SHADOWS OF RED
by Hime-kou
Author's notes: It was not good. I was recently revisiting Shadows of Red, and I had to endure the first couple of chapters. Ouch. It was painful. These first couple of chapters were like the beginning of my writing and were rather...moldy? Hole-y. Papercut-y. So I had to revise it. Otherwise, it probably would have driven me insane. "AHHHH! BAD CHAPTER!" So here's chapter one revised and hopefully better to the general enjoyment and pain relief of readers.
Chapter One- A Questionable Light (Rev)
The Meiji Era dawned on the blood of many. Built upon the bodies of murdered citizens, civilians and officers, some corrupt and some not. Legendary among the hitokiri's, the assassins, of the opposing factions, was one man known as Hitokiri Battousai. The ultimate killing machine. A man with hair as scarlet as the blood he bore upon his hands. Yet Hitokiri Battousai had one equal. In fact, another hitokiri. Once not many knew about. One who killed as ferociously and enormously as Hitokiri Battousai, and one as skilled too. One who lived and fought in the shadows of the war.
The streets of Kyoto were busy. People moved to and fro, gazing at shop windows, chattering about new items…even in these times of unrest and danger, the public still came to shop and talk. The only difference was the number of swords worn openly, the number of young women accompanied by stern-looking men, and the rarity of single shoppers. Kyoto in these ages was a dangerous place. Blood was spilled almost every night. Consequently, the streets fell into disarray.
Smudges of dirt and ash blackened the walls of stores, and the alleyways between buildings were places of filth, darkness, and rats. An air of tension and fear was settled over the entire city and few stopped long to chat. Eyes tended to dart sideways and flash at suspicious-looking people, gazing distrustfully at anyone and everyone.
Grime hung over store signs and store windows carried extra fortifications of wood and sometimes steel. Doors were padlocked and securely shut when night fell. No one risked Kyoto in the later hours. A chilly wind blew threw the streets, rattling signs, tossing sleeves, rippling kimonos. Shops closed their windows tightly and barricaded them with firmly secured wood. Upstairs, along the private homes of shopkeepers, the wind scraped desolately against the wide frozen glance of the wooden walls. A few trees, sticking out of back courtyards in the more prosperous shops, were bare and their dark grey branches creaked against a lighter grey sky. A few leaves tumbled along the street, catching shoppers on their ankles.
She stood in the corners of the street, leaning casually against the wall of a shop called the Bairin. It sold udon to the hungry passengers upon the street. Even now, a few men and women ate from steaming bowls, though the silence between them spoke of unease. Steaming hot noodles were lifted from a large communal pot by the shopkeeper and dished into dishes of questionable sanitary levels. Money was exchanged with furtive glances between shopkeeper and customer—the bright metal coins disappeared almost instantly after being handed over.
The people who ate at the stall were garbed in either nice and clean kimonos or clean, well-made hakamas and gis. Although she wore a well-worn black gi and grey hakama, no one seemed to see her. She blended into the background and merely watched. She had been told that someone would be here, in the alleys between two certain shops. She didn't question the information—she didn't want to know how it was gotten. Spies were only too easily bought in these days.
She casually stepped closer to the alley besides her. Her tatami sandals trailed through a spot of red, staining the woven soles. Without a sound, she slipped into the darkness, vanishing from the streetfront. The people continued walking by, none noticing her presence or her absence.
Inside, it was pitch dark. Rats scrabbled by the walls. Here, the wind didn't blow. All was still and silent but for the movements of the animals.
Sachiko stared ahead into the darkened alleyway. She waited for her eyes to adjust. The dark did not bother her. Her senses, already almost inhumanely sharp, grew sharper still with tension. The metallic tang of blood drifted towards her, emanating from some spot deeper within the alley. Without a sound, she sped into the darkness, hakama and gi fading into the blackness, long black hair swinging. Harbinger of death.
She stopped when she came upon the man standing in the dark over a freshly killed body. She could hear his breath, smell the blood on his steel katana, see his eyes gleaming in the darkness, crazed with bloodlust. Although she made no sound, he looked up as she approached. Immediately, his katana dropped to a defensive position and he crouched. He reacted quickly, one of the better hitokiris hired by the Bakufu, apparantly. No matter.
In the alleyway branching off the busy streets of Kyoto, where none could see or hear of it, they readied themselves. Darkness cloaked the two to advantage—but Sachiko invariably sensed his ki. Obviously, this man hadn't been trained in hiding from anything other than sight. Sachiko watched the hitokiri as he froze in position.
