Fro Ninja; Hey y'all. It's FN coming at you with another release. Sorry this took so long, but I've been pretty much held up with work and trying to stifle my FF14 addiction. This is a direction I've been wanting to take this series for a while. While Huey and the gang will still be on their journey, there will be another side to the story that features another ensemble of characters in a different location. Although I haven't worked it out entirely, I plan to have both sides come together at some point. Since this is basically the start of an entirely new cast, I will be focusing on them for the time being, but rest assured that no time will have passed since the Blind Bandit Arc's conclusion. as a lot of the events will take place before the primary cast sets out on their journey. So until I feel it, the primary storyline(to which I refer to as Side A and this new one Side B) will be in stasis, but not for long. I hope you like the new tale that will unfold for this series, and please be sure to give some feedback. It's what keeps me motivated and turning out these chapters for all of you beautiful people. Without further ado, let's get it started.
The smoke from the hand cannon trailed through the air; the stench filled the young girl with a sense of ease that she finally saw a spark of fear from the ten exotic men with swords ready to slice her head off. They didn't back off however, if anything this drove them to pursue her even further through the forest. Taking clear to not trip on any stray branches or even a rock, the girl ran with the utmost caution while taking note of the crowd gaining ground on her with each passing minute. The lungs in her body went into overtime as the pace in her running increased, often firing her gun behind her in hopes to land a blind shot; judging by the men still yelling obscenities and howling like wolves under a full moon, she hadn't killed a one. Soon, after firing all the shots she could, the one thing happened that she prayed to God wouldn't until she could get to cover, she had to reload.
She rushed behind a tree, safe from the sight of the swordsmen chasing her and got to work reloading her pistol; shaky fingers put bullets in the chamber slots one by one which did cause her to drop a few from her satchel. Less than a minute passed before she had a full chamber in her revolver and stepped out of cover to unleash hell once more. To her surprise, expecting to see a full company of angry Japanese men, there was nobody behind her with the noise from before being absent. She gave a sigh of relief pressing her back against the tree and caught her breath for the first time in what seemed like a full day she had been running from the barbarians. There was nothing like being welcomed to an unfamiliar foreign country than having ten bandits assault you on the road and try and make off with all of your valuables; having a revolver might have set them off with an antagonistic attitude when she tried to resist, but Cindy Mchpherson was an American through and through.
After catching her breath, she started on her path back to the carriage where all of her belongings were waiting for her; at least she wanted to believe that. The ambience of the dark forest stirred a sense of fear and anxiety in her as nothing about it seemed to put her at ease at all. Despite the scenic sight of a small river running through a school of flowers blowing gently in the wind, the excursion from before has given her little time to enjoy such things. Cindy looked around for her pursuers once more with her eyes studying every possible place they could plan a surprise attack, which was reasonable given the thicket of the environment's foliage. She sighed when nothing seemed out of sorts, except she still couldn't shake the feeling that she hadn't escaped their eyes; the back of hairs stood up when the noise of something snapping in the distance. She took off running without a second thought with her eyes catching the brief glimpse of something shining and silver coming straight toward her; she ducked on instinct and heard the sound of a tree being struck behind her.
Cindy slowly drew her eyes upward catching the full view of her pursuers; smirks and all, they brandished their swords at her.
"It seems you have reached your end girl." One of the bandits said in their native tongue. He kneeled down to Cindy's level. Cindy shivered at the cold touch of his blade pressed against her neck."You gave us quite the chase, but it's painfully obvious you are not one to pay attention to your surroundings,"
"On the contrary," Cindy said."I'm very observant,especially with assassins,"
The men laughed at her statement. "Oi! She called us assassins." Another bandit said in Japanese. "I think we should take that as a compliment." Cindy's understanding of the language was limited, but she could tell when she was being mocked. The unanimous laughter was a huge hint of that.
"I guess we should," One other bandit said."We should be honored, boys! We don't get too manyforeigners willing to put up a chase when we help ourselves to their stuff,"
One of the bandits gestured to Cindy's revolver."Armed ones, at that."
"It was not my intention to kill any of you," Cindy paused, swallowing her pride. "It is for my own protection. My father would be ashamed if I killed aimlessly with it."
The bandits laughed."Ah, how sweet," The bandit with the sword drawn said."Nothing I love more than a saint of a daughter. I would love to see the despair on his facewhen we rob his foolish little girl of everything she owns."
