Chiminko
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- Posted: Fri, 12 Nov 2004 15:15:41 +0000
This story was originally posted at www.fiveringsonline.com in three parts. This story contains characters who are largely based on characters involved in the game we play there. So, some of them might seem a little badly defined. All in all I think I did a decent job on this one. Enjoy. Oh, this game also takes place in the lands of a fictional minor clan called The Spider. Right, stop reading this and get to the good stuff.
Hakai
"Are you ready?" Anaba asked as she brought in their tea and rice. Her entire being radiating happiness, as if there could be no greater joy than the task she performed now. Mirumoto Naniyama looked up at his wife, her good mood spreading to him in an instant. He was a young samurai still, his skin smooth, handsome face and clear eyes. His shaved head was adorned with a fierce eagle, screaming it's fury. He nodded to Anaba, whose ever present smile became even more beautiful, and began to eat his rice. It was good, with a slight flavor he did not recognize. Watching the delicate girl before him pick up her chopsticks, Naniyama had never felt so content in his entire life. Never so happy he regreted noth-
The Dragon samurai suddenly clutched his throat, spilling his rice across the table. Anaba jumped up, looking at him with first concern, then fear.
"Husband? Husband!"
Naniyama fell to the ground, his convulsions kicking over the table. His face turned an ugly garish purple, then his movements slowed..then stopped. The last thing he witnessed before the world died was his beloved wife's face, tears streaming down her face...
"Are you ready?" Naniyama's handsome cousin, Doji Takeda, asked. Looking into his eyes, the Dragon samurai could see nothing but hate and cruelty, a horrible abyss. His sword hand faltered and before he could answer, Takeda's katana had found his heart. The world died...
"Are you ready?" The ronin Korosai asked, boredom evident upon his dark and attractive features. With a battle cry, Naniyama drew his katana, aiming for the mans neck. With a neligent gesture, tremendous winds hit the Dragon, flinging him back into the wall of the sake house. There was an audible crack and someone began to scream. Naniyama barely heard, his world had already begun to die....
"Are you ready?" The beautiful and firey Kitsuki Sumi asked. Naniyama only nodded and attacked his enemies with renewed strength, hoping to stop the oni long enough for Sumi to finish her spell. The horrible creatures barbed claws sunk into the samurai's flesh, but it was already too late. After Sumi's cry to the kami, Naniyams's world died in the flames....
"I am not ready." The scarred and pathetic man that Mirumoto Naniyama had become said, desperately clutching the cliff face. With an agonized cry, his hand slipped and he plunged into the mists. His body fell broken among the rocks and this time only he died, waiting for the scavengers to clean away the corpse of a failure.....
Strangeling a cry in his throat, Mirumoto Naniyama awoke. He stood poised upon a cliff, his ancestral home behind him, looking to the north. The wind was harsh indeed, ripping through his light sleeping kimono. He shivered in the cold. Every night since he had returned home, he had dreamed. And every night he woke, facing to mountains of the Togashi, the High House of Light. Looking at it now, Naniyama imagined he could see a small light upon the top....one of the strange monks there working far into the night perhaps...
He looked to he hands, covered with the scars from a raging fire which had almost killed him. Which had marked his entire body and destroyed his tattoo. "When will I be ready?" The samurai asked himself, then turned to return to his home.
"Are you sure this is what you wish Naniyama - kun? Those who go to the mountains of the Togashi never return, even if we do see them again." The old sensei watched his student, leaning upon his cane heavily. Before he had left, Naniyama remember the old man never needing any aid to walk. Time had passed. "The mountains are harsh and unforgiving, especially now. They are angry over something and may take their displeasure out upon a single foolish samurai traveling among them." He glared at Naniyama.
The young samurai finished laying out the food, then wrapped the small package tightly. "I must go sensei, something calls out to me. I fear I shall go mad if I wait any longer." Adjusting his daisho and throwing the package of food over his shoulder, Naniyama walked to the door of the dojo.
The sensei watched his student with worry and pain in his eyes. "Are you sure you wish to give this up Naniyama - kun? You could have been one of our greatest swordmen. You have the talent to rival Hojatsu himself boy. Do you really want to give that up? Are you really ready for that?"
Naniyama turned to look at his sensei. "I have to be ready, no time is left to prepare." He walked out of the dojo, for the last time.
It was said there is no road to Togashi Mountain, so Naniyama was not surprised when the path he followed stopped before a deep and ugly patch of briar. It grew like tree's here, blocking out the sky above him and casting a dark shadow over the samurai. He looked at it grimly. The samurai walked to both one side, then to the other, finding no path around the blockade. He momentarily considered clearing a path with his katana, but choose not to. It was not just the idea of using his family blade for such a mundane task, the mountains seemed to look down upon him, weighing him, judging him. They would not look kindly upon him hacking into the brambles. With a sigh of resignation, Naniyama stepped into the thorns.
At first, it was easy. There was plenty of room between the thorns and he only ripped his kimono once, and got a few scratches. But the further he got in, the more dense it became. Soon every step he took became a new lesson in pain, as the razor sharp thorns bit into his flesh. His package of food was caught and fell from his hands. Naniyama left it for fear that going back would rip him to shreds.
The samurai finally came to a stop, sure that any further steps would rip him apart. All over the thorns bit into him painfully, his heavy winter kimono was in shreds, he was covered with a thousands bleeding cuts. Naniyama stood like that for a time, sure that he was trapped forever in the shadows and he would die of exposure here, birds eating his eyes..animals carrying off his body....
Naniyama had no idea how long he stood there, paralyzed, each slight movement an agony. Eventually, others joined him. They stood around the samurai, watching him with great intestest, chatting among themselves. Naniyama wanted to ask them how they stood among the thorns so easily, but then began to speak.
"Useless, nothing you can do about weak blood." his mother said. She was beautiful, but her face covered in disgust.
"Quite right. Mad as well. Seeing people." His cousins agreeded, from somewhere behind Naniyama.
""And imagine this pathetic trapped bird is going to kill me?" Korosai laughed, the wind sharing in his amusement.
"Don't say that," Anaba scolded. "He'll make it. You've just got to keep trying Naniyama - san. Like you told me once." She wore a simple white kimono, with her hair lying down her back. She was beautiful enough to make Naniyama's heart hurt.
"He has fire and spirit, together they can overcome any obstacle. This is nothing friend." Kakita Tsunayoshi said kindly, his eyes pools of serenity.
"I agree. Nothing can stop you proud warrior of the Dragon. To this I am witness." Kistuki Sumi said, the kami dancing in agreement.
With an agonized scream, Naniyama threw himself forward. Countless thorns wounded him, but he kept pushing. Then the light burst around him. For a moment Naniyama was sure he had died, then with a tearing sound he fell onto the path behind the thorns, leaving his winter kimono behind. He lay there, shivering for quite some time, in nothing but his undergarments.
After some time had passed, he stood and took stock of himself. The cuts were not as bad as he would have feared, most just scratches really. The kimono was destroyed, but Naniyama salvaged a few pieces that would protect him from the cold. His food was gone, the very idea of heading back through the briar brought a shudder to the samurai.
