Blade of the Immortal is created by Hiroaki Samura.

I restate my pledge to C&C any BoI fic I see (no lemons
though, I don't do lemons). Public or private, your choice.


	Because sometimes you just can't get a break.

	Manji was quite happy, and had been for the past two years. Two years ago something special happened: the number one thousand. A thousand evil men, dead. No more blood-worms in him to patch him up, no more kessen-chu to keep him alive too long.
	Last year, he even got a cold! Coughing, runny nose, the whole works. He enjoyed it tremendously. Manji could barely remember the last time he had a cold before that-- easily over two hundred years ago. Now there was only one thing left to do. 
	The problem was, Manji never wanted a meaningless death, and over two hundred years of life only made him more adamant about that. He wanted to go out with style, with a flash, a bang-- with a purpose. 
	That was the trouble, you see. Manji was having a hard time finding something worthy enough to die for. Kill for, no problem-- live for, same again. Die for though? That was the tough one.

	As he walked through the streets of Tokyo, Manji heard a loud piercing screech, as if from monstrous bird. Looking up, Manji noticed that it was indeed a monstrous bird, with a rather grotesque parody of a human head instead of the eagle or falcon's head that should have been there. 

	The bird/monster was following a pair of girls who brushed past Manji and into an alley on his left. Wait, not two girls; one of them was a boy-- perhaps he works at one of those restaurants where the staff dresses up as the opposite sex-- or maybe he's just a transvestite. Manji looked into the alley, and saw the teenaged boy place himself between the girl and the bird monster, who took up most of the alley's entrance.
	Not all of the entrance mind you. In fact, just enough to--

	Manji raced down the alley, and pushed the boy aside as the boy charged the gigantic bird-monster. 
	"You'll only get yourself killed boy! Take the girl and get out of here. Let a professional handle it! I know how to do it properly!"

	This was it; this was the chance he had been waiting for. Manji rushed the creature, ready for its sharp claws and its viscious beak/mouth lined with teeth. What Manji didn't notice was that he pushed the boy just a little too hard, in just slightly the wrong way: the boy landed hard against the alley way, knocking himself out. He was too caught up in the moment, too caught up in what was going to happen next.

	Then, it happened. Pain lanced through his abdomen as the claws eviscerated his stomach, and wrapped around him like a child holding tightly to candy. Manji raised his head and smiled. The pain was bad, but he was used to pain. The boy and the girl would get away, and it would be all right and he wouldn't have died in vain and finally there would be an end to it--

	Manji opened his eye as the claws squeezed tighter, trying to send his skull through his skin, and causing him to vomit up blood. The boy, lying there; the girl, standing there with a horrified expression on her face, frozen in shock.
	No! No no no no nonononono no! This wasn't the way it was supposed to happen. His death was supposed to buy them time to get away! 
	With his remaining strength, Manji was able to shout one final word, one final command. "Run!"

	The boy could not hear him however, and the girl did not heed him. Instead, she made a few quick gestures with her hands which Manji could not make out in the quickly darkening alley. Something happened to her forehead though: a line, an eyelid, an eye. 
	"No! This shall not happen!" the girl commanded, her voice resonant with a power which belied her young form.
	A beam of light came from the eye, and reached into Manji's mangled chest, and pulled out a glowing orb, which found its way to the eye on the girl's forehead, and was absorbed by the eye.

	The blood flowed back into Manji's body, his bones knitted themselves together again, his organs repaired themselves, and the wounds closed over and healed. Not even the faintest trace of a scar remained by the time his eye again.

End.


Maybe I should have called this the Neverending Story?

Author's Notes: This is too small for author's notes. I'd be much obliged if you'd tell me what you think about it though <hint hint> <nudge nudge> <wink wink>.

Matthew "Maybeso" Lewis
	maybeso@ican.net
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Stuck at the station, he lost his train of thought.

Those who are kind say he's full of himself,
The unkind just say he's full of it.
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