Cindy spat in the bandit's eye, taking the others by surprise. A look of defiance shined in her eyes even with the cold bite of steel still so close to her neck. "Do not speak a word of my father," Cindy said in her native tongue, in the lowest tone. "Unless you desire a shall warrant a quick death."
One of the bandits chuckled."Huh? What the hell did she just say to us?"
"No idea…but does it matter?" The bandit wiped the drool from his face with his thumb and stuffed it into Cindy's mouth. "But it looks like we upset her when talking about her father."
The bandit with his sword leaned in closer to Cindy. "Is that right?" He said, holding his blade against her neck; blood slowly oozed from her skin in a stream that ran down the steel. One of the other bandits snatched Cindy's revolver out of her hand. Pointing at the revolver, the bandit said,"Sounds like the princess wants to kill us! Care to show us how you'll do just that with a blade this close to your throat?"
"Like this," Another voice chimed in. Before the bandit could turn around to see where it came from, Cindy saw a blade plunge through his throat-a glint of silver shone a brief reflection of her summer sky blue eyes before it being covered in blood. Two bandits sprang into action but were cut down before they reached their hips where their swords were sheathed-one received a cut to the stomach coming up to the head while another met his end with a clean horizontal slice to his abdomen, separating top from bottom. The other bandits shouted and flew backwards to put some distance between them and their attacker.
Lit by the light of the moon, Cindy saw a young man with dark skin and long black hair in loose fitted robes. His eyes were striking with such focus in them, scanning his opponents like a lion waiting for the tell to pounce on his prey. Contrary to the bandits, Cindy noticed the young black man held his sword in a reverse grip as opposed to a traditional grip; she assumed it granted him some advantage of some kind. Given how it took less than a minute to dispatch three of them, she hardly needed convincing of that. She was reminded immediately of the slaves that had saw back on the many plantations her and her parents would often drive through to meet a client for business in the deep southern territories. Despite how much she hated herself for the association, it was the first familiar thing, beside the pistol left behind by her father, that reminded her of home.
"Who the hell are you?!" One of the bandits yelled, drawing his sword."You think of yourself as a samurai, holding that blade around?" He inched closer to the young man, dragging his feet in the mud.
The young man smiled and shrugged. "I'm just a passerby," The young man spoke in Japanese , taking Cindy aback on account of his foreign appearance. "But seeing as how you're all about to die, that's all you need to know."
"Cocky little shit!"
One of the bandits gripped his sword and charged toward the young man. He lunged forward with a downward slash that was parried with little effort on the young man's part; he came to the bandit's flank, slicing off his left arm clean off. The other five rushed in with reckless abandon. He took up the bandit's dismembered arm with his foot and kicked it towards the bandits; the blood from the severed veins flew outwards, splashing into their eyes and cutting off their sight. The young man used the bandit screaming in pain as a launch pad, jumping into the air and twisting his body with his sword, slashing their throats in a consistent trajectory. Within seconds, their bodies fell to the ground with their heads following suit.
The bandit, now missing an arm, watched in horror as his bandit brethren were slaughtered in front of him by a child. He grabbed a nearby blade out of desperation with his remaining arm.
"I wouldn't do that," The young man said. His posture, though still tense, did not spell any intention of taking further action against the ronin. Cindy saw in his eyes that he wasn't looking to kill anymore than he needed to.
The bandit screamed as leapt to attack the young man. He led with a flurry of wild slashes that hit nothing but air with the young man dodging and weaving from side to side. The sword used as a last stand for the bandit then went flying as the young man knocked it out of his hand with an outlandish slash–starting from dipping his hips and coming straight upward in a form that somehow couldn't be telegraphed. The bandit fell to his knees, his tearful eyes forced to witness the scene before him. The young man placed his sword near the bandit's neck, having him at his mercy.
"Care to do the honors?" The young man said to Cindy, in full English. She was once again taken aback. There was something mesmerizing to her, artistic even, of seeing the young man flashing a teethly smile at her while covered in the blood of his enemies. If she had her canvas, she would immediately put down everything to start painting. Too bad she left such supplies in her cart.
Cindy was a complete loss. Just a moment ago, she was a literal push away from meeting the sharp end of a sword and being reunited with her dear father. Now she was being saved by a strange black boy that easily cut down nine of the ten men that she spent the afternoon running from, despite her being armed with a loaded firearm. She stood up, picking her gun from off the ground and walked over to the bandit. She fixed the gun on her previous assailant's forehead, and pulling the hammer back, she looked one last time in his-once filled with confidence-despair filled eyes.
