"Are you sure this is the place?"
They were standing on one of the sidewalks of a three-way stop; not one of the busiest residential streets of the neighborhood, but enough to make Cye nervous with the few remaining passersby on their way home from school. The occasional car wasn't helping either, especially when Laura had started to walk out in the middle of the street.
Cye reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her back just as a passing car honked at them. Laura blinked, for a moment lost before she realized what had happened and whirled on her partner. "Cye! I was trying to concentrate!"
"And get killed!" Cye responded hotly, then sighed. "Can't you do it from here?"
"No," she said and stepped out onto the street, just as that last car turned the corner and another curious onlooker finally skittered away. She placed her hands out in front of her and started looking. "C'mon… C'mon!"
Cye followed behind, watching as she walked the street, how her at first, steady movement, became more frantic; more flustered with emotions. "Laura…"
"Where is it?" Like a blind woman trying to find something she could not see, she walked every corner of the street, the sidewalk, the intersection, to no avail. "Damn it! I know you're here, you stupid shit!"
"Laura!" Cye grabbed her wrist before she punched her fist into a wall. He held her to him, even as she struggled, trying to shield her any way he could.
"I can't find it," she mumbled, shaking her head from side to side, trembling against his chest. "I can't find the seam. And if I can't find the seam we can't get in there."
He didn't understand what she was talking about. But the weight of her words, the conviction and dread, brought it all home. Somehow, Laura knew where Sage was, and she couldn't reach him. Her helplessness was killing her. "Laura…"
She suddenly broke from his embrace, the boy stumbling back in surprise as she walked out in the middle of the street again, ignoring the newest batch of onlookers and the second car she had gotten in the way of.
"Sage!" she screamed amidst the honks of an angry driver and Cye trying to drag her back to the sidewalk. She slapped his hand away. "Sage! I swear!" she screamed again. "If you die after spouting all that bullshit about not being weak, I swear I will never forgive you! I will never forgive you!"
Actors Wanted
Children of War
(Day 22)
By: Little Ucchan
Sage swallowed and felt the edge of the blades that were embedded on either side of his neck slide against his skin. He took in a startled breath, panic still an ever present weight in his stomach, and the same thing happened, the cold metal a constant reminder that if he so much as moved his head one millimeter to the left or right, he'd end up cutting himself against the blades.
But he was alive. A fact that had shocked him into stillness a moment before he realized exactly what kind of situation he was in.
The demon stepped away from him, releasing his foot off of the Ronin's wrist before doing the same to the other, leaving the shaken swordsman pinned to the asphalt by over sixty separate blades that lined the silhouette of his body, all reaching up to several golden globes that held him prisoner. No blade, however, had pierced his armor. Not one had cut his skin. But if he wanted to keep it that way he couldn't move.
The cutting edge of each blade was lined at an angle that if he did try to get up, not only couldn't he with such a constrained space, but he'd be cut everywhere, including the veins at his neck.
Sage closed his eyes, the sun no longer shielded from his vision by the demon's gigantic body hovering over him, and slowly flexed the fingers of his right hand. He met air. Shit.
"Do not expect help to arrive."
Sage opened his eyes and, not moving his head, looked right. He could see the demon out of the corner of his eyes and his nodachi with him, the flat end of the sword resting against the behemoth's bare shoulders.
"You are in a different plane of existence; one I had set up on top of the Mortal realm. They will not find you. The rune bearer or your comrades." The demon turned his back to him, stepping further out of his vision. "Sit still. And when this is over, I will let you go."
"Dead or alive?" The comment had come flying out of his mouth before he knew it. At once, the demon turned around, his gaze clear to Sage even with his silhouetted form.
"I know you are not a fool." He took a step forward. "So you're aware of the fact that if I had wanted to kill you, I would have done it."
He stopped in front of the Ronin, for a moment gazing down at the boy, never diverting his stare, before crouching down onto his haunches and leaning forward. His face was six inches away from the side of Sage's helmet, and he could see the long scar that ran down the left side of his captor's face.
The demon's breath pushed against the loose strands of blonde hair that had fallen over the boy's right eye. "Do not make the mistake of assuming all demons kill indiscriminately," he warned. "If you cannot do this simple task, I might repeat the mistake of assuming, because you wear his armor, you work for Talpa. And then I would have to kill you."
The threat, so close to his ear, forced a shudder through Sage's body. He clenched his jaw as the demon pulled away, tasting, for the first time, the true strength of his power: his age. Over a thousand. Sage shut his eyes. He's over a thousand years old! Why the hell is this kind of demon here?
