Chapter Five: Crossing the Sanzu River (Part I)

With the quiet of night, the merciless nature of the rain seemed even more profound as it battered the small village of Torikorosu. The heavier it fell, the more it reminded Shiori of a raging river, invading her mind like a dark specter and taking her back to a place she had tried to forget.

It seemed so long ago, like the passing of a lifetime, when she had plunged into the icy waters and died.

Shiori's feet hurt; they burned and were riddled with blisters. She could not remember ever walking so much in her seventeen years of life. But she did not complain, this was the path she had chosen, having traded a life of comfort for a life on the run filled with exhaustion and the constant fear of capture.

"I am afraid," she whispered in a voice so young and innocent, that her dreaming self almost didn't recognize it. Hands, soft from the pampered life she had lived gripped the crimson sleeve of the samurai she followed. She wanted to cling to his hand for comfort but she knew that she could not hinder him so.

"Do not be," he said as he guided her down the empty road.

Though his words were weary from the weeks spent on the run, they warmed her. As long as she was with Kiyohito, she knew she could endure anything.

The truth, she knew, was she would have to. They thought they had found a night of respite within the civilized walls of an inn, but it only lasted a few hours, ending when passing travelers spoke of the strange sights they had seen on their journeys. They said Sono samurai had entered into Nishi domain. Stranger, the Nishi had welcomed them and joined in on the hunt for a renegade samurai captain and his "prisoner".

Little did the frightened travelers understand that she was not captive, but rather a willing accomplice.

They had fled the inn and taken the back roads, along the quick moving river that flowed through the Nishi domain hoping to disappear before anyone got wise to them.

Every step seemed a struggle. "I must stop," Shiori said, struggling over the uneven road.

Turning, Kiyohito looked at her worriedly as he brushed a callused finger along her cheek. Glancing about, toward the shadows under the trees, he nodded toward a clearing lined with pockets of growth. "Over there," he whispered, "we can rest for a little while."

The thick grass was a relief compared to the cart-rutted road and Shiori found herself walking a little easier. Finding herself bathed in the bright moonlight that cast an eerie glow over her pale yellow kimono, she walked across the clearing toward the sounds of the river. It seemed so close.

A firm hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her back before she got too close to the edge of a cliff overlooking the swift moving waters far below. Startle shortened her breaths as she leaned into his protective hold. She had nearly walked right over the edge.

"Shiori," he whispered drawing her attention. "We should stop this running."

"No!" she said, staring up at him. "No. I will not go back. I will not obey." Her father had intended her to marry a young man who was recently named the magistrate of a small corner of Sono domain. It was a nice, safe and dull position that would afford Shiori a comfortable life with a nice, safe and dull man.

It was not the life she wanted.

She had rebelled against her father's plans and fell in love with a man she should not have, a master swordsman, one of her father, Lord Sono's best.

Twisting, but still pressing to his chest, she stared at the edge of the cliff. "I would rather throw myself into the river, than go back without you."

When he smiled at her, she knew without doubt that she had made the right decision.

And then her world fell apart.

"Matsuura Kiyohito."

A scream rose to her lips the moment she heard that voice but terror stole its sound. She could feel Kiyohito push her protectively behind him. Desperately pressing her hands to her mouth, she tried to stifle the sobs that rippled through her.

"No," she whispered. "No." It could not end like this.

Her mother had died when she was very young and as an only child benefited from her father's teachings. He had seen to it that she would fear nothing. Not men, not the sword and certainly not death. The blood of many generations of samurai flowed through her veins.

Until a few weeks ago, she feared nothing.

She had never known true terror, not like what flooded through her at that very moment, she prayed she would never know it again. It robbed her of everything, even her pride. Her mind disconnected from her frozen body and she was hyperaware of everything.

Before her, Kiyohito shifted and she knew he was preparing to draw his sword, to fight and if necessary die defending her. As his stance slowly changed, she looked beyond his shoulder to the man standing not a dozen paces away.

The partially shadowed figure spoke in a cold, even tone, "Step away from him, Shiori."

Tears burned in her eyes as she squeezed them closed. "No," she whispered through gritted teeth. "No, I won't."

"Do not make this more difficult."

Hot tears streamed down her cheeks. Her vision blurry as she opened her eyes and stared at the man, blocking their way back to the road. "I won't." Rage, like the fire of a thousand sunsets, burned in her knowing that her father had sent this man. She aimed a finger toward the moon and demanded, "Go back to my father and tell him that I will not return. Call off his dogs, they will listen to you."

There was frustration in Kiyohito's face as he admonished her. "Brave, Shiori." Soft. Gentle. Rough fingers tipped her chin up. "Were it only so easy, but you know that you cannot make such a request. He serves your father."

Shiori wanted to scream.

These are warriors, her father had once said. These men you do not love. They are incapable of it. They know only obedience, death and the sword.

They are not for you.

She reached up and wrapped her thin fingers around his wrist. It was so strong. "Don't."

The crimson dressed samurai turned to look at the figure standing in the shadow of the trees. He spoke evenly, "Your father is worried about you, that's why he sent his best man to find us. To bring you safely home." He tilted his head in acknowledgement of the other man, one of a privileged few whom he would call friend. "Karasu."

From the shroud of darkness stepped the man, he was not dressed in the deep red of the Sono samurai, but he served Shiori's father nevertheless.

These men you do not love.