Wearing little more than his daisho and rags, Naniyama turned north and started walking. It began to snow.
The Dragon samurai collapsed into the snow. He lay there panting, the cold chilling his bones, the wounds from the briar patch still screaming in agony. With all his remaining strength, Mirumoto Naniyama managed to roll himself onto his back. If he were to die, he wanted to do it looking at the sky.
Howling above him, the snow seemed to dance. Images and patterns formed only to be swept up a moment later. A coiling dragon, a huge samurai in great armour, his Father, Takeda's superior eyes, Anaba's compassionate smile, Sumi dancing in fire, Tsunayoshi sitting upon a nearby rock.
Blinking his eyes, the image of Kakita Tsunayoshi was not taken away by the wind. He was the picture of the perfect Crane samurai. A perfect blue kimono, covered with Cranes drinking upon a pond, which was unfettered by the wind. His long bleached hair the height of excellence, hanging perfectly still upon his back. The samurai daisho he wore perfectly arranged and ready to be drawn in mere moments. In his eyes where one would expect pride, only kindness could be seen. In his hands, he held parchment and a bamboo brush, painting in complete serenity, despite the horrible storm.
"Do you plan to die there Naniyama - san?" The Crane asked, his eyes hardly straying from his work. "If you do, it will quite ruin the landscape I am trying to capture."
Naniyama could only stare at him dumbfounded. It seemed so real. "If you do plan to die," the Crane said, as if discussing what he was going to have with his morning tea, "atleast have the courtesy to climb over here and out of my way. The rocks will shield you from the wind also if you are interested."
About to respond that he hadn't the strength to even move, Naniyama found that the idea of escaping the relentless wind very appealing. Staggering to his feet, he stumbled towards the Crane, collapsing behind one of the rocks. Tsunayoshi had been right; Naniyama could barely feel the wind now.
"Better neh?" Tsunayoshi gave him a polite smile, then began to concentrate upon his painting again. The Dragon samurai sat for a time, letting strength trickle back in his weary body.
Finally, he could wait no longer. "How are you here Tsunayoshi - sama?"
The Crane looked up from his painting absently. "The better question is, how are you here Naniyama - san?" They were both quiet from some time, the Crane intent upon his work, Naniyama intent upon his life. He felt that he would die soon and there were important things that had been left unsaid.
"You are my rival." He told the Crane.
"Oh, am I?" Tsunayoshi replied, not even looking up from his paper. Naniyama nodded, and glared at the man. "Every time I practice, I think only of defeating you one day. It is the only reason in my life."
Tsunayoshi still had not looked up from his work. "Oh how sad that you will never defeat me then."
A dark, bubbling rage filled the Dragon. He jumped to his feet, heedless of the wind. "How can you insult me by saying such! Am I not worthy?! Are you so greater than I Crane?! Damn you, look at me!" He raged.
The Crane instead look at his painting, turning it one way then the other. "I think I am finished." He finally looked up at the angry samurai. "Your are indeed worthy Mirumoto Naniyama. But now you have two fates which lay before you. One is to die upon this mountain, filled with your old hates, regrets and love. The other to leave it all behind, and when you leave here, you will no longer care for such things. Or both perhaps." He said, smiling slightly.
Slowly, Naniyama sat down beside the rocks again. He looked into his scarred hands, as if his answer could be found there. "What will I strive for then?" He asked, looking up at the Crane.
But he had left. Naniyama was alone once more. The Dragon samurai looked to the sky. The wind howled as it had before, it's fury no less. He sat there for a long time, listening to the wind. Perhaps he could survive here until the storm had passed? It was not too late to return home. Return to his sensei, learn and practice until he was worthy.....
Mirumoto Naniyama pulled his daisho, sheath and all, out of his obi. He looked upon the blades. He knew them better than he did himself. Were he to die, he did not want their purity sullied by his touching his corpse.
Moving the rocks until he had made a hallow, Naniyama carefully placed the blades inside. He then carefully covered them up, vowing that he would return. Soon.
Looking up, into the storm, there was nothing that the Dragon samurai wanted to do less. But he stood, and staggered north once more.
The path which the Dragon followed began to swindle, until he walked a narrow precipice, a cliff face at his left hand, death at his right. A single misstep would end his journey here, broken and forgotten among the rocks.
A fear of falling was not what worried the samurai. Lethargy had crept into his soul, twice now he had almost fallen asleep on his feet. The first time he hag bug his fingers into the deepest thorn wound, causing his to yelp in pain, starting the bleeding anew. The pain stole his sleep away, for a time.
When the need to sleep next came, Naniyama turned to the rock wall and smashed his face against it. The first blow broke his nose with a sickening crunch of cartilage. The pain was incredible, but he struck himself again and again, until he collapsed onto the pathway (and he was lucky to fall right, a single slip and falling asleep would have been the least of his problems). Staggering to his feet, clutching what was left of his nose, he continued on.
The third time sleep came upon him; the samurai knew he was beat. The ever present pain did not chase it away. He needed to find shelter, or he would die of expose out here. Even shelter may not be enough to save his life, if he could not find a way to keep the cold out. He continued on, every few steps striking his ruined face to keep the memory of the pain alive.
Naniyama was convinced he would fall asleep despite his best efforts soon, when his left hand, guiding his journey along the rock face, found nothing but air. He swayed, almost losing his balance. He stared amazed at a crack in the stone wall. It was no taller than him, but wide enough for him to climb inside. He did so gladly, being careful to avoid hitting his tender nose upon the rock.
Inside was a small space, little larger than Naniyama himself. It almost seemed as if this little cave had been made especially for the Dragon samurai, fitting his form perfectly. At the end it widened and the cave roof fell. The small space would keep in his body heat; he may survive this day after all. The rock held him like a mother held her child or a woman held her lover. Though he could remember neither of these things, Naniyama fell asleep with them much on his mind.
"Draw again Kyoji!" His Mother demanded. She was a beautiful woman, that no one could deny. Skin which put snow to shame, large dark eyes that a man could look into all day. Her hair was long, reaching almost to the ground. Her kimono was perfection, green and gold, with blue Cranes dancing among the dragons. Only the look of distain, which had been on her face since she entered the Dragon lands, marred her beauty.
She was a daughter of the Kakita line, a talented artisan. When she was married, she had expected to be taken to beautiful courts, with a husband of great prestige. Instead she had been married to an unknown Mirumoto samurai, locked away in the grim mountains for the rest of her life. Bitterness had crept into her soul, driving Kyoji's father away from his home. The young man rarely saw his Father these days, and when he did it looked as if a great weight was upon his back.
The boy who would one day become Mirumoto Naniyama looked at his mother, disappointment evident upon his face. "But Mother, Master Kito is to read from the Tao tonight. I had looked forwa-"
Her face would have rivalled that of thunderstorms. "If you cannot master a simple kata my son, no amount of Dragon gibberish in the world will help you. Now do it again. I will not have you embarrass me when we return to my homeland."
"But Mother…"
"Now Kyoji!" With a bitter sigh, he began the form once again, under his Mother’s stern eye.