He cast a glance back at the demon's direction. He had his back to the Ronin once again, seeming to be looking out for something nearby. He noticed, now, that he was wearing a ring of prayer beads; gold in color. But some of them were missing from the stringed necklace. Sage realized those beads were the same ones he had used to attack him earlier, and the missing beads were the globes that were now holding him prisoner.
His eyebrows furrowed as the thought just reached him. Prayer beads… Calm disposition… He spared my life, and was easily angered when I thought otherwise. …And he hates Talpa. Somehow, the two of them ending up in this kind of fight didn't add up.
"Why do you need me?"
Sage saw the muscles on the demon's back flex as he turned to address him. "Bait."
Bait? Sage tensed. That didn't sound well for him at all. "For who?"
"My target. He's been ordered to kill you, and I to kill him," he elaborated. "So I needed you here in order to complete my mission." He chuckled then, and act that startled Sage in its good natured tone. "I suppose if all I needed for you to do was sit there, I should have just asked, instead of roughing you up so badly? But I suppose you wouldn't have listened if I had simply asked."
Sage blinked at the demon. Just maybe if he did it enough times, his brain would make sense of what his instincts were telling him. No malicious aura… How can a demon not have a malicious aura?
He fully turned around, and Sage caught sight of a faint smirk at the corner of his lips. "So," he began conversationally, "you don't serve anyone, do you boy? Except maybe that young rune bearer."
Sage was at first too stunned with the colloquial direction of the conversation to respond. But the instant the notion of him being under Laura's servitude was mentioned, his cheeks immediately colored, his face contorting into a scowl. "I most definitely, do not serve her."
The demon raised an eyebrow at the unusually vehement response, and he laughed. "Easy now. I didn't mean to open up a sore subject."
Sage growled, not liking that notion either, then stopped and finally caught how he had been acting. To his surprise, the demon was grinning. "You're a ronin then?" He took a casual step forward, arms crossed over his chest, the hilt of Sage's sword held, tip down, in one hand. "Tell me, what has Talpa to say about you wearing his armor and living by that ideology? I'm sure he's not that pleased with you."
"He's dead. My friends and I killed him." He had caught the sound of banter, and for some reason, smiled himself when he continued his answer. "Because he tried to stop us from living that ideology."
The demon snorted, and then burst out into a booming laugh that rang in Sage's ears. "Heh," he nodded approvingly. "I like you already."
"Does that mean you'll let me up?"
The demon stared at him, the expression of mirth gone from his face. For a moment, Sage believed he had pushed things too far, when the blades that were holding him down suddenly slid back up into the globes above him. Each glowed for a moment before shrinking in side and returning to their place around their master's neck.
Sage sat up, and the flat end of his nodachi slammed against his chest.
He froze, watching as the blade turned, the cutting edge of his own sword scraping against his armored chest as it rose slowly towards his head. He quickly got his feet under him just as the blade touched his neck and kept rising up, forcing him to rise as well to keep up. He finally stood at his full height, but the demon did not stop raising his arm till Sage lifted his head at the sword's advancement. The blade stopped right underneath his chin with enough weight to make the boy uncomfortable when he swallowed.
He felt the demon's eyes rove over him, sizing him up, judging him as his own weapon held him still. Then he felt his eyes had stopped to rest squarely on his face.
"What's your name, boy?"
For a moment, the Ronin diverted his gaze away from the blade at his neck to meet his interrogator's eyes. "Sage," he replied.
He did not understand the importance, or what kind of test the demon was running him through; only felt the weight of that same calculated gaze for a moment longer before it relaxed, and his nodachi was pulled away from his neck.
The demon flipped the blade over and handed it back to him, hilt first. "You have good eyes, for a young one," he complemented, smiling at Sage's bewildered expression as he took his sword back. "I am Dario," he introduced himself and turned his back to him again, gazing out like he had done earlier.
"You don't think I would have stabbed you?"
"You're not the type to run your sword through someone's exposed back. Demon or not." Dario answered, turning partly to address him, his hands behind his back in a casual stance. "Or am I wrong about you and should be on guard?"
In response, Sage twirled his blade and sheathed it on his back. Dario snorted and turned back to his watch. "So tell me, boy. Why'd you get involved in this war?"
"I wasn't aware there was one."
That response had stopped Dario, and he turned around shocked and angered. "Are you a fool after all?" he demanded. "You fight and you don't know the reason why?"
