Sailor Moon Fan Fiction ❯ Hearts of Swords ❯ Chapter II - Wandering ( Chapter 2 )

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

* * * R E C A P * * *

These were vengeful men they faced; having lost their comrades to a group of
vigilante samurai. So they fought. They slashed and stabbed, swung and axed;
danced the dance of death.

"Run! We have no choice now! Run!"

Her eyes narrowed as she gutted her enemy, refusing to acknowledge her defeat.
She would not run until these men were killed. Her blade glistened in the
afternoon sun as it swung again and again like the scythe of death, stealing
away the dead souls.

Lost in her world, hazy with pain and blood, she only saw the enemy: formless
shadows that leered at her with crimson red eyes, featureless creatures that
hunched over her parents, devouring them before her very eyes...

A piercing scream of wild terror and an unfathomable amount of pain shattered
the organized chaos of the battlefield as the last opponent fell to his defeat
before her, the red red blood splashing onto her lightly tanned skin.

Breaths heaving, she scanned the battlefield...

to find herself alone.


* * END CHAPTER I * *


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H E A R T S O F S W O R D S

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"As we live on,
We lose a little bit more.
Shrouded in falsehoods and lies,
We stand frozen to the spot, unable to cry out..."

Chapter II - Wandering
[Sengoku Period, 1512]


Golden waterfall of hair which was starkly offset by a black gi waved in the
harsh wind. It whipped around her face and trailed behind her like a banner. It
was the only evidence that questioned her gender in the people's eyes. It was
also this that distinguished her from the other nameless samurai. She was known
by her black gi, a color that was unusual for a gi, and the intricate carving
on her scabbard.

She was, for all the clan knew, dead. Now she was a samurai, masterless and
filled with too much bitterness and anger to give up the ways of the sword. She
wanted her revenge for all those who had been lost because of her.

Looking towards the horizon, she let her gaze linger at the small plumes of
smoke that tainted the perfect scenery. Sending a silent prayer of forgiveness
to the Gods above, she turned her back and walked onward.

* * * * *

Birds chirped merrily in the air, and the tinkling laughter of children rang in
the air. Women watched with fond amusement as they enjoyed the rare moments of
peace in this era of bloodshed. Many parents taught children to never be out
alone when trouble was around.

A small child, no older than eight years old, watched with piqued curiosity as
a slender figure walked into the town. The black gi that the stranger wore
attracted the attention of many villagers. It was unusual to see someone
wearing a black gi. The color black represented the night, and of an assassin.
Was that the stranger's profession?

Not realizing the potential danger, the child walked up to the figure and
peered up at the face above with intense, childish scrutiny. "Are you lost?"

The people around them held their breath, watching, waiting for the stranger's
reaction. "Yes, I am lost. I've been lost for a long, long time."

Smiling, the child answered, "You're not lost now. You're in Hiroshima."

"Am I?"

"Yes. See, you're not lost anymore."

* * * * *

Even in her sleep, the child's words echoed in her mind.

'Are you lost?'

'You're not lost now. You're in Hiroshima.'

'See, you're not lost anymore.'

The sounds of the night echoed around her, wrapped her in its soothing melody,
and she found herself being lulled into a state of relaxation by the sounds.
Her own breaths and the cold night wind caressed her lithe frame with its cold
touch.

A soft sigh escaped her lips as she looked up at the moon. 'It is unusually
bright tonight,' she mused. She dismissed the thought and tried to resume her
slumber. Her body was aching and she was weary; she had not had a night's rest
since the moment which had ended her world six months ago.

"Oniichan..." she murmured.

In her mind, she could still hear his soft voice, and his laughter as he hugged
her and smiled.

'*I love you...little sister...*'

A solitary tear trailed down a pale cheek as she closed her eyes, and tried to
forget.

Tried to forget the reason why she was lost.

* * * * *

The sun rose, and for a golden, timeless moment, the world stood still as the
hesitant rays of the morning sun cast a light upon the world, giving it a
magical shimmer of golden beauty.

