A/N: Here's where things get interesting. Beware, there is a bit of
violence in this chapter.
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Chapter 2 - The Hitokiri
Night came quickly, the moon, slightly chewed by the black sky, loomed overhead, lighting the many rooftops littering the land. Everyone was, in all likelihood, asleep, for the hour was late and the moon high in the velvet heavens.except one. Toshiki lay awake beneath her silken futon, staring out the window at the glowing sphere above. She had left her window lattice open for the night was warm and the cold night breezes had abated. The call of the nightingale sounded through the calm night, and the young lady sighed in peaceful delight. However, sleep had failed to come upon her. The presence of the mysterious stranger kept her eyes wide open and her heart pounding. Her soul ached to see him again, to stare into the eyes of the nocturnal predator lying in wait down the hall.
Before she could think to do anything else, footsteps, light as a whisper upon the wooden floors, sounded from down the hall, a slight creaking of a door shutting, a shadow playing upon the walls outside her room. The silhouette was familiar and striking, the profile sharp and divine, a black river pouring into the night. The ronin.
At once she rose to follow him, draping a house robe over her bare shoulders, tying it quickly and sliding open the koushido. Toshiki watched his ghostly form slip silently down the hall and out of sight. Quiet as a mouse, Toshiki crept after him, slowly rounding the bend with the corner of her eye. The swordsman had disappeared down the steps to the first floor and was probably walking around outside, beginning his guard duties. Nervously she bit at one of her fingernails as she contemplated his reaction if he were to catch her trailing him. Nevertheless, the hope of staring into his eyes, even if it were the last thing she would see, spurred her onward.
The night air was thick and humid; beads of sweat slowly began forming on her brow as she stepped out onto the outer walkways, striving to stay hidden from the moonlight. The swordsman stood a few meters away in the middle of the garden, beneath the swaying bamboo. His gentle hands stroked the blushing faces of the Chinese roses and the tender shoots of young sugi, silently reflecting upon the beauty of the earth.
His hand traveled from the flowering splendor to the bite of cold steel, the long katana upon his sash, serenely hidden within its sheath. After a brief moment of thought he drew its awing length at such an astonishing speed that the blade was not visible. Only a flash of the moonlight reflecting upon its sharpened edge told of its moment of glory in the stifling air. In an instant, he returned it to its place and took a seat upon a stone, listening quietly to the gentle trickling of the waterfalls, and the clicking and creaking of the bamboo.
Toshiki watched in horror as five stalks of cane, still swaying in the night air, suddenly cracked and fell on either side of the swordsman, cleanly cut by his powerful blade. Impossible! Toshiki gasped. I did not even see the sword drawn and yet it cut down the thick bamboo as if it were paper! This man is dangerous! I should not be out here watching him!
As she went to return into the house, a final glance saw that the swordsman had disappeared. Curious, Toshiki slowly ventured out toward the bamboo, wondering where to he had suddenly rushed off. She stroked the freshly cut stalks, warm sap sticking onto her fingers. Her heart trembled at the speed of his blade, and the anxious longing for it to come again. Though his strike had been swift and fear inspiring, it evoked within her a reverential awe. She gazed at the moon through the swaying trunks and thin leaves and bid the night farewell. When she turned, she was met with a horrifying shadow.
Swiftly it came at her, silencing her scream, backing her against the thickening foliage with the silvery razor edge of a sword. Toshiki's emerald orbs flickered as she realized her throat had not been slashed. Another blade had blocked the attack so swiftly neither victim nor foe detected it. Toshiki felt warm breath on her shoulder and the presence of strength undeniably powerful. A hand, smooth and white, gripped the hilt and threw the enemy sword to the ground. The assailant backed away in horror as the presence drew out from the shadows and halted beside the young woman. Toshiki gasped as she recognized the silhouette of the strange scarlet-haired swordsman, his eyes glowing fiercely in the darkness. "Who sent you?" the ronin hissed.
The lackey trembled at his voice and croaked, "My master, L-Lord Kokkaido."
"Are there others?"
"No."
A wicked smile played across the ronin's face. Calmly, the scarlet swordsman returned his weapon to its place and stood at an angle. Toshiki did not understand why he had dropped his guard so quickly. The man was armed and dangerous, without his sword how could the ronin fight? The stranger took his chance and rushed in for the final blow, raising his sword to strike the ronin. In an instant, almost invisibly, the ronin drew his sword from its sheath with god-like speed. Moments later the man lay dead upon the ground, warm blood spilling out from his decapitated form. Toshiki gasped at the sight of it. The ronin strode over to the corpse, picked up the bloody head, the expression frozen with horror, and tossed it into the bamboo. "Here's my reply to your master!"
Toshiki, puzzled at his utterance to the darkness, thought, perhaps the rumors were correct. Maybe he truly is mad!
Those words were put aside when she noticed a hand reach out through the bamboo, grab the head and, among other shadows, rush off into the night. The ronin flicked the dripping blood off his sword and returned it to its place. His fiery stare caught her in the darkness and she gasped slightly at the sight of him. This man was not who she thought him to be. He was a hitokiri, mad as a moon dog and thirsty for blood.