"Of course I know my reason!" Sage snapped back. And slowly, before he even answered, the anger in the demon's face drained away. "To guard what matters to me."
He found this odd, having a conversation with a demon, a serious one at that. But he couldn't help but answer honestly. Dario's presence, like Laura's, demanded the truth from him.
The demon nodded, and for a moment, his eyes looked their age, and held a sorrow that accompanied many veteran fighters; the ones that have lived the longest. "I guess that's what we all do in the end," he said. "Whether we are guarding our family, our country…"
"I wanted to do something, alright? Even if it's a little over the top."
Dario's eyes softened. "…or our pride. We are guarding something."
Sage shook his head, then stopped. Then shook it again, lowering his face. His fist trembled, and he wished he would stop talking.
"Why?" Dario gazed at him and couldn't tell what he meant till Sage looked up at him and he saw the pain and indecision on the boy's face. "Why are you my enemy? Why do you have to be a demon?"
"You'd prefer if I wanted you dead."
It was a statement of his truth. Sage couldn't bring himself to agree.
Dario sighed. "Boy… Wars are never clear cut. There is never a good and bad side, even in a war between demons and humans. There are only differences in ways of life. I'm surprised you've been able to escape experiencing that reality for so long. …But it shouldn't matter."
Sage's eyes widened when Dario's expression became hard as he reached behind his back and unhooked the long string of metal chains from his belt. "If you are a warrior…"
He held the majority of the reel in his left hand, a slack portion in his right, and started twirling the weighted end. "If what you are guarding means anything to you…"
Sage took a step back as the chained weight started to pick up momentum, hand moving to hover anxiously over the hilt of the sword on his back. "Then what your enemy fights for should not matter. Whether you or they are right or wrong is irrelevant. If they stand in your way, then they are obstacles to overcome. Because in the end, you are not fighting for justice or the greater good. But for the ability to look yourself in the mirror and not turn away.
"So, what kind of warrior are you?" Dario asked, his voice booming over the sharp whistle of air created by his weapon. "Someone who lets his opponents' goals take precedent over his own? Or…" He smirked as Sage wrapped his fingers around the hilt and crouched lower. "Someone who'd go to hell and back for what he believes in? …Choose, boy."
Sage unsheathed his nodachi, and held the blade with both hands in front of him. Dario's eyes softened. "And may the god of war instill your heart."
In a split moment, the weighted end of Dario's chain was no longer in his hand. Sage tensed and dropped his stance lower, but blinked when he realized the weapon was not aimed for him. It never was.
Dario had thrown the weight behind him, just as a dark shadow literally rose up from the ground. The weapon plowed right into the mysterious newcomer and sent it flying back into the far end of the barrier wall in a crash of debris, dust, and electricity.
A shiver rain up Sage's spine. The demon's unearthly howl was enough to make him choke on his own fear.
Outside of the dimensional trap, Gammon stood on a wall, sheltered by the shade the adjacent trees provided. His entire form was a mass of black fabric and folds framing a spot of white: his completely blank facemask that hid his apprehension and awe.
The legendary Godfather of War is a force meant to be trembled under. He doubted, even with his Master's enhancements to his creation, that it will be able to kill the bethshima. But then again, that was never its true purpose.
His attention shifted to the mortals walking the sidewalk, oblivious to the battle that was taking place around them, hidden from their sights and their bodies; a battle between demons, for demon eyes only. He settled on the two teenagers in the middle of the sidewalk, the female rune bearer and her Ronin bodyguard, same as before; same as Naruto.
Gammon lowered his head, the folds of his hood falling further over his mask. The shadows seemed to grow darker. He cast one side of his cloak aside, stretching his arm out, parallel to his body. They interfered with my plans before.
The darkness grew behind him, and several sets of eyes started to emerge from the depths of the abyss in which Gammon called forth his power. Maybe I will not give them a second chance.
A sharp sting cut through Gammon's forearm, making his wince in surprise and jump back behind the shelter of the wall he stood on top of. He felt his assailant land atop the wall and jump over him, landing behind Gammon's exposed back. The phantom demon paused. Dark, gaseous air hissed from his cut sleeve, but Gammon paid it no mind as he turned to meet the arrogant teal eyes of Maki Mihokita.
"Greetings, Sir Gammon!" Maki began in a mocking flourish, spitting out the toothpick in his mouth. "We did so miss you at the ball." He grinned, then slammed his armor-encased fist into his open palm. "Our Lord sends his regards!"
He charged Gammon, and the second battle of that day began.