And in the midst of it, Usagi slept on, oblivious to the observant gaze of the
sun. The small offering of the sun's warmth only served to encourage her
slumber. The weary kenkaku was resting in a world of darkness that was for the
battle-weary. Haunted by the blood she had spilled and the countless eyes she
had seen at the end of their lives, filled with terror and hatred, burning for
*her*, no longer mattered in this rest.

Tumultuous emotions and thoughts were irrelevant in this rest, and although her
mind and body prepared to rise into consciousness, she would remain in these
fleeting moments, trapped in a world of pleasure and pain.

Fluttering eyelids opened to reveal a pair of indigo blue eyes, but slightly
lighter in shade as they were still hazy and murky, showing the purest cerulean
blue irises in the sun swept morning. If one who knew of her reputation had
seen her now, they would have had a difficult time at referencing the innocent
beauty to the merciless manslayer she was beneath the female exterior. She was
anything but innocent.

But she conceded to her fate. For she deserved the guilt and the nightmares
which plagued her as the punishment for her lifestyle. For the lives she had
taken.

'I don't even know them. They are all faceless enemies to me. How old are they?
How old *were* they? Did they have families? A mother? A brother? Sister? A
wife? Children? Father? I ripped them away from people who loved them...because
it is my duty. My duty as a kenkaku. As a warrior of the sword, duty and honor
before all. Why...why all this pointless bloodshed...should I continue this--
this grim parody of *honor*?'

The thought was not a new one, she knew. Many times, usually when she was alone
with her taunting monologue as her only company, she had considered giving up
the sword to retire into a peaceful life. But, something deep within her
prevented her from doing so. Flashes of her past came back to her, the moments
of pain, fear, humiliation, shame, fury, grief...all of it rushed over her
like a tidal wave, rendering her breathless and weeping bitterly. Her weakness
and utter lack of conviction at her own solemn vow would bring shame to her
family's memory.

'No. I must continue. I *will* avenge the injust death that my familiy suffered
and bring an *END* to this miserable age of bloodshed. I swear upon my mother's
grave that I will make it so.'

Standing up, she let the warmth of the sun's rays caress her body, the cloth
rustling in the gentle breeze. It was a pleasant morning, a new day. The air
was fresh and she felt renewed from the slumber she had just awakened from. It
would be a peaceful day today.

Gathering the small satchel that consisted of her meager belongings, she began
to walk down the small bluffs she had slept on, the warm spring breeze against
her back, the same back that she had turned to the world. Hair fluttering
behind her like a proud banner, she journeyed onwards to whatever was in the
path to freedom and revenge. Dimly, she wondered whether this path would lead
her to Kyoto. From there, she would build a new path.

Resolve strengthened, she let a small smile grace her lips as she enjoyed the
day, basking in the beautiful weather and her light mood. Blessed with a rare
day of peace, she intended to get a full day's hiking done under the sun.

* * * * *

Nightmares.

Nightmares beleaguered her mind during the nights and guilt plagued her during
the day. It was a never-ending cycle of depression and malevolent destruction.
She was without a home and money; having been orphaned at an early age, all she
knew was the ways of the wayward children who stole to survive. She had a small
group of friends who also lived in the wilderness and in the hidden corners of
the city.

Hatred and despair burned in their hearts as they were forced to live in an era
of destruction and blood. The bodies that were buried to forge a path towards
peace was the foundation, and the blood that spilled was the glue. If there was
any indication of this war coming to an end, it was currently being overlooked
or ignored.

She spied a slender person walking by the mouth of the hideaway she was
crouching in, and grinned maliciously. The stranger didn't seem like too much
trouble. Taking a deep breath, she sprinted out of her hiding place and dashed
forward, hand nimbly snatching the cloth pouch that was hanging deliciously on
her victim's obi. Pretending to smash into them, she stammered, "I--I'm sorry
sir!"

He growled at her and muttered, "You better'd be, bitch!"

