《Dark Bushido》 The worth of a life Many say the rain is beautiful. To me, rain is nothing more than an obstacle. The roads become muddy, and metal gets rusty. There is one thing about the rain that I like. No one can see your tears. At least, that is what i hoped happened. If that is not the case, then anyone who sees me will mistake the tears for sweat. Strike. Parry. Thrust. Step. Practice, practice, and more practice. This is the way towards mastery. "A man can learn ten thousand techniques, but to master one, you must practice it ten thousand times." Even now my master''s words echo through my head. I hear his kind words, and soft voice, directing me while i practice the art of killing men. Not that he thought of swordsmanship that way. To him, it was a way of disciplining himself. But to me, it has a different meaning. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. This country, it''s government, and most of it''s people, are corrupt. They need to be purified. If I must, I will hunt them down one by one and execute justice. Starting with the bottom, I will cleanse this filthy world, and anyone who stands in my way. Purifying one who is guilty is worth the lives of any number of innocents. My master taught me obedience and mercy. I, however, will teach the world a different lesson. I can''t wait. Prologue: What Better Sound? What better sound is there, besides that of sharpening a blade? --- Running the whetstone along the edge of my blade at an angle, I''m soothed by the familiar ziiiiiing, ziiiiiing. Even sitting in a dirty kimono out in the rain, this familiar sound brings peace to my soul, and a stillness to my heart. I know not why I love this sound so much, but I have always been calmest when sharpening my katana. Perhaps it is because every night when I was little, our master would run his whetstone over his own blade while me and my fellow orphans were laying down to sleep. But perhaps that is simply because I feel the need to have a psychological connection to our master. It is very common in patients that have suffered trauma to encourage themselves with false memories. Some do this by finding a habit, while others are comforted by voices. I wish I had a voice. Sadly, I am too cynical to listen to a so-called "higher being" even if I heard one. Is that all I am? A victim of trauma? No, I am not a victim. The proof of that is the burning orphanage behind me, and the fact that my screaming fellows have gone silent. If I were truly a victim, I would not be alive currently. A pity, that I am so intelligent. My master always said it would get me into trouble some day, having this big brain of mine. The trouble is that I had realized the ceiling was going to collapse, and followed the logical course of displacing myself from the area of danger, before turning and calling back inside to help others. It is only logical that you can not help others until you yourself are in a position to do so. At least, that is how I think. I wish my master followed this same logic. When the ronin came looking for a fight, my master gave them one. When they returned looking to give a beating, he took it. When they came looking to kill a couple worthless orphans, he was the one who ate the blade. I should be grateful that he made that sacrifice, and yet I am feeling angry against my better judgment. I remember thinking selfish thoughts as his head rolled on the floor, such as "Why couldn''t you let me take the blade?" or "How can you be so stupid as to get yourself killed over us useless children?" The one I asked myself over and over again, was "Why did you leave me?" Not "us" as in my fellows and I, but rather "me." I have concluded that I am a selfish person. To think I am so rude as to doubt my master''s judgment, and suggest an alternative. I have also concluded that I am impolite. Such is the way of us children, to be selfish and rude. Still, even though our master knew of this, he still kept us around. When I asked why he did such a troublesome thing, he said, "Because I''m an old man, and I never did get married, so I never got grandchildren. What else could an old man do but find something to occupy his time until it ends?" He was always talking that way. For some reason, the other children never seemed to grasp his full meaning. Perhaps that was why he spoke so in-depth with me about the various facets of our world. He didn''t have anyone else to discuss it with. Though, I believe this is my childish pride talking, as well as my traumatized mind, trying to find a bond to hold with my master. Once again, I have concluded that I am arrogant. Still, I did have a bond with our master. During the day, when I had tired of doing senseless things such as running around in a circle until my legs wouldn''t hold me up, as all children do, I would quietly watch our master. Watch him swing a piece of metal around, which at first seemed as senseless as what I had previously been occupied with. Until he showed me the beauty involved with it. It started with a simple swing, just a basic strike from the shoulder to hip. However, I couldn''t seem to do it the same as our master. No matter how I adjusted my feet and hands, or how I distributed my weight, I simply could not make that piece of metal move in the way I wished. When I asked my master what I was doing wrong, he said "You are not doing anything wrong. You are just doing it differently. Let me show you." He then took a piece of bamboo, and cut it diagonally. Then he motioned me over, and told me to cut another stick of bamboo. I complied, and saw that our cuts were indeed different. I once again asked my master what I was doing wrong, and he replied with "What you are doing wrong, is doubting yourself. This time, strike the way you think it should be done." I have concluded that I am quite dense on the subject of individuality, as I would soon learn this was called. No matter how much the master requested I cut the way I wish to, I would still insist on him showing me. I felt that if I could copy him exactly, perhaps I could do it the way he does. Laughing, he told me that until I found my own way of thinking, he could not teach me anything. Such a particular old man. From then on, whenever I came to watch, he would always stop, set down his sword, and leave. He would then "Forget" To turn off the light and put away the sword, and toss the key to the equipment closet over his shoulder, as if on accident. He would then complain about his until-then non-existent back problems, and leave without cleaning up. Because it would take someone of indescribable idiocy to not pick up the hint he was giving, I decided to play along. I have concluded that I am cynical, and unforgiving of those who are mentally challenged. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. At first, I played the same game as I had before, spinning around with the sword in my hand until I couldn''t stand any longer. After I nearly beheaded myself, I decided to take things slower. After all, I am just a child. Then, I would try to emulate what my master did. After three-four months of doing my best to copy my master, I began to feel strange. I would feel the need to adjust my blade just a little higher than he did, point the tip just little to the right, set my feet just a little closer. I have concluded that I am more arrogant than I had previously assumed. One day, I did not come to watch him, but rather I did not leave the dojo. Instead, I simply kneeled with the sword on my lap, and contemplated our master''s words. I have concluded that I am lazy, as I did not take this time to practice. Then, after having sat in silence all through the dark hours, I rose to my feet with the sun. Then I started practicing for real. Never before have I felt as tired, as physically and mentally fatigued, as I did at that time. I am, after all, just a child. Children do not stay up all night. At least, not us smart ones. Even so, I pressed on. After struggling, after pushing myself, threatening myself, shaming myself, and doing anything to get my body to move, I found out something. Collapsing on the floor with your whole body tied in knots is painful, just a little. After that, no matter how I threatened or screamed at myself, I could not move. Still determined to be a pain, I remained awake. That is, until my master came in, called me an idiot, and suffocated me until I passed out. I have concluded that I am stubborn. After recovering, I once again went to the dojo, determined to find my way. That is when I found my master waiting for me. He did not leave, nor did he leave the sword behind. Instead, he waited on his knees with the sword held out on two hands, his head bowed. He then spoke in his soft voice, laced even thicker with humility than usual, "I apologize for leaving you on your own, and not helping when you needed me. If you wish, I will teach you all that I