His dreams shifted.
"You are Kyoji right, my cousin?" The young man asked. He was a year or two older than the Dragon boy. He was a very attractive lad, green eyes, fair features and long black hair. Kyoji noticed he had very clean, even fingernails. His own were always dirty and bitten, despite his Mother's best efforts. His cousin had already begun to gain the height of manhood, he practically towered over Kyoji.
The Dragon boy realised what an honour it was to visit the homeland of his mother. Few Dragons would have such a chance, and even less while so young. Yet he only wished to return home, to the familiar mountains, the people who spoke what they felt, home. Trying not to feel nervous, Kyoji bowed. "Hai, I am Kyoji. A pleasure to meet you cousin."
The boy before him did not look impressed. "I have heard you are to study the Mirumoto style of duelling." Kyoji nodded. "I am studying the style left to us by Kakita. Which would you say is better?" He looked at the young man intently.
Kyoji thought about his answer. "A path has a beginning and an end. Neither of which is the right place to begin to end a journey." He smiled at his cousin, expecting to either hear agreement or a counter statement, instead the young Crane sneered.
"Just like a Dragon, never a straight answer. I had hear your all mad cowards, hiding in your mountains."
Kyoji stood there opened mouthed. "You take that back!" He stammered, never had he been so fundamentally insulted in his entire life. He approached the Crane, fist raised in anger.
The Crane boy smiled. "Why don't we settle this like real samurai? I’ve got some bokken in the garden my brother and I have been practicing with. Or would you rather fight in the dirt like a simple peasant?"
Kyoji stepped back, trying to get control over his anger. "Fine. Lead on. You'll regret your words soon enough." He followed behind, still fuming.
The garden was a place of beauty and solitude. Kyoji hardly noticed it. He walked to the discarded bokken, and turned to face his cousin, who already had on in his hand. "Ready?" He asked. The Crane boy nodded.
Kyoji stepped into the stance his mother and sensei had taught him. He cleared his mind, preparing his victory. Already, the boy could see himself winning, his bokken taking revenge on his cousin for his childish insult. He looked into his opponents eyes, and suddenly was not so sure he would win. And then it was over.
His cousin moved with grace and speed beyond his years, smashing Kyoji’s bokken from his hands, and laying the boy low with a blow to his windpipe. The young Dragon could only clutch at his throat unable to breath. Before he fell unconscious, he spotted his Mother and several other Crane ladies watching from the sides. His Mother looked at her son with nothing but disgust. The world went dark.
The dream shifted.
A slaughter had taken place here. A Dragon samurai, who had once been a boy named Kyoji, looked upon it with a heavy heart. He had hoped to take a peaceful walk away from the city, but had come upon this. A traveling family, ronin by the looks. He began a prayer for their departed souls, and began his walk back to the city. The Togaru would have to be informed and the bodies removed for a decent burial. He only wished he could do more.
"…..elp." A soft voice said. Naniyama looked around; he could have sworn he heard something.
"……me….." It said again. Sure he had heard something that time, the Dragon Samurai followed the faint noise. Off the road he found a girl. She had been stabbed repeatedly, left for dead by whoever had done this. For a moment, Naniyama was sure someone had attacked the heavens themselves, for she was beautiful beyond all measure.
She was not tall, small and delicate like any part which was not perfect had not been put in. Her hair was long and darker than the void, spread around her head like a halo. Her kimono (purple he thought) was covered with blood, but this did not take away from her beauty, she was greater than such mundane things. Naniyama thought she looked like a doll someone had hated and discarded.
He moved closer. She was still alive, but bleeding badly. She needed help and soon. Naniyama breathed deeply, then gently lifted her, careful not to get any of her blood upon his flesh. Her eyes focused upon him momentarily. "Father…?"
Naniyama looked down at her. "No little one. But rest calm, you are safe now." Her eyes closed and her breath slowed to so still the Dragon samurai was almost afraid she was dead. He hurried back to the city, feeling destiny watching him carefully.
The dream shifted.
Anaba looked up from her cot, pain in her eyes. "You saved my life sama, I would do anything for you."
Shifted
She smiled; he had never seen that expression far from her face. "You never seem to smile sama." Looking into her face, he almost did.
Shifted
"Here you are sama." Anaba placed the tea and rice bowl upon his table and went off to do her other chores, humming. Naniyama thought that all the kimonos in the world could not outshine her beauty in that apron.
Shifted
Tears were in her eyes, Naniyama would have done anything to take them away. "You promise to return sama?" She asked, her voice wavering. He placed his mother’s talisman, a Dragon and a Crane in flight, in her hand. "I promise Anaba – san." He replied. "Though my duty here may be done, no force in the world could keep me away from you." Anaba clutched the talisman in her hand, then shut the door. The Dragon samurai could hear her sobbing from inside. He wished for nothing more than to go inside, and kiss her tears away. Instead he turned, leaving the pain behind.
Shifted
Anaba held his son and cackled into the darkness, tears of blood running down her face.
Shif-
Naniyama woke screaming, seeing nothing but that one last horrible image in his mind. He clutched at his face in terror. After several minutes of shivering, he slowly climbed out of his shelter. The snow had stopped. It was still blisteringly cold, but the air was clear. He could see for miles, Naniyama thought. Everything was covered in a beautiful coating of snow, making the mountains seem like gossiping maidens in the garden, all wearing white kimonos.
The Dragon samurai breathed in the mountain air. The sleep had done him all the good in the world. Though he felt weak from hunger, he was used to fasting and confident he could find his way before long. Mirumoto Naniyama began to pick his way carefully up the path, heading north once again.
From the small cave which had saved his life, the Dragons tracks were all that recorded his journey through the mountains. It had not snowed since that night (for which Naniyama was grateful, the snow made travel difficult, anymore would have made it impossible) but he could sense more on the way. He did not have long to find the High House of Light, the next snowfall would kill him.
Though there was only one set of tracks, the Dragon samurai had not been alone since his night in the cave. His cousin and Mother would watch him go past, enjoying a simple tea over a wind swept rock. Distain clear upon their faces. He always hurried by these apparations, trying not to look at them. But their mocking laughter followed him for miles.
Sometimes Kakita Tsunayoshi would walk with him for a time. Telling Naniyama to stop so he could finish a painting or, weilding a bokken, asking if he wished for some kenjutsu practice. The Dragon samurai could not explain why he had left his daisho farther down the mountain, so he did his best to ignore this one too.
Once he spotted Kitsuki Sumi, the woman whom he had served as a yojimbo and whose magic had scarred him. Though he would have given much for her fire now, her eyes, filled with wrath and anger, frightened him away.
Another time, Naniyama had seen his father, watching him from a distant peak. They had bowed to each other, then continued upon their own paths, seperated for too long to begin again.