Dario snapped his wrist back, and the weight flew into the air. He released his hold on the chain and caught the end with his free hand, letting the weight and metal links slide down his large palm and, with a timing honed with years of practice, stopped the descent half a foot before the weight reached the floor. He began twirling the weapon again.
The dust had settled at the far end of the invisible arena; a prone form laid still in its wake. But Dario knew he had not killed it. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. He was not even close to killing it.
The shadow demon rose to its feet. Like a marionette, it hunched forward, as if on invisible strings, and grinned, eyes glowing a sickening purple that seemed to shrink into itself against the whites of its eyes. There was a deep bruise across the left side of its abdomen, but it didn't seem to hinder it in the least as the puppet took a lurching step forward.
Dario narrowed his eyes. Was this really what they were to send after these children?
The demon that stood before him was not one of Gammon's creations. Though there was a resemblance, the form it took, and the amount of power that now radiated off of its lanky body could not be a creature the phantom demon could create, let alone control.
No. This one has too much power, Dario thought upon further inspection, realizing that this puppet had no trace of Gammon's signature at all. The bethshima gritted his teeth together. Gammon's not controlling it. And if Gammon wasn't controlling it, then that meant, with his energy no longer diverted, Maki was fighting the former BlackGuard member at his full power.
Damn that boy for agreeing to this mission! He must kill this puppet and get to Maki before things got any worse!
Dario let the weight fly, the weapon shooting out of his hand like a bullet, but the puppet had leaped into the air with such grace and speed that for a second, the aged warrior was stunned by his adversary's unexpected mobility. Quickly, Dario swung his arms around, fingers dancing over the chain, manipulating the weight's movement till it shot up after the puppet, intending to grab it by the ankle and pull it back to the earth beneath it.
The weight had wrapped around air. The puppet had vanished.
His prayer beads glowed before all had spread out and transformed into the golden globes that were his guard in battle. Dario spun around.
The puppet had appeared behind him, its back to the bethshima, its attention completely away from the soldier at its back. All of its attention was focused on the Ronin in front of him.
Dario cursed and pulled his chain back just as the marionette lunged at Sage.
The boy took a step back, his mind frozen at the sudden appearance of this monster; the one he recognized, despite all of the gruesome alterations to its body, as the seventh assassin that was still lurking around Tokyo.
Instinct guided his actions, and his sword arm swung out, intending to cleave the puppet in two. But just as Dario had missed with his weapon, Sage's blade had sliced through air, the puppet phasing though dimensions, like it had done before, to reappear right at the swordsman's back.
Sage turned, just as he felt the demon right in his face, its eyes wide with crazed rage and its elongated arm drawn back, palm open, claws ready to strike him down.
He cried out in surprise when something cold, like metal, wrapped around him and yanked him back, just as the demon was thrown backwards by a spiked globe straight in the face. Sage slammed into the ground and cringed, momentarily paralyzed by the jarring force by which he was pulled back. The chain that had snaked around his waist and sword arm loosened, and he blinked at the familiar weapon. This is…
A large hand almost the width of his forearm grabbed him by the armpit and effortlessly pulled him to his feet. Sage looked up to his right to find Dario towering behind him. The aged warrior never looked at Sage as he pulled the boy back to stand behind him, releasing his arm before taking a step forward. He began to retrieve his chain, wrapping it in loose coils in his palm as his miniature army of orbs hovered in waiting around their master. Sage noted that some of those protective orbs were hovering around him as well.
"Get out of here, boy," Dario ordered, his voice, for the first time, betraying a hint of anxiety as he watched the puppet demon rise to its feet, its bloodied face, riddled with gashes, again not a hindrance. The globe that had attacked it lay shattered at its feet. "I said you could leave once my target arrived."
This was his target? The exact demon that was specifically out to kill him, Ryo, and Cye? He would have asked why he was ordered to kill a demon that was out to kill him if it weren't for his bafflement over the fact that Dario was actually keeping his word. And even more than that.
Dario had protected him.
Despite the gravity of the situation Dario found himself in, the bethshima chuckled. "You going to ask why I'm doing it, aren't you, boy?" He smirked, feeling Sage's surprise without diverting his eyes away from his enemy. He found the act endearing.
"I told you already. I like you. You have good eyes," he said, then added, with a bit of irony, "And maybe in my old age, it's difficult for me to distinguish the difference between protecting a human boy and a demon one.
