Note: It has been a full year since I last updated this story, and this month also marks From Deep Within's third year anniversary. I was sorting through my things after moving across country two weeks ago, and realized that Chapter 24 was so close to completion. No matter how busy life gets, I find myself always returning to this story. I guess I love the characters too much to leave it alone. I need to bring this story to a proper conclusion sometime. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the next installment in this tale.
Chapter 24: A Shattered Katana
Tora stepped into an unnatural darkness so thick it swallowed even the faintest of light and shrouded the cavernous room in a blackness that even her sharp eyes could not penetrate. All but the best trained warriors would be reduced to blind and blundering fools. Such a trick would not hinder her, and she heightened her other senses to their limits.
A shudder ran up and down her spine. An indescribable scent hung in the air. A faint whisper of fabric. Someone had stood, the sound slightly muffled by a shoji screen. The hairs on her arms raised as a blast of the oppressive aura barreled towards her. The hanyō dove to the side, vanishing into the shadows, as the wave blew the damaged doors into the hallway. The candle stand was knocked over with a clatter and the last bit of light vanished.
Damn, the yōkai was unbelievably strong.
Tora exhaled slowly, maintaining her calm and slowing her heartbeat. In spite of all her training and battle experience, it took every ounce of discipline she had to not flee. It was almost as if... as if the yōkai was able to intensify fear.
She breathed deeply, taking in the strange scent to pinpoint the source. Standing in the center of the room behind the shoji screen was the yōkai. Her hand tightened on the hilt of her katana. One moment she was standing still, a part of the darkness, and the next she was racing across the room on silent yet swift feet. She braced herself for impact against the screen.
A subtle disturbance in the air to her left and a tingling on the back of her neck alerted her of danger, and the hanyō managed twisted her body mid-step, throwing herself out of the way of a wicked blade. She hit the floor hard, tucked her arms in, rolled, and landed in a guarded crouch. She was conscious of the long tear in the sleeve of her kimono and a trickle of blood seeping from a shallow wound on her upper arm. The wound was a minor scratch and the spider-yōkai silk was already mending itself.
Still... that had been close. Far too close.
"Impressive." The voice came from behind the screen so cold that shivers ran down her spine. "No assassin has ever made it this far into my inner sanctum. Who sent you?"
Remain calm. She had chosen this method of infiltration for a reason, and she could not let fear ruin this fleeting opportunity. Tora slowly stood, katana in one hand and eyes glaring through the darkness.
"Do you not recognize the samurai you attempted to kill six months ago?" Tora replied. "I am Tora, lady samurai, and I am here for your life. You will die by my sword tonight, Ura Kotoku."
A soft chuckle echoed through the cavernous room. "So you have come seeking revenge?"
"Not revenge," Tora countered. "Justice."
"How very noble of you, Asakura Tora. But, I am afraid, I will not be the one dying tonight."
A floorboard groaned faintly to her right. Tora managed to deflect the strike with her katana, but the force of the blow sent painful vibrations down her blade and into her arms. This opponent was far stronger than her, but what concerned her more than his inhuman strength was that she could not grasp a firm awareness her opponent. The only yoki she sensed belonged to Ura Kotoku, who had remained still behind the shoji screen, and his yoki blanketed the entire area heavily, almost tangibly. It took all her concentration to catch the miniscule changes in the atmosphere around her.
A faint whistling as her opponent's katana cut through the air warned the lady samurai of the next attack. The dance began. Eyes closed, breathing steady, mind void of all emotion. Her movements were light and graceful, keeping her mere centimeters out of her attacker's reach. Side-step, strike, duck, sweep, leap backwards, crouch. Breathe, dodge, roll, regain footing, deflect.
The front of her outer kimono ripped, the sound unusually loud in her ears. Her opponent tracked her movements with little effort. The hammer of his blows, even though most of the power was redirected by her skillful swordplay, was causing a tingling in her hands and arms. In few minutes, she might not be able to keep her grip. She needed to do more than avoid his blows, but his constant attack kept her on the defensive. There was no time to find his weakness.
