Disclaimer: I do not own the Prince of Tennis.
Thanks for the reviews, Luna Dragnoir, ryosakuaddictioneternal, and mahina!
NOTE: Sakuno's a year ahead of Ryoma. Her birthday is on Jan. 14, his is on Dec. 24. The way I visualized their characters, the one year difference makes Sakuno look older, more mature than Ryoma. This is important when they regard or interact with each other.
Now, on to the story! Cheers! I hope you guys like the update.
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The Dragon and Horse
PART I: The Assassination
Chapter Two
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The inn was quiet when Sumire entered. She had come from the baths, leaving Sakuno in their room to rest her spirit weary from their long travel. As her granddaughter instructed, the hot baths did wonders for her tense nerves. Now close to home, she believed their journey is near its end – that they need no longer deny themselves of the small luxuries. For her – it was a hot, steamy bath; and for Sakuno – it was solitude. Which was why, for the first time since their reunion, she allowed to separate herself from her ward.
The small town was a breath of fresh air. There were more wanderers than samurais, more merry-making than hostile gazes. It was a beautiful community of travelers. And she was glad to feel, even for a moment, that the war was merely a distant memory.
Her steps are quiet as she made her way up the stairs. The old man running the front desk was fast asleep and the inn was void of sound and motion. The dead of night carried with it the consciousness of the weary travelers.
She smiled to herself at the thought of sleeping soon.
With no reason to worry, she almost laughs at the thought of the familiar faces she'd soon be seeing. Then, as she made her way through the narrow corridors, the lightness of her mood takes a sharp turn. She took a step and nearly slipped on the floor. A stench she was all too familiar with suddenly filled her senses. The hair all over her body stood. And with wide, disbelieving eyes, she cast her sight down.
Blood was all over the floor – oozing from the closed door of the room beside her.
In a jolt of shock and horrid awakening, Sumire rushes forward – to their room – with an open palm next to her katana. Hearing her granddaughter's voice eased and bothered her. Slowing her pace, careful not to frighten the girl, she slid open the wooden panel.
"We have to leave, Sakuno." She said hastily as her eyes drifted from her granddaughter to her unknown guest. With trepidation, Sumire's eyes waited as the boy turned to face her. When he did, his dark eyes reflected the confusion in her own. Then, in a second of horrid realization, she almost losses her voice – turning to her granddaughter and screaming, "GET AWAY FROM HIM, SAKUNO!"
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In an instant, Ryoma pulls out his katana and ducks as Sumire swiftly unsheathes and swings her sword down in one fluid motion. Unscathed and in movement, he slashes dead the lamp on the table – leaving the inhabitants of the room devoid of sight. In the second that Sumire adjusted to the momentary blindness, Ryoma losses his step and falls into the gullible boy who let him in – the apparent grandson of his target. The young assassin easily overcame the flailing shoves and kicks of the boy. Straddling him, pinning him to the floor, Ryoma gritted at the writhing young man beneath him - about to unsheathe his short sword and stab him when he raised his line of sight to find fierce, glistening hazel glaring up at him.
Slowly, his eyes widen in recognition.
The body squirming beneath him was soft and curvy. The more the boy moved, the more the realization struck Ryoma.
"You're a girl." He mouths, close enough for the girl beneath him to understand. Then, as the thought dawns in, his cheeks flush.
With a humiliated glare, Sakuno shoves off her the stupefied Ryoma. And she – about to stand – is suddenly pulled back and away by the strong arm of her grandmother.
"Stay back!" Sumire bellowed at the shocked Sakuno. And – turning around to her enemy, was tackled to the ground – her sword skidding away to the other end of the room. Without a passing moment, Ryoma raises her right arm - her fighting arm and – summoning monstrous strength – breaks it – sending the woman into a howling cry of pain. "You filthy boy!" She screamed, her honor as a samurai warrior, lost at the absence of a formal duel.
"Gomen, obaa-san." Ryoma huffed in apology, out of breath as he stood up. Whether sincere or not - he did, taking a step away as Sakuno ran crying to her grandmother - at a loss of what to do. "This way, you keep your life." He said.
"Urgh!" Sumire groaned, faint and near to passing out from the immense pain.
"Your arm will never be as it used to be, but you'll still have it."
"Bakemono!" Sakuno cried - furious, frustrated more at herself for not knowing what to do to alleviate her grandmother's pain. Without thinking, she grabbed the hilt of Sumire's discarded katana and lounges at a surprised but grounded Ryoma who simply caught her in his arms.
Ryoma twisted Sakuno's arm painfully behind her, her back to his chest. Then, raising the other – seemingly about to stab her with his short sword – hesitates at the anger and loathing in her eyes. The second he looks at her he falls – drawn by the loathing in her gaze. Instead, and without precedent, he closes the gap between them and captures her lips in a deep kiss.
The girl in his arms freezes. Her eyes widen with shock. And her knees buckle.
Before she gets to shove the boy away from her in horrid realization, Ryoma already pulled away. The boy throws her away from him and his brows furrow in confusion. He turns away from them, walks back and picks up the katana on the floor near his feet. Then, glancing at the beautifully crafted weapon in his hand, light and easy to handle, he said as if at a loss of breath.
"I'll be keeping this." He unsheathed his spare sword and carefully placed it on the ground. In its place, he slid in Sumire's ancestral sword. He cast his eyes to the glaring old woman. Then, turning away - eyes accidentally falling onto the wide, confused gaze of Sakuno - paused. The girl kept his gaze, fearfully anticipating what he had to say. Her face was flushed and her lips were swollen. After what seemed like a moment, the boy, saying nothing, suddenly turned away, and left - confusing the girl even further.
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As Ryoma sat on the empty dinner table, the servants went in and out of the room, filling the wide spread before him. By his side was Sumire's sword covered with paper wrap. Minutes pass and the core members of the household filled the room. Yukimura - the young man; the head of the household preceding his deceased father - was the last to enter. When he did, everyone in the room rose. With a gesture of his hand, everyone sat back down other than Ryoma.
The boy stood tall as he presented another prized item for Yukimura's collection - Ryuzaki Sumire's ancestral sword.
Yukimura smiles, his eyes parting open as he scrutinized the sword. More than satisfied, he gestures for Ryoma to sit and hands over the sword with its wrappings to the servant next to him. Then, with a rare lightness in his tone, said to the household.
"Let's feast!"
END of Part 1.
To be continued.