"If you take off your armor, the barrier will no longer react to you, and you'll be able to pass through without question." Dario gestured behind him with a jerk of his head. "Now go on. Get out of here. You would not want to stay for this."
Still he felt Sage at his backside. Even as the puppet crouched down on its haunches and snapped its head to the side, cracking its neck, the boy did not leave.
"I said leave now!" Dario cried more urgently, sneaking a chance look at him. "Quickly!"
Dario let the weight in his hand fly to the left of the puppet just as it made a move in that direction. It reared back, trying to rectify its mistake, but one of the bethshima's globes smashed into it from behind, forcing it to the weight as it wrapped around the marionette's waist. Dario threw the other end of his chain in the direction of the barrier, and once it struck, electricity came shooting down the length of the weapon, straight through the shadow puppet, searing its body over and over till it screeched in anguish.
A heavy shadow appeared over the marionette, and Dario's fist rammed into its face. The force snapped loose the end of the chain attached to the barrier, and the puppet demon went flying backwards, dragging Dario's chain along the asphalt. The bethshima stopped the chain underneath his boot, and at the other end, the body of the puppet demon jarred to a stop.
There was a moment's pause. Then the puppet once again rose to its feet, a black silhouette of paper thin limbs; a dark, foreboding figure that never wanted to die. Dario reached down a picked up a length of his chain. The wounds have no affect on its performance. He began reeling in his weapon. Is there even a body underneath to wound?
He snapped the final stretch of chain back, the weight soaring lightly through the air to return to its wielder's hand. The bethshima caught the weight at the same moment the puppet demon phased in front of him.
The globes attacked the instant Dario jumped away, spearing the marionette in every place possible at their master's endangerment. Age old reflexes had saved him an unnecessary gash to his side, but the puppet was able to cut through the fabric of his pants and nick his shin. Nothing compared to the blades that literally skewered his adversary.
Dario mentally ordered the globes to withdraw. The puppet twitched from its position on the floor; the first sign of a reaction to the bethshima's attacks. Dario narrowed his eyes, watching as the insignia on its back, partially covered before by the puppet's torn garments, flickered faintly. So that's the source. He'd have to destroy the marking before he would be able to kill his adversary.
A sudden wave of dizziness washed over his senses, and for a tense moment, Dario teetered unsteadily on his feet before forcefully regaining his balance. He paid it no mind, twirling the weighted end of his chain as the marionette sloppily got to its feet. Dario flinched, his arm going slack as another wave, stronger than the first, overtook his body. The weight fell to the floor.
Poison…
The cut. Its' claws. Dario dropped down onto one knee and growled at his carelessness, trying again to force his body back into control. I've had worse doses! he had convinced himself, and through sheer willpower alone, had his vision go back into focus.
But by the time he had regained his senses, the puppet had attacked him. And by the time he had looked up, Sage had blocked the blow.
Dario blinked once, taking in the scene of this young lad, wearing the armor of his old nemesis, holding this monster of a marionette at bay with his nodachi.
"I had told you to leave," Dario snapped, but his reprimand was half-hearted at best.
"Just because you tell me to do something doesn't mean I'll do it," Sage answered back. He gritted his teeth, taking a forced step back as the shadow puppet tried to force his blade back with its claws.
A sharp wind whistled by the side of his face, as a large fist came soaring over his armored shoulder to land a straight punch in the marionette's face. It screeched, stumbled back, and screamed louder as Sage ran his sword through the puppet's abdomen, then sliced sideways, nearly cutting it in two.
Sage exhaled, panting, his body still rigid and his grip on his sword tense as he watched the shadow puppet stagger, then rise to its feet again. God! What will it take to kill this?
He was about to raise his sword for his sure kill when a familiar heavyset hand came to rest on his shoulder. "That's enough, Sage."
The Ronin gave a start. It was the first time Dario addressed him by name.
"I thank you for fighting against and alongside me," Dario said, his voice a bit deeper; gruff from the effects of the poison. "You've done me a great honor. Tell your friends that the bethshima race owes them a debt for killing Talpa.
"Now…" Before Sage was aware of it, Dario had grabbed hold of his arm and swung him backwards. "Get out of here!"
Sage yelped in surprise, no longer grounded and on a collision course with the barrier wall. He muttered a curse, then released his hold on his armor, returning back to his civilian clothes.
Almost instantly he felt the air shift, like when he had first entered this battle; what felt like an eternity ago. And before he had even hit the ground, the battle he had just participated in vanished.
Dario was gone. And in his place was the lingering memory of the bethshima's grin as he saw the Ronin pass through dimensions.
