Fan Fiction ❯ Bushido ❯ The Ronin ( Chapter 1 )

Chapter 1: The Ronin

Though outside poured and thundered, it did not seem to effect the mood of the men inside the tavern. Granted, most were too drunk to notice the weather anyway.

"So, Seiji," a rather scruffy samurai grinned, whacking an even shabbier man on the back, "The local newsboys say we've completely trashed the Yamana clan. Guess your brother's ruthlessness pays off at some point, eh?"

In the corner, a somewhat dirty, but obviously sober, man turned his head slightly, eavesdropping into the conversation. Under the grime, it was hard to see exactly what mon1 he bore. The scruffier samurai grinned, taking a huge swing of saké.

"Yesh, ya could says that. Masashi whupped 'em good," he hiccuped, "Yesh he did! Sent dos sissy 'peaceful' ex... excusses fer samurai runnin' wid their," he hiccuped again, "taishs between der legsh. An' iffun dey didn' run, hes army tore 'em up. Heh, dos goons dat did survive are all ronin now. Ol' Yamana disembowled 'imself at da first sign of capture. Wuss." The samurai in the far corner gripped his cup tightly.

The other drunk laughed, "But Seiji, ain'tcha a ronin too? Yer brother's too ashamed of ya to keep you around, it seems." Seiji stood up, grabbing his peer's kimono.

"An' wassh dat's supposta mean, eh?" He grumbled, "Iffun Masashi gib me da chance, I coulda don' an' killed a whole lot 'o dem wid one arm behin' ma back. Dos wussies be easy ta kill. Fight like women, I says!" The bar roared with laughter.

"You forget Seiji," one man called from the back, "That samurai women are also trained to fight, in case they need to defend their homes!" Men chortled once more.

"True dat, true dat," Seiji nodded, raising his saké bottle in agreement, "Dem broads kin be prudy strong, bu ya eva seen a man get his ass whupped good by a women? Iffin so, either da guy's a weaklin', or da women's freakishly strong. Dat's wha I mean aboun' Yamana's men - des all weak. And stupid too. Ya know dey burned down der nice castle cuz dey din' want ma bro to get it? Buncha baka."

The man in the corner slammed his saké cup down, left a few coins on the table, and turned on his heel to leave. Clad in worn, silky brown hakama and a dark blue kimono, he probably came from a once prosperous family. However, considering the state of his attire, he probably fell on hard times. His long, dark, raven hair, tied in a high top ponytail, could stand for a good wash. The same went for his face, which, although young, looked stressed and tired.

Seiji blinked when the young man passed him. "Oi, what's you problem?" He glanced at the faded mon on the back of the man's kimono. "Eh? A sakura petal? Wha kinda crest is... Oh! Yus one oh dem new ronin, ain'tcha? Yus lost your dear Yamana, eh? My bro kicked your arses good, he did." The drunk snickered. "Guess Masta Yamana was too stupid an' weak to lead ya properly, eh? Had ta rip out his own stomach ta prove what a baka he was." The young man stopped, turned on his heel, glared at Seiji angrily. A chorus of "Oohs" rang out from the onlookers. The younger samurai glowered, his thick eyebrows pulled down in anger. He yanked Seiji's shirt and pulled him over to his face. Abnormally tall for a man of his times, the young samurai held Seiji several inches off the ground to keep him in level with his face.

"Don't you ever insult Yamana-sama's name again," He growled before releasing the drunk and stepping out of the bar. Seiji raised his eyebrows, but finally laughed.

"See wha I mean, guys? He just huffs an' leaves! Don' even throw a punch!" The bartender shook his head as he pulled a bag of rice out of storage.

"Seiji, you're a fool to underestimate him. You see his eyes? That man's killed before. Not sayin' he's a cold-blooded killer now, but, who knows? I think he was just smart enough to pick his fights, unlike some of you bums."

The men snorted, ignoring his chastising, rowdier now that they'd been deprived of a fight.

"Oi, Seiji, think about it." One man said, leaning over the middle-aged ronin, "Didn't that guy insult your honor? Looks at you like you're a flea, you, his elder! Then he turns tail and leaves. You gonna let him do that to ya?"

Seiji took a huge swing of his alcoholic drink, cheeks bright red. "Ya knows, yus right! I kin't let 'im Disgrace da Oshima name like dat!" He drunkenly unsheathed his katana, "Isa gotta teach dat youn' baka a ding or dwo." He stubbled out of the bar, a small crowed of men behind him. The bartender shook his head once more.

"Drunken fools."

The trouble-seekers crowded into the street.

"Yosh'! a brawl! About time, I was getting bored."

"Yeah! Who ya think? Seiji or the Yamana ronin?"

"Ha! Drunk people can be dangerous! Seiji, definitely."

"You crazy baka! Seiji'll get the ground mopped with his arse!"

"You willing to put money into that?"

"I got a ryo."

"Fine then, a ryo it is."

