Samurai Champloo Fan Fiction ❯ Heart of a Warrior ❯ Chapter 5 ( Chapter 5 )

I don't own Samurai Champloo or any of its characters. Sorry, it's been awhile since I updated.  I've been trying to find a job for the summer, and failing.  But...  I'll find something.  I also suffered from writer's block. On the bright side, I got a good grade on my froggie, Tim. Yay. I hope everyone enjoys this next chapter.  I might be unforgiveable and leave you hanging again. Chapter 5 The ring of steel on steel echoed through the forest.  The two fighters continued to circle each other, flying around the clearing as each searched for an opening to give them the advantage over the other.  The sun was high overhead now, beating down on the two warriors relentlessly as they fought. They were oblivious to anything but each other, both determined to prove themselves the better fighter. In and out Riyana's two swords wove, a defensive wall of steel with blinding-fast attacks.  Her shorter  swords gave her the advantage of speed and agility. Mugen's body twister in every way, avoiding her attacks, as his steel-soled feet kicked out at her and his sword flashed out again and again, only to be caught by her two ninjato.  He had the advantage of a longer reach and the extra swinging power that comes from having a larger sword. Together, they danced.  A dance of death.  A dance of life, the will to survive burning in the eyes of both fighters.  They were more alive than ever as each rose to the challenge in the other's eyes. A connection grew between them, one fire-spirited warrior to another.  A bond between comrades-in-arms, forged in the heat of the previous night's battle and tempered as they sparred in the blistering noonday sun. They were both breathing heavily by now, their clothes soaked through with sweat and caked with dust.  As they split apart from yet another clash, they both sagged, panting and watching each other with wary eyes. So suddenly it startled both of them, she burst into laughter; a loud, deep belly laugh, full of joy and spirit.  Mugen stared, a curious look on his face.  Has she lost it? he thought.  But while he watched her laugh, he started to grin himself.  I haven't had this much fun in years, he thought to himself.  I guess she must be enjoying herself too.  He continued to stare at her while she chuckled, her eyes light golden and sparkling above her mask. Amazing, Riyana thought, no one's even been able to give me a good exercise since Kai passed away.  The familiar sadness of his death still hurt, but, at the moment, it was too outshone  by her joy to cause the usual crippling pain.  Bright flame, but that was fun!  She'd finally calmed down enough to stop laughing, and she sat down to catch her breath.  She could looked up to see his grin as he came closer to her to follow suit. "Well, missy, you're quite the fighter, aren't you?" "You aren't too bad yourself, for a human," her eyes crinkled as she grinned, taking the sting out of what could have been an insult. "Where did you learn to fight like that?" Mugen asked, still curious.  The bond they'd forged as they fought made them both more at ease towards each other. The joy in her eyes dampened a little bit as she explained "The People are a race that takes pride in their skill in battle.  They live in uninhabitable places - for humans - to keep themselves separate from man.  Creatures, like the Mazoku, or worse, share these far off places with them.  They have to be able to fight to protect themselves, and the young, old, or the few non-fighters." 'They'?, he thought.  So she doesn't consider herself as part of her own people then?  His eyes narrowed in speculation.  I wonder why... "I began training at an early age.  At first, I just wanted to prove myself their equal, but I soon came to enjoy fighting for its own sake, and for the growing urge I felt to protect those that needed it.  Such was my calling," she finished. So... for some reason she had to prove herself equal to her own people?  Why?  Do they not like female warriors or something?  Or is it something else entirely.  It doesn't seem to me like a race of fighters that need to survive would keep the weakness that would come from only the guy half of the population being able to fight...  Mugen was deep in thought, so her next question surprised him a little bit. "I've never seen a style like yours, Mugen.  Where did you learn to fight?" He shrugged, "I grew up in a prison colony in the Ryukyuus.  I had to fight to eat, to live.  I taught myself.  I call it Champloo-kendo*," he said proudly.  His eyes darkened, "I also learned not to trust anyone or anything but my sword and my own fighting skills and instincts." ***************************************** Wow.  He must have had almost as rough a start as I did.  She thought.  She looked into his brown eyes, and was suddenly struck with the desire to elaborate.  She wanted to tell him everything - the pain, the loneliness, the endless hours she spent training by herself.  Her realization that, even though she'd made herself a warrior among warriors, she would still never fit in with the others or be accepted, simply because of what she was.  The anger she felt when those that were kind to her face, basking in the reflected glory of her reputation and abilities, went off to mutter more rumors in dark corners, still somehow certain of their superiority, despite all evidence otherwise.  The anger at her mother, who, instead of raising her to weaning and then giving her to humans like other half bloods, decided to try and hide her shame by getting rid of her child - leaving her to die in a forest full of monsters.  Somehow, she had the feeling he'd understand exactly what she'd gone through, what she still went through.  Her eyes fell on his tattooed arms.  A prison colony.  A convict.  He WOULD understand, a part of her mind whispered.  Suddenly she was somehow aware of the bond that had begun to grow between them.  That made her nervous.  No, I can't take that chance.  