Her opponent's style was unlike anything she had yet come up against. She had fought many a warrior and samurai on the battlefield, but their moves – passed down from generation to generation – were predictable. Sesshoumaru was a cautious warrior, calculating eyes narrowing in on the opponent's weakness before striking with a cold-blooded fierceness. Kasumi was fast and agile, using her enemies' size and strength against them. Katsutoshi, she surmised, was the deceptive kind, perhaps using subtle techniques to confuse opponents and leave them vulnerable for his counter-attack. This mysterious warrior was like a mountain, and each glancing blow caused a wave of vibrations to race down her katana into her hands and up her arms. If she kept deflecting the shower of blows, in a short time, she would not be able to keep a grip on her weapon. A direct hit would shatter bones.
The lady samurai dodged, narrowly escaping the massive sword. Her breath was short and despite the coolness of the night, the room felt stifling. Her opponent did not allow her any time to recover as he continued the bombardment. Tora backed up, avoiding as much of the force in the blows as possible. There was neither time nor space to initiate her shield technique.
In the blink of an eye, under the pressure of the opponent's sword, the blade of Tora's katana shattered. Before she could move, the attacking blade sliced through her exposed right side. As the pain exploded through her torso, Tora somehow managed to leaped backwards. The metallic smell of fresh blood filled the air, and the lady samurai pressed a hand against the injury. Immense pain washed through her entire body. The wound was deep, bleeding heavily, and two ribs – possibly three – were broken... Her weapon lay broken somewhere in the darkness, useless. Without a weapon, winning the fight was impossible, and in her current condition, escape was improbable. A wave of dizziness washed over her from the rapid blood loss, and she felt a stirring deep down inside of her.
Her yoki was awakening.
For the briefest moment, a memory of her father flashed through her mind. Shortly before her first battle experience, he had taken her aside from the other samurai and soldiers. In his stern voice, deep and rough, he told her: "A samurai must remain constantly aware of the flow of battle and be quick to adjust to unforeseen changes."
Losing her katana and receiving a severe injury were merely changes in the flow of battle. She had to adjust her strategy accordingly or she would forfeit her life. Her mind raced as she sought a solution. Seconds after the vicious blow sliced into her body, Tora had already calculated a new plan. Somewhere in the dark, behind the shoji screen, Ura Kotoku was undoubtably watching, and all she needed to do was convince him that she was more valuable alive than dead. She had to be quick. Her yoki was beginning to build inside of her, and any moment now, the yōkai would sense it.
Tora doubled over and imitated the agonizing groans of the wounded on the battlefield. She did not try to stop her yoki as it broke forth, exploding out from her in a wave that rocked the entire castle and engulfed her. Renewed strength and power ran through her body, washing over her like the waves of a tsunami. Her side burned as the bones began to knit back together and the bleeding ceased. Her fingers grew longer as they transformed into long, slender claws. Stay calm. Calm the rage. She was changing quickly, faster than the previous times. Do not fight it. Control it.
Golden eyes snapped open, sharp and clear. Her opponent approached on silent feet. No doubt for the kill strike. A clawed hand gently touched the wound on her side. It was nearly healed. Unlike the other times her yōkai blood had burst forth, there was no blood-lust. She was in full control of her mind and body. It was a strange sensation. There was no doubt in her mind that, should she choose to, she could slice her opponent to pieces with her bare hands. No. She had to complete her mission.
Tora feigned a painful gasp. She held a clawed hand up before her eyes, blood trickling down her long fingers. She let out a terrified scream, as femininely as she could. Was it enough? Was it convincing?
"What is this?" The lady samurai cried.
It was far more difficult to pretend to be pained, confused, and horrified than she could have imagined. She had experienced much pain, confusion, and even horrific ordeals in her life, but she had been trained as a samurai and responded to such situations accordingly. But now, she needed to appear weak and vulnerable - concepts foreign to her. She managed to hold all of her fighting instincts in check, but only just. With her opponent looming over her, weapon raised to attack, her body longed to attack. She knew forced herself to wait... wait until the last possible moment... Wait...
