Hiko walked through the cooling evening air on his way to the small village outside Kyoto. He had run out of sake again and needed more, at least that was his reasoning. After all, the great master of the Hiten Mitsurugi style would never walk all the way to town to find out if the young boy he had saved last week had lived. And he certainly didn't care about how the boy was doing in the village. Therefore it was of no concern whatsoever when he found out the child had never showed up in the village. He could care less. After all, people died everyday. He should know. After all he had killed many of them. But even if he didn't care, he could still show respect for the dead... Burying them helped keep him human in many respects.
He was approaching the clearing where the slaughter had occurred. It was just past sundown, the last orange red streaks of color quickly fading to dark blue and lavender. Years of death had taught him that the best time to bury bodies was at night, away from the harsh sun. As much as he wasn't looking forward to dealing with the week old dead, he knew sleep would be hard to come by until he did. Sighing he entered the clearing, only to be stopped by the shocking sight before him. Instead of decaying bodies his eyes found a field of crosses. Rough crosses made by childish hands, little more than sticks used to mark the graves. At the far end of the graveyard stood a small boy with red hair before three stones. The child stood with clenched fists, a look of hurt helplessness on his face, and before Hiko could think about the consequences he was pouring his freshly bought sake over the head stones, and telling the boy to follow him home.
Author's note: Thank you all for reading, reviewing and adding me to a C2 community!
Cheers in starry-eyed Misao manner: You like me! You really like me!
FrostPhoenix