Ominously, she drew her katana. The steel scraped against the hard sheath and the rasping noise filled the alley. Neither moved. Neither, until a rat scurried towards the corpse on the ground, breaking the silence. The man lunged.
Smoothly, he slid towards Sachiko, katana extended, still stained red. Sachiko grinned humorlessly.
In a heartbeat, she parried, steel clashing, and swiftly drove her sword under his guard—towards his vulnerable body. He blocked; or rather, he attempted to. As his sword flashed to parry her anticipated blow, Sachiko whipped her sword around and sliced ferociously into his sword arm, severing tendons and nerves.
Blood gushed out. His hand hung limp and useless. She had purposely slashed at his arm, calculating to debilitate him. Sure enough, the man gave a yelp of pain…and fear. For a hitokiri without the use of their sword arm was as good as dead. His eyes gleamed in the darkness, emotions surging through their dark light.
Satisfied, she drew her katana towards his throat, preparing to slash easily and allow his life to drain out with his blood. This was only too easy. This was why her employer hadn't even asked her to kill in the night. This man was no one of consequence.
He didn't give up. She felt surprise, though detachedly, at his will to live. Panting, he threw his body towards the wall, switching sword hands. All the more challenging and engaging for Sachiko then. They faced off again, the man holding his katana with the easy grip of one used to both hands.
This could go on forever or it could end in a moment, Sachiko knew. She decided that the darkness was pressing down on her and she wanted to get out. She wanted to be back at her quarters, out of the darkness. Tensing muscles, she sprang, using the wall behind her for momentum.
She ran towards the man, her speed making rags, dirt, pieces of filth, and ashes swirl into the air. When she was exactly outside of the man's swordsman's zone, she hurled herself into a spin, sword extended.
The movement carried her into his zone and out, in the space of seconds, and she smoothly turned off at the alley wall.
Silence.
Then, the figure behind her gave a horrible gurgle and slid, in half, to the ground. Blood spurted everywhere, drenching the ground, the corpse, and Sachiko. Rivers of red. The smell…permeating every pore on Sachiko's body. Soaking into the very air. Her sword tip gleamed crimson. Her hakama dripped scarlet liquid. Blood.
"Run, Sachiko-chan! Run away!" Agonized scream, then blood. Blood everywhere, drenching, burning, staining, drowning, smothering, liquid.
Sachiko, holding Michiko's head, the eyes wide open in fear and death. Long black tresses trailing into coagulating blood. Blood. Red. Scarlet on her hands.
That was chapter one! It sure was dark and angsty. Hmmm, I don't know if that's a good place to end but I'm sure everyone will understand. Doesn't Sachiko sound scary? You'll find out more about her later and these cheesy blood-flashblacks of hers. :Hime-kou grimaces at lame flashblack: I'm sorrryy! Wah, don't sue me for mutilating Ruroken! And please keep reading if you are! And please submit anything for me to read and feel appreciated! Thank you!
Japanese Vocabulary of the Chapter (i.e. Japanese to Make this Sound Authentic)
1. Sachiko...boy is this a misnomer. It means Child of Joy or Child from Joy. Sachiko sure sounds...erm...joyous, doesn't she? I mean, all that blood
stuff? Who wouldn't be happy. Ha. Ha. Sorry Sachiko, you'resubject toHime-kou's over active imagination.
2. Hitokiri..beautiful world, isn't it? This means manslayer, for all you Ruroken innocents out there.
3. Udon...Noodles. Japanese noodles, to be exact. They're usually made of wheat, and are thick and long. As per usual. Very very good.
4. Bairin...that's Japanese for plum blossom. I know, that's a horrible pun-ish thing on Tomoe. But still.
5. Kimono...traditional dress for women in Japan. Young women wore long sleeved, bright kimonos while married and older women had shorter
sleeves and duller colors.
6. Hakama...traditional Japanese pants worn by men, mostly. Sachiko's special, she's a hitokiri. (as if that explains everything)
7. Gi...a jacket-like article of clothing made of cotton.
8. Tatami...sandals worn by both men and women. Made of woven straw.
9. Katana...a sword approximately30 inches long.
10. Ki...a person's life-force. Swordsmen like Kenshin can sense ki or cloak their own.
Thanks and review!