He stepped toward her and said, "I told you there was nothing for you to be curious about."
Toshiki could not speak a word; only stare frightfully at the terrible swordsman standing before her. She trembled uncontrollably, her breathing shallow, her heart skipping in an erratic rhythm. The entire area was thick with blood; a crude stench of death filled the air. The sight of it sickened her. Her mind could not take it all in. Darkness closed around her and the last thing she saw were his violent amber eyes, glimmering in the shadows.
~
The girl fell silently through the night air, her velvet hair swirling about her. The swordsman knelt down and quickly broke her fall, her limp form sliding into an awkward embrace. He held her there for a moment, drawing her dark bangs from off her face. With wide eyes he recognized the visage of the young lady he had seen on the balcony, and who had visited his quarters unannounced. A sigh escaped his lips. Who does this girl think she is? The ronin thought. Following swordsman in the middle of the night. Curiosity like that can get her killed! She looks old enough to have enough sense to understand the danger of these times: wild ronin and bloodthirsty rebels hovering about the city at night. This is unfortunate. She is becoming a distraction. No matter, distractions can be ignored. Gently, the ronin picked her up from the blood-drenched ground and carried her into the house. Suddenly, loud footsteps rapped the wooden walkway outside. The swordsman prepared to draw his sword as a man, sword in hand, came rushing around the corner. "What's happened?"
"Who are you?" the hitokiri hissed.
"I am Kaurousuke, teacher of Matsukaze swordsmanship at this estate." Suddenly stunned at the bloody form in his arms he barked, "What have you done to her?"
"You needn't be concerned. The girl is unharmed. Take her to the maids to be cleaned up." The ronin shoved the girl into the Kaurousuke's arms and turned gracefully to slip back into the shadows. Angered at the hired man's arrogance, the sword master grumbled, "Be glad your reputation proceeds you, or else I would have slain you right here for revealing yourself to the daughter of the daimyo."
The soft footfalls stopped as the hitokiri took in the teacher's words. "I was not informed of her identity. I took her as merely a curious maid scampering about."
"Then be sure you keep this in mind. Lord Matsu wishes her no knowledge of you. Stay away from her, if you value your life, kisama akage kozou."
The scarlet swordsman glared at him with much fire. "If you value yours, you will refrain from insulting a hitokiri in the future," he growled and returned to his post. Kaurousuke snarled at the receding shadow and carried the girl up the stairs. He looked down; suddenly feeling her body tremble in disturbed slumber. A word escaped her tender lips, one full of horror and dread: "Akai."
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Chapter 2 - The Hitokiri
Night came quickly, the moon, slightly chewed by the black sky, loomed overhead, lighting the many rooftops littering the land. Everyone was, in all likelihood, asleep, for the hour was late and the moon high in the velvet heavens.except one. Toshiki lay awake beneath her silken futon, staring out the window at the glowing sphere above. She had left her window lattice open for the night was warm and the cold night breezes had abated. The call of the nightingale sounded through the calm night, and the young lady sighed in peaceful delight. However, sleep had failed to come upon her. The presence of the mysterious stranger kept her eyes wide open and her heart pounding. Her soul ached to see him again, to stare into the eyes of the nocturnal predator lying in wait down the hall.
Before she could think to do anything else, footsteps, light as a whisper upon the wooden floors, sounded from down the hall, a slight creaking of a door shutting, a shadow playing upon the walls outside her room. The silhouette was familiar and striking, the profile sharp and divine, a black river pouring into the night. The ronin.
At once she rose to follow him, draping a house robe over her bare shoulders, tying it quickly and sliding open the koushido. Toshiki watched his ghostly form slip silently down the hall and out of sight. Quiet as a mouse, Toshiki crept after him, slowly rounding the bend with the corner of her eye. The swordsman had disappeared down the steps to the first floor and was probably walking around outside, beginning his guard duties. Nervously she bit at one of her fingernails as she contemplated his reaction if he were to catch her trailing him. Nevertheless, the hope of staring into his eyes, even if it were the last thing she would see, spurred her onward.
The night air was thick and humid; beads of sweat slowly began forming on her brow as she stepped out onto the outer walkways, striving to stay hidden from the moonlight. The swordsman stood a few meters away in the middle of the garden, beneath the swaying bamboo. His gentle hands stroked the blushing faces of the Chinese roses and the tender shoots of young sugi, silently reflecting upon the beauty of the earth.
His hand traveled from the flowering splendor to the bite of cold steel, the long katana upon his sash, serenely hidden within its sheath. After a brief moment of thought he drew its awing length at such an astonishing speed that the blade was not visible. Only a flash of the moonlight reflecting upon its sharpened edge told of its moment of glory in the stifling air. In an instant, he returned it to its place and took a seat upon a stone, listening quietly to the gentle trickling of the waterfalls, and the clicking and creaking of the bamboo.
Toshiki watched in horror as five stalks of cane, still swaying in the night air, suddenly cracked and fell on either side of the swordsman, cleanly cut by his powerful blade. Impossible! Toshiki gasped. I did not even see the sword drawn and yet it cut down the thick bamboo as if it were paper! This man is dangerous! I should not be out here watching him!
