A/N: I know that the theme has been beaten to death already, even though I never read Cartland. This was supposed to be stress-relief. I posted it with zero rewriting, and almost no editing. But since people seem to actually read it, I'll try to put more thoughts into it. Thanks for all your feedbacks, much appreciated. Cheers.
His sword dashed with deadly acumen, too fast to see for the naked eye, cutting through bones and flesh with chilling ease. Blood spattered all around him, tainting the stone walls in thousand umber droplets. Bodies slumped to the ground, and the echoes of swords clattering resonated through the quiet night.
He stood there then, his sword still in his hand, alone in his islet of calm amidst a pool of crimson. He stood there, his youthful face emotionless, cruel yet innocent, his hair glinting white and orange under the shy moonlight.
It was, Kaoru thought, mesmerized, a vision to behold.
Whatever men would say about her, Kaoru was not one prone to impulsive decisions. Her plan had come to her over time, and she had thought long and hard about it, weighting the for and the against in her mind. Thus, it was not one born from the anger of the moment, nor was it the whim of a spoiled child, but one matured from constant reflection.
It had been guided by a growing sense of hopelessness, though. As she proceeded through the streets of her native Izushi, Kaoru acknowledged that fact with resignation. It was, she knew, not the best way to decide one's future; one should always be clear-minded when doing so. It could very well, Kaoru thought, have led her into making the wrong choice entirely. Her father would be crushed, she realized with a tugging at her heart. She left him a letter explaining her reasons, but still she couldn't shake off the guilt she was feeling at this very moment.
A turn left, then right. Beside her Megumi's breathing were becoming more labored, and her own lungs were beginning to burn. Her own breaths left a trail of mist in the night's air. Her cheeks were hot from exertion, and the slightest gust of wind felt like countless needles stabbing at her skin. A snowflake landed on her nose. She looked up at the sky. Gloomy clouds could be guessed through the darkness, and tiny white crystals were beginning to float down.
There would be political outfalls as well, of course. News of her disappearance would soon break out; something of that magnitude couldn't be hidden for long. Her father's position would be weakened. Long time enemies or greedy opportunists may see it as the perfect moment to strike, to say nothing about the Himuras. Oh yes, the Himuras. She pictured their disappointment and anger with a bitter satisfaction.
What was she to do, given the circumstances? Others would have simply bowed at their fate, submitting to their scripted part in the grand scheme of things. But not she. She was not a docile woman, refused to bend, even if she risked to break. She had a strong will, had inherited that from her mother.
The thought of her mother gave her new strengths, and dissolved the doubts that were creeping into her mind. Megumi took left, and she followed. A narrow alley, dimly lit. Some rough-looking men stood there, talking between them. They gave her glances that were suspicious and lewd at the same time. The sword at her waist was attracting their attention, she saw, trying hard to not look at them overtly. Megumi laid a soft had on her arm, trying to calm Kaoru, and maybe herself. They ran past them. Kaoru could still feel their gazes lingering on her back. Her heart was racing hard, threatening to bounce out of her chest. There was apprehension, yes. And there, buried somewhere, there was also exhilaration, undeniable and untamed.
Finally they emerged into the light again, as they took a sharp turn right. Kaoru instantly bumped against a wall of hard muscle and bones, throwing her backward. She looked up. Her elation swiftly died.
Glaring down at her was the biggest man she'd ever seen. Tall and bulky, his arms were thicker than her thighs, and his bushy moustache was particularly striking on his egg-bald head. His wild eyes fixed her in heavy silence. His odor, she noticed, was extremely unpleasant. Several men stood behind him, all armed. Ronins, she thought. They reeked of alcohol.
Megumi helped her back on her feet. Kaoru tried to appear calm and unconcerned. She dusted off her kimono, straightened out the cloth. "Please pardon me, sir," she said to the big man, bowing slightly.
He answered with a derisive snort. "Ye think that ye'll get away with a simple 'sorry?'" he sneered. "Gotta do more than that."
Kaoru remained defiant, stood her ground. Her maid was throwing her worried glances.
"Heh, ye have some spirit, got to admit that." He approached, tucking a stubby finger under her chin, lifting it towards him. She looked back at him, unwavering.
"Tell us, what's a girlie doing with a sword, hmm?"
She glared at him. "You, sir, are an ill-mannered oaf," she retorted, her voice icy. It was wrong to provoke him, she knew. They were far too many to deal with, and each minute lost here could mean her plan's failure. Yet she couldn't resist, her spirit would not bow down.
"Ill-mannered oaf?" The giant boomed into laughter. "You hear that, guys?" Behind him the men sniggered.
