Hello. So I have officially decided to rewrite this story after many years. I re-read some of the chapters myself yesterday and honestly, while I enjoyed the story, I think I still made a lot of grammatical errors. I will try to fix these myself as much as I can. Other than that I just think it needs a lot of fixing. A lot of the words I chose back then I would not choose now. Either because it sounds odd or simply because it is wrong. A lot of sentences felt very unnatural as well.

If there is any old follower who is still on this platform, they might notice that the title of this story has also changed. It was formerly titled 'Hunted by what was, Following what is yet to come.' I have decided that the title is odd and changed it to 'Scars of the past'. I think this fits better, not only because it makes more sense (perhaps more grammatically correct) but also because you can take the title literally, but also figuratively once you have read about my OC Rin.

Lastly, I would also like to point out that this story is temporarily tagged friendship and drama. Because I want to write about the friendship between Rin and Masamune, as it is and starts out as a friendship first and foremost. Later its properties might change.

Update 6/3/22: I want to make an important notice regarding the timeline in this fanfiction.

When I wrote this fic several years ago, I used elements of actual historic events that canonically took place in either actual history, or within the Samurai Warriors franchise. I want to stress again that I do not explicitly follow any timeline, because that would conflict with the characters and their ages.

For example, the siege of Osaka took place in 1615. Masamune was born in 1567. That means that he would be 48 during that time. In the game, he is not depicted to be anywhere near that age and in my story he will be in his mid twenties at the most.

He starts out at 18 years old though, which means Rin is 20 at the start of this fic. Every character will age within the story as time will pass.

Now, without further ado, it is time for me to flesh out this old baby.

I remember very well. I've always sworn to myself that I would forget. That I would get over it, but I never found that strength. I was confused. Why couldn't I just let go? I never knew the answer though.

All I heard that day was screaming, cries of fear, hatred and weakness. My own voice screeched like there was no tomorrow.

All I felt was pain, sadness, and despair.

All I saw was people that ran for their lives, people that got killed and others trying to survive.

There was also a lot of blood, including my own.

I shall start from the beginning…

The village I lived in was very small and only consisted of fishermen and peasants who always worked hard, because they knew if they didn't there would be nothing to live from and no mouths to feed. They had no choice.

My father was one of the fishermen.

He took care of us and always made sure that we were never hungry. Of course, taking care of your family is a matter of fact, but we were still very grateful.

My mother was the one in charge of our household. She cooked, she cleaned, she took care of me, assuring me that one day we all would live together happily, and this state of constant war would be over. We would be in a better place and we would no longer need to with so little. My father would be able to make a living off the larger lands and we could live in bigger houses.

That is what she told me and I believed her. Our family was happy and we would be even happier.

The other day, my mother sent me out to buy something to eat with the little amount of gold we possessed. I was only six, but the shop was right across our home, so it was a little task a child could handle. I had been running little errands plenty of times, so it was nothing new. Like usual, I stepped outside and walked across and bought cheap bread. Several loaves of bread, so that we could survive until my father's next payment.

Once I got out of the small shop, I heard screaming and people were running like mad.

I panicked and immediately crossed as fast as I could. From the inside of our house, I could hear yelling. I knocked on the door because I was afraid of what would be behind it.

"Mom?" I called out as I opened the door. My eyes widened. Blood. "Dad!" I ran further into the house and froze immediately at what I saw. There was a man with a sword in his hand and it was covered in what I recognized as blood. My parents stood before him and they looked horrified.

Sometimes, our village would get attacked by bandits. At least so I've heard the other villagers say. I have never met nor seen a bandit. I guess our home just had been spared up until now.

"Eh..? What's this?" The man said as he turned to me with a wide grin.

"Please, let her go!" my mom yelled.

The man smirked and threw something at my feet. I screamed as I looked down. It was the severed head of a very, very unlucky fellow.

"You understand now, right? Give me your damn gold or I will take your head too" The man said when he turned to my parents.

"We have nothing that you want. Our last amount has been spent." Was my dad's answer. Although I could see the fear on his face.

"Too bad."

I did not know what happened. I was so confused. I was so afraid. I wanted to think, but I couldn't. There was no room for thoughts because my mother's blood curdling scream snapped me into reality.

A soft thud was heard as my fathers now severed head rolled down on the floor, his body collapsing by my mothers feet.

"You see, woman? Do you see the consequences of disobeying me?" The man turned at my mother once again. "This village is full of worthless lives. It is the very heart of poverty. You are all nothing but a bunch of peasants. Ants crawling in a hole full of shite." He kept spatting insults.

Is that why my dad died? Was he not allowed to live? Were we worthless?

My mother sighed. She was desperate and wanted to cry and scream. She had to protect her child, but her body was shaking and she didn't even notice, but before she was aware of it, her knees had given in and she was on the floor.

She stammered, sobbing while unruly breathing caused her to tremble even more. "Please… no more. I'll do anything…" She bit her bottom lip as she locked eyes with the man, his hard stare making her freeze right on the spot.

He smirked. "Anything? " He walked over to her.

I didn't know what caused me to run over to that man, but I needed to do something.

"MOTHER!"

"BACK OFF BRAT!" He yelled.

And then I fell to the ground, a sharp pain sourced through my head. The man had cut me down and I instantly collapsed. He then kicked me to the side as I hit the wall. Blood poured from what seemed to be my head.

"SHIORIN!" My mom screamed and she called my name in despair. She tried to reach out but the man just pushed her down and she fell over.

"Filthy little cockroach." The man uttered in disgust. He didn't care that I was a child. He didn't care about life. To him we were nothing but vermin. Easy prey to steal from.

I tried to open my eyes, but blood hindered my sight as it poured down my features.

My mother's sobbing started to sound more distant. I wanted to call out and ask where she was going, but I did not realize I was losing consciousness. I was too young to understand what was happening. It was all too much to process for a child's brain.

The bandit assumed I was already dead. He paid me no mind and slowly began approaching my mother.

I could make out the faint footsteps. I tried to move, but my body didn't budge. Blood slowly started to drench my robes. I tried to lift my hand which was also covered in blood. It was as if I tried to reach out for something, or someone. I made noises, weird noises. I was churning in pain.

While I was powerless to do anything else, the bandit kneeled down to my mother, who was desperately trying to crawl away from the man. However, he was way stronger and he used force to keep her in place. His abnormally large body moved to crush her under his weight. He then ripped open her kimono, and untied his own pants.

My mother's screams were horrifying. Her pleads and sobs filled my ears. These sounds were to plague my dreams and haunt my thoughts for the rest of my life.

Eventually, the bandit left our house and my mother's lifeless corpse behind.

I just cried, tears streaming down my face as I layed there, absolutely powerless and weak. My face felt hot, my head hurt and everything stung.

'They're gone… they are really gone…'

Suddenly I heard voices in the distance.

"There's a kid here!"

"Is she dead?"

"No! look! She breathes!"

"She is wounded. Take her."

I don't remember anything. I had no control of my body, but I felt I was taken away. This was the last thing I could realize before darkness started to surround me.