Snarling inwardly at the demeaning term, she apologized again and began to walk
off, smirking. He wouldn't miss it.

Abruptly, she turned the corner and ran, ducking into the nearest alley she
could find. In case he *did* miss it, she would give him a chase that would
certainly discourage any man. Having been on the streets for so many years, she
knew the city inside and out.

Tugging the thread away from the mouth of the pouch, she dumped out the
treasure to find enough money to feed herself for the next two weeks. Smiling
gleefully, she slunk further into the shadows of the alley, thinking about what
kind of food she would be eating tonight.

"What an idiot! I can't believe he hasn't come after me," she laughed softly.

The melodic peals of her laughter echoed in the narrow alleyway, a sound that
was contrasting to the overall atmosphere of Kyoto. The slightly stained kimono
swayed gently in the breeze as she walked. For someone who lived on the streets
and barely lived, she was yet another Japanese woman, just not so fortunate.

Vaguely, she wondered if she would find the means to break away from this
pathetic excuse of a "life". Would she find her saviour?

Question after question went through her mind, and she was lost within them
without an answer.

* * * * *

Screams reverberated around him as his men rushed ahead, swords held proudly as
they began to eliminate the villagers. Pointless murders, really, but he didn't
care. All he cared about was to bring his clan to power. If it meant that he
would have to kill off the villagers, then so be it.

'After all, what are some useless lives compared to building a new era?' he
thought.

He watched dispassionately as a katana sliced through a young woman, screaming
for a man who was either already dead, or soon to die with her. Children were
screaming for their parents or siblings, without realizing that they too, would
join them in the endless depths of death. 'How fitting,' he mused, 'that these
children would have to feel what I feel, but get the luxury of joining their
parents in death, while I had to live on.'

Unsheathing his own katana he leapt into the fray, hoping that he could put
these people out of their miseries. After all, to lead these men, he had to
command respect. He had to show them that he was not a man who wouldn't dirty
his hands; he would drink blood if he had to command their respect. He would
have to show them just what he was capable of.

However, his momentum was stopped as his blade met resistance. He looked up to
find the blade of a katana against his own. Snarling in anger and annoyance, he
brought his blade down upon the other, only to find that the wielder of the
offending katana had already dragged the villager to safety and was now
standing in front of him. He raised a skeptical eyebrow. This samurai looked
nothing like what a samurai should. Slightly dirt and blood stained, but
otherwise bitter and angry.

"Well well...who are you?"

The other samurai murmured softly, "Dead men don't need to hear my name."

Growling underneath his breath, he charged at the samurai, but before he could
see it, he felt the metal of the katana slice through his body. Eyes widening
in shock, he stopped in his tracks, the katana clattering to the ground from
unresponsive fingers. Trying to formulate words and putting sound into them, he
found that he was dying.

The darkness rushed up to him and he could faintly feel his body as it hit the
ground with a wet noise. He was defeated.

And he didn't even get time to close his eyes.

Turning away from the carnage, the stranger sheathed the katana and walked away
into the distance towards Kyoto.

* * * * *

Ebony tresses fluttered in the wind as she stood near the outskirts of Kyoto, a
warm spring breeze caressing the trees around her. In the distance, she could
see a plume of blackish smoke and she frowned. Yet another case of mindless and
needless slaughter. She noted that with each passing day and week, the plumes
of smoke were coming closer to Kyoto. Shivering in fright, she turned away from
the sight, the small pouch of gold still clutched in her hand.

Just as she was about to head back into town, a hand clasped her shoulder. She
started and whirled around, to find her long-time friend there.

"Come on Rei, we have to get back," her friend said quietly.

"I'm coming Makoto," she replied. "Just...just a few more minutes."

Makoto nodded and walked away, leaving her friend to her thoughts. It was very
obvious to her that Rei was lonely. She was fifteen years of age, and had never
been with a man. Then again, it was also a well-known fact among those who knew
her that Rei's preference in partners lay in women, not a man.

