Ronin Warriors Fan Fiction ❯ Redemption is not kind ❯ Rembering the dead ( Chapter 8 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Shuten walks up waving Readers stats from both FF and MM...
“Wow....people must like this story line...”
Author rolls her eyes and looks at the hand written stuff not in the comp yet.
“They’ll probably like it even more when I post this...”
Shuten’s eyebrows go into his hair line as Author shows him one of the possible Yaoi scenes.
“I hope you told Rajura about this...”
Said Gen Masho walks in dressed in nothing but a cherry blossom colored silk bow.
“Hi I’m your present...un-wrap me...” Rajura grumbles. “Can I get some clothes on now...”
Author blushes, “Thank you for reading, and commentary at any point is welcome...”


Shuten fell back into his dream/memory, now it was the aftermath of that slaughter. He was refusing to be treated until the boy’s ashes were buried in his family’s tomb. The other Masho were chiding him for the concern over one corpse. He had silenced them when he recounted the act that had ended the boy’s life. It took courage to attack one of them, and the boy had proven that twice over.


He stood now at the grave side, his wound bound but untreated. The boy’s mother hadn’t been found, he assumed her slaughtered like the rest. He recited the Sutra for the dead, but it sounded hollow to him. Sweat was trickling down his face by the time he finished, he knew he had a fever, the healers had told him as much. He had waved them off and staggered to his feet to do his duty to the dead, he could at least do that much his son.


Finished with the Sutras, he staggered over to his mother’s grave. She had died the day before he had gone through his rite of passage to manhood. He touched her grave stone and remembered, her words from then sunk deep. They were a reminder that he would have to face this crime. He fell to his knees, his head throbbing; his fever was worse. He had to finish, had to ask his mother to watch over his son and intercede for him with Yamma. His fever fogged brain registered someone behind him. He didn’t care if they had come to kill him, he deserved no less.


The blade sank deep into where the Yari had exited his body, and twisted. His scream echoed, but there was no one to answer. He had known the tomb would be deserted, a second twist and another scream. The blade was twisted as it was pulled from his flesh, he collapsed upon his mother’s grave, starring at her name.


He awoke wishing to vomit again and attempted to roll over. Gentle hands held him as his body shook with dry heaves. He half expected to be dead, but Kaos had saved him once again. His hand went up to his face, that thing...A feeding tube he’d heard it called, was still there. He could only suspect that the needle was still under his skin. A hand gently touched his own before a soft cloth wiped away the matter clinging to his lips. He turned to see the kitsune mask again; it only added to the mystery of why he still lived.
“My name is Sendril...” She said.
“Where...” He mouthed, unable to speak.
“Sanctuary...” She said. “You’ve been here for about two weeks...”
His hand trembled, he’d been brought to a place that Argo had considered a thorn in his side since the beginning of his reign. He had always wondered if Argo despised it so much, why hadn’t he attacked it. It took him a moment to realize she was calling him by a name only his comrades had used.
“...Rest, your wounds were extensive.” She said, her hand taking his. “The Oni Masho died when he sacrificed his life for another.” She moved his hand. “You are Shuten...”
He let a weak smile grace his face, closing his eyes. He heard her singing a soft lullaby, moments before he drifted off to sleep.