Anaba was with him constantly. She would smile at him before he closed his eyes at night, and be sitting in the exact same spot when he awoke, inquiring how his dreams were. The young maiden also told him gravely each morning he snorred, which Naniyama did not believe for a moment. While he walked the mountain paths, she would wander beside him, playing in the snow like a delighted child. The Dragon samurai watched her with much envy, for she seemed not to notice the cold at all. Naniyama often wondered how she could be enjoying herself so much, while he froze to death before her. The one time he had asked, she threw a snowball at him, then jumped into the snow giggling.
Naniyama knew he was quite mad at the point. The cold and constant wind had driven him insane. Yet at times she seemed so real, he could not help but reach out to her, to feel and share her warmth. But she would merely dance away, calling him "overly bold" and laughing into the wind. When this last happened, he had screamed his frustration and rage into the mountains, till he collapsed hoarse and dizzy. Since then he resolved not to give the figments anymore attention.
He lurched along the mountain path now, walking had become very difficult, he had to support himself along the rock wall as he walked. His feet were numb in a way he did not like, their colour steadily turning darker. They were frostbitten, and it was already far too late. He doubted they would ever recover. Anaba walked alongside him, stepping delicately in the snow.
Every so often, he would pause to watch her, feeling that his soul would drain from his body. She looked so small and delicate, so natural there. As if the mountains watched down on her with a special kindness, the wind flowed around her as not to cause any pain. Her kimono was perfect for her, so simple, yet she was as grand as any Crane princess. It was then he felt his heart burst.
"I love you." He said helplessly.
She paused, one foot suspended above the next snowbank. She turned to him. "Do you?" She asked curiously.
Naniyama leaned agains the rockface. If he were to go mad, he may as well start by answering of the questions of people not there. "Hai, I do. From the moment I found you, in my dreams, in my waking, during battle, during peace. From then, every word I spoke was a tribute to you, my every action an attempt to court you. You were my everything, even if I did not know it."
She looked at him sadly, the wind stirring her hair, her steps not casting any mark in the snow. "Should you not have told me this before coming into the mountains to die?"
He looked down at his hands as they clenched and unclenched, once the talented tools of a skilled duelist, now frostbitten and useless. "If you were to refuse me, I could not suffer the shame, the horror of being away from you. I would suffer my pain and a thousand times more of it, just to see your smile everyday." He looked up at her, and recoiled from what he saw.
Contempt
"Mirumoto Naniyama." Her warm vibrant voice now colder than the mountain air. "You are a coward." He sat there, too stunned to speak. "Your selfish and cowardly nature brought you here. Instead of coming here searching for the truth, you came to die. Because it was too painful, not having that what you desired. You never even had the courage to try. You were never even worthy of her."
With a strangled cry, Naniyama lunged at her. Whether he meant to embrace or strike her, he could not say. She parted before him like the morning mists and suddenly, he was falling. With a sickening snap, he stuck the sharp incline of the mountain and began to roll. His world was a sickening lurch, the only sensation pain, until he felt empty air beneath him.
Grasping wildly, his left arm strangely limp, his right hand found purchase among the rock. He swung slowly back and forth. He had grabbed an outcroping of rock just in time. The world stretched beneath him. His left arm hung useless, broken in the fall. He hung suspended by only one hand, the strain was incredible.
Anaba appeared on the cliff above him, looking down upon his plight with curiosity. "And so here you end. With so little accomplished. Pathetically hanging onto the last shards of your life. Typical."
Tears streaming down his face, Naniyama heaved with his one arm. He began to make slow progress towards safety. "I...want to see..her again..."
His madness atop the cliff sneered. "You could atleast die with some dignity, instead of crying for your whore."
Listen not
Naniyama stopped struggling, listening to the voice within his soul.
Listen not to your doubts my son. Face your destiny and all yet may be well, the voice said. Naniyama looked inside of himself and understood.
The madness smiled. "Are you ready to die?" Naniyama looked his fear in the face.
"I am ready." He whispered and let go. He did not remember dying.
The void was boundless. He was there, but without the physical constraints of his body. In many ways he was not there at all, but currently falling to his death in the remote Dragon mountains. Before him there was/was not a dragon. It looked (was not looking) at him with ancient eyes, full of wisdom.
Where am I? He asked without saying anything.
The last moments of Mirumoto Naniyama's life. The Dragon did not reply. A very important time for him, as it is for all mortals or gods.
Who are you? Naniyama did not ask.
You know. And he did. Had the samurai a body still, his eyes would have widened in amazement and he would have fallen to the floor in supplication.
Lord Togashi.....
The Dragon said nothing.
Can you save me, my Lord?
Hai I could. You have been a loyal and worthy servant Naniyama. I could halt your fall, heal your wounds like they had never been. You could have this
Mirumoto Naniyama walked in the City of the Spider once again. Tsunayoshi met him at the gates. The two samurai bowed respectfully to each other, and decided upon tea, without saying a word.
And this
He kissed her then and with that action, promised never to leave her again.
This
The morning sun crept into the nursery then. It's blessed rays fell upon the child, who opened his eyes sleepily, the in wonder at the world around him. "Ohaio my son."
But it is likely that you will also have this
Mirumoto Naniyama rushed through his home, feeling doom only a step behind him. They had all died, and so quickly. Samurai he had known for years, wiped out before they had even had the chance to strike back at their foes. His wife, his beautiful gentle wife, had been swept away by dark magics before his eyes. His soul had yearned to die with his comrades, but his heart told him to seek his son. Kyojin would not die today, his son would live on.
The Dragon samurai turned the corner to stare at his wife in shock. She was covered from head to toe in blood, beneath tears in her kimono Naniayama could see bone and ruined flesh. Her face was a kabuki mask of horror, pale white of death with tears of blood streaming down her face.
She raised her hand. "Welcome home Husband." A bolt of black magic slammed into the samurai before he could even draw his sword, slamming him against the opposite wall. It was all he could do to keep from screaming as his blood and flesh boiled. Anaba smiled as she admired her handiwork, then turned around to continue the search for her son.
The best choices always have unforseen consequences.
Is this for sure, my Lord? Is there anyway such horror can be avoided?
There is always a way, my son. For the Dragon there is always a way.. Perhaps this vision will never come to pass, or something more horrible will happen. I can only lay my pieces, and hope. And you are one of my Go pieces Naniayama - san. If you complete your journey here, find the death you sought, the horror may be averted. Though I warn you, Mirumoto Naniyama will never leave this mountain if you accept.
There was silence for eternity. And then
I am sorry that I must lose her. I never really did know her.
You may yet my son, destiny is not always as cruel as you would believe.
I accept my Lord. Place me where you will, I am ready.
The void departed, and this time, Naniyama did remember dying.
Sometime later, another man walked out of the Dragon mountains. He looked much like the Mirumoto samurai who had walked up the mountain before him. He was of average height and attractive features, with deep eyes that seemed to watch everything at once. His skin was smooth, free of any scars or imperfections. Instead mystic tattoos which seemed to shift in the morning light adorned his body.
He stopped and looked sadly where the Mirumoto had dangled, holding onto the last of his life. He spent the night is the small cave which had sheltered the samurai. He lifted aside a carefully dug barrow, freeing the daisho buried there. He left with the swords around his waist. He greeted the briar with a familiar laugh and passed through without harm.
