Authoress's notes: Yeah, plot's been done before. Sorry. You probably got a pretty good inkling of it by now.(sigh...) The only question that remains is whether Bankotsu will get through this fic with all his clothes on and his braid in...methinks not! (giggles stupidly like a dumb fangirl)
10/30/05-Edited. Unnecessary capitals have been sporked.
Wayward Ransom, Chapter 7.
After gazing for a while at the horizon that hid the beautiful shore, Bankotsu turned once again back to what lay in front of him. It was impossible to see anything at a distance because of the humid, hellish red mist that enveloped the entire area.
Bankotsu was sure there was some sort of nexus point, or portal, where the unsettled, unmourned, and unacknowledged dead arrived here in the first place, so later they may cross the Sanzu on the ferry. Now, only to find it...
Getting to the above world was now the highest priority...because Bankotsu knew, somehow, that his soul was...not here.
Taking no more than two steps, he had to stop again. There were dark, indistinct figures slowly coming toward him. He prepared his bloody katana, ready to strike if need be. He was already painfully weak from snapping those damned fibers; his right gi sleeve stained red from shoulder to elbow. He was hoping luck would be with him and he'd be able to compensate for his shoulder by being at the ready in case the figures were not harmless, or in case they were strong enough to put up a reasonable fight. Even being weakened, however, he would still probably fare very well.
The figures became more distinct, and eventually became distinguishable as completely human. The people coming toward him were eerie, zombie-like. They were ragged, and dirty, and tired-looking. There were men, women and children, and there were some of each who were doing everything from wailing loudly to silently tearing. They held no weapons, but the sad, hopeless expressions they had on their faces were emotionally draining. They almost teetered back and forth, walking in a glazed-over gaze, and kept repeating something about "crossing".
Bankotsu was confused...these seemed to be peasants.
The peasants that were up front stopped upon seeing Bankotsu and his bloody, ragged state. They saw the empty raft in back of him, the gore from the ferryman still covering the deck, and the bloody katana in Bankotsu's hand.
One zombie man, with utterly sad eyes, raised his clawed, languid hand and pointed a rail-thin finger at Bankotsu. "You...killed...the ferryman! Youkilled him! We must wait now until there is another!"
A crying woman shouted from the side, "We have waited so long! We want peace! You killed him! How much longer must we wait!" She loudly sobbed, making fists with her hands and looking up to the black, empty space that would be perfectly blue sky on the opposite shore.
The zombie peasants became more hostile. They became increasingly loud and unruly. Bankotsu was sure the entire hellish place was guarded, as the ferry was guarded, and soon the noise from the peasants would attract unwanted attention.
The man in the front seemed to speak to the rest of them, without turning toward them. "Killed...ferryman! Delayed...our peace! We will...tear you apart!"
And with that, the zombies advanced.
Weeping, wailing zombies seemed to pour into his vision from all sides. Many of them had tearstains running down their faces.
These people, Bankotsu knew, were not warriors. They were lost souls of people killed in wars and other violent acts, seeking eternal relief. And not intending to cause any more harm, he simply made his own way toward them; in fact, he walked boldly right through them.
They tore at his gi, and latched on to his braid The tie that kept his jet balckhair neatlyaway from his facewas easily pulled off, and his hair began to unwind as he walked through the crowd. Bankotsu had to guard the wound on his arm with his left hand lest it get worsened. Still, some of the lost souls were lucky enough to give him a few scratches on the arms and legs, or get a hold of his long, loosened hair for a moment, but none were even strong enough to make him stop walking. Ignoring the light scraping on his skin, and the sound of his clothes tearing away, he pressed forward silently through the undead gathering, briefly considering pity for these people. It took a strong person with a strong will to do what he had done; none of these simple villagers were strong enough to do the same as Bankotsu. They were prisoners here until another ferryman was found and they could be taken across to the the other shore. He could not bring himself to raise either his katana or his hands against them; either would be too cruel for these people. He had some hope in the knowledge that their relief was delayed, and yeah, due to his own workings, but that was necessity; their hopes were not completely taken away. He knew what that felt like, having lived and died in that manner before; he could not bring himself do that to anyone else. Their sadness was debilitating enough, on both parties.
As he escaped his thoughts, three more figures approached. They were larger, and sure enough, the sounds of leather and metal alerted Bankotsu to the fact that these were guards, their attention caught by the loud, weeping lost souls.
They stopped right in front of Bankotsu. The largest guard stood in the center, heavily armored and equipped with a katana of his own, and towering far over Bankotsu's head. He was flanked on either side by two smaller guards, with lighter armor. They still held katanas, and had them at the ready.
The large man said to the one on his left and right turning to each man, "Go take over the ferry for now...you, go and have forces ready at the nexus point."
The smaller man on the right put away his weapon and ran in the direction from where the three of them appeared. The man on his left also sheathed his weapon and headed through the crowd of lost souls. Now that there would be a makeshift ferryman, the crowd of lost souls became desperately distracted; they now scraped and scratched at the guard, sighing and weepingly vying to be first on the raft to be taken to Paradise.