The bandit's lips trembled in fear as a nervous grin crept on his face. Cindy didn't think it was the most flattering of expressions to see when you're pointing a barrel straight in someone's face, but present circumstances allowed her to see past it. The bandit breathed in gasped for air as he attempted to put words together. The words were in the form of broken English mixed with his native tongue. Cindy could only recognize what seemed to be a semblance of the very thing that she could assume the bandit currently begged from her; mercy.
Cindy placed her finger on the trigger. Her eyes looked deep into the bandit as she placed weight on it. "I told you you would die for speaking ill of my father." She pulled her finger back. The sound of the shot rang throughout the forest; the air cracked like grass by its vibration with the bullet itself blowing a hole into the vagrant's head. Cindy looked at the gun in front of her for quite some time-her eyes followed the smoke trail exited from the hot barrel of the gun; curved line transforming into that of a snake that circled around itself in many cycles. She closed her eyes, imagining the last memory of her father giving the gun to her to hold onto while he had stopped to take a break on the road, not for use but for safekeeping. Her eyes opened, as the memory ended there.
Cindy then turned to her savior."I must thank you so very much for s-" Just as she said that, the young man had fallen headfirst to the ground. Startled and confused, Cindy felt for a pulse. She sang hymns of relief as she didn't spot any injury he might have sustained during or even before the fight. "But if you weren't harmed, what could-?" Her mouth fell silent as she heard the untimely noise of his stomach growling. Cindy's legs gave out on her, feeling the weight of the situation overwhelm her. Despite the distance, she summoned the strength to stand up and picked up the young man, beginning a slow walk back to her carriage. Hopefully she had enough food left to satisfy a person that just killed ten men.
The young man let out a burp that Cindy swore shook the very ground when he finished the fourth(or was it the fifth?) of food that she put together from the supplies found in the carriage, which wasn't much. Being on the road for three days without stopping at a single resting point did have a way of causing you to ration what you can save. A technique that Cindy was grateful her father drilled into her head; the week of starvation in the mid-western American mountains might have also been a factor.
Cindy couldn't help but be amazed by how her savior could eat after an excursion that would take the wind out of most men(at least by her assumption). Compared to him looking half dead on the trip back to the carriage, this was a refreshing image.
"That was a good meal," The young man said, licking his fingers and chops of the remains of chicken and mashed potatoes that had remained on his plate. "Hope you don't mind me having six helpings of the stuff."
Heavens, it was six?! Cindy covered her mouth as the thought sounded so loud it felt like it slipped out. She shook her head, and gave an assuring smile."Oh, it's no trouble at all," She said, taking the empty bowls and plates from around his feet and placing them in a large bucket already filled with warm water. She took a dirty and worn rag, wet it, and started to wash the plates. "Besides, I was fortunate enough to happen upon an abandoned supply depot a few days ago, so there are plenty of provisions left; two weeks give or take. Although your meal set me back just a tad bit, seeing as how you saved my life, it is the least I can do."
The young man shrugged. Cindy wiped off two cracked but well maintained cups and poured in it a pot of freshly made Earl Gray tea. She handed the one with the least cracks over to the young man. He bowed and graciously accepted; taking a sip of the drink without so much cooling it off, he let out a calm sigh, followed by a loud burp.
"It wasn't any trouble." The young man said."It wouldn't have been good to just let them kill you, you know?"
Cindy, taken aback by the blunt statement, nodded in agreement. She blew into her cup and took a sip of her tea. Her eyes peered down into the liquid itself. "You're right," Cindy said. "It wouldn't have been a good thing at all. Especially not before I-" She then stopped herself to clear her throat. She blew on the tea before taking another sip. "Never mind. Regardless, I owe you a debt of gratitude, master samurai."
The young man took a slow sip and scratched his head. "I'm not a samurai, exactly," He said."At least I never became one fully,"
Cindy gasped. "Are you serious?" she asked. The young man nodded. Cindy took note of his eyes being clear of doubt with that affirmation. "But the technique you displayed when killing those men; it was nothing short of masterful! Surely you can say you have skills that match that degree?"
The look of levity in his face faded from his expression. " I had a teacher that showed me how to use a sword, but that doesn't make a person a samurai. Those guys from before had swords. They attacked me with techniques they learned from their masters, does that make them samurai? Even though they were trying to rob you of everything you owned?"