As he left Dragon lands he remember the last words of his Lord within his soul.
Death is your duty.
Turning south, Togashi Hakai had a duty to fulfill, and a promise to keep.
Jordan Smith
Oct 30, 2004
Hakai
"Are you ready?" Anaba asked as she brought in their tea and rice. Her entire being radiating happiness, as if there could be no greater joy than the task she performed now. Mirumoto Naniyama looked up at his wife, her good mood spreading to him in an instant. He was a young samurai still, his skin smooth, handsome face and clear eyes. His shaved head was adorned with a fierce eagle, screaming it's fury. He nodded to Anaba, whose ever present smile became even more beautiful, and began to eat his rice. It was good, with a slight flavor he did not recognize. Watching the delicate girl before him pick up her chopsticks, Naniyama had never felt so content in his entire life. Never so happy he regreted noth-
The Dragon samurai suddenly clutched his throat, spilling his rice across the table. Anaba jumped up, looking at him with first concern, then fear.
"Husband? Husband!"
Naniyama fell to the ground, his convulsions kicking over the table. His face turned an ugly garish purple, then his movements slowed..then stopped. The last thing he witnessed before the world died was his beloved wife's face, tears streaming down her face...
"Are you ready?" Naniyama's handsome cousin, Doji Takeda, asked. Looking into his eyes, the Dragon samurai could see nothing but hate and cruelty, a horrible abyss. His sword hand faltered and before he could answer, Takeda's katana had found his heart. The world died...
"Are you ready?" The ronin Korosai asked, boredom evident upon his dark and attractive features. With a battle cry, Naniyama drew his katana, aiming for the mans neck. With a neligent gesture, tremendous winds hit the Dragon, flinging him back into the wall of the sake house. There was an audible crack and someone began to scream. Naniyama barely heard, his world had already begun to die....
"Are you ready?" The beautiful and firey Kitsuki Sumi asked. Naniyama only nodded and attacked his enemies with renewed strength, hoping to stop the oni long enough for Sumi to finish her spell. The horrible creatures barbed claws sunk into the samurai's flesh, but it was already too late. After Sumi's cry to the kami, Naniyams's world died in the flames....
"I am not ready." The scarred and pathetic man that Mirumoto Naniyama had become said, desperately clutching the cliff face. With an agonized cry, his hand slipped and he plunged into the mists. His body fell broken among the rocks and this time only he died, waiting for the scavengers to clean away the corpse of a failure.....
Strangeling a cry in his throat, Mirumoto Naniyama awoke. He stood poised upon a cliff, his ancestral home behind him, looking to the north. The wind was harsh indeed, ripping through his light sleeping kimono. He shivered in the cold. Every night since he had returned home, he had dreamed. And every night he woke, facing to mountains of the Togashi, the High House of Light. Looking at it now, Naniyama imagined he could see a small light upon the top....one of the strange monks there working far into the night perhaps...
He looked to he hands, covered with the scars from a raging fire which had almost killed him. Which had marked his entire body and destroyed his tattoo. "When will I be ready?" The samurai asked himself, then turned to return to his home.
"Are you sure this is what you wish Naniyama - kun? Those who go to the mountains of the Togashi never return, even if we do see them again." The old sensei watched his student, leaning upon his cane heavily. Before he had left, Naniyama remember the old man never needing any aid to walk. Time had passed. "The mountains are harsh and unforgiving, especially now. They are angry over something and may take their displeasure out upon a single foolish samurai traveling among them." He glared at Naniyama.
The young samurai finished laying out the food, then wrapped the small package tightly. "I must go sensei, something calls out to me. I fear I shall go mad if I wait any longer." Adjusting his daisho and throwing the package of food over his shoulder, Naniyama walked to the door of the dojo.
The sensei watched his student with worry and pain in his eyes. "Are you sure you wish to give this up Naniyama - kun? You could have been one of our greatest swordmen. You have the talent to rival Hojatsu himself boy. Do you really want to give that up? Are you really ready for that?"
Naniyama turned to look at his sensei. "I have to be ready, no time is left to prepare." He walked out of the dojo, for the last time.
It was said there is no road to Togashi Mountain, so Naniyama was not surprised when the path he followed stopped before a deep and ugly patch of briar. It grew like tree's here, blocking out the sky above him and casting a dark shadow over the samurai. He looked at it grimly. The samurai walked to both one side, then to the other, finding no path around the blockade. He momentarily considered clearing a path with his katana, but choose not to. It was not just the idea of using his family blade for such a mundane task, the mountains seemed to look down upon him, weighing him, judging him. They would not look kindly upon him hacking into the brambles. With a sigh of resignation, Naniyama stepped into the thorns.
At first, it was easy. There was plenty of room between the thorns and he only ripped his kimono once, and got a few scratches. But the further he got in, the more dense it became. Soon every step he took became a new lesson in pain, as the razor sharp thorns bit into his flesh. His package of food was caught and fell from his hands. Naniyama left it for fear that going back would rip him to shreds.
The samurai finally came to a stop, sure that any further steps would rip him apart. All over the thorns bit into him painfully, his heavy winter kimono was in shreds, he was covered with a thousands bleeding cuts. Naniyama stood like that for a time, sure that he was trapped forever in the shadows and he would die of exposure here, birds eating his eyes..animals carrying off his body....
Naniyama had no idea how long he stood there, paralyzed, each slight movement an agony. Eventually, others joined him. They stood around the samurai, watching him with great intestest, chatting among themselves. Naniyama wanted to ask them how they stood among the thorns so easily, but then began to speak.
"Useless, nothing you can do about weak blood." his mother said. She was beautiful, but her face covered in disgust.
"Quite right. Mad as well. Seeing people." His cousins agreeded, from somewhere behind Naniyama.
""And imagine this pathetic trapped bird is going to kill me?" Korosai laughed, the wind sharing in his amusement.
"Don't say that," Anaba scolded. "He'll make it. You've just got to keep trying Naniyama - san. Like you told me once." She wore a simple white kimono, with her hair lying down her back. She was beautiful enough to make Naniyama's heart hurt.
"He has fire and spirit, together they can overcome any obstacle. This is nothing friend." Kakita Tsunayoshi said kindly, his eyes pools of serenity.
"I agree. Nothing can stop you proud warrior of the Dragon. To this I am witness." Kistuki Sumi said, the kami dancing in agreement.
With an agonized scream, Naniyama threw himself forward. Countless thorns wounded him, but he kept pushing. Then the light burst around him. For a moment Naniyama was sure he had died, then with a tearing sound he fell onto the path behind the thorns, leaving his winter kimono behind. He lay there, shivering for quite some time, in nothing but his undergarments.
After some time had passed, he stood and took stock of himself. The cuts were not as bad as he would have feared, most just scratches really. The kimono was destroyed, but Naniyama salvaged a few pieces that would protect him from the cold. His food was gone, the very idea of heading back through the briar brought a shudder to the samurai.
Wearing little more than his daisho and rags, Naniyama turned north and started walking. It began to snow.