As she went to return into the house, a final glance saw that the swordsman had disappeared. Curious, Toshiki slowly ventured out toward the bamboo, wondering where to he had suddenly rushed off. She stroked the freshly cut stalks, warm sap sticking onto her fingers. Her heart trembled at the speed of his blade, and the anxious longing for it to come again. Though his strike had been swift and fear inspiring, it evoked within her a reverential awe. She gazed at the moon through the swaying trunks and thin leaves and bid the night farewell. When she turned, she was met with a horrifying shadow.
Swiftly it came at her, silencing her scream, backing her against the thickening foliage with the silvery razor edge of a sword. Toshiki's emerald orbs flickered as she realized her throat had not been slashed. Another blade had blocked the attack so swiftly neither victim nor foe detected it. Toshiki felt warm breath on her shoulder and the presence of strength undeniably powerful. A hand, smooth and white, gripped the hilt and threw the enemy sword to the ground. The assailant backed away in horror as the presence drew out from the shadows and halted beside the young woman. Toshiki gasped as she recognized the silhouette of the strange scarlet-haired swordsman, his eyes glowing fiercely in the darkness. "Who sent you?" the ronin hissed.
The lackey trembled at his voice and croaked, "My master, L-Lord Kokkaido."
"Are there others?"
"No."
A wicked smile played across the ronin's face. Calmly, the scarlet swordsman returned his weapon to its place and stood at an angle. Toshiki did not understand why he had dropped his guard so quickly. The man was armed and dangerous, without his sword how could the ronin fight? The stranger took his chance and rushed in for the final blow, raising his sword to strike the ronin. In an instant, almost invisibly, the ronin drew his sword from its sheath with god-like speed. Moments later the man lay dead upon the ground, warm blood spilling out from his decapitated form. Toshiki gasped at the sight of it. The ronin strode over to the corpse, picked up the bloody head, the expression frozen with horror, and tossed it into the bamboo. "Here's my reply to your master!"
Toshiki, puzzled at his utterance to the darkness, thought, perhaps the rumors were correct. Maybe he truly is mad!
Those words were put aside when she noticed a hand reach out through the bamboo, grab the head and, among other shadows, rush off into the night. The ronin flicked the dripping blood off his sword and returned it to its place. His fiery stare caught her in the darkness and she gasped slightly at the sight of him. This man was not who she thought him to be. He was a hitokiri, mad as a moon dog and thirsty for blood.
He stepped toward her and said, "I told you there was nothing for you to be curious about."
Toshiki could not speak a word; only stare frightfully at the terrible swordsman standing before her. She trembled uncontrollably, her breathing shallow, her heart skipping in an erratic rhythm. The entire area was thick with blood; a crude stench of death filled the air. The sight of it sickened her. Her mind could not take it all in. Darkness closed around her and the last thing she saw were his violent amber eyes, glimmering in the shadows.
~
The girl fell silently through the night air, her velvet hair swirling about her. The swordsman knelt down and quickly broke her fall, her limp form sliding into an awkward embrace. He held her there for a moment, drawing her dark bangs from off her face. With wide eyes he recognized the visage of the young lady he had seen on the balcony, and who had visited his quarters unannounced. A sigh escaped his lips. Who does this girl think she is? The ronin thought. Following swordsman in the middle of the night. Curiosity like that can get her killed! She looks old enough to have enough sense to understand the danger of these times: wild ronin and bloodthirsty rebels hovering about the city at night. This is unfortunate. She is becoming a distraction. No matter, distractions can be ignored. Gently, the ronin picked her up from the blood-drenched ground and carried her into the house. Suddenly, loud footsteps rapped the wooden walkway outside. The swordsman prepared to draw his sword as a man, sword in hand, came rushing around the corner. "What's happened?"
"Who are you?" the hitokiri hissed.
"I am Kaurousuke, teacher of Matsukaze swordsmanship at this estate." Suddenly stunned at the bloody form in his arms he barked, "What have you done to her?"
"You needn't be concerned. The girl is unharmed. Take her to the maids to be cleaned up." The ronin shoved the girl into the Kaurousuke's arms and turned gracefully to slip back into the shadows. Angered at the hired man's arrogance, the sword master grumbled, "Be glad your reputation proceeds you, or else I would have slain you right here for revealing yourself to the daughter of the daimyo."
The soft footfalls stopped as the hitokiri took in the teacher's words. "I was not informed of her identity. I took her as merely a curious maid scampering about."
"Then be sure you keep this in mind. Lord Matsu wishes her no knowledge of you. Stay away from her, if you value your life, kisama akage kozou."
The scarlet swordsman glared at him with much fire. "If you value yours, you will refrain from insulting a hitokiri in the future," he growled and returned to his post. Kaurousuke snarled at the receding shadow and carried the girl up the stairs. He looked down; suddenly feeling her body tremble in disturbed slumber. A word escaped her tender lips, one full of horror and dread: "Akai."