Shiori turned to follow his gaze and stared at the samurai blocking their path. The night painted his indigo blue gi in swaths of black.

"Walk past me," Karasu told her as he brought his left hand up, carefully angling his saya as his right hand hovered ready to show why he was nearly unrivaled in the art of the sword. "Keep walking, no matter what you hear. Do not turn around. Just keep walking."

"Do as he says," the crimson dressed samurai said evenly as he took a step back from her. "Whatever happens, do not look back."

Tears flowed down her cheeks even as her shoulders sagged. She understood. She understood in a way few women ever would. Offering a longing look to the man she had given her heart to, she wanted to put words to her feelings but found herself silent.

Her soul ached as she slowly obeyed. As she passed Karasu, she noted that he did not meet her gaze, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead.

"I shall never forgive you," she whispered as she passed him.

Karasu closed his eyes. "I must obey."

They know only obedience, death and the sword.

The moonlight, full and unfettered, fell across her path as she took small steps, drawing farther from the men. Every fiber of her being wanted to turn around and watch. It might be the last time that she saw either one of them alive.

For the first time in her life, she flinched at the sound of blades being unsheathed. Her body froze and shuddered with the clang of steel. "No," she whispered but her voice was drowned out by the snap and clatter of furious strikes.

Bracing herself, she slowly reached behind her, feeling the smooth lacquered body of her sheathed tanto pressed to the small of her back and tucked into her obi. Drawing it with such fierce speed, she sent the sheath flying across the thick grass and into the dirt road as she spun about and raced toward the battling men. Blades flashed reflecting the pale light as she threw herself between them.

A kill strike barely averted by lightning quick reflexes as Karasu twisted to avoid delivering the blow that would end Shiori's life, his blade slicing into the wide sleeve of her kimono but doing her no harm.

A tiny, terrified sound escaped her as she stared at his equally shocked gaze. She had never seen such an unsettled look on normally cool features. With a trembling hand, she brought up the tanto in her white knuckled grip, holding it threateningly out toward him.

"Aisai," Kiyohito said.

"No," she evenly responded, any fear she had suffered bled away as she rushed forward, driving Karasu back several steps.

The tables turned as he suddenly chose to stand his ground, looking from Shiori, past her shoulder to the samurai behind her. And she knew. She knew by the look in his eyes, that he understood.

There was guarded acceptance in Karasu's voice. "Your husband." Slowly, he shifted his stance, remaining in guard as he lowered his sword to his side.

For the first time in days, she was no longer afraid. She felt numb inside, save for her own determination.

Behind her, Kiyohito said firmly, "Don't."

There was no doubt in her mind what she had done. She had presented herself as a danger to Karasu, even as she shifted her step to keep herself between he and her husband, Kiyohito. And yet, just as she understood this, she also knew that Karasu would not harm her.

These men you do not love. They are incapable of it.

In her heart, she knew this was a lie, for her father had loved her mother and she had never known a day when he did not grieve for her. He was no different than these men.

She lunged at him, driving the short blade through the air. Her attack was meant to stab, to wound, to kill, but she had no illusions, it was merely an act of futility.

The flash of a long blade barely registered in her mind before her tanto was knocked from her hand. A startled cry escaped her as long fingers wrapped around her throat. The hold was loose and though he was not choking her, the air was strangled from her with surprise. Her fingers clawed at the blue silk of his gi, shredding it. Nails dug into pale flesh, tearing red streaks in it, determined to hurt him. Tears blurred her vision as she once more found her voice, "Kill him and you kill me."

There was regret in his eyes, then agony.

"Forgive me, my friend," Kiyohito said as he finished driving his long blade into Karasu's back and through his abdomen. "I serve only Shiori."

She felt the grip of her throat loosen, and then fall to her shoulder as if seeking support. She still held his wrist as he slid off the blade that impaled him and sank to his knees. Horror seized her. She knew men died by the sword, but this, not like this. Not in front of her, their blood spilling at her feet.

Not because of her.

Her fingers still held his wrist as his head tilted forward, his face contorted in pain. Through gritted teeth, he managed, "I…obey."

"And I want to be free," she said, releasing her hold of his wrist as she retreated from the blood.

Voices called from the road. "There they are! Get them!"

Kiyohito straightened; gore dripping from his sword in the moonlight as he turned toward the men racing closer. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the edge of the cliff.

She was running on automatic, following her husband, but managed to look back just in time to see Karasu crumple to the ground as Nishi and Sono samurai converged around them.

"Matsuura Kiyohito! Release the girl and stand down by the orders of Lord Sono!" one of the men barked as he motioned his men to surround them.

A Nishi samurai aimed his blade at them. "By order of Lord Nishi, stand down!"

She was still staring at Karasu lying in a pool of blood when her husband wrapped his arm around her waist. She gripped the crimson sleeve of his gi. "Take me with you," she said, knowing only a journey to hell awaited them.

As the men tightened around them, Kiyohito stepped back and together they stepped off the edge of the cliff.

A scream tore into the night as Shiori sat up, her futon falling away as she stifled her sobs behind her hands. Sweat clung to her brow and for the first time in many years, she was shaking.

A/N – Once again I would like to thank roterritter, Elementary Magpie and poornmiserable for your replies. I really enjoy hearing from readers about their thoughts and what they enjoyed. So thank you so much. I'd love to hear from more:) Elementary Magpie - The next post is about a very waterlogged Jin.

Next Chapter - Jin comes up for air.