The Dragon samurai collapsed into the snow. He lay there panting, the cold chilling his bones, the wounds from the briar patch still screaming in agony. With all his remaining strength, Mirumoto Naniyama managed to roll himself onto his back. If he were to die, he wanted to do it looking at the sky.
Howling above him, the snow seemed to dance. Images and patterns formed only to be swept up a moment later. A coiling dragon, a huge samurai in great armour, his Father, Takeda's superior eyes, Anaba's compassionate smile, Sumi dancing in fire, Tsunayoshi sitting upon a nearby rock.
Blinking his eyes, the image of Kakita Tsunayoshi was not taken away by the wind. He was the picture of the perfect Crane samurai. A perfect blue kimono, covered with Cranes drinking upon a pond, which was unfettered by the wind. His long bleached hair the height of excellence, hanging perfectly still upon his back. The samurai daisho he wore perfectly arranged and ready to be drawn in mere moments. In his eyes where one would expect pride, only kindness could be seen. In his hands, he held parchment and a bamboo brush, painting in complete serenity, despite the horrible storm.
"Do you plan to die there Naniyama - san?" The Crane asked, his eyes hardly straying from his work. "If you do, it will quite ruin the landscape I am trying to capture."
Naniyama could only stare at him dumbfounded. It seemed so real. "If you do plan to die," the Crane said, as if discussing what he was going to have with his morning tea, "atleast have the courtesy to climb over here and out of my way. The rocks will shield you from the wind also if you are interested."
About to respond that he hadn't the strength to even move, Naniyama found that the idea of escaping the relentless wind very appealing. Staggering to his feet, he stumbled towards the Crane, collapsing behind one of the rocks. Tsunayoshi had been right; Naniyama could barely feel the wind now.
"Better neh?" Tsunayoshi gave him a polite smile, then began to concentrate upon his painting again. The Dragon samurai sat for a time, letting strength trickle back in his weary body.
Finally, he could wait no longer. "How are you here Tsunayoshi - sama?"
The Crane looked up from his painting absently. "The better question is, how are you here Naniyama - san?" They were both quiet from some time, the Crane intent upon his work, Naniyama intent upon his life. He felt that he would die soon and there were important things that had been left unsaid.
"You are my rival." He told the Crane.
"Oh, am I?" Tsunayoshi replied, not even looking up from his paper. Naniyama nodded, and glared at the man. "Every time I practice, I think only of defeating you one day. It is the only reason in my life."
Tsunayoshi still had not looked up from his work. "Oh how sad that you will never defeat me then."
A dark, bubbling rage filled the Dragon. He jumped to his feet, heedless of the wind. "How can you insult me by saying such! Am I not worthy?! Are you so greater than I Crane?! Damn you, look at me!" He raged.
The Crane instead look at his painting, turning it one way then the other. "I think I am finished." He finally looked up at the angry samurai. "Your are indeed worthy Mirumoto Naniyama. But now you have two fates which lay before you. One is to die upon this mountain, filled with your old hates, regrets and love. The other to leave it all behind, and when you leave here, you will no longer care for such things. Or both perhaps." He said, smiling slightly.
Slowly, Naniyama sat down beside the rocks again. He looked into his scarred hands, as if his answer could be found there. "What will I strive for then?" He asked, looking up at the Crane.
But he had left. Naniyama was alone once more. The Dragon samurai looked to the sky. The wind howled as it had before, it's fury no less. He sat there for a long time, listening to the wind. Perhaps he could survive here until the storm had passed? It was not too late to return home. Return to his sensei, learn and practice until he was worthy.....
Mirumoto Naniyama pulled his daisho, sheath and all, out of his obi. He looked upon the blades. He knew them better than he did himself. Were he to die, he did not want their purity sullied by his touching his corpse.
Moving the rocks until he had made a hallow, Naniyama carefully placed the blades inside. He then carefully covered them up, vowing that he would return. Soon.
Looking up, into the storm, there was nothing that the Dragon samurai wanted to do less. But he stood, and staggered north once more.
The path which the Dragon followed began to swindle, until he walked a narrow precipice, a cliff face at his left hand, death at his right. A single misstep would end his journey here, broken and forgotten among the rocks.
A fear of falling was not what worried the samurai. Lethargy had crept into his soul, twice now he had almost fallen asleep on his feet. The first time he hag bug his fingers into the deepest thorn wound, causing his to yelp in pain, starting the bleeding anew. The pain stole his sleep away, for a time.
When the need to sleep next came, Naniyama turned to the rock wall and smashed his face against it. The first blow broke his nose with a sickening crunch of cartilage. The pain was incredible, but he struck himself again and again, until he collapsed onto the pathway (and he was lucky to fall right, a single slip and falling asleep would have been the least of his problems). Staggering to his feet, clutching what was left of his nose, he continued on.
The third time sleep came upon him; the samurai knew he was beat. The ever present pain did not chase it away. He needed to find shelter, or he would die of expose out here. Even shelter may not be enough to save his life, if he could not find a way to keep the cold out. He continued on, every few steps striking his ruined face to keep the memory of the pain alive.
Naniyama was convinced he would fall asleep despite his best efforts soon, when his left hand, guiding his journey along the rock face, found nothing but air. He swayed, almost losing his balance. He stared amazed at a crack in the stone wall. It was no taller than him, but wide enough for him to climb inside. He did so gladly, being careful to avoid hitting his tender nose upon the rock.
Inside was a small space, little larger than Naniyama himself. It almost seemed as if this little cave had been made especially for the Dragon samurai, fitting his form perfectly. At the end it widened and the cave roof fell. The small space would keep in his body heat; he may survive this day after all. The rock held him like a mother held her child or a woman held her lover. Though he could remember neither of these things, Naniyama fell asleep with them much on his mind.
"Draw again Kyoji!" His Mother demanded. She was a beautiful woman, that no one could deny. Skin which put snow to shame, large dark eyes that a man could look into all day. Her hair was long, reaching almost to the ground. Her kimono was perfection, green and gold, with blue Cranes dancing among the dragons. Only the look of distain, which had been on her face since she entered the Dragon lands, marred her beauty.
She was a daughter of the Kakita line, a talented artisan. When she was married, she had expected to be taken to beautiful courts, with a husband of great prestige. Instead she had been married to an unknown Mirumoto samurai, locked away in the grim mountains for the rest of her life. Bitterness had crept into her soul, driving Kyoji's father away from his home. The young man rarely saw his Father these days, and when he did it looked as if a great weight was upon his back.
The boy who would one day become Mirumoto Naniyama looked at his mother, disappointment evident upon his face. "But Mother, Master Kito is to read from the Tao tonight. I had looked forwa-"
Her face would have rivalled that of thunderstorms. "If you cannot master a simple kata my son, no amount of Dragon gibberish in the world will help you. Now do it again. I will not have you embarrass me when we return to my homeland."
"But Mother…"
"Now Kyoji!" With a bitter sigh, he began the form once again, under his Mother’s stern eye.
His dreams shifted.
