Post by WarderDragon on May 8, 2006 12:30:36 GMT -8
Nineteen Years Ago...
"I had hoped it would not come to this."
Hirokami Katsuro scanned the burning village below him from his vantage point on the outer wall, his left hand resting on the hilt of his sheathed katana. Black plumes of smoke rose skyward, the sulfurous stench burning his nostrils, making it difficult not to cough. For a moment, he closed his eyes, letting out a deep sigh. Such evil had seemed a necessity not so long ago, and yet now the shame of it was almost unbearable. The dreams of glory and battle were a stark contrast to the casualty and sorrows of death and war.
"Why?" a voice sounded beside the daimyo. His nephew and second-in-command, Hirokami Kenichi. Kenichi wore the black and gold armor of a Samurai, matching Katsuro's own, except for the black jin-baori Katsuro wore over his armor. "These people are nothing but uncivilized savages, half-breeds, worthy not of our respect nor our compassion."
Katsuro remained silent as he watched the flickering flames below, and the procession of women and children out through the gates not far to the west. These "savages", the Saku'rai, were distant cousins of the Kyoten, but had been shunned for many years by Katsuro's people due to centuries of Saku'rai mixing with the barbaric seafarers who dwelled upon the northern isles. It was this rejection, this animosity, that had caused these people to eventually rise up against the oppressive Kyoten, raiding outlying farms and villages with increasing frequency in the past year. They were savages and murderers indeed, Katsuro thought, but they had been pushed to that point by the cruelty of his own ancestors. Katsuro had never realized, until now, the levels of poverty and sickness the people here suffered all these years, while the people of Kyoten lived in prosperity. Yet Katsuro's actions had been ruled by the hatreds and lies ingrained into the people of Kyoten from childhood by their forefathers. The shame weighed heavily upon the daimyo as he watched them move slowly out through the gates, surrounded by armored pikemen, each and every one of them widows and orphans.
"Was this truely necisary, Kenichi?"
"Of course it was, Katsuro-sama. These savages have been raiding our farms and villages! They have assailed our trade ships directed for Zento. Now we have destroyed the last of their villages. The Saku'rai are no more." Katsuro nodded his head slightly, his left hand remaining on the hilt of his katana, running his thumb across it gently. How could he feel anger for his nephew? He had practically taught his nephew to hate the Saku'rai.
"My lord!" cried out a voice behind him. Katsuro turned, walking swiftly to the other side of the wall, Kenichi in tow. Below them, a steep stone stairway had been built into the side of the wall, leading right to where the daimyo and his nephew stood. Climbing those stairs was a woman, a auburn haired Saku'rai dressed in a pink kimono with flower patterns adorning the hem, and a intricate crimson-spotted obi wrapping around her stomach. In her arms she held something bundled in white linen cloth. Behind her, two bushi guards followed her swiftly, katana's drawn.
"Hold!" Katsuro shouted, gesturing for the two bushi to stop. They both did so immidiately, but both still gripped their blades tightly at the foot of the stairs, eyeing the Saku'rai woman climbing the stairs above them. After a moment, the woman finally made it to the top of the stairs, collapsing to her knees before Katsuro, short of breath. Kenichi prepared to walk towards her, anger in his eyes, but the daimyo extended his left arm, his hand stopping his nephew in his tracks. "No, Kenichi-san."
Katsuro's gaze shifted back towards the gasping woman as he removed the leather-plated gauntlets from his hands, kneeling before her. He placed a hand on her shoulder reassuringly, an act of kindness most daimyo would never have shown to a mere peasant. She finally regained composure for a moment, fear suddenly evident in her eyes. She laid the bundle before Katsuro, kneeling before him, touching her forehead to the stone pavers. Katsuro's hand still hung there in mid-air, staring at her momentarily.
"Please forgive me, sama!" She begged. "I plead for your help."
Katsuro's brow furrowed slightly as he lowered his arm to his side. He finally realized that her obi was not intentionally spotted crimson as some were, but almost completely stained by her own blood, flowing freely from a wound on her side. "Kenichi," Katsuro ordered. "Summon a healer, immidiately!" Kenichi only nodded in reply, rushing down the stairs. Better to follow the daimyo's strange orders and prosper, than to question them and suffer the consequences.
Katsuro reached his arm out towards her again, but feeling his touch upon her shoulder, she shrunk away. "Sama, death has come for me." Already he could hear the weakness of death in her voice. "But have mercy upon my child. He shall never survive the trip to Kyodao. No Saku'rai would dare spare any compassion for such an orphan, not if it meant any increased hardship upon themselves. Please, my lord!... Please, Katsuro-sama!"
