Having not written anything of consequence for 2 years, please forgive
any slopiness. It came to me in a burst of something (boredom perhaps?).
This is an idea i've been mulling over for quite a while with my
girlfriend, and I finally put some thoughts down to paper (er, text?)
Any opinions, questions, suggestions, etc, please send them along. Oh,
BTW this isn't a series about any particular anime, no matter what may
you read now.... make of that what you will. :) Enjoy!

Sincerely,

odie


*work in progress!*



Sword



The rise and fall of his chest was barely visible, and that was not
accidental.

Quietly as he could, he turned the handle in his grip, pointing the
blade at an awkward angle to anyone who might have been watching. Except
there was no one watching, no one but the other corpses anyways. In the
middle of this nondescript rice field, in a driving, pelting rain, he
would either meet his vindication or his death.

Senses sharpened to a razor edge stretched out from every square inch of
his body, trying to catch a glimpse of his opponent, somewhere out there
in the looming darkness. A splish here, a splash here, and he would
almost twitch.... almost. But he knew better. When he came, it would be
in a flash of fury and flashing silver, and it would be soundless. At
least that is how he conceived it. Crouching into a shallow pose, trying
to become one with the field, eyes quickly scanning from left to right,
then left again, ears guarding his back, trying to hear..... then it
came. Just as he thought it would.

It was as soundless as a death could be. The blades clashed ever so
lightly, enough to let the other know that he had almost been had.
Almost. But as suddenly as the weapons touched, they separated, and one
continued in its desired path, effortlessly slicing through cloth and
flesh, leaving a wide swath in its wake, from where bright blood
erupted, then fell back to skin and earth quickly as it was beat down by
the rain, then slowly washed away in a sickly red slick, mixed with mud.
There had been only enough time for the fallen warrior to realize that
his best had not been enough, and that he had lost to the bane of his
entire existance. His ancestors on the other side would not welcome him
happily, he thought. And what would become of the blade? Then darkness
the engulfed him.

>From above, the victor watched the life drain away from his foe, and
leaned down to retrieve the prize for which so many had died, and
countless more would continue to, if they dared to get in his way. Of
course, there were more jealous and petty men left in Japan, so there
would be more that came forth. He did not eagerly welcome them. Indeed,
who would welcome the possibility of the end of their own life? But when
they did come, he would not turn them away, but send them along the path
of this latest adversary.

He shouldered his prize, and sheathed his war blade unconsciously,
looking up to the sky, letting the water wash some of the grime of
battle away. He was thankful for the respite, and he figured he had at
least a few days' head start before the next group would get to him,
whoever that might be. For now, rest and food would suffice, then take
to the mountains again, trying to finish his mission, then get back home
alive.

He found some shelter in the village, taking refuge from the rain in a
small shack, sharing space with some chickens that had been left behind.
Scattering them, he made himself at home as best he could and ate
something indistinguishable by sight, even more so by taste, and lay
flat on his back for a while, mulling over his situation. It would be
quite the journey to where he needed to go, at least 6 or 7 days, he
figured, and that was without figuring in any possible interference (and
sooner or later there would be). And there would be all sorts of
variables he could not figure in... bandits in the area, petty thieves,
rogues, shady characters..... all potentially looking to take what he
now possessed.

As the scenarios grew in complexity and scope, he decided to just clear
his mind for now and try to rest for what awaited him. Taking some deep
breaths, he exhaled slowly, mentally doing some exercises to relax
himself ever so slightly, not noticing the gaps in the ceiling that let
stray droplets in, keeping him wet. As his tension somewhat lessened, he
decided to take a very short nap, eschewing traveling after such a hard
fought battle. He could not continue to fight at that level for long if
his body was not feeling well, he thought, so it was best to trade off a
little bit of safety now and he could make up for it later by traveling
faster.

But not fifteen minutes had passed since he closed his eyes and he felt
it, and his eyes snapped open instantly, grabbing his prize and war
blade in one swift motion, flying out of the shack quickly, looking for
better cover. But in his haste to get out of the rain, he had chosen a
desolate place to rest, some ways away from any brush or other structure
that would conceal him. Biting his lip, he quickly flew back into shack
and slunk down into the darkest corner and waited, hand resting on his
blade's handle.

Soon enough, those slight vibrations he felt turned to a low
thrumming..... then picked up in intensity as they grew closer. Pretty
soon it was the dull roar of hoofbeats roaring in his ears, penetrating
the thin walls that separated him from his possible undoing. The
hoofbeats slowed to a slow pace, then stopped altogether. The sound of
men getting off  horses followed presently, and the quiet clanking of
their clothes and sheathes indicated to him they had come armed. He
closed his eyes and concetrated on the sound of their feet, trying to
track the movements. They circled this way and that, not talking a
single word. Every once in a while they stopped, and then picked up
again. The footfalls grew louder, indicating they were generally moving
in his direction, still stopping every so often for something he could
not figure out. He opened his eyes and took a small breath during one of
those pauses, staring down at his feet, caked in mud, praying to the
higher power that he would not be discovered, not be forced to kill
again so soon, when it hit him all of a sudden....

Footprints. Not being totally washed away by the rain, the men must have
spotted it right away, causing them to dismount. And since they only led
in one direction, they knew exactly where he was. They had known for a
while now, but had tried to be subtle about the way they moved toward
him, not tipping him off until now, when it was already too late. Damn.
These were no ordinary samurai. He clenched his teeth tightly, already
knowing he would have to fight his way out of this situation, against an
unknown number of very skilled fighters. However good he had become, he
was still only a man, not an immortal being.

Very well then, he thought, I shall give you my very best. Tracing the
scar in the form of a looping 'X' on  his cheek briefly, he slide his
blade out once again. All in an impossibly fast blur, he slashed at the
wall behind him and crashed through it, then charged forward to meet his
fate...........



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C & C, questions? Thoughts? I'd like to hear em!