Frowning at her friend, who probably wouldn't see it, she spun on her heel and
walked away, hoping that she would find a way out of the depths of despair. If
anything, she would have found the means to take away her friend's pain, but
there was nothing she could do. She did not know what it was like to be Rei.
All she could do was to be supportive; but it wasn't enough. Rei needed someone
to love her, and to cherish her.

"Rei?"

"Yes?"

"Are you coming?"

"Yes."

The black-haired girl approached her then, and the two walked on. Side by side,
the two friends approached their destination in a comfortable silence. Behind
them, the sun burned on, the small plume of smoke like a wispy detail lost in
the beauty of the scenery.

And so, the cycle of life continued to spin in Kyoto, blissfully unaware of the
war that would erupt in its depths soon.

* * * * *

"My Lord, the scouts have returned," he reported dutifully.

"Well, what is the word?"

The soldier cleared his throat and began to speak. "Our General Furuhata has
been killed during the raid."

Enraged and surprised, he stood up from his place and shouted, "WHAT?!"

Cringing, he stammered meekly, "It--it was seen by the surviving men that a
young, blond haired warrior had challenged him. Ge--General Furuhata did not
stand a chance, sir."

Scowling and grieving the loss of his best General, he slumped into his seat.
How could *HE* lose to a mere wandering swordsman?! It was...absurd!
Inconceivable! His long-time friend could not just *DIE* in a simple battle
that should have been an effortless victory.

Could it be that there was such a person who could exceed his old friend in the
art of the sword?

Frowning at this new development, he began to contemplate what it would take to
persuade this...manslayer to join their ranks. He dismissed the soldier and
continued to let his mind process this information. His best-friend was dead,
and all he could think about was of strategies to manipulate this warrior into
his service. Swearing violently, he slumped back into his seat and buried his
head into his hands.

"What's *wrong* with me?!" he shouted.

'Why can't I feel...feel sorrow? Why...?'

He tried, really. Tried to make himself feel, tried to make himself cry, tried
to grieve for the friend that had been by his side since children, together
through this war and together through death. It seemed that his friend had
beaten him to the grave and left him here, alone and alive. Cursing bitterly
about his fate, he sat alone in the empty room.

For one, fleeting moment, he felt a burning hatred of his name as a Fukushima.

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Author's Notes:

Well, this is an interesting turn of events. Most of this is going the way I've
planned it this time. ^_^ Unlike those other stories where I've complained
about getting steered off-course, it isn't happening this time. Well...not too
much anyway. The only part that's changed is the exchange between Makoto and
Rei. That wasn't in my original plan; it was supposed to be Minako, but I got a
better idea and just substituted the two girls. :)

On terms of research, I still haven't found any material that gives information
about 'shoujo-ai' or 'yuri' during Feudal Japan, so I've decided to use the
stereotypical views on homosexuality during these times. From what I can gather
about homosexuality, it was pretty much frowned upon and shunned during this
time period (1500s). Or rather, I believe that it was a very discreet or almost
non-existent concept. Even today, people believe it is "unnatural" or "wrong".
I find this view highly irritating and ignorant.

Well, that's enough of that. :P Don't want to get too in-depth about issues.

As always, comments and criticisms are welcomed. If it isn't constructive, well
then, prepare to have your opinion ignored. ^_^

PS: "Dead men don't need to hear my name." - Stolen from Rurouni Kenshin OAV,
said by Seijuro Hiko. :)

[E-mail: sherazard_@hotmail.com]
[Website: http://ashura.br0ken.org (HIATUS)]
[Weblog: http://ashura.blogspot.com]

1st draft: Completed. (06.29.2002)

TRANSLATION:

gi - A top worn by males with a hakama.
kenkaku - A swordsman.
kimono - Clothes worn with an obi to tie it closed. The dress of females.
oniichan - Older brother, big brother.

Resources:

http://home.austin.rr.com/scajapan/HI STORY.HTM
http://victorian.fortunecity.com/duchamp/410/shogun.html
http://home.earthlink.net/~steinrl/glossary.htm