not play with swords." Haru mocked.
"What?"
"Now it is time for you to know what dying by a real Hiten Mitsurugi Style master is like. I, Himura Haru, challenge you!" The man's back straightened and his entire body froze. Though Haru could not see it, she could feel Aoshi's eyes bulge. "Do you accept my challenge or not?"
"I accept."
Haru raised her sword and waited for her opponent to strike. It was not even a second before he struck, and it was not even a second before Haru killed him. She looked sorrowfully at the poor man. All she had ever wanted was a good fight. When Aoshi had first told her about the attacker she had hoped that he would be worthy; but, he had failed miserably. The man had not even mastered the basic lesson of waiting for your other opponent to strike. And, she had seen it in his eyes, he had been scared to die.
Haru turned and looked at Aoshi. A sad smile spread across her tragic face. There was no hope that he would ever marry her now. What man ever wanted a wife that could beat him? That did not matter at the moment. What mattered was that his wounds were taken care of. So Haru wiped the blood off of her sword and picked up Aoshi. She silently carried him into the mansion.
"But, she is a woman!"
"Shut up!" Cowards, they held swords (she could hear it) but they were just as delusional as Shinomori. The way of the sword was dead; it died with the Meiji era. Still there were those families that held on to those days before the revolution. That is why her family existed, to finally end those families. Besides, it was very rare to find people who were actually trained in the art of swordsmanship. It was impossible if one did not have the discipline. So many of her opponents did not posses discipline, or were ignorant of other techniques. Idiots, all of them. Haru never felt sorry for killing her opponents, death comes to everyone, their's was just quicker.
They were surrounding her bed now. Before they knew what was happening, they were all dead. Haru's bed was now a pool of blood. God like speed came in handy during those types of situations. Jumping off of her bed, Haru followed the smell of blood. She knew that there she would find Aoshi.
As she crept along the mansion floors, Haru tired to recall everything that Aoshi had told her. Apparently a man had challenged Aoshi a couple of months ago, claiming to know the Hiten Mitsurugi Style. The man had beaten Aoshi and promised that next time, Aoshi would die. But when Aoshi had described the attacks, Haru had known that there was no way that the man had been using the Hiten Mitsurugi Style. No, he was just another little boy who was playing with swords. He and Aoshi were only little boys playing samurai. Ironic, everyone thought that the Himura family had given up their samurai ways, and in the end they were the last samurai.
Haru ran outside into the garden. She could feel the light rain splash across her face. Normally it would be here that she would lose the scent of blood; instead it remained to haunt her. It was Aoshi's blood that she smelled, and no on else's. She stopped when she came across the two figures. Aoshi was kneeling in the mud. His blood was literally splayed everywhere.
"His opponent must be fast; it took me only a minute to get here." Haru mused. She stared intently at the other man and sized him up quickly. There was no doubt in her mind that she could out run him. Though he had the advantage over her height and weight wise; judging by his leg structure, he did not have her god like speed.
"Now Shinomori, you will know what it is like to die at the hands of a master of the Hiten Mitsurugi Style." That was Haru's cue to come in.
"Liar!" Haru screamed from her hiding. The man turned to face her. Obviously amused that a woman of barely five feet would dare challenge him.
"Little boys should not play with swords." Haru mocked.
"What?"
"Now it is time for you to know what dying by a real Hiten Mitsurugi Style master is like. I, Himura Haru, challenge you!" The man's back straightened and his entire body froze. Though Haru could not see it, she could feel Aoshi's eyes bulge. "Do you accept my challenge or not?"
"I accept."
Haru raised her sword and waited for her opponent to strike. It was not even a second before he struck, and it was not even a second before Haru killed him. She looked sorrowfully at the poor man. All she had ever wanted was a good fight. When Aoshi had first told her about the attacker she had hoped that he would be worthy; but, he had failed miserably. The man had not even mastered the basic lesson of waiting for your other opponent to strike. And, she had seen it in his eyes, he had been scared to die.
Haru turned and looked at Aoshi. A sad smile spread across her tragic face. There was no hope that he would ever marry her now. What man ever wanted a wife that could beat him? That did not matter at the moment. What mattered was that his wounds were taken care of. So Haru wiped the blood off of her sword and picked up Aoshi. She silently carried him into the mansion.