It didn't take long to find the young ronin walking down the near empty roads. The men cheered and yelled, ignoring the ice cold rain and the muddy trail.

"Hey! Youz! Baka! Yamana ronin! OI!" Seiji called tauntingly, "Yea, yus! turn arounds! Yous insultin' me, huh? Well, I ain't gonna stand fer dat! I demands a duel!" The young man sighed, stopping in his steps. He turned his head, hazel eyes narrowed.

"You'd be a fool to pick a fight while drunk. I have no quarrel with you, so long as you leave me be."

"Youz can' reject a duel!" Seiji scorned. "Youz be soilin' yer honor!"

"I don't fight with drunks. That's an unfair fight." The ronin turned back down his path.

"Fine den. Whut about yer percious Yamana's honor, den, eh? Fight for the frickin' dead baka." The ronin stopped once more, turned and glared.

"I told you not to insult Yamana-sama. However, seeing as your alcohol is speaking for you, I'll ignore that. I'll not attack." Seiji scowled.

"I saib, combe and fighb meb!" He snarled, charging at the young man with his blade, only to have the younger of them to knock it away with his knuckles. Seiji lost his balance and landed face-first in a mud puddle. He growled, standing up and charging forward, but instead received a harsh kick in the gut.

"You're drunk, and you're fighting out of anger, not honor," The ronin told him calmly. "You are endangering yourself to more injury. Just give up and leave me alone."

"Bakayaro!" Seiji retorted, getting up and then slipping on the slick ground, landing in the mud once again. Enraged, he staggered up and charged again, but the young man simply hit him square-center in the forehead with his fist, dazing Seiji. As the drunk fell to the ground one last time, the ronin calmly walked away. The men who had gathered to witness the sad excuse for a fight burst out laughing at their peer.

Seiji rubbed his head as he voiced out a threat to the retreating ronin, "I'lb gebt youd fob dis, kidb!" The ronin merely shrugged, heading back out of town. One of the men turned to a merchant.

"Oy, lowly one!" He snickered, "You know who that man was? The one who humiliated Seiji just now?" The merchant blinked, glanced at the ronin's retreating figure.

"Him?" he shrugged, "No idea. Just another ronin. Don't know his name. Never gave it out. I hear he's from one of the Yamana territories, though."

"Hmm... oh well. Guess Seiji will have to deal with the fact he doesn't even know his ass-kicker's name!"

His comrades roared with laughter once more while Seiji flushed.

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The infamous Sengoku era, possibly the bloodiest time in Japanese history. During its peak in the late 1500s, thousands of warriors and civilians lost their lives in the violent and greedy struggles between daimyo, feudal warlords. Some wished to become the next shogun, others, small and content with their homes as they were, only defended their lands when threatened. Many were crushed during the power struggle...

Signs of morning echoed through the trees, birds chirping while night retreated, rabbits scuttling out of their dens. A new day arose.

In the late spring of 1575, the Yamana clan became one of these unfortunate clans that were crushed mercilessly in the quest of power. However, their conquerer, the Oshima clan, suffered great losses in the battle, all because of one young general. Refusing to let all go down in flames, he skillfully led Oshima's best general and his troops into a fatal trap.

Shades of purple, orange, red, pink, and blue blurred in the sky as the sun came up over the hills to the east, illuminating the lush green grass. Though a beautiful sight now, not too long ago it was a scene for a bloody skirmish, and the remains of the dead eventually decayed into the earth. With death came life, and this meadow stood living proof of it.

At the news of his losses, the Oshima daimyo demanded information on this commander, punishment his intent. All he received, however, was a clan mon: The sakura flower, crest of the elite Nakano family.

The young ronin walked slowly down a forest trail, his geta crunching against the dead leaves. The white sakura flower mon peeked through the dirt in the silk fabric. He glanced up at the sky while the wind blew through his black hair. He sighed, shaking his head.

Knowing General Masao had died within the past few years, this left only one possible man left: His only son, Koichi, the Yamana clan's youngest general at the age of seventeen. However, even with this information, Oshima Masashi could not locate where the new ronin ran off to.

Koichi stretched, tugging at his tangled hair. "Blasted storms... I need to find a good hot spring or river soon..." He entered a patch of trees, and jumped when a small, yellow-green creature lunged at him, a rusty wakizashi withdrawn.

The sickening slush of metal hitting flesh and bone soon followed.

Koichi sighed as he put his katana away, walking past the now headless goblin. "Annoying things those are…are goblins the only thing inhabiting this gods-forsaken forest?" he murmured. First he fought drunks, now goblins. Hopefully his journey, in the long run, would hold better things.

I left my former life behind me, yet the future ahead of me is just as bloody and bleak thus far. Kami have mercy on my restless soul... He went on his way, utterly alone by fate, and by choice.

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Meh. Shorter than the old first chapters (I actually kinda combined some of the second chapter into the first here...) but I like it much better. @_@; Please don't kill me for rewriting it yet again. @___@;;;;;;