know, as long as you promise to uphold the rules of Bushido." I stood frozen for a full minute. I have concluded that I am rather slow. However, instead of accepting his offer, I did something rather selfish. I walked over to a bamboo stick, and replied "Thank you, but I believe I am a better teacher." I have concluded that I am very bad at being obedient. Taking a bamboo stick, I then proceeded to practice. However, I was not alone. Our-no, my master stood beside me, and kept me company. I think he was alone during his training. I was lonely while I trained, as well. Perhaps this is what he truly wanted. Not someone who respected him, nor someone who was polite. I think, just like me, he was looking for a friend. I have concluded that I like having a friend. Still, as with all things, the good must end. For me, the moment a sword severed my masters'' neck was when it ended. I have concluded that screaming is useless. When the ronin decided killing us all one by one would be too troublesome, and set the building on fire, I concluded that asking for help is useless. When I left my companions behind, even if it was unintentional, I concluded that I am a terrible person. When the ronin surrounded me, and discussed the best way to kill me, I concluded that every human, besides my master, is not worthy to breathe the same air as he did. When I unsheathed my katana, and did to them what they did to my master I discovered something. I concluded that the sound of blood splattering across the ground is very soothing. More soothing than sharpening my blade. I can not wait to hear that angelic noise once more, but until then-I will have to make due with the ziiiiing, ziiiiiiing. of my whetstone on blade. After all, cutting is so much easier with a sharp blade. I have concluded that I am rather vengeful, and even more unforgiving. --- The sound of a life ending is.
Well, it took this long to add the prologue. Who knows how long until the first chapter. I''m thinking maybe a year or two, maybe wait a decade. ... Hah! I had you fooled, didn''t I? Well, this will probably be my main project right now. After all, I can''t think of how to proceed in my other stories. ignoring problems until they go away! FTW! ...god, if you are out there, please, just kill me now... Chapter 1: Silent Butcher Why do I keep my mouth closed when I fight? --- Thunder, and the sound of rain on a dirt road. Night has fallen, and the moon doesn''t shine. A lone child, stumbling through the rain, every drop of rain seemingly a blow, every step a mountain. Footprints of blood that are quickly washed away. The child is clothed in a ripped kimono, and holding a sheathed katana. Raven hair covers the child''s eyes, and his olive skin has been scrubbed clean by the rain. Not that the child would notice. Huh, perhaps thinking of myself from outside would do me good. Though, I should probably keep things personal, so that I do not become unfeeling. Not feeling the warm blood from an open wound would be a tragedy. Further along this road, a building is clothed in light, and audible sounds of raucous laughter can be clearly heard, even through the sound of the rain. The door opens for a moment, and a drunken customer stumbles to an alley to vomit. Such idiots, robbing themselves of their senses. What is the point of buying something that removes your feeling, and leaves you unable to remember? I have concluded that drunkards are missing an important part of their body that resides within their skull. Still, I can empathize with those who wish to forget, even for a while. But for me, that is not an option. If I forgot, then how would I motivate myself? Pain is, perhaps, the best motivation. As my stumbling steps take me closer to the source of light and heat, I hear the whimpers of the waitress and fearful muttering of the owner. Obviously, there is something wrong. Perhaps I could remedy this. I suppress the urge to smile, as that would bring my sanity into doubt. People shouldn''t enjoy killing others. But I do. Having reached the step leading up to the single-story building, I take a pause to gather myself. I have not eaten in a while, and drunken only what water I could find. Over all, I am dead on my feet. It would not take much to push me over the limit, and force me into unconsciousness. This would be troublesome, as then I would be unable to achieve my goal. I had only just begun. Stepping through the door, I take a quick look around. The room was square, and the bar stood opposite of the door. Tables were set up a couple feet apart, and were all circular. A few were tipped over, proof of how rowdy the costumers had gotten. Huddling behind the bar was the owner, a portly elder who had probably never hit another man in his life. In the middle of three rough-looking men was the server, who was trying desperately to keep a polite smile on while the men groped and exploited her. Two men sit in the corner, sitting with their heads close together and talking quietly, trying to ignore the spectacle that was unfolding before them. They looked ashamed that they could do nothing to help the server, but that is just how it is. The three men carried swords, and this in itself made them superior to the common people. Just offending such men was warrant for death. My entrance brings all attention to me. When the two see the sword grasped in my left hand, they immediately look away. When the owner sees the sword, even deeper dread shows on his face. The server tries to hold back a sob. The three, seeing my sword, came to attention. Then, when they guessed my age to be nine, they relaxed. "Ha! A little runt has a sword! Where''d you find that, little man? Did''j pick it up off the ground somewhere?" The second man claps the speakers back, and pips up. "Com''n, he''s just a boy! Don''t be too hard on''em." The third man, not wishing to be left out, comes up with his own retort. "Hey little boy! Wanna have a little duel? I promise to go easy, see?" Not trusting myself to speak, I wordlessly draw my sword and give a nod. Looking surprised, the third man gets bumped by his friend, and he shakes his head and stands up, a stupid grin painting his face. "Just so ya know, It ain''t my fault if I kills ya, yeah?" My lip slightly trembles, and I have to fight hard not to show my expression. Seeing my trembling lip, the man misunderstands, and thinks I am afraid. "Hey hey, don''t be gettin'' cold feet now, see? You accepted the dual, so I''mma learn you how ta swing a sword, see?" I can''t help it anymore. A smile breaks out, and I barely keep my lips closed. Anticipation brings sweat to my forehead, and I can barely hold myself back. Seeing my smile, the man looks disturbed. Drat, this is exactly why I kept my face still. I don''t want him to be cautious. Nodding once more, I hold the sword in my right hand with a clenched fist, and take a rigid stance. Holding the sheath as if I don''t know what to do with it in my left hand, I make sure to leave as many openings as possible. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. The man smiles as well, and I see that my bait has been taken. His friends are chuckling quietly, and the two men have stopped looking away and are avidly watching us. The owner is looking at us with fear, and even the server is watching from behind the bar where she is safe. My opponent unsheathes his own sword, throwing the sheath to the side, and takes up a wide stance. Holding his sword in both hands, he raises it up over his head in an impressive flourish. Stepping forward, he strikes down and I barely parry. Seeing me lose my balance, he delivers a kick and sends me flying. As I slowly get up, he stops me with a sharp point at my throat. "haha! You are a complete novice! To think I was sca-cautious of someone like you! Now, give me your sword." Bowing my head in defeat, I sheath my sword and make as if to offer it to him. At the moment he turns to his friends to boast, he feels a strange feeling of cold in a line across his chest. Turning back, he sees a still bowed head. The sword is out of it''s sheath, however. I raise my eyes after delivering my slash, and stand up. All at once, the blood comes gushing out of his body, and covers my front with red. I close my eyes in ecstasy, and enjoy the spurting lifeblood. As he falls backward, I open my eyes, and look at the two in front of me. One has drawn his sword, while the other is pale-faced and stumbling backward. Leaning down, I drop my sheath and stick my left hand into the dying mans body. Feeling the movement of his organs, I quickly discover his intestines and pull them out. The slurping noise of the squishy tube being yanked from within the mans body causes one of the two in the corner to throw up, and everyone else to blanch in horror. Stepping forward with a sword grasped in my right, and intestines in my left, I face my second opponent. Yelling in rage, he