"You shouldn't be laughing at your own failings. It is the true mark of imbeciles," she said, her hands slightly shaking. The words seemed to have gained a will of their own. She regretted uttering them as soon as they left her mouth, and yet they gave her a strange satisfaction. Let it not be said that Kamiya Kaoru could be cowed by a brainless ruffian.
A soft hand on her shoulder. Kaoru turned, saw Megumi's distress.
"My lady," Megumi whispered, "those men look dangerous. Maybe you shouldn't—"
Too late. Despite the chilly temperature, the man's face was reddening at an alarming rate. "Ye've some tongue," he growled. Then he leered. "I've something better in mind for it."
One of his massive hands landed on her breast.
"Don't touch me, smelly beast." She pushed his hand away.
He smirked. "So you want it the hard way, eh? I don't mind, I like it when they squirm."
Megumi interposed herself. "Please excuse my sister's rudeness," she said, bowing. "She's yet to—"
A casual backhand blow from the giant samurai sent her flying sideways. She crashed against the wall, falling on the ground.
"Megumi!" Kaoru exclaimed. She ran to her maid, knelt down by her side. "Are you hurt, Megumi?"
"Please, don't worry about me, my l… Kaoru," replied Megumi with a weak smile on her bloodied lips.
"Isn't that charming," one of the man snickered. The warriors were closing in on them, their frames shadowing the moonlight till it was entirely gone. Then all that stood before Kaoru was a giant, his frame all the more fearsome for its darkness.
Kaoru unsheathed her katana, and took a fighting pose.
"What're ye going to do with that?" the big samurai taunted. "Don't play with dangerous toys, ye'll get hurt." His right arm reached out.
She slashed. The man was much faster than what his bulk would have suggested. Nonetheless, Kaoru could feel her blade sink into flesh, draw first blood. Kaoru observed, fascinated, as the man jerked back, roaring a savage curse. This was real, she thought suddenly. There was a real man in front of her, and her sword had just cut into him. No amount of training could have prepared her for this. Her hands shook, and she could smell sweat, mixed with the bitter stench of blood. It was, she realized, her own perspiration.
"Bitch," the big man snarled, trying to stop his bleeding. "Ye'll pay for that. Ye'll pay good." The men behind him drew out their swords.
This was bad. She could have tried to flee, if she were alone. She was fast enough, and could outrun most of the guards at her estate. She glanced sidelong at Megumi. She couldn't leave her friend like this. She firmed her hands. They advanced towards her, prudently, yet confident in their skills and number. Silently Kaoru cursed her own foolishness, and fate's cruelty. This night of all night, it had to—
"Is this how samurais behave?" a new voice cut in, low and flat.
A man in black kimono and light blue hakama stood there. He couldn't be older than seventeen, Kaoru thought. His hair the color of soft fire was pulled into a proud ponytail. A woman stood a few feet behind him, calm and expressionless; she was, Kaoru remarked, very beautiful.
"Pass your way, kid," one of the ronins said, his crooked teeth very yellow in his mouth. "You don't want to get hurt."
But the newcomer advanced towards them, unconcerned. "Scum have no place ordering me," he said. "Leave the ladies in peace now, and I shall spare your miserable lives."
"Boy, ye think you can take all of us by yourself?" the big samurai asked, incredulous. "Ye must've lost yer head."
The young man was almost upon them now. One of the giant's underlings lunged towards him with raised blade.
A spray of blood.
It happened so fast. Kaoru didn't even see the young warrior draw his weapon. A fraction of a second, and then his opponent was already dead, a huge gash gaping across his chest. The orange headed samurai continued to move forward, unperturbed. He was, Kaoru realized, a man used to killing.
"Whatchy'all doing?" the giant man shouted to his men. He drew his own katana with his valid hand, and, with a yell, led the charge. Soon they were all over the newcomer.
And soon they fell. The boy's blade danced with deadly acumen, cutting through bones with chilling ease. Bodies slumped to the ground in muted sounds. The echoes of swords clattering on the hard ground clanged through the quiet night.
It had been, Kaoru realized, an unfair fight. The ronins had been half-drunk, and the boy was clearly their master in the arts of the sword. There wasn't even a scratch on his body.
He stood there then, in the soft snow, his sword still in his hand, alone in his islet of calm amidst a pool of crimson. He stood there, his youthful face emotionless and innocent, his calm almost surrealistic to the point of cruelty. His hair glinted a tame white and orange under the shy moon light.
He turned his head then, and looked straight at her.
He was, Kaoru thought, her eyes unable to divert themselves from his piercing gaze, a vision to behold.