Cindy felt her mouth open as if an argument would automatically fly out, but she was caught up by the young man's words. Granted, she wasn't familiar enough with the concept of a samurai and what it represented to this land to argue back. Did that mean she was seeing something that wasn't there with the man that saved her? Cindy folded her arms as the young man resumed his eating, taking apart the next couple of fried chicken pieces that had been stuffed in a nearby basket.
"I'm sorry if I offended you in any way. I must admit, I don't even know what a samurai is," Cindy said, twiddling her fingers along her cup. "I haven't been in this land for very long; I don't even know which way is north and south yet." She took a small sip.
The young man took another sip, swallowing the full amount down his gullet. "There's no offense given, so no need for an apology. If I'm being honest, expecting a foreigner to know what a samurai is and what makes a samurai is like expecting a baby to know how to write his own name. It's not exactly surprising."
"Well then, pardon my ignorance." She said,
"You don't have to," The young man said. A pained smile formed on his face. "It's a shortcoming we both share." Cindy held her breath to follow with a question on that statement, but felt his expression was as sufficient as an answer she was going to get. The mood changed instantly as Cindy sensed the air around the young man shift back to its normal state. He pointed at her, "What is a surprise however, is how good your Japanese is." He said. Cindy giggled while swiping a strand of hair in front of her face.
"My father always told me that in order to speak the language of money in another land, you must first speak the language of its people," Cindy said." I have been trained by my father to take over his business since I could walk. I'm a fast learner of languages as a result–seven of them to be exact."
The young man whistled in admiration, putting his cup down by his feet. "Your dad sounds" The young man paused, remembering Cindy's earlier statement. "Sounded like a pretty well traveled guy. He must have taught you a lot,"
"He did," Cindy said, hugging her knees to her chest."To tell the truth, I always thought his lessons were so droll growing up. I wanted to become a frontier explorer when I was younger. An adventurer, to some degree. I'm only ten years old and I'm already finding value in the very lessons I thought were boring. I even hate myself for having such a…childish goal."
"Must be nice to have that," The young man said. "A father whose lessons you can take pride in." He then placed his hands together, bowing his head slightly to Cindy,"Thank you for preparing the meal."
Cindy was taken aback by his sudden action. The young man smirked at her ignorance. It appeared it was charming to him in a sense.
"You're supposed to say that after you finish a meal in this land." He said. "It pays compliments to the one who provided the food."
"I see," Cindy said with her finger on her lips."I'll have much to learn about this country's customs, it seems. Thank you for that bit of advice-"Cindy paused, holding her hands to her mouth in shock."I just realized I haven't even introduced myself;how unbecoming of me. My name is Cinderella Mchphearson. But please, call me Cindy."
"Michael," The young man said with no hesitation in his voice."Michael Caesar."
"Michael Caesar." Cindy said as she smiled. "The name of an angel, and the name of a great warrior. It's very fitting."
Michael's yawned and stretched his arms out. "I'm glad one of us likes it. It was my father's name." Michael said.
"You mean the one he gave you?" Cindy said.
"No," Michael said. "It was passed down to me after he was killed,"
"He was killed?!" Cindy said. "That's terrible!"
Michael shrugged. "He wasn't an innocent person. And he had no trouble killing those who were. I like to think of it as karma catching up with him. It does for all of us that put more bad into the world than good."
Cindy felt inclined to disagree, do good and good shall be done unto you, but this hardly was the conversation to trade ideas of morality. Seeing as how she just killed a man herself, she didn't hold much ground in this topic.
"So you're telling me that all he left you was a name? His name at that?"
Michael picked up his sword that had been laid to rest a couple of inches away from him and held it in front of Cindy."That and this sword. These were the only two things he left me. I guess it was his way of telling me that I was an extension of him, and for me to carry out his will."
"You father sounds...sounded like an intriguing man," Cindy said.
Michael smiled at Cindy's statement, although Cindy noticed it didn't reach all the way up to his eyes."Seems like the two of us have a lot in common."
Cindy giggled. "It seems we do," Cindy said. She then pondered her next body of words, worried about the implication rather than the response from Michael. Was it worth discussing this with someone she just met? Would he even be able to understand where she was coming from?
"You look like you want to tell me something," Michael said, cutting through Cindy's thoughts."I'm not going to make you say anything you don't want to say."
Cindy shook her head."No, it's fine...well I wanted to ask you," Cindy swallowed her saliva and licked her lips. Her eyes beamed towards Michael, who had done the same."If you wanted to avenge your father's murder, would you do it?"