"You are Kyoji right, my cousin?" The young man asked. He was a year or two older than the Dragon boy. He was a very attractive lad, green eyes, fair features and long black hair. Kyoji noticed he had very clean, even fingernails. His own were always dirty and bitten, despite his Mother's best efforts. His cousin had already begun to gain the height of manhood, he practically towered over Kyoji.
The Dragon boy realised what an honour it was to visit the homeland of his mother. Few Dragons would have such a chance, and even less while so young. Yet he only wished to return home, to the familiar mountains, the people who spoke what they felt, home. Trying not to feel nervous, Kyoji bowed. "Hai, I am Kyoji. A pleasure to meet you cousin."
The boy before him did not look impressed. "I have heard you are to study the Mirumoto style of duelling." Kyoji nodded. "I am studying the style left to us by Kakita. Which would you say is better?" He looked at the young man intently.
Kyoji thought about his answer. "A path has a beginning and an end. Neither of which is the right place to begin to end a journey." He smiled at his cousin, expecting to either hear agreement or a counter statement, instead the young Crane sneered.
"Just like a Dragon, never a straight answer. I had hear your all mad cowards, hiding in your mountains."
Kyoji stood there opened mouthed. "You take that back!" He stammered, never had he been so fundamentally insulted in his entire life. He approached the Crane, fist raised in anger.
The Crane boy smiled. "Why don't we settle this like real samurai? I’ve got some bokken in the garden my brother and I have been practicing with. Or would you rather fight in the dirt like a simple peasant?"
Kyoji stepped back, trying to get control over his anger. "Fine. Lead on. You'll regret your words soon enough." He followed behind, still fuming.
The garden was a place of beauty and solitude. Kyoji hardly noticed it. He walked to the discarded bokken, and turned to face his cousin, who already had on in his hand. "Ready?" He asked. The Crane boy nodded.
Kyoji stepped into the stance his mother and sensei had taught him. He cleared his mind, preparing his victory. Already, the boy could see himself winning, his bokken taking revenge on his cousin for his childish insult. He looked into his opponents eyes, and suddenly was not so sure he would win. And then it was over.
His cousin moved with grace and speed beyond his years, smashing Kyoji’s bokken from his hands, and laying the boy low with a blow to his windpipe. The young Dragon could only clutch at his throat unable to breath. Before he fell unconscious, he spotted his Mother and several other Crane ladies watching from the sides. His Mother looked at her son with nothing but disgust. The world went dark.
The dream shifted.
A slaughter had taken place here. A Dragon samurai, who had once been a boy named Kyoji, looked upon it with a heavy heart. He had hoped to take a peaceful walk away from the city, but had come upon this. A traveling family, ronin by the looks. He began a prayer for their departed souls, and began his walk back to the city. The Togaru would have to be informed and the bodies removed for a decent burial. He only wished he could do more.
"…..elp." A soft voice said. Naniyama looked around; he could have sworn he heard something.
"……me….." It said again. Sure he had heard something that time, the Dragon Samurai followed the faint noise. Off the road he found a girl. She had been stabbed repeatedly, left for dead by whoever had done this. For a moment, Naniyama was sure someone had attacked the heavens themselves, for she was beautiful beyond all measure.
She was not tall, small and delicate like any part which was not perfect had not been put in. Her hair was long and darker than the void, spread around her head like a halo. Her kimono (purple he thought) was covered with blood, but this did not take away from her beauty, she was greater than such mundane things. Naniyama thought she looked like a doll someone had hated and discarded.
He moved closer. She was still alive, but bleeding badly. She needed help and soon. Naniyama breathed deeply, then gently lifted her, careful not to get any of her blood upon his flesh. Her eyes focused upon him momentarily. "Father…?"
Naniyama looked down at her. "No little one. But rest calm, you are safe now." Her eyes closed and her breath slowed to so still the Dragon samurai was almost afraid she was dead. He hurried back to the city, feeling destiny watching him carefully.
The dream shifted.
Anaba looked up from her cot, pain in her eyes. "You saved my life sama, I would do anything for you."
Shifted
She smiled; he had never seen that expression far from her face. "You never seem to smile sama." Looking into her face, he almost did.
Shifted
"Here you are sama." Anaba placed the tea and rice bowl upon his table and went off to do her other chores, humming. Naniyama thought that all the kimonos in the world could not outshine her beauty in that apron.
Shifted
Tears were in her eyes, Naniyama would have done anything to take them away. "You promise to return sama?" She asked, her voice wavering. He placed his mother’s talisman, a Dragon and a Crane in flight, in her hand. "I promise Anaba – san." He replied. "Though my duty here may be done, no force in the world could keep me away from you." Anaba clutched the talisman in her hand, then shut the door. The Dragon samurai could hear her sobbing from inside. He wished for nothing more than to go inside, and kiss her tears away. Instead he turned, leaving the pain behind.
Shifted
Anaba held his son and cackled into the darkness, tears of blood running down her face.
Shif-
Naniyama woke screaming, seeing nothing but that one last horrible image in his mind. He clutched at his face in terror. After several minutes of shivering, he slowly climbed out of his shelter. The snow had stopped. It was still blisteringly cold, but the air was clear. He could see for miles, Naniyama thought. Everything was covered in a beautiful coating of snow, making the mountains seem like gossiping maidens in the garden, all wearing white kimonos.
The Dragon samurai breathed in the mountain air. The sleep had done him all the good in the world. Though he felt weak from hunger, he was used to fasting and confident he could find his way before long. Mirumoto Naniyama began to pick his way carefully up the path, heading north once again.
From the small cave which had saved his life, the Dragons tracks were all that recorded his journey through the mountains. It had not snowed since that night (for which Naniyama was grateful, the snow made travel difficult, anymore would have made it impossible) but he could sense more on the way. He did not have long to find the High House of Light, the next snowfall would kill him.
Though there was only one set of tracks, the Dragon samurai had not been alone since his night in the cave. His cousin and Mother would watch him go past, enjoying a simple tea over a wind swept rock. Distain clear upon their faces. He always hurried by these apparations, trying not to look at them. But their mocking laughter followed him for miles.
Sometimes Kakita Tsunayoshi would walk with him for a time. Telling Naniyama to stop so he could finish a painting or, weilding a bokken, asking if he wished for some kenjutsu practice. The Dragon samurai could not explain why he had left his daisho farther down the mountain, so he did his best to ignore this one too.
Once he spotted Kitsuki Sumi, the woman whom he had served as a yojimbo and whose magic had scarred him. Though he would have given much for her fire now, her eyes, filled with wrath and anger, frightened him away.
Another time, Naniyama had seen his father, watching him from a distant peak. They had bowed to each other, then continued upon their own paths, seperated for too long to begin again.
Anaba was with him constantly. She would smile at him before he closed his eyes at night, and be sitting in the exact same spot when he awoke, inquiring how his dreams were. The young maiden also told him gravely each morning he snorred, which Naniyama did not believe for a moment. While he walked the mountain paths, she would wander beside him, playing in the snow like a delighted child. The Dragon samurai watched her with much envy, for she seemed not to notice the cold at all. Naniyama often wondered how she could be enjoying herself so much, while he froze to death before her. The one time he had asked, she threw a snowball at him, then jumped into the snow giggling.