Sage tumbled backwards, rolling on his back before coming to a stop on his hands and knees in the middle of an unscathed street in the waning afternoon light. He clenched his jaw and rubbed the back of his head, a bit disoriented from his fall, when a sharp honk and a flash of light awoke him to the fact that he was in the middle of an intersection in the middle of rush hour.
He was barely on his feet when someone slammed into his side, both of them tumbling off of the street and onto the sidewalk as the oncoming car veered in the opposite direction.
Sage cringed, groaning on the floor as he tried to open his eyes, the pounding in his head suddenly reaching a painful crescendo due to his stubbornness to acknowledge it. He faintly heard the driver call out to them, and he wanted to say that he was okay, despite all things, but his savior's distinct alto voice beat him to it.
"We're fine, sir!"
Lavender eyes snapped open. Laura was leaning over him, a hand on her forehead and one eye closed in pain from the fall. But despite that and her seemingly cheerful voice, her eyes held a dark glare that took Sage by surprise.
He carefully pulled himself upright on the sidewalk curb as the brunette sat back on her folded legs, lowering her hand from her face. "Laura…"
She slapped him before he could say another word.
Sage blinked, for a moment frozen with his head turned to the side, his cheek burning with the sting of her palm. Then to his surprise, he felt slender fingers shakily dig into the front of his shirt. He turned his head and placed a hand on the small of Laura's back as she buried her head underneath his chin.
"Baka," she said softly.
"…Yeah." Sage lowered his eyes, remembering the promise he had made, and how close he had truly been to breaking it. "Sorry."
Cye came to a running halt at the end of the crosswalk, sighing in exasperation at the two forms sitting a little ways down the sidewalk, as if the both of them hadn't nearly been killed mere seconds ago.
He had recalled, as he caught his breath and ran a hand through his light auburn hair, how Laura had suddenly left him at the sidewalk and made for the street, again for incoming traffic, the third that day. And before he could even step out onto the street after her, Sage had magically appeared and Laura had tackled them both to the other side of the busy street all within seconds of it happening.
Honestly those two. Cye shook his head in annoyance as he made his way to the pair. Watching one, let alone both of them never fails to give me a heart attack.
A tall man bumped into Cye's shoulder.
Jarred from his musings, Cye took an unsteady step back. The man turned, his blood red cravat a flash of color beneath his tanned vest and black dress coat that draped around his shoulders. His cane, a beautifully crafted specimen of black lacquer and silver oni heads, tapped once against the concrete floor as the man did a short bow, tipping the rim of his top hat to Cye. "I beg your pardon, lad."
With his apology done, the man made his exit with the grace of a timeless aristocrat. Cye raised a curious eyebrow at the man's attire, his stride and posture semblance to the European nobles he recalled studying in class. But beyond that, the Ronin paid the man no mind as he continued on his way to his two friends.
Around the corner, the man with the top hat and the cane with the silver demon handle smiled.
Bam! An iron foot imprinted itself into the face of a shadow ninja before his gi fluttered to the floor with one cut from Maki's hand. His other arm shot up to block a katana from coming down on his head. The instant the blade came to a stop against his forearm, the boy swung his wrist up and counterclockwise. The katana harmlessly slid down his armguard and was twisted out of the ninja's grasp, only to have Maki grab the base of the blade and slam the end of the hilt into his attacker's throat.
The ninja sputtered, grasping his neck as another came to challenge Maki. Without missing a beat, he flipped the katana around, grabbed the hilt and swung his left arm back in a wide arc that cleaved both the owner of the katana and his backup in two.
His whole upper torso tipped to one side as he brought up his leg in a high kick that nailed another ninja right below the chin. Out of the corner of his eye, the last ninja charge at him, katana raised overhead. Using his leg's downward momentum from his last move, Maki spun around with his stolen sword in hand and cut down the guard he had previously kicked.
The last ninja's blade was coming down fast, but instead of backing away, Maki abandoned his katana and slid forward right underneath his attacker's raised arms.
Clang! The ninja's blade came to a sudden halt with an overhead block by Maki's armguard. And before he could retreat from the closeness of his enemy, the young hit man pierced through the ninja's stomach with the blade on his armored fist. The ninja staggered back, then slid off Maki's weapon, collapsing onto the floor as a pile of empty clothes.
Maki straightened himself up and looked across the empty street at Gammon with a smug smile on his face. "Well?"
