4. Whispers from a Darkened Shore
Once, as all these stories go, when the Tokugawa Shogunate had yet to fall and the drawn-sword assassin of the Ishin-shishi had yet to be captured and gutted alive by the Shinsengumi, when the Sekihoutai was still led to believe that they were more than mere pawns in the cruel gods' game of shogi, there lived a boy. In many ways, he was a young man like many others. Ne'er would he be allowed to choose a path, for his, had been decided long ago.
Born and raised to be a leader to the Oniwabanshuu, the Emperor's elite assassins, his life had never been his to live. Instead, as was with his entire clan, his life belonged to the Regal Daimyo of Japan.
This was why, at seventeen, when the country had finally succumbed to the influences of the Western man, he had found himself acting as the last resort to keeping two clans, soon to be forgotten by both time and man, alive.
He was betrothed to a girl he did not know.
At first, he had not felt a need for attachment or understanding of the girl, this ninja heiress to the Sanada faction who was but a year her junior. After all, they were both simply accepting the decisions of their elders as an obligation left to be done and nothing more.
So instead he allowed himself to believe to be engaged to a mere idealization of her.
What he got instead was a cunning, sharp-witted and cynical bride-to-be.
When the arrangements were first set, they were made to live in the same vicinity. Spending at least one season together would do them good, many had pointed out. In hind's sight he allowed himself to agree.
What had managed to form between them was at first, a rough and rather stilted acquaintance. Uncomfortable silence normally lapsed between intermediate moments of forced small talk and though they spent the passing days in each other's company, their walks turned out to be more of a burden than a form of relaxation.
Growing accustomed to each other's living patterns had been hard as well, for he had been not much of a nocturnal man, while she wished to spend the nights awake. They slept under the same roof and even in the same room, for, as their elders had so carefully arranged, the house had but one room. But never did they sleep in the same bed, nor was there a hint of intimacy between them.
Due to this predicament, many had supposed that the engagement would be called off, for neither the girl's father nor the boy's guardian seemed so strict as to forbid them actual happiness.
Only in the last month of their stay in the village did passers-by notice a more cordial relationship between the two. When out walking in the dim nights that signified the slow arrival of winter, she would laugh softly as they spoke of simple nothings, while he, for his part, would smile on occasion, maybe not enough for the watchers to take much notice, but at least enough for her to see.
This was why it came as a shock, to many in fact, when the boy, now a man of 18 suddenly left in the Spring and the girl, whom none had known much of, save the boy, went back to their own village far away, never to look back at Kyoto as a world to make a memory of.
At first, rumors had said that it had been because of a little girl that the young man had come to take care of, a dark-blue haired, bright-blue eyed girl that was supposedly his child. This anecdote, however, was retracted when it was learned that he girl was nothing more than 10 years younger than him, a child to whom he acted as a surrogate father. And so the villagers went on with their lives, coming to forget about the man who left and the woman who went the other way. Many had been lost to pity.
Eight years later, as the story goes, for none of these stories end really, of course, the man was rumored to have returned from where he had once left for only, he had drastically changed internally, as if his life prior had never existed at all. He and a small number of men worked under a strange man, whom in turn supposedly worked for a red prince. The tragedy that befell the young man after his service under the stranger was severe, and he had lost and learned from many battles since that day, until finally, he found himself right back where he started.
He saw himself in Kyoto, with the wind, and the vision of the dark-haired girl he had left standing before him.
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Author's note:
This is a flashback chapter hence the italics. Thank you for those whom have reviewed once more, most especially to my Sempai, Mij and Hitokiri Tomoe. I'm currently testing out the application of a Misanagi Moriya and Aoshi Shinomori pairing. ^_^ Hope you guys enjoy. Feedback is welcome, most especially constructive criticism. Concerning the situation, I tried to play up the thought of the Oniwabanshu and the Sanada as two factions that knew of each others existence since both supposedly had a part in the Bakumatsu no Douran. Hazuki Moriya and Misanagi's living style is a complete fabrication since she has little to know screen time within the entire series. I'll keep researching though.