Naniyama knew he was quite mad at the point. The cold and constant wind had driven him insane. Yet at times she seemed so real, he could not help but reach out to her, to feel and share her warmth. But she would merely dance away, calling him "overly bold" and laughing into the wind. When this last happened, he had screamed his frustration and rage into the mountains, till he collapsed hoarse and dizzy. Since then he resolved not to give the figments anymore attention.
He lurched along the mountain path now, walking had become very difficult, he had to support himself along the rock wall as he walked. His feet were numb in a way he did not like, their colour steadily turning darker. They were frostbitten, and it was already far too late. He doubted they would ever recover. Anaba walked alongside him, stepping delicately in the snow.
Every so often, he would pause to watch her, feeling that his soul would drain from his body. She looked so small and delicate, so natural there. As if the mountains watched down on her with a special kindness, the wind flowed around her as not to cause any pain. Her kimono was perfect for her, so simple, yet she was as grand as any Crane princess. It was then he felt his heart burst.
"I love you." He said helplessly.
She paused, one foot suspended above the next snowbank. She turned to him. "Do you?" She asked curiously.
Naniyama leaned agains the rockface. If he were to go mad, he may as well start by answering of the questions of people not there. "Hai, I do. From the moment I found you, in my dreams, in my waking, during battle, during peace. From then, every word I spoke was a tribute to you, my every action an attempt to court you. You were my everything, even if I did not know it."
She looked at him sadly, the wind stirring her hair, her steps not casting any mark in the snow. "Should you not have told me this before coming into the mountains to die?"
He looked down at his hands as they clenched and unclenched, once the talented tools of a skilled duelist, now frostbitten and useless. "If you were to refuse me, I could not suffer the shame, the horror of being away from you. I would suffer my pain and a thousand times more of it, just to see your smile everyday." He looked up at her, and recoiled from what he saw.
Contempt
"Mirumoto Naniyama." Her warm vibrant voice now colder than the mountain air. "You are a coward." He sat there, too stunned to speak. "Your selfish and cowardly nature brought you here. Instead of coming here searching for the truth, you came to die. Because it was too painful, not having that what you desired. You never even had the courage to try. You were never even worthy of her."
With a strangled cry, Naniyama lunged at her. Whether he meant to embrace or strike her, he could not say. She parted before him like the morning mists and suddenly, he was falling. With a sickening snap, he stuck the sharp incline of the mountain and began to roll. His world was a sickening lurch, the only sensation pain, until he felt empty air beneath him.
Grasping wildly, his left arm strangely limp, his right hand found purchase among the rock. He swung slowly back and forth. He had grabbed an outcroping of rock just in time. The world stretched beneath him. His left arm hung useless, broken in the fall. He hung suspended by only one hand, the strain was incredible.
Anaba appeared on the cliff above him, looking down upon his plight with curiosity. "And so here you end. With so little accomplished. Pathetically hanging onto the last shards of your life. Typical."
Tears streaming down his face, Naniyama heaved with his one arm. He began to make slow progress towards safety. "I...want to see..her again..."
His madness atop the cliff sneered. "You could atleast die with some dignity, instead of crying for your whore."
Listen not
Naniyama stopped struggling, listening to the voice within his soul.
Listen not to your doubts my son. Face your destiny and all yet may be well, the voice said. Naniyama looked inside of himself and understood.
The madness smiled. "Are you ready to die?" Naniyama looked his fear in the face.
"I am ready." He whispered and let go. He did not remember dying.
The void was boundless. He was there, but without the physical constraints of his body. In many ways he was not there at all, but currently falling to his death in the remote Dragon mountains. Before him there was/was not a dragon. It looked (was not looking) at him with ancient eyes, full of wisdom.
Where am I? He asked without saying anything.
The last moments of Mirumoto Naniyama's life. The Dragon did not reply. A very important time for him, as it is for all mortals or gods.
Who are you? Naniyama did not ask.
You know. And he did. Had the samurai a body still, his eyes would have widened in amazement and he would have fallen to the floor in supplication.
Lord Togashi.....
The Dragon said nothing.
Can you save me, my Lord?
Hai I could. You have been a loyal and worthy servant Naniyama. I could halt your fall, heal your wounds like they had never been. You could have this
Mirumoto Naniyama walked in the City of the Spider once again. Tsunayoshi met him at the gates. The two samurai bowed respectfully to each other, and decided upon tea, without saying a word.
And this
He kissed her then and with that action, promised never to leave her again.
This
The morning sun crept into the nursery then. It's blessed rays fell upon the child, who opened his eyes sleepily, the in wonder at the world around him. "Ohaio my son."
But it is likely that you will also have this
Mirumoto Naniyama rushed through his home, feeling doom only a step behind him. They had all died, and so quickly. Samurai he had known for years, wiped out before they had even had the chance to strike back at their foes. His wife, his beautiful gentle wife, had been swept away by dark magics before his eyes. His soul had yearned to die with his comrades, but his heart told him to seek his son. Kyojin would not die today, his son would live on.
The Dragon samurai turned the corner to stare at his wife in shock. She was covered from head to toe in blood, beneath tears in her kimono Naniayama could see bone and ruined flesh. Her face was a kabuki mask of horror, pale white of death with tears of blood streaming down her face.
She raised her hand. "Welcome home Husband." A bolt of black magic slammed into the samurai before he could even draw his sword, slamming him against the opposite wall. It was all he could do to keep from screaming as his blood and flesh boiled. Anaba smiled as she admired her handiwork, then turned around to continue the search for her son.
The best choices always have unforseen consequences.
Is this for sure, my Lord? Is there anyway such horror can be avoided?
There is always a way, my son. For the Dragon there is always a way.. Perhaps this vision will never come to pass, or something more horrible will happen. I can only lay my pieces, and hope. And you are one of my Go pieces Naniayama - san. If you complete your journey here, find the death you sought, the horror may be averted. Though I warn you, Mirumoto Naniyama will never leave this mountain if you accept.
There was silence for eternity. And then
I am sorry that I must lose her. I never really did know her.
You may yet my son, destiny is not always as cruel as you would believe.
I accept my Lord. Place me where you will, I am ready.
The void departed, and this time, Naniyama did remember dying.
Sometime later, another man walked out of the Dragon mountains. He looked much like the Mirumoto samurai who had walked up the mountain before him. He was of average height and attractive features, with deep eyes that seemed to watch everything at once. His skin was smooth, free of any scars or imperfections. Instead mystic tattoos which seemed to shift in the morning light adorned his body.
He stopped and looked sadly where the Mirumoto had dangled, holding onto the last of his life. He spent the night is the small cave which had sheltered the samurai. He lifted aside a carefully dug barrow, freeing the daisho buried there. He left with the swords around his waist. He greeted the briar with a familiar laugh and passed through without harm.
As he left Dragon lands he remember the last words of his Lord within his soul.
Death is your duty.
Turning south, Togashi Hakai had a duty to fulfill, and a promise to keep.
Jordan Smith
Oct 30, 2004