Gammon looked down at, literally, a sea of his destroyed shadow army; piles and piles of grey and black ninja gi blanketing the once empty floor, and more overlapping each other in a ring of death around the Ashkran assassin.
"You live up to your reputation," was all he said.
Maki gave a sweeping bow.
"But killing ones weaker than you is no judge of greatness."
"Are you suggesting that you're weaker than me, Gammon-sama?"
Gammon's cloak rustled in irritation. "On the contrary, halfling," he retorted with as much confidence as he had at the start of their battle, which had Maki a bit concerned at the phantom's nonchalance. "I am suggesting that you are in over your head."
Without warning, an arrow came flying towards Maki. He swiped it away with his armored hand before it could reach his chest just as another came at him. Then another, and another.
Maki cursed at the barrage of arrows that had seemingly been shot out thin air, deflecting each arrow with his armguards. He knocked aside the last arrow, then flipped backwards to snap away the next bombardment with his feet.
Once he landed, he slipped a metal encased foot underneath a pile of clothes and kicked it up into the air before diving out of the way. The diversion worked, and the next onslaught of arrows had aimed for the garments, piercing each one with acute precision and nailing them to the floor where Maki once stood.
The boy rolled back onto his feet, scanning the street to find the source of the arrows when he felt a cold air pressure at his back, like a rift being open into the abyss.
Maki's eyes widened as he spun around and brought his arms up across his chest just as the club of an imposing shadow warrior collided into him. Quick reflexes had saved him a crushed ribcage, but the force of the blow had knocked him unbalanced, and Maki staggered backwards shaking his arm, which had gone numb from taking the brunt of the attack.
Shit! He eyed the newest shadow puppet in front of him, taking his overly bulky form underneath layer upon layer of traditional samurai armor. When did Gammon…?
Maki instinctively ducked, and the long blade of a samurai's sword flew over his head. The boy spun around, catching a glimpse of a second shadow puppet before that same blade that had almost decapitated him reversed its movement and swiped at him a second time. Maki bent his body backwards and swung his arm up as the blade passed overhead, grabbing the samurai's sword arm and diverting it further away from him. The warrior lost his balance, and Maki took that opportunity to slam the side of his hand into his adversary's neck.
But as the swordsman fell down on his knees, another fighter appeared and knocked the wind out of the young assassin with a straight kick to the chest.
Maki slammed into the ground, but then rolled out of the way of several arrows that would have impaled him through the chest. He stumbled back onto his feet and quickly blocked a sideways strike from the fist fighting shadow warrior. They grappled for a moment before Maki was able to grab his attacker's approaching fist and flip him on his back.
The swordsman's katana came next, the blade coming a tad too close to Maki's head for his liking. He dropped to the floor and swept the samurai's feet out from under him. And the moment he got up, a club swing to his shoulder was waiting to greet him.
Gammon allowed himself the faintest of chuckles as his would-be assassin coughed into the floor, shakily rising to his feet. The samurai archer to Gammon's left raised his bow and leveled the arrow at Maki. He held his position, waiting for an order.
"Hold," Gammon whispered, then to Maki he said, "So how do you like my shikigamis? They're quite formidable."
"They're pieces of shit."
The club struck him in the back again, and this time, he stayed down.
"Know your place, halfling," Gammon reminded him coldly.
"You're not part of the BlackGuard anymore," Maki grounded out. "I don't owe you anything."
"Yes but I was a part of them," Gammon purred haughty. "And as the former 7th strongest demon of the regime you should show some respect for the elite!"
A sharp, bark of a laugh erupted from Maki's throat, surprising both Gammon and the four shikigami warriors. "Seventh?" Maki asked as he got up onto his hands and knees. He laughed again. "You were just one short of the top six, weren't you?"
Gammon bristled at the remark. "Meaning?"
Maki got up and, with great disregard for the three warriors at his back and the arrow still aimed at his chest, he stretched, working out the knots in his neck and back. "Meaning I was right." He smirked at Gammon's outrage and began to rotate his bad shoulder, massaging where the club had struck him. "I don't owe you anything, because you're still lower than him."
Gammon sputtered in indignation and the archer at his side released his arrow. The swordsman behind him raised his blade. Maki smirked.
With a speed he had not demonstrated before, Maki leapt up in the air and somersaulted behind the swordsman, slamming his feet against the samurai's back and using it to launch himself further backwards out of reach of the remaining two warriors. The samurai stumbled forward and the arrow that had been meant for Maki pierced through his faceplate, cutting through the manipulative charm inside the mask. The suit of armor crumpled to the floor.