The thick-necked, pale guard stood right in Bankotsu's path. Bankotsu defiantly crossed his arms.
"So, here's the escapee that we held for ten years. Pity to think you wasted all that time for which you were so graciously set free."
"I don't consider it 'freedom' when a deal is built on a lie!" Bankotsu shot back.
Inwardly, he was shocked that he spent ten years here, in this hellish place, and had no memory of it. But maybe that was part of the place's magic. The first time he was sent here had been hellish, the second time around, had not been as bad as the first. However, he figured there was so much unfinished business in his life, he could simply not rest. He could not touch that beautiful shore. The battle with the half-demon was not the end of his path. He would not accept that.
Ah, yes. the half-demon.
Bankotsu didn't have a shred of resentment for the half-demon. After all, once Naraku's lies had been exposed, Bankotsu had no trouble weakening, even disabling himself by using demonic attacks, even actually allowing him to win. The hanryou's words had been right; Bankotsu could have easily finished off the half-demon with his bare hands. The both of them knew that. And, after defeating him, he would have never been allowed to leave the mountain alive had he won. Never being one to back down from a job or a good duel, Bankotsu's "stubborn ass" streak totally prevented him from joining him. Running away was unthinkable, and his already defeated brothers needed a vindicator. Purposely losing was, by far, the best option available at the time. And the only way to explain all of that was a tired chuckle from a defeated undead man.
But still...
Bankotsu also felt he got the much-needed cosmic slap across the face he so utterly deserved from the half-demon. He got out of line in dabbling with anything other than earthy, physical power, and paid for it. And since Bankotsu took no caution in discipling his own unruly, distracted men, he had no problem taking the lashing he himself knew he needed...being so wrapped up in resentment and hate and anger because of the terrible thing that happened ten years ago, it was often necessary.
But... There was so much of which to be resentful. So much betrayal and pain. So much pain caused to the people who didn't deserve it. Maybe after he found his soul, he'd be able to let it all go...somehow...but not now. Just not now.
The guard shifted slightly, and the creaking of armor brought Bankotsu to the present again. "We were able to beat you down in a matter of moments the first time you arrived here, in this timeless prison, you poor lost soul. We could have kept you unconscious and bound here for eternity. You were not very strong when you first arrived here ages ago, lost soul."
With a wicked half-smile, Bankotsu chuckled. "Well, we'll see. This poor lost soul is much, much stronger now."
Standing off in the thick red mist, the guard was the first to crack. He slowly brought his weapon to the ready. "I'll get a great reward for hauling you in again, boy. Especially for taking the old ferryman's and his pupil's lives...maybe even a promotion!" He lunged at Bankotsu with all his weight. "And this time you'll stay locked away for a thousand years and not just ten!"
Bankotsu, for not being even more than three quarters the height of the guard, easily parried the attack. He felt that the katana was close to breaking from the impact from the blow, which made Bankotsu horribly miss having the sturdy, terrifying Banryuu in his hands again.
The guard tried to swing high, and Bankotsu ducked to miss the blow. He struck back with a low blow of his own, and, so the guard's legs would not be torn, he had to take a number of lumbering steps backward, completely taking him off balance. Taking advantage of this, Bankotsu kicked low, and tripped the guard. The guard landed heavily on his back with a loud SLAM! and a cloud of red dust.
Pinned down humiliatedly by the much smaller Bankotsu, the guard trembled. The young man was amazing. "Tell me where to get out of this hellhole and I'll let you live!" hissed Bankotsu, holding the katana over the guard's neck.
The guard's small will, as compared to his oversized body, crumbled. "Straight a-a-ahead! There's a portal...to...to take y-you whereever you want to go!"
With that answer, Bankotsu was satisfied. Straight ahead. He would find this portal and use it. He would find his soul. He unlocked the miserable guard's neck, got off his chest, and set about to follow the red mist-shrouded path in front of him, never turning back once.
Once Bankotsu's back was turned from climbing off the guard, the guard ever so slowly, after bringing himself to stand, returned his right hand to his weapon.
Quickly, he struck at Bankotsu's back, thinking that the former prisoner would never be able to catch his blade in time.
He was wrong.
Sensing the attack, Bankotsu was even quicker to block the attack from the rear right with the ferryman's katana, simply by a flip up of his own weapon. In a flash, he spun around on his heel, one-hundred-eighty degrees, and in one motion cleanly halved the guard's windpipe. As his body fell to the ground, his face still bore the same expression of shock when Bankotsu was able to sense and block his rear attack.
Bankotsu would take the dead man's weapon, giving him two blades. Upon reaching down for it, he realized how painful the gash on his right arm the ferryman gave him was getting, and how dizzy he was becoming. He noticed trickles of red running down to his forearm now, even running off his fingers. He forced himself to pick the extra blade up, and keep going. This was, after all, a battle for his soul.
He carried the two blades in his right hand for now, clutching at the wound with the left, ever so slightly staggering. The duel with the guard, though very brief, was terribly taxing on that arm.
He made a resolution to himself that when he reached that nexus point, he'd let himself rejoin the above world in one of the two places he could find his soul...or at least maybe find the broken pieces of its hollow shell.