Ronin Warriors Fan Fiction ❯ Ronins ❯ Playing with Fire ( Chapter 1 )

Title: Ronins

Author: Kleptomaniac Can Opener

Rating: NC-17

Pairings: Various

Disclaimer: It's sad, but I don't own Samurai Troopers/Ronin Warriors, it's a Sunrise thing. I do own a bunch of the toys though! ^_^

 

Summary: The Youjakai Yakuza are trying to take out the Shakujou Yakuza. Kaosu, the man known as the Ancient and head of the Shakujou, tracks down new troops to rage war and with them creates a new division in his group: The Ronins.

 

WARNING: In this part there is sexual child abuse.

 

~*~Part 1~*~

 

The man was dressed as a monk. He had the lipid hat that hid his eyes, the black and white robes, and the medicine bag hung from his neck. In his hand was a staff with a winged sphere on its peak and two delicate horns that curved enough to hold the weight of three rings on each side. It rang with every step that the man took.

 

His steps were confident as he walked down an aisle lined by two rows of men and women of varying ages. Most of them wore street clothes with a jacket that had a picture of the top section of the staff embroidered on it while others wore expensive suits. Towards the end of the line was a desk where a few more figures dressed in the humble robes stood.

 

They were known as the Shakujou. Calling them a gang would have been an insult as no simple gang could control the amount of power that they had.

They were Japanese mafia, the Yakuza.

 

The man took his seat behind the oak desk and allowed another of the robed people to hold his staff, his symbol of power. His long white hair fell over his shoulders as his fingers steeple in front of his chin, and stared at his loyal men and women. He knew every face and every name; he knew two of them were missing. “What happened?” he asked, his voice rang strong and clear in the large room.

 

A tall man with red hair reaching his lower back, wearing the same robes as the leader, stepped forward. “The Youjakai have taken sector four, Ancient.”

“Then Fujikawa and Sato are dead.”

“Yes.”

 

The Ancient stood and retook his staff. He tapped it against the ground to make it ring. The harmonic sound reverberated through their bones. “I've had a vision,” the white-haired man announced, his voice echoing like a God's. “The Youjakai will fall!”

 

 

~*Playing With Fire*~

 

 

It was a lighter. Someone had dropped it as they passed by the orphanage.

There wasn't anything fancy about it, it had been silver once but was now blemished to a dingy grey. Its oval body had been given several dents and the cap was a little caved in. He didn't think the man would miss it.

 

The boy flipped it opened. The ignition parts looked to be in working order in the least. With a push of his thumb, a small flame jumped from the small opening on top. He picked up a dead leaf from the ground and watched it burn.

 

He smiled.

 

The boy curled his hand and crushed the remaining bits, putting it out and not minding the heat. It was only a faint ticklish feeling really. Closing the lighter he pushed it deep into the pocket of his worn out jeans.

 

“Ryo! It's time to come inside!” The adult's voice made his stomach turn. He wiped the soot off his hand in the grass, and step by slow step went inside. A large hand settled on his shoulder then slid down to rest on the small of his back. He was led not to the dormitory where he slept with the other boys but to a single bedroom in the rear of the building.

 

The room was fairly big with a queen-size bed. There were bookcases filled with war novels and knick-knacks were scattered around. A large mirror was on the vanity in front of the bed.

The bed sheets were nice enough and the pillows soft, but none of it comforted him.

 

That hand slipped itself under Ryo's thin tee-shirt and lifted the cloth over his head and off his body. Then another hand joined it to push his jeans off his hips. He had never been given any underwear to use.

His shoes came off with the pants before he was cradled in fat arms and carried to the damning bed. He watched himself in the mirror, his tiger-blue eyes dull and blank, until the man's body blocked his vision.

Ryo squeezed his eyes shut and kept them that way after that.

 

He ignored the feel of sweaty palms sliding over his body, of chapped lips and a slimy tongue. Instead he imagined fire, a blazing inferno that hugged him to its bosom. It caressed him everywhere at once, licking and kissing with its fiery passion. He was filled with need and pleasure. He burnt from the inside with searing desire.

 

`You're ours and ours alone. Our child, our Rekka.'

 

“Ahh!” Then he came. The man followed soon after, his disgusting seed splattered over the boy's belly and chest, a few globs stuck to his face and in his raven-black hair.

“Good boy, Ryo.” He was kissed but knew better than to recoil.

 

Soon he was cleaned up and sent on his way. His steps echoed with every footfall in the dark hall. Ryo stopped; the janitor's closet hadn't been locked.

The boy felt giddy mirth bubble up in his chest and had to swallow before the laughter could escape. He fingered the lighter in his pocket and opened the door wide.

 

The deed took a little longer than he thought it would, but he soon had paint, paint thinners, and cleaning fluids lining every hallway and a good bit on the walls. His final destination was the dormitory room where the other boys were currently sleeping. He went straight down the middle until he reached the opposite side. He placed the container down and flipped open the lighter.

 

“I have an announcement to make,” he shouted loud enough to wake every boy there. There was an immediate complaint about the strong scent of chemicals. “If you want to live, I suggest you leave.”

“My god, you're crazy!” shouted one of the others. He wasn't really paying attention to who it was.

“Grab your things and go,” Ryo continued. He knelt down and the flame flickered as if it was feeding on the fumes alone. The other children stared at him with owlish eyes before grabbing whatever they could and running as fast as their skinny legs would carry them.

 

One boy paused at the doorway. The blue-eyed boy never really talked to anyone, but on occasion the two of them got along when it came to soccer. “Won't you die if you stay there?” Ryo only smiled.

“A little fire never hurt me.”

 

The inferno was all over the news. The flames danced over ten feet above the building, laughing in their freedom. `Look at us!' they screamed. `We are passion and desire, we are anger and hate!'

Ryo smiled as they sang. They had eaten away the rags he wore for clothes long ago, leaving him in his natural state.

 

He walked through the halls, the fire kissing him as he passed by, and soon found himself in the cafeteria. The flames skipped from table to table in some made up game, inviting Ryo to join them. He accepted their invitation and let them crawl over his hand and up his arm. He twirled and jumped and dipped. The roaring of the blaze was the only thing that could drown out his laughter, an act that had never sounded so free since his parents died.

 

Being in the midst of the firestorm, it was no wonder none of the spectators or firemen knew there to be a child playing inside. But on this night the Ancient was passing by. He could sense the spirits of fire at play, could hear them speaking to someone not of their brood.

 

The man made his way around to the back of the building. The wind had not yet carried the flames to the nearby trees, but it wouldn't be long if the firemen weren't quicker. Pale eyes saw pass the clouds of smoke and heat to witness a boy untouched by the fire's fierce kisses, like Mowgli playing amongst the wolves.

 

The Ancient stepped as close as he dared. The high temperature was causing the tips of his hair to curl. “Child,” he called without raising his voice, yet it rang out clear as silver in the rumbling roar. Ryo looked up at him, wonder in his young eyes. “Do you have a place to go?” The boy shook his head. “Then come with me. The men coming through here will only place you in another institution such as this. I don't think you want that.”

 

Ryo stared at him for a long moment before nodding once more and walking to him. Some instinct told him that this man wouldn't hurt him, not like the last one. “My name's Sanada Ryo.” The man kneeled down to his level, smiling.

“You can call me Kaosu.”

 

The Ancient wrapped the boy in his outer robe and carried him away from the inferno. The boy slept on his shoulder, innocent as a toddler. The man smiled. He knew that Ryo was the first. With his help, the Youjakai would fall.