I don't want to see the disgust in his eyes too.  I don't want him to know about my parentage.  He doesn't need to know I'm a mutt.   A half-blood.  I don't want to see that condemnation in his eyes when he looks at me. Better that everything remained a secret.  Better that he thought her to be more than human, that he never saw her face or her hands and caught a glimpse of what she really was.  For the first time in her life, she wished she could have been born a full human.  Always before, she'd wished to have been a full-blooded one of the People, to know the acceptance of the society that she had grown up near, but had never been a part of.  Now, she was shocked by a new revelation. If my mother hadn't tried to get the Mazoku to kill me off, I would have been raised like a human.  I would have been left somewhere, an orphan.  Maybe someone would have taken me in, maybe not.  At least I would have been part of a society, accepted as part of their people.  I wouldn't have been treated like scum-by-birth.  If I hadn't been left in this forest...  If I hadn't been bitten and Changed...  I would have been raised as a human.  I would have looked like everyone else around me, instead of some strange mix of two worlds.  I'm a monster. You would have been like him.  You wish you could have been like him so he would accept you, the traitorous part of her mind whispered. SHUT UP!She mentally screamed at herself.  That's not true! *************************************** He almost wanted to go into more detail than that.  To tell her about the pain of betrayal - how the first two people he'd thought were his friends on the island later betrayed him.  How Sara had used him for her own ends.  To tell her about the pain of being left by Fuu and Jin later in life. He wanted to tell her about the agony of being beaten as a child.  Of being a lonely orphan with no one to look out for him but himself.  The shame of being parentless, even in a colony of felons and criminals.  He wanted to tell her about the never-ending anger, how he'd trained alone, perfecting his style.  How he'd made the beatings stop, how he'd learned to protect what little was his.  He wanted to tell her about the never-ending hunger of the always slightly starving, the fight to survive, sometimes living on nothing but his will alone, his stomach so empty it was a constant pain he'd had to force himself to ignore to keep on living.  He wanted to tell her about the crow-men that had come for him** before, offered him their peace.  How he continued to refuse their offer of the peace of the afterlife to keep going, though he didn't know why.  He wanted to tell her how he'd fought his way out of hell, leaving a trail of blood and death behind him, to forge his own identity. She might understand better than you think... part of his mind muttered. No.  He denied all possibility of it with a single word.  No one but another prisoner, another outcast, could even understand what my childhood was like.  Not even Fuu would have forgiven all the things I've done, things I didn't dare tell her and Jin, even if I'd wanted to.  She wouldn't have understood all the pain I've caused, the people I killed because they got in my way.  I'm a monster.  No one would understand that and I can't risk telling Riyana, either.  I can't... I won't let myself be hurt again. You think Fuu would understand any better than this woman, a fellow warrior with an unknown past?  His mind retorted,or do you just intend to hide everything that made you who you are forever? Fuu stayed longer than anyone else.  She might understand some... he hoped.  He tried to call to mind how she would react... The understanding look in her eyes.  But all he could think of was that helpless scared look she always wore when he'd come to save her ass, only this time directed at him.  Then he remembered her glaring angrily at him when he picked fights for one reason or another.  And her constant exasperation at having to patch him up, even the times when he'd been injured to save her. He shook himself, trying to bring his thoughts back to the present, not liking the path his thoughts seemed to keep wandering down. Could Fuu ever really understand my need to fight? **************************************** Mugen's eyes opened, his brown eyes searching.  He looked over at Riyana. Her golden hair was a tangled, dirty mess.  Her skin (what he could see of it anyway) was coated with a layer of grime and sweat.  Her eyes were closed over that strange mask she wore. "Why do you wear that?", he asked, breaking the silence. Her eyes opened and several emotions seemed to flit through them, finally settling into a look of sadness.  Was that fear?, Mugen thought.  No... no I must have been mistaken.  But why is she sad? "Because... because... I just do," she finished lamely. "Hmm..." Mugen's eyes narrowed in thought.  What does she look like under that mask? He smirked to himself, and began to plot. I'll have to figure out a way to find out...   *********************************** *The writers claim that that's what he calls his fighting style.  If you actually want to pronounce it like they would, though, it would be spelled out "Champuru-kendo".  Champloo is just the Americanized version of that word.  I tried to find out what that word means, but all I can pull up is that it's an Okinawan stir-fry dish...  Of course, that might be the point, considering his style is made up of bits and pieces of everything, and they would play off the fact that he could out-eat an elephant...  :) **  In case you were wondering, I've done a little research, and it seems like this strange experience Mugen gets when he almost dies is connected to a Ryukyuuan belief about the otherworld - an island you can only reach by going underwater, a place of peace.  If you want to read more about it look up Nirai-Kanai.  Here is also a nice little piece someone did as a Mugen bio that fills in a lot of info if you are missing it.     http://www.samurai-champloo.com/samurai-champloo-mugen-bio/