steps forward and thrusts forward. Swinging the organ in a circle, I wrap it around the blade and pull it from his hand before he can react. Kicking the sword into the air, I drop the organ and grab the blade. Stepping forward, I cut off both of the mans feet. As he collapses to the floor, I step forward, and stab him in the chest. Then I stab his kidney, and cut out his stomach, then carve open his lungs, and dissect his rib cage. Even though he died, I plant a sword through his head, splitting his skull. Then I thrust again. This is what I live for. Bloody, Stab Bloody, Stab Justice. Thunk Looking down, I see that I got over excited. His skull was split into so many pieces that it looked like a firework, the way the trails of blood left by pieces of skull were shaped. Stepping away from the headless corpse, I spy the first speaker trying to get out the door. I once again force myself to resist the urge to spill forth from my mouth what I have been holding back. Reversing my grip on the blade in my left hand, I throw it and jam the door closed. He looks back in horror, and desperately yanks at the sword, trying to pull it out. As he hears my footsteps, he turns around and franticly draws his sword. Leaving bloody footprints, I draw close to him. He gives a nervous laugh, and says franticly "I-it''s okay! I can beat you, I''m the best fighter among the three of us! If that fool could beat you in a fair fight, I can kill you with ease!" I say nothing, but instead place my feet in a relaxed position, shoulder width apart. My grip on the sword is strong and relaxed, and I quietly rock back and forth on my toes. He fails to see this, and swings horizontally at me. "Hah! Take this you bas-" Or, he would have swung horizontally at me, had I not cut his arms off. As blood spurts from his ripped stumps, he stumbles back and falls on his ass. Following him, I stab my sword into his thigh to keep him from running. Having pinned him to the ground, I disassemble his head with my fists. Standing up, pieces of skull and chunks of dead flesh fall off of my kimono, and I turn my back on the unrecognizable-as-human corpse. My knuckles are torn and dyed red, and the front of my body is a near-uniform shade of crimson. I take one last look around the room painted with blood, then I fainted from malnutrition. As darkness closes in, I feel satisfied that I kept it within. I am very proud that I kept the laughter in. After all, sane people do not laugh while killing people. --- If I didn''t, then my enemy wold run. It is much harder to kill someone who is running away. Chapter 2: Like-Minded Killers Why do I enjoy killing? --- I awake with something soft covering me. Taking a look at my surroundings, I see that I am on the floor of the building I entered last night. Underneath me is bedding, and I am covered in a blanket. Looking around, I see that the blood stains have been scrubbed off the walls and floor, and the bodies have gone. In my hands is my sword. I wonder why they let me keep it? I was asleep, so they could no doubt have slit my throat and taken it. Perhaps, like all humans, they fear responsibility. Beside me is a bowl of cold soup, and a small bag that is most likely full of food. I think about the possibility of poison, but dismiss it. Poison is not how they would kill me, if they wished. Just smothering me would do. Getting up, I eat and do my exercises to warm up my body. Because I am a child, my body is not used to such abuse as I put it through. I do wish my body were not so fragile, as it makes killing much harder. Technique can only take you so far against raw strength. After warming my muscles up, I stretch and push my joints to exercise my flexibility. From now on, fights will be harder, and I will need all of my strength. Picking up the sack and preparing to be on my way, I see a piece of parchment fall to the floor. Curiously picking it up, I read: Thank you for what you did, you saved us. This is all we can do. Saved them? I wonder what made them think that? All I did was kill a few people. Shrugging, I head out the door. Bandages are wrapped around my feet, as well as my hands, where my blisters from walking and holding the sword had popped, come back, and popped again. Really, I wonder why they went to the trouble. It''s not as if this could kill me. But, I do appreciate that they gave me this cloth. Tearing a piece off of my foot wrappings, I wind it around my face and cover my mouth. Keeping myself from breaking out in a smile had distracted me too much, and since I wasn''t willing to cut out my tongue, I would just have to deal with keeping the laughter in. With this, at least, I can smile all I want and nobody will see. I dislike when people run. I have to chase them down. It is so much easier to have them come to me, and besides. Their legs are longer, so it''s less distance for them than it is for me. Walking down the road, I begin to see the difference the wrappings make. No longer to I have to cut off my pain in order to keep walking, so I have more brain power to walk. This is much faster. Though, having something to hold my sword would be good. My arm has to exert strength to hold it, and this means I will be slower in killing. I will acquire such a device. I pay no heed as to where my feet take me, as no matter where I go, filth is sure to show it''s face. Such is the corruption of this land. If only I could purge the whole face of this country with fire. Sadly, I am not a god. I am just a child. But I do what I can. How old am I? I haven''t thought about that in quite a while. I will have to pay attention to my age. I think when I turn thirteen, or somewhere about, I will come into contact with troublesome urges. I will just have to cleanse the country before that. So, before I am thirteen. I guess I have two years. What was my name? ... Meh, it''s not important. When it comes up, I can think about it again. As I ponder over my time limit, I stop walking, and wait until a group of men are all out in the open. When the sparsely clothed and unwashed men have finished getting together, I prepare to hear their final words. Not that I''ll remember them five minutes after their dead. I prefer to keep my mind open, and not bog it down with words of lesser beings. Not that I am any better than them. They are simply lesser because they are the ones who will die. Settling down into a comfortable crouch, I hold my sheathed sword in my left hand behind me, and my right hovers over the hilt, not touching.it. Unlatching it with my left thumb, I become still, not moving except to breathe. "Heh heh, what do we have here? A little runt with a blade? Hah! Come on boys, let''s kill him!" My hair is long in the front, and covers my eyes. The bandages cover my mouth and nose. This amuses me, as I look more like a bandit than they do. Feeling safe behind the bandage, I smile. Hoof beats. From behind the bandits, two horsemen charge. Both raise a sword, and cut down one apiece. I am impressed, and slightly peeved. Impressed because it takes skill to fight from horseback, and annoyance that there will be two less to kill. Such misfortune. The two horsemen, having broken through the band of thirty-forty dirty men, come to a stop next to me. "Hey! You better run while you have the chance. We''ll try to keep them busy long enough for you to get away, then we''ll get reinforcements. Understand?" Keeping my mouth firmly shut, for fear I would laugh at their foolishness, I shake my head and point to a location behind me. Looking confused, they reluctantly fall back. As the charging men draw near, they ignore my direction and charge forward, hoping to save me. Such fools. If anything, they should save the bandits from me. But it''s too late now, I am too far gone to stop myself. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Stepping forward and drawing, I cut the leader from hip to shoulder. Moving past him like a shadow, I dart my blade forward and cut the second''s throat. Stepping to the right, I cut open his fellows'' belly and let his guts spill out while I spin away from a blade and thrust deep into my next attackers heart Ripping my katana from his chest, I duck a blade by inches and break the wielders knee, the let go of my sword with my left and and grab his chin. Jumping behind his back while snapping his neck, I bring my sword around and cut the head from another. Dropping to the ground, I bend and flex my knees before jumping and spinning, cutting threes'' necks and letting their blood spill upon me. For the first time since beginning my first step, I become still. My entire body is dyed red with blood, and I stand facing the sky, my hair falling back and the now-soaked bandages becoming clear for all to see. The two horsemen have come to a stop, and the only sound I hear is the breathing of the thirty men around me. I stand in the middle, shorter than all of them, and yet- They are the ones who feel small. Snapping my head forward, I bring my blade up and seem to glide forward, cutting a mans face in half. Side-stepping an incoming sword I move without taking a step and place my katana against his gut. I hear his pumping heart, and taste blood on my bandages. Ripping my sword past his gut, I cut him nearly in half, and catch his falling blade in my left hand. Stepping to the left, I jam it up to its'' hilt in a bandits skull, then kick him away into a crowd of this friends. Stepping to the right, I go on one leg and kick out, catching a mans chin and snapping his neck. Leaping forward I strike a mans'' solar plexus and rise to my full height as he bends over. I behead him with a finality. Twisting my hips, I turn to my right and catch a sword on my guard, then turn it and slide my sword along his blade until I sink my swords'' tip into his face. Grabbing his sword I turn 180 degrees to my right and throw it a foot into another''s heart. Leaning backward, I let three blades come within centimeters of my face. Leaning forward, I jump and flip over the man if front of me, cutting his shoulder as I spin. Landing with my sword held behind me, and my left held palm-down on the ground. Lifting my right leg I spin and cut off ones'' arm, and pierce another''s throat before sinking down and gutting a third. Spinning the opposite way I cut from groin to neck, from shoulder to hip, from one side of the neck to the other. As the head spins in the air, I reach up and catch it, before throwing it with enough force to crack both the skull of the head and the man getting hit. Seeing him go down in a spurt of blood, I step forward once more and slash open my opponents chest, before reaching inside and ripping out the heart. Throwing the still pumping organ into another mans'' eyes I step forward and gut him, then reach inside and take his intestines. Ripping them out, I wrap them around another''s throat and jump-spin around to suffocate him and cut another from shoulder to hip. Pulling my hostage in front of an incoming blade, I block another with my sword and let the now-dead hostage fall and retrieving my fleshy weapon. Wrapping it around the hands of the man in front of me, I twist his hands so that he shoves his own sword through the bottom of his chin into his brain, and out the top of his skull, before turning and parrying the one from behinds'' sword. Knocking it back, I bring my sword to my hip, then twist my hips and add all the power of my legs, abs, and shoulders to my arms and using the momentum to cut him in half. Standing completely still, first one half, then the other, fall to the ground. I stand up straight, and flick the blood off my katana. Looking all around, a carpet of blood-soaked bodies lay around me, and I step on them like a king. Seven dirty men are running, and I order the two horsemen to chase them down via sword point. Surprisingly, they follow my command and run them down, mercilessly cutting them down like the dogs they are. I think we can get along. When they return, I keep the bandages on my face, to hide my smile. Barely trusting myself to speak, I exert every part of my mind to keep from bellowing in laughter. "You did well to cut them down. You have my thanks." Looking as if they are unable to tell if they''re dreaming, the two men dismount and babble useless compliments. Cutting them off with my hand, I look around where I started and find my sheath, then lay it to the side and sit down cross-legged. Sharpening my sword, I listen as the two men ask me to accompany them to a certain place. It sounds as if a den of ronin have taken up banditry in the area, and these two were sent to exterminate them. They believe this is a suicide mission, but have regained hope after seeing me, and ask if I will help them. All I need to hear is that there is a group of people or need to be killed. "Lead the way. There is killing to be done." I doubt the bandages were able to hide my smile. --- Because one should always love their job. Chapter 3: Den of Filth Do I feel betrayed by my master? --- Hah, I hate being a ronin. Ever since my lord was assassinated by shinobi, I have been nothing more than an immigrant. Such misfortune... Still, it could be worse. I could be a commoner! The very thought hurts...but, the point is that I''m not. Plus, I have friends now, and even the chance for a new lord. All I have to do is complete this one task and I- Boom I look over at the door, and see a boy dressed in red. The long hair, the ripped kimono, the sheath, even the bandages wrapped around his hands, feet, and mouth are all dyed a deep maroon. A strange smell that reminded me of iron that was familiar- Blood. That wasn''t red dye. It was blood. And it looked like that boy had been baptized in it. I heard a click, and saw the shine of steel off a blade, and I felt the chill a mouse does when it sees a hawk. If I do not die within the next minute, it will be an accomplishment. Even though the bandages are covering the boys'' mouth, I get the feeling he''s smiling. --- Drawing my blade while scanning the underground den that was hollowed out underneath a large warehouse, I step forward to let the two horsemen in the room. They fan to both my flanks, and draw their own swords. Mirroring us, the half dozen ronin stand and take up stances of their own. These are warriors, not commoners. Thus, they hold to a code of honor. Which is good, cause if they all faced me at once I would be in trouble. it''s good fools like these insist on facing other warriors one-on-one, even when they are masterless. Dropping my sheath to the side, I bring my sword in front of me and accept the challenge of a short warrior who held his sword beside his temple with both hands, his right on top. His armor was a rust red color, and was the traditional lacquered bamboo. Of course, for these kinds of warriors, armor that isn''t enchanted is just a decoration. His face was uncovered, and he wore only a short beard. His eyes were a bright blue. Leaping forward, I slash downward and aim towards his shoulder. He parries and ripostes, sending a thrust into my throat. I spin to the side and let his blade go through the space my head had previously occupied. To either side, the two horsemen had begun similar duels, while the three other ronin simply waited. Twisting in the opposite direction, I bring my sword down at belly level to disembowel the blue eyed ronin, but he turns to the side and deflects my strike with his armor. Of course, had that been normal armor, it would have shattered. However, he had used ki to reinforce it. Likewise, he could use ki to sharpen his swords edge. Some warriors were even able to materialize their ki and use it as a weapon on it''s own. Though I don''t know about that, if one were to use ki to reinforce their skin, it would be hard as iron. This is why these warriors don''t need armor. But, I guess they like to look cool. I have concluded that everyone has a little bit of a child in them. He flips his swords'' edge and tries to cut off my head, and I bend my knees while bending back to dodge, before jumping over his second strike. Flipping in the air, I lash out with my blade and aim towards his head. Even though he pulls his head back, I nick his helmet. As we back off to take stock of the other, he frowns at the nick in his helmet. It shows that he didn''t calculate the speed of my sword correctly. The other two ronins'' eyes are drawn to our fight, and they watch with interest. All I can think when I look at them is, You are next. Having tested each other out, we move in and fight seriously. We both set our stance and exchange a flurry of strikes and thrusts, blocks and parries. As we do so, he begins to see more nicks appearing on his armor. Unable to comprehend why, he keeps fighting, but soon, he makes a mistake. He strikes just a little too hard, and is slow in pulling his sword back. I Wrap the cloth on my hands around his sword, and pull him forward. As he stomps a foot forward to stop himself from stumbling, I have already moved behind him. He sees nothing but his own decapitated body, and then nothing at all. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. As blood spurts from the stump of his neck, I stand straight and flick the blood off my sword. One down. The next challenger wastes no time in accepting my challenge, and moves forward slashing immediately. To either side, the horsemen are trading cuts with their opponents. I step to the side, and let the blade crash into the ground. This warriors armor is blue, and he covers his face with a mask in the shape of a demon. His eyes are brown. I step on the top of his blade, and drive it into the ground, then place my swords'' tip on his adams'' apple. Then I push. Ki can only strengthen your skin so much. His blood spurts out in a stream, running down the length of my blade. He gargles and spits blood that drips out the bottom of his mask, and gasps for air. I lean into his face, and place my left hand against his throat, then push him off my sword. Filth shouldn''t stick to my blade. He collapses backward and fountains blood for a couple seconds longer, before his heart stops pumping. This time, my third opponent takes a more cautious approach. Stepping forward, he holds his sword in two hands, his left on top, and points the tip at my throat. His armor is colored a shining silver, and he leaves the top half of his face uncovered. The bottom has a mouth piece decorated with fangs and tusks. His eyes are a bright green. Taking a half step, he swings forward in a shallow cut, which I knock to the side and riposte with a thrust. He drops the sword with his right hand and deflects my sword with his right hand, and brings his left hand in a great circle to swing his sword in a huge arc into my side. I turn my back and jump-flip over it, then kick out with my left leg towards his knee. He bends it slightly to absorb my kick into his thigh, then grabs his sword with both hands and brings it over his head. Bringing down his sword with thunderous force, I have no choice. I cannot dodge a sword moving at that speed, and if I sacrifice an arm to stop the blade, he will likely kill me. I turn my back, and hear the slight gasp from his lips. His strike slashes down my back, leaving a deep wound from my right shoulder to my left hip. My blood spurts out and into his uncovered eyes, blinding him. Stepping backward with my right foot, I bring both my hands onto the hilt, and turn it to the left. I turn, and bring all the momentum of my body into a single strike, that sunders his left side and cleaves through his chest, only barely stopping before his heart. He looks at me, and I hear six words from him. "Why? Why are you doing this?" I look deep into his eyes, and tilt my head. "Why?" I thoughtfully ponder. Then push my sword into his heart, and twist. "Do I need a reason?" He falls to the ground, rejoining his companions. To my right and left, the two horsemen are wrapping up their duels. I look at the ceiling, and close my eyes. It was close this time. Had I been any slower, I would have died. He would have cut me clean in two. After the two horsemen finish their fights, I congratulate them. They worry over the wound on my back, but I am not so concerned. We bandage it up, and prepare to move out. As we get ready to leave, one of the two finds a letter in the green-eyed mans pocket. It has the seal of his lord on it, and within it is a large sum of money and the instructions to kill the two men who come to this location. In return, they will be made official retainers of the lord and become samurai once more. I offer them my condolences, but secretly, I''m excited. The chance to exterminate an entire castle doesn''t come up every day. I tell them that I will help them acquire their vengeance, and they say it is impossible to cut their way to the lord. I lay my hands on their shoulders, and say "I swear on the sword of my dead master, I will kill this man who has wronged you." They are happy. Such fools. I''m not doing it for them, but rather they gave me an excuse. Though, they are decent people. It would be a shame if they died. --- Of course I do. After all, children like me are not the most logical thinkers. Chapter 4: Castle of Corruption Do I seek vengeance on my masters'' killers? --- Underneath a moonlit night, a red ghost walks with silent feet. Trailing wisps'' and dripping tails. Faceless and unknown, it walks alone. The moon is red. Crying tears of blood, because it can see the rivers that will flow this night. The ghost claims it is a child. The world says otherwise. Two men, standing on either side of an arched gate. Holding spears and shivering, they wished they could have been sleeping. How unlucky they were. The ghost runs forward, and dodges the reactionary thrust from the man on the right. Grabbing the shaft as it passes, it reverses the spear and stabs its'' attacker, then brakes the wood and kills the man on the left. Looking upward, the ghost sees a man in flowing robes standing on his balcony. The man, Lord Kuniaki Soda of the Soda clan, takes action immediately. "Shinobi! To arms, my warriors, to arms!" --- Sprinting through the doorway, I quickly slash the throats of three groggy men and grab a bow. Notching an arrow and pulling it back, I aim up at the figure on the balcony. He ducks back into the building, and I carefully put the bow back down. I could hurt myself with that thing, since I don''t know how to use it. Of course, they didn''t know that. But hopefully this would keep them inside the building. Raising my sword and letting moonlight reflect off its'' edge, I signal to the two horsemen that all is clear. When they get in, I explain the plan to them. After all, I just thought it up. The castle was just a huge pile of dirt, but because of that it was impossible to just burn the whole thing down. The keep on the highest tier of dirt was where the lord resided, and our goal if we were to kill him. The two would light torches and set fire to the southern gate leading to the second tier, while I headed directly to the third and highest tier and assassinate the lord. If all goes well, they say, we will only have to kill one or two other people. I have to clench my teethe to keep from laughing. Only one or two? Hah! haha! hahahaha! Nodding quickly, I head to the wall. I wait for only a minute before the two horsemen ride out of the guardhouse, torches alight and bright. I turn around and begin climbing the dirt wall. As I make it about half way up, I hear shouts and the sound of many men moving at the south gate, and I hurry my pace. About three feet from the top of the wall, my fingers slip. Dangling from just my left hand, I am left with ample time to reflect on my life. Deciding that reflecting on my joke of a life would just be masochistic of me, I keep climbing. At the top, a head pops out in front of me, so I do the natural thing. Coming to a rest beside the now-faceless body, I quickly take his spear and sprint to the next tier. As I do, I hear the shouts and movement growing louder, and I see a bright flare where the horsemen have managed to start a fire. Passing by the wall, I walk up the ramp leading to the next level. At the top, I am greeted by another questioning head, at which point I find a use for my spear. Walking under the open gate, I hear the thump, of the overly inquisitive guards'' body. Looking up at the massive keep before me, layered in five floors, I have to sigh. Why make so many hypothetical stairs? Walking up to the front door, I give it a couple knocks. When the man opening the door has a sword, I promptly take it away and return it, pointy end first. Moving further in, I discover more like-wise underservering wielders of swords. Finding it a waste of time to cut them up and then sharpen my sword afterward, I make do with snapping their necks or using my recently "borrowed" knifes to cut them down from a distance. Like this, I progressed to the second floor. At the top of the stairs, I found an interesting man. He was turned away, sitting on his knees. As he rose, he delivered a speech. "It seems you have come this far. Rejoice! you have the honor of being killed by the great j-" I passed by his headless corpse. He talked too much. Like this, I progressed to the third floor. On this floor the lights had been dimmed. From behind, below, above, and sometimes even from right beside me, dark clothed individuals rose from their hiding places- -only to fall back into them, except with a couple holes in them. Like this, I progressed to the fourth floor. Here, I was met by another individual. His armor was a gleaming golden, and he wore a full mask in the shape of an angel. His sword was much longer than mine, and I could identify it as a nodachi. Such a weapon was for the foolish and the truly skilled. Drawing my sword, I prepare to challenge this man. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. "You must be a warrior of great strength to have progressed this far. But you stop here. Now, come!" Moving forward, I feint an overhead and swing at his gut. He saw through it and knocks my blade to the side contemptuously, then swings downward. Like that, the ground beneath my disappears into a dark abyss, straight back to the third floor. Leaping over his head, I reverse my katana and stab him in the back. He grunts, the twists, bringing his sword around with a whistling sound. Leaping upward again, i realize my mistake. He, expecting me to jump, changed the direction of his massive blade with ease and I see the faint glow of ki around the edge. It nears my face and- He stops. He grunts, wondering what is wrong. Looking down, he sees the long piece of wood shoved into the joint of his arm, locking it in place. He looks up just in time to take my blade full in the chest. As I fall to the ground on top of him, he gasps for air and his mask falls off. His eyes are blue. "How...how did you get so good?" For the first time, I trust myself to speak, even though I am covered in blood. "It is not that I am good. You are just honorable." He looks confused, and as his eyes begin to mist I speak words that make him smile. "I''m not stupid enough to restrict myself when death is on the line." Pulling my sword out of his corpse, I sheathe my sword. Then I pick up his nodachi. I hear lots of footsteps upstairs. --- "Lord Soda! Will your bodyguards really be able to stop the attackers?" I nod firmly. As a warrior, there are many who are better than I. However, I am the lord, and as such, I must lead my people. "Remain calm! My greatest warrior has never been defeated! You all know him, he is the great R-" Creeeeeeak ...What? Creeeeeeeeak Are those...footsteps? Creeeeeeak But why are they so slow? Is he wounded, or- With a final squeal of wood, a red figure appears from the top of the stairs. The red kimono is nothing but ripped rags, and the bandages covering its'' hands and feet are in similar shape. Even the cloth covering its'' mouth has been shredded, and from what I can see of the figures'' mouth- Oh god almighty, we''re all dead already, aren''t we? Its'' smile seems to widen, as if it can hear me. --- Bamboo sticks. That''s all they are. This room was crowded with warriors, but they are just bamboo. Well, bamboo that squirts red when you cut it open. Three feet in the door, the blood is splashing my feet. Five feet in the door, I can feel it on the bottom of my feet. Seven feet in, It begins to lap at my toes. Fifteen feet in, it reaches up to my shins. Thirty feet in, I am basically wading through red. After who-knows how long, my tired arms become still. Moving has become hard, as all the bodies are blocking my way. I''''m lucky I don''t have to bury all these guys. Finding which part belonged to who would be a real pain. Moving forward, I find the lord curled up in the fetal position on the floor in the corner. His face is splashed with blood. Raising the nodachi, I stab deep into his body. Then, for the first time since I started my quest, I''m tired of killing. --- Kazuma''s late. We were supposed to retreat as soon as we lit a building on fire, but he still isn''t back. Tapping my knee worriedly, I look at the keep and see- A curtain. All down the side, from the top floor, red has painted the side of the keep. I open my mouth, disbelieving at first. Then, I see a red figure standing on the balcony, and I realize the truth. Kazuma hurries up to me, and together we watch, unbelieving, as the figure slides down the roof of the keep, and finally reaches the bottom. "Koin...is that what I think it is?" I nod mutely. "Ah...I see. He''s a god, huh?" "A god? I''d like to see him fight one. Though I''d feel bad for whoever worships that god. They''d soon be left without anyone to worship." "Hah, but not us." I turn and look at him in confusion. "Huh?" Kazuma points at the red figure walking toward us. "I don''t need any other god, don''t ya think?" I turn back, and just nod. A god, indeed. A very short one. --- No. Even though vengeance is indeed a childish emotion, I do not feel it. Instead, I simply wish to leave the world with as much grief as possible. If everyone is sad, then those who bring happiness will be treasured. At least, that is my hope. Chapter 5: Foolish Idiots Why did I decide that doing this task alone was best? --- Leaving the castle, all I felt was exhaustion. I had left the nodachi in lord Sodas'' body, as it was too heavy to take with me. Even though I had won, I had not come back unhurt. My back was a mess of crisscrossing marks left by blades, and my clothes hung off me by strands. I am lucky to have not been hamstrung by a dying foe. Though, perhaps the reason is because they didn''t have much time in between getting torn in two or more pieces and death. As I walked out the front gate, the two horsemen oddly followed me. Shadows also detached from the walls and followed at a distance. They were no shinobi, evidenced by the fact I could easily see them. Instead, they were the soldiers of the castle that had not died. If they become a problem later, I will deal with them. But right now... I just want to sleep, and forget everything. This would be a good time to have alcohol. After a certain point, I could no longer walk, and just sat down and leaned on a tree. Looking up into the branches, I watched a few leaves fall down, and thought about composing a poem. However, whenever I tried to concentrate all I saw was blood, and haunted faces filled with agony as I cut them down. I don''t know when I started crying, but the tears had already made a pool on my thigh. A pity it wasn''t raining, I could use the wash. All this blood makes me want to vomit. Beginning to doze off, I wonder idly if I''ll awake with a knife in my chest. Closing my eyes, I feel peace overtake me. My last thought was, "How did I ever convince myself I enjoy this? I don''t like this. But it''s my job, and I will complete it. No matter what." Darkness began to take over, and I could no longer resist it. Why is everything tinted red...? My eyes snapped open. I was lying on my back, and covering me was something warm. Underneath my head was something soft. Sitting up, I saw that I had been resting my head on the taller horseman''s lap. Looking around, I saw the other horseman standing watch. Holding the blanket close, I assumed a neutral expression. "What are you doing? We have no reason to travel together. My path will only take me into more blood and carnage. You should leave while you have the chance." The horseman standing watch smiled in that annoying way adults do. "No reason? I see a pretty big debt that needs to be repaid. And besides, so what if your path takes you into carnage? Wouldn''t you rather have someone beside you while you walk?" I could say nothing to this. Every attempt I made at speech left me opening my mouth and closing it like a fish on land. Behind me, I heard a groan. "Ahhh...I''m never sleeping sitting up ever again. Koin! Make some coffee!" Shaking his head and hiding his smile, Koin replied "Huh?! Make it yourself, you pig! I''ve been awake half the night, while you were off in dreamland!" Getting to his feet, the tall horseman stretched and yawned. "Yeah, but that''s because I''m the better warrior! Superiority is tiring, you know?" He said with a haughty shrug. Then he got a mischievous smirk. "Or, I guess you wouldn''t-being inferior all your life!" His smirk was promptly wiped off by a left hook, which then was repaid with a kick to the stomach, which then escalated into a grappling match on the ground, and finally, somehow-became an arm wrestle to decide who would prepare breakfast. Koin won through clever use of both his hands, while the other one-kazuma was his name, though I had to separate it from several swears and insults to various family members (Most of which were to the mother.)-decided to use his brain as well and kick Koin in the back of the head while he wasn''t looking. After another half hour of fighting/playing, they finally decided to split it up between the two of them. Though they would throw scowls and dirty looks at each other whenever they got the chance, and smile whenever they thought the other wasn''t looking. While they made breakfast I salvaged as much of my kimono as I could, ripping it into sheets and then tying them together to make a chest wrapping. I did the same with my pants and my lower body. The wrappings covering my hands and feet had stayed oddly untouched, except for being soaked in blood, even though the wrappings covering my mouth had become little more than strings. Taking some more cloth from the wrappings around my hands, I replaced the wrap. At this point, the two had finished, more or less at the same time, and came over to sit beside me. I was getting up to leave when- "Hey, where are you going? You think you can kill our lord, and not pay the price?" Eyeing the man standing in front of me, I just shook my head. "What do you plan to do about it?" The man was a common soldier, evident by his spear and absence of armor. He stood taller than Kazuma and wore grey clothing. His eyes were a dark brown. "I plan to take my recompense. One way or another." He said this while taking a step forward. Before I could open my mouth, Koin and Kazuma were in front of me, swords drawn. I was too surprised to react immediately, and while I readjusted- ""You! What is your name, so that we can engrave it on your headstone?!"" The two said in near-harmony. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. The soldier seemed as taken aback as me, but responded without pause. "My name is Isei, and it will not be on any headstone for at least a decade!" The three men face off, tension so thick you could reach out and touch it- "Such idiots..." I mutter, while striking the pressure points on the back of the horsemen''s necks. Both collapse, numb, and flounder like newborn kittens. Stepping forward, I drop my sword. "Well, are you going to take your price? Or are you too much of a coward?" He seemed to pause and deliberate. Looking backward, I saw the other shadows moving in agitation. Isei took a long look at me, at the cuts peeking up over my shoulders and the blood that stuck to my hair. Then- "I do plan to have you pay." He said, while setting down his spear and going on his knees. Looking down, he raises his voice for the shadows behind him, and speaks fast as if hoping to get it over with. "I beseech you! Please, take this ones'' fealty-I promise to protect and serve you for my life, and let the god of torture take me should I ever fail!" I walk forward, and speak with an odd tone. A teasing tone. "Oh? You plan to serve me? What could a person like you do for me-who stands so much higher than you?" I finish tauntingly. Now that I am closer, I can see the sweat dropping off his forehead. "I do not know what a humble man like me could do for you, but-" he breaths in deeply. I lean forward. "On that night, I stood in a burning building." I wonder why he is telling me this. "I worried-for my friends, for my life, for my future-but, I did not worry for my lord." Confused, I take a step closer. "I thought he would be the one to save me, but he did not. He left us to die, and kept all of his strong warriors around himself. Leaving us to die." I think I can begin to see. "I cursed him, and swore, and took an oath to kill him should I ever get the chance. In the end, I was rescued by my fellows, and planned to confront my lord-and planned to get myself executed." So he''s glad I killed his lord? "But, before I could, I saw someone." Who? "It was a child, covered in blood and stumbling. Silent, even though it was crying. When I saw that, I realized just how selfish I had become. To let such a young person be tainted by killing, I have failed in my quest to bring peace to the land." So what? Everyone else does even less than you. "I saw a young child holding the weight of the world. I can not let you walk alone, and still refuse to commit suicide." "That is an absurd reason-" He finished, almost shouting. "I can not do much! I am an average warrior! I am just a man! But I will do anything-anything, to help you." I... He slowly raised his head, looking anxious. I am... From behind him, the shadows come out, and kneel beside Isei. They are just normal men. No, they are less than normal men. I am speechless. Who knew humans could be born with so few braincells? "You idiots...so be it!" Turning my back, I walk over to my sword, and draw it. "You wish to do anything? Then give me your life!" I exclaim, while raising my blade. He doesn''t look afraid. He doesn''t look disappointed. He just looks...happy. Happy that he can do something for me. While I raise my blade, he bends his head and turns to that my sword will go through his neck easier. Feeling frustrated-angry, pissed off-I let my blade drop. The edge whistled toward his neck, and he didn''t move. His friends cried out, and he remained still. My sword touched the back of his neck-and he breathed in relief. I dropped my sword with trembling hands, and he was the first one to pick it back up and offer it to me. Glad that my hair covered my eyes, I reached out and took the sword. "If you are to serve me, then I will need you to swear upon something-something that can not break." Oddly, Koin and Kazuma joined Isei in discussing. Why are they here? Finally, they came before me, and lowered their heads. "We have decided. If you would let us kiss you blade-we would swear to always serve you." I wanted to slap them. The way they said such stupid things made me so...angry. Holding out my swords naked length, each of the soldiers and Isei kissed the blade. However, when I came to Kazuma and Koin- The both took hold of either side of my face, and each kissed an eye. Kazuma kissed my left, and Koin kissed my right. Then, Koin asked a last question. "Now we just need to know your name to finish the oath." Feeling as if my sword should be lodged in their bodies, I mutter. "Sorry, we couldn''t quite catch that-" "My name is Fel. Remember it well, you fucking idiots." Then I turned around, and left. I will never fully understand men. --- Because I am already lost. To waste others'' lives would just be selfish. But, then, I am a child. I have concluded that I have more than my fair share of selfishness. Chapter 6: The Tyrant Why do men look for something above themselves?
Three years. That is how long it took for me to finally realize that I am nothing. Just an ant, biting the ankles of a troll. Three, fucking, years. To think I was so childish to think I could accomplish my desires within two, it almost brings a smile to my face. However, only one thing can make me smile these days. And that is the slaughter of my fellow man. Others speak of drugs. They talk of women, or gambling, and many other addictions. Me? If I go a day without killing someone my hands start shaking, and I get really cold. I start sweating and twitching, and until I feel my sword cut someone in half, I can''t stop. How did it come to this? I am justice. I am peace. I am... I am a very good liar. Rather, I am a monster. One that is fed daily with the flesh of the fallen, and bathed in the lifeblood of their fellows who still draw breath. Yet, men still follow me. Within these three years, our band had swollen from twenty to three-hundred. When I had finally counted how many people were following me, I realized a second thing. I may be an ant, but if there are enough insects, even a troll can become food. My followers were disgusting and horrible. They followed my orders without question, and if any of them suspected another of traitorous action, they would immediately kill them. It was at this time that a certain man became known unto me. A man by the name of Rei, he was a well-known warrior within my followers. When I heard from Isei that one among the men was somewhat intelligent, I ordered him brought before me. Well, all I did was request Isei to ask Rei to come and see me. Within minutes of my words, the entire group was split in two. One half decided that Rei was a traitor and was going to be cut down, while the other half assumed he would be sacrificed to me. Honestly, just what do these morons think I am, an idol...? Either way, he quickly found my tent. Ever since two-and-a-half years ago, my followers had looted a bandits lair that was in possession of cloth. They then employed their fifth-rate craftsmanship in order to make a dwelling for me. Once again, I must question what exactly they think I am. I have concluded that people are hard to deal with, and everything would be simpler if I could just kill the lot of them... I sat cross-legged on the ground, disdaining the untrustworthy wooden contraption that the men had labeled a "chair" which looked like a death trap and a puzzle in one. It would take rabid beasts to force me to sit in that menace to mankind. From outside the tent, Isei(along with his bastard friends who took turns stalking me, calling it "bodyguarding")announced that Rei had arrived. The woolen cover was thrown aside, and a groveling pheasant walked in. He came to a stop at my feet, and made as if to kiss them. When I kicked him in the face, I guess he learned not to assault me. I may be fourteen, but I have no interest in sexual activity. Killing is better than any pleasure another persons body could give me. Besides, a woman would probably be better. "Do not try that again. Also, I have a question for you." The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. He groveled some more, saying incomprehensible things and crying, until I couldn''t handle it anymore. "Oh, would you shut, the fuck, up! I''m not going to eat you, damn coward." "I''m sorry...please forgive me..." "I told you, i''m not going to eat you, so stand up!" He refused, lowering his head further. "N-no, I couldn''t...tell me what to do-" I''m tired of his shit. Grabbing him by the fabric of his yukata, I drag him to his feet. Then, I smack the fuck out of him. When he has calmed down, he is looking dazed. So, I taunt him. (Insult his mother, state that I have a bigger dick, state what I did to said mother with said dick) When his face gets a little red, I start punching him some more. When he''s bruised and bloody, I throw him onto the ground and insult his master and his dojo. Then, he stands up and punches me, throwing me to the ground. --- AN: I''m so, so sorry. I may have gotten a little bit crazier than usual. It''s like How To: Become an Evil Overlord all over again. (Don''t read it-i experiment in that fiction. You know