"That is enough," the voice of Ura Kotoku commanded. Her attacker immediately obeyed and lowered his weapon. A deep laugh echoed through the dark room. "You are very interesting, Asakura Tora. Very interesting indeed."
Tora forced her voice into a higher pitch than usual, trying hard to sound desperate. "What is happening to me?"
"Asakura Tora, you have yōkai blood running through your veins."
"Impossible! Yōkai are just made-up monsters. They don't exist," Tora spat. "You... must have poisoned me. There was poison... on the blade."
"No, my dear, you are mistaken. Yōkai do exist, and your current condition is proof," Ura Kotoku spoke calmly. "If left unchecked, your yōkai blood will eventually destroy your mind, transforming you into a crazed, blood-thirsty monster. However, I could teach you how to control it. My offer still stands, Lady Tora. Join me and I will help you."
Tora, still clutching her side to keep the enemy from noticing that the flesh was fully healed, gazed across the dark chamber. Her sight, heightened even more due to her overflowing yoki, could make out the shadow of Ura Kotoku on the opposite side of the shoji screen. Though it had not gone exactly as she had intended, the result was the same.
"I... I... Ugh..." She doubled over as if in excruciating pain and then collapsed onto the floor.
The darkness shrouding the room vanished, revealing a typical castle chamber with tatami mats covering the floor and an intricately painted shoji screen dividing the room. A dozen candle stands now provided plenty of light. Tora's opponent appeared to be a grim-faced samurai, and he sheathed his large sword immediately.
"Take her to a room," the yōkai-daiymo ordered. The samurai bowed and then lifted Tora's limp body off the floor. "After many long years, I finally have her... the half-breed child of the inu-yōkai Kasumi and that human samurai."
Deep in the forest surrounding the castle and village, a shadow lounged against the trunk of a massive, towering tree. Had his face not been obscured by the darkness, it would have reflected boredom as long, clawed fingers slowly stroked the furry mokomoko draped over one shoulder. Without warning, Sesshoumaru stood and brushed dirt from his outlandish garments.
The tree beside him began to shift and contort. The branches swayed and rustled as they shrank back into the trunk, which was already taking on a more human appearance. Katsutoshi flexed his hands, which moments before had been branches. Roots also shrank and merged into his feet. The bark that covered his body softened and transformed into the long, flowing silk kimono.
"Ura Kotoku has not killed her. Barreling directly into the heart of the enemy's lair with the intent to kill... that hanyō pet of yours is a fool," Katsutoshi said drily.
He ran his fingers through his long, golden hair and a few leaves fell to the ground. He glanced at the silent daiyōkai and a mischievous grin momentarily flashed across his face.
"Tora-san may not have any feminine charm, but she is quite captivating. To be able to feel her yoki at this distance is unusual for a half-breed." The kodama leaned in close to the daiyōkai and whispered, "If you are not careful, old friend, I just might decide to steal her from you."
Katsutoshi was clearly attempting to get a rise out of the daiyōkai, but he would not play the kodama's childish games. Sesshoumaru suppressed the annoyance he felt and merely brushed the kodama's hand from his shoulder. The downward curl of Sesshoumaru's mouth and the narrowing of his golden eyes expressed his disdain. The kodama was as irritating as ever, and he had half a mind to kill and be rid of him. However, as much confidence as he had in his own strength and power, Sesshoumaru was certain an all-out battle between the two of them would end badly for them both. At the moment, he had more pressing matters to deal with, and he did not need any more distractions.
"Your words mean nothing to me," Sesshoumaru said coldly.
Katsutoshi watched as Sesshoumaru strode off through the darkened forest, and he caressed his chin thoughtfully. After a few seconds, the shrewd smile returned to his face, and his bright blue eyes almost seemed to sparkle. The kodama chuckled. Sesshoumaru was heading in the direction of the castle.
"Beneath that distant exterior, old friend, you are still as easily provoked as when we were children," he mused aloud. His eyes narrowed. "You reveal your weakness far too easily."
Note: Hmm... I wonder what Katsutoshi is up to.
Out of sheer curiosity on my part, which character in this story do you find the most interesting or like the best?