"Avenge him?" Michael said. Cindy nodded. He looked up in the air as if his answer would arrive down for him like a shooting star. His pondering went on for a couple more seconds, before opening his mouth."It's funny you say avenging. I always thought that was a thing you would read about in books. It sounds so...noble when you put it like that. But that means there was something about him worth avenging in the first place."
"Was there?" Cindy asked him.
Michael's lips curled into a smile, but Cindy felt nothing positive from it.
"My father was a bad person, Cindy," Michael said."He did horrible things–he killed people, stole from them–all means in order to survive. There wasn't a single redeeming thing about the guy. Like I said, there would be nothing gained from trying to avenge him.""
Cindy's eyes rested on her father's pistol tucked away in her holster. She reached over to it, and took the firearm out of the socket. The engraving of the lion ripping through a sea of clouds stood out to her everytime she held it. It was such an insignificant addition to an already common piece of weaponry in the west. She held it close. "I've never heard such a belief, not even in the many stories I've read. So there must be an admirable trait for you to avenge the person closest to you," Cindy said."Even when that person is family. I never thought about it like that."
"That's just what I think," Michael said."But, you? You're different. You respect your father. You wouldn't be in the middle of a forest miles away from civilization in an unfamiliar land with only a single firearm to defend yourself and a carriage full of supplies, if you didn't. You'll do all of this to avenge him."
"Is that so wrong?" Cindy said with not a single waver in her gaze.
"You tell me," Michael said, shrugging."You talked about the man like he gave you the world. Is it so wrong that you want to bring the one who took him from you to justice?"
"You misunderstand me, Master Michael," Cindy said.
"Just Michael," he said.
"Michael," Cindy said before resuming,"When I say I mean to bring him to justice, I don't mean to hand him over to any authorities. My justice is my justice. When I find the man that killed my father, I mean to look him in his eyes, my father's gun trained on his heart with my finger on the trigger and ask him why was it done? Why did he feel the need to take him from me?"
"What if he doesn't have a reason?" Michael said."What if he just killed your father just to kill him. Because he could?"
Cindy was silent for a while. In truth, she had thought of such a factor before setting out on her journey. A kill is a kill. Murder is murder. What about it has to make rational sense, to have some kind of grand idea about it? Cindy had been forced multiple times to confront the reality of the romantic novels she would stay up to late nights reading, lit by her candle under her bed clothes to avoid a lecture from her parents. Life is not this grand story with characters that possess a motivation for doing the most simple of actions. She thought about all of this and more, but her answer had dawned on her right then and there.
"I don't care even if that is the case," Cindy said."I know it won't bring me peace, or any kind of solace. I'm even aware that my desire for this is nothing but an endless road of grief. The important part I will take with me is that my father was taken from me, by a man who saw nothing else but to kill to satisfy his own bloodlust. So I shall do the same for mine."
"Only it's for your father?" Michael said.
Cindy was silent, which Michael took as an affirmation. He gave a chuckle which grew into full blown laughter. So loud that his voice bounced off the acoustics of the forest.
"I had a feeling from the moment I saw you execute that bandit, you're nothing at all like the demure girl you claim to be." Michael said.
"My father was murdered in front of my eyes Michael," Cindy said."My demurity is of no use to me,"
"Looks like it," Michael said and with a smirk he continued,"You're going to ask me something else, aren't you?"
"Will you help me Michael?" Cindy said, extending a hand out to the young man,"Will you help me find the man that killed my father?"
Michael looked between her hand and her eyes-filled with determination and acceptance of whatever fate has in store for her-and smiled. Cindy felt the rough texture of his palm as she took his hand for a shake. It was surprisingly warm.
"If you can keep a meal like this coming, and opponents like from before coming, I'll kill as many men as you want until you find the one you're looking for."
Cindy nodded."Well if that's the case, we'll have to go onto the next town in order to resupply. I wager you can eat through a week's supply of food, if I let you. "
"I'm a growing boy, what can I say?" Michael said."Plus I hadn't eaten for three days before I ran into you and your predicament."
"Three days without food?" Cindy said."Yet you took down ten men like it was nothing?"
"I've been trained to fight on an empty stomach." Michael said.
"By your father I presume?" Cindy said.
"No, by my master." Michael said."If my father taught me how to use a sword, I wouldn't make it one day in the real world. My master taught me for about a year. The rest I kind of picked up on my own."
"That explains your fighting ability," Cindy said."Who was your master?"
"He doesn't really have a name," Michael said. "But to any swordsman, they know him by his title."
"What's that title?" Cindy said.
"They call him, The Number Two Samurai." Michael said.
Chapter 16 END