what that means.) basically, I get author crazy and just vent everything at once. I would say sorry for the censorship, but you don''t want to know what i would write if people didn''t read it. So basically I''m going to provide a link for those of you who want to know everything, and those who would like to keep what innocence they have...just walk away. If you really want to read it, just message me so I can share it via google doc. DON''T CLICK ME --- Fels'' POV So, has the pussy finally grown a dick? (whoops, I should probably cut that part out...meh. Too lazy.) He stood, shaking with his fist extended. After several moments, he bent down to see if I was alright. I responded by breaking his nose, and clapping proudly. "Good! Now, you can be of use. A sniveling yes-man is worthless, what I want is a man. (Azariah! Go away! You aren''t wanted here!) He held his nose, but nodded. A twinkling in his eye showed his absolute loyalty to me, and his adoration of me- FUCK! I grabbed him by the chin, and held his face close. "Listen close, and listen well." He nodded. "If this country is to be ridden of filth, than we must do so on our own. I don''t want to take down one corrupt government only to set up another. Understand?" He nodded. "Then, I will have to ask you a difficult thing. Punch me again." He shook his head. "Punch me!" He shook his head. "Fuck you, hit me!" He just reached up, and flicked my forehead. "..." He started to sweat. "Until you can punch me full in the face, you will be nothing but a worm. Understood?" He nodded. Then I threw him out of the tent. Whoops, I tore a hole through the top. Goddammit... Well, I like the feel of rain anyway. Even though I hate it.
Because they are afraid. Of responsibility to be specific. For their life. For their decisions. For their happiness. I have concluded that, as a child, I hate responsibility. Chapter 7: Purpose When a man decides between two choices, how far into the future does he look?
Is it perhaps only me, but have Koin and Kazuma been getting antsy? I have never cared much about human interaction before, so I usually don''t bother to pick up on such cues, but to me it seems as if Koin and Kazuma have been more tense than usual. Perhaps its'' because I''ve started ambushing them? ...nah. Watching from atop a branch, I inspect the frightened Koin as he flees from the main camp. Lately, the size of the camp has grown to four-hundred strong. I would be insulting those four-hundreds'' intelligence, but at least now that they''re all together we, as a race, can eliminate a large portion of stupidity from the gene pool, thus increasing the future generations'' survival. I wonder if our childrens'' childrens'' children will look back upon this gathering, and thank their ancestors who had the common sense to kill off such idiotic bastards? ...I doubt it. Idiocy has a way of infecting those near to it. Our great-grandchildren will probably be so brain-dead the rocks will be keeping us kenneled in order to stop us from hurting ourselves. I have concluded that my faith in humanity is...somewhat absent. Continuing to shadow Koin from the treetops, I watch his every move. He looks all around himself, like a rabbit that has spotted a wolf. I wonder, if I cut off his foot, would it be lucky...? Casting such idle thoughts aside, I move slightly ahead of Koin and await him. For the horseman to be moving on such a predictable path, I fear that I have taught them nothing. I will simply have to be more unforgiving. Hehe, that is quite an entertaining thought. As I think of new ways to torture educate the horsemen, Koin arrives at the ambush site. It is not my ambush site, however. Honestly... Why do these men even try to fight back? I drop from the treetops, and land heavily on Koins'' back. Pinning him to the ground with my feet and sword, I await his response. I make sure to watch his face closely. With a face brimming with the joy of victory, he yells, "Now!" and looks toward where Kazuma and a dozen of their most trusted men wait in ambush. And Koin keeps waiting. And keeps waiting. He coughs loudly, then repeats his signal for his fellows to assist him. Noting his confusion, I poke him in the head and point upward. Koin looks up... There, suspended with rope, are thirteen blindfolded and gagged soldiers in full armor and carrying their weapons. Poking his head again, I whisper in his ear. "Instead of letting an assassin kill you so that your fellows can defeat said assassin, just learn to take care of the assassin yourself, ne?" Like an ashamed child, he nods his head and taps my foot in signal of defeat. With his help I unstring the thirteen hapless would-be ambushers, and knock enough consciousness into them in order to bring their motor functions online. Little more can be expected from humans, sadly. I lead a depressed and defeated group of men back to camp.
I look up from sharpening my blade to see Rei walk in. He is still limping from when I broke his leg by throwing him several feet into the air, but the physician expects that he''ll make a full recovery. ...I''ll have to throw him harder this time... He stands at attention, waiting for my order to relax. Needless to say, I will give no such order. If they wish for direction, they can ask the moon for all I care. Maybe if I tell the lot of them to catch the moon, they''ll get off my back... I resume running the whetstone across my masters'' swords'' edge once more, not looking at Rei. After several minutes, I let out a quiet sigh. Immediately, he begins to speak. I sigh once more. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. "Sir! I have served you for a little less than three years, and in all that time you have payed little to no attention to my exploits, brought suspicion upon me from my fellows under you, bullied me verbally and physically, and broken several of my bones." He took a pause for breath. I respond with- "Your point?" He charged on. "I have never known you personally, but from what I have seen you are a senseless killer who basks in the blood of his enemies and I have wondered several times whether your mind is completely right." "That is a fair evaluation. What of it?" Rei took a deep breathe. "While serving you these two and-three-quarter years, I have found so much fault with you that I question why I''m still here." I hesitate to hope, but I timidly prod..."So that means..." He looked deep into my eyes, and said with heartfelt sincerity, "Sir, you are undoubtedly the most unbearable asshole I have ever met. The most bloodthirsty murderer to ever grace this earth. I have hated you to such a degree that I even contemplated killing you and facing your cult-like horde." I said nothing, but let just a tiny flame flare to light within my soul. I got to my feet, walked up to him, and slapped him in the face. With a bright-red hand-mark on his cheek, he slowly turned his face to me. Then he slapped me in the face. Due to me having the stature of a fourteen-year old, and because the one slapping me had the physique of a grown man, I was tossed to the floor with considerable force. After I got up, we looked into each others'' eyes. Then I laughed, punched him in the gut so hard he passed out, and went out and got two plates of food. Mmm, rice and fish, my favorite! Well, it would be, except I can''t taste. When I got back to the canvas house with a recently patched hole in the top, I placed the food on the ground and woke up Rei the only way I know how. That is, by taking a cushion and holding it on his mouth and nose until he struggles to remove it. Damn...I thought I hit him hard enough he wouldn''t wake up while I was smothering him...Well, next time. Next time. He and I shared a meal, and for the first time since I sat and ate with my master, I thought deeply. Rei was indeed a thinker. He had a vision, a purpose, which was one of the reasons he had joined me. Now, he thought we could do something more. As for me... "I''ll get to kill people, right?" He nodded. I grinned, bit the head off a fish, then called together Isei and the horsemen to announce something. We, the Fel Band, are going to kill the Shogun. Hehehe... Oh, this is going to be so much fun! Ahem, just kidding. Sane people do not enjoy the thought of meaningless slaughter. Such things are for crazies and nuts. I have concluded that I am a very good liar. I should get a medal... This will not be meaningless slaughter, however fun it might be. I will be toppling a corrupt power and replacing it with chaos. Other, better men can decide what to make of this country after I''ve reduced it to rubble. I have concluded that, like other children, I can be very short-sighted. Ignorance is bliss, as the saying goes.
He looks just far enough to ascertain its'' safety, but no farther. Sometimes, the consequences of our actions are too frightening to imagine, and are better left for others to deal with.