Gammon watched in mixed anger and anxiety as the shikigami with the club knocked over his brethren with a mighty swing that Maki had deftly avoided. The armor that covered the boy's left foot was glowing, and within moments of the club wielder regaining his balance, a blade had grown out of the front of Maki's boot as the boy slammed his foot into the warrior's gut.
As the larger man doubled over, the same thing happened to the Ashkran's forearm, and when he elbowed the shikigami in the face, a blade had come out through the other side of his helmet.
Impossible! Gammon's anger was slowly being replaced by a growing unease as the archer by his side let go of another arrow. He can only transform his weapons by touch! How can he manipulate them without contact? That skill, he knew, was far too advanced for a boy his age to develop on his own.
His teacher! The third shikigami had been killed, cut down by a blade on Maki's heel and a reverse roundhouse to the side of the face. Who was his teacher? Gammon took a step back as his archer released arrow after arrow at the boy. Who in the BlackGuard would—?
Maki weaved in and out of the line of arrows, deflecting each as they came flying by, and for a moment, Gammon recalled a particular red-haired man who weaved through advancing enemy troops in a similar fashion, killing each one as he passed by.
Leo…
Maki had killed the fourth and final shikigami, and before Gammon was fully able to react, the assassin had brought up the archer's discarded bow and fired an arrow straight through Gammon's chest.
The force of the arrow threw the phantom backwards, slamming him against a wall and pinning him there with the arrow's tip. Gammon gave the faintest of grunts as he looked down at the feathered shaft protruding out of his cloak. Dark gas hissed from the wound and dissipated in the air, but other than that it seemed to give him little discomfort.
Maki tapped one end of the bow against his shoulder in thoughtful repose as he stopped to stand in front of his captured target. "Well, I guess you really can't kill a phantom through the heart."
"Leo." Maki raised an eyebrow at Gammon as he continued. "Your teacher was former 6th Rank Officer Leo."
"Correct!" Maki beamed, his lips spreading broadly into a wicked smile. "Except for one thing."
The boy tossed the bow aside, and with a touch from his fingers, the armor on his right hand morphed to include the familiar blade that rested atop the flat side of his fist. "We were never master and student."
Gammon paused, then nodded once. "I'm impressed that your skill is on par with the Fire Spitter himself," he offered as a compliment, but still his words were haughty, confident, even in the face of death. "But, as you had said, can you really kill a phantom?"
"Phantoms have to tie themselves to an object in order to maintain their physical existence." He smiled sweetly at Gammon, tilting his head quizzically to the side, feigning ignorance. "How does that saying go? You break it, you bought it? Well then…" Maki drew his fist back, the blade in perfect alignment with the phantom demon's mask. "I guess you bought it, Gammon-sama."
"On the contrary, halfling," Gammon droned, lowering his head. And in the instant the sun had glistened off of the ivory mask, Maki saw in its reflection the black silhouette of a man; a splash of red across his heart.
"It is you who have 'bought it'."
Maki spun around, and raised his arm as a last ditch effort to protect himself. But he was a split second too late.
The energy bullet rocketed past the boy's hastily made defense and hit its mark.
His heart.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
:sweatdrop: Not even gonna try to apologize for that one.
I love Dario, btw. :big grin: He literally threw Sage out. I love that!
:Ahem: Anyway, lovely summer break for me. Yay. Three weeks. :Insert sarcasm here:
Did Maki die? Well, kinda looks bad any way you look at it. Next chapter we get to meet the bad guy. The REAL one. Only took fifty chapters to get to him. And Leo as well. Can anyone guess who he is?
Switching topics… a prize for everyone who reviews and tells me what they think and leaves an email addy for me to DELIVER the prize to. In honor of the belated four year anniversary of RWU, which was at the end of May, :sweatdrop: people get a colored Takeru jpeg via email. This is so I can thank my reviewers. Some people are a given, like Panthera who I always whore out Takeru pictures to. :sweatdrop: Luv you Panthera! XD But yes! Takeru pic if you leave an email. And if it's a signed review… well, technically you left your email. :sweatdrop:
But PLEASE tell me what you guys think and don't just go 'yeah! Takeru pic!' and that's it. :looks to Panthera and coughs: And I'm not whoring for reviews cause I was gonna put out a chapter regardless, but since this piece of work is taking up my time, I'd like to know what people think, especially of this latest chapter. A 'Don't kill Maki!' scream would actually just suffice. :sweatdrop: See how simple I am?
Ucchan