Katsuro looked to the bundle, noticing movement beneath the linen cloth. Reaching down, he peeled back the white sheets to reveal a blue-eyed infant. The child began to cry. The daimyo reached out, lifting up the infant and the linen cloth, holding the infant gently in his arms in an attempt to sooth his sobbing.
"What is his name?" Katsuro asked.
"Kenshin."
"Heart of the Sword." Katsuro murmured, taking her hand with his left, rising to his feet. She raised her head, her eyes following his. "The healer shall arrive shortly to heal you of your wounds." He did not notice the approaching figure, sneaking up behind him.
"My lord, look out!"
Katsuro turned, just in time to see a man garbed completely in black cloth, wearing the mask of a ninja, swing his katana at him. The daimyo, with barely enough time to react, instinctively threw his shoulder against the ninja, turning so that the infant was guarded from the attack. The blade only barely missed its mark. Katsuro cried out in pain as the ninja's blade sliced a line across Katsuro's face, cutting into the daimyo's right eye. He lurched backwards, the ninja preparing for another swipe.
"NO!" the woman cried out, leaping up protectively in front of the man who held her son. The ninja did not stop for her, slicing through her stomach in a quick swipe, then backhanding her with his right hand, knocking her aside. The assassin stepped forward, raising his sword above his head to strike the killing blow to the Lord of Kyoten. Katsuro fell to one knee before the ninja, but despite the searing pain in his head, he curled his body over the infant protectively.
The ninja froze before he could attack, looking down at the blade driven through his back, emerging forth from his stomach. Kenichi stood behind the ninja, ripping his no-dachi free, knocking the ninja aside. With another swipe of his curved long-sword, the daimyo's nephew beheaded the ninja who had fallen upon his back.
Katsuro fell face-forward into the ground, the infant gently landing on the stone pavers beside him. Katsuro managed to open his left eye, looking in the direction of the Saku'rai woman. She lay not far before him on her back, coughing, blood flowing freely from a new wound in her abdomen. He reached his hand out to her, attempting to crawl forward.
"Someone help her!" He yelled. Everything blacked out...
"I had hoped it would not come to this."
Hirokami Katsuro scanned the burning village below him from his vantage point on the outer wall, his left hand resting on the hilt of his sheathed katana. Black plumes of smoke rose skyward, the sulfurous stench burning his nostrils, making it difficult not to cough. For a moment, he closed his eyes, letting out a deep sigh. Such evil had seemed a necessity not so long ago, and yet now the shame of it was almost unbearable. The dreams of glory and battle were a stark contrast to the casualty and sorrows of death and war.
"Why?" a voice sounded beside the daimyo. His nephew and second-in-command, Hirokami Kenichi. Kenichi wore the black and gold armor of a Samurai, matching Katsuro's own, except for the black jin-baori Katsuro wore over his armor. "These people are nothing but uncivilized savages, half-breeds, worthy not of our respect nor our compassion."
Katsuro remained silent as he watched the flickering flames below, and the procession of women and children out through the gates not far to the west. These "savages", the Saku'rai, were distant cousins of the Kyoten, but had been shunned for many years by Katsuro's people due to centuries of Saku'rai mixing with the barbaric seafarers who dwelled upon the northern isles. It was this rejection, this animosity, that had caused these people to eventually rise up against the oppressive Kyoten, raiding outlying farms and villages with increasing frequency in the past year. They were savages and murderers indeed, Katsuro thought, but they had been pushed to that point by the cruelty of his own ancestors. Katsuro had never realized, until now, the levels of poverty and sickness the people here suffered all these years, while the people of Kyoten lived in prosperity. Yet Katsuro's actions had been ruled by the hatreds and lies ingrained into the people of Kyoten from childhood by their forefathers. The shame weighed heavily upon the daimyo as he watched them move slowly out through the gates, surrounded by armored pikemen, each and every one of them widows and orphans.
"Was this truely necisary, Kenichi?"
"Of course it was, Katsuro-sama. These savages have been raiding our farms and villages! They have assailed our trade ships directed for Zento. Now we have destroyed the last of their villages. The Saku'rai are no more." Katsuro nodded his head slightly, his left hand remaining on the hilt of his katana, running his thumb across it gently. How could he feel anger for his nephew? He had practically taught his nephew to hate the Saku'rai.
"My lord!" cried out a voice behind him. Katsuro turned, walking swiftly to the other side of the wall, Kenichi in tow. Below them, a steep stone stairway had been built into the side of the wall, leading right to where the daimyo and his nephew stood. Climbing those stairs was a woman, a auburn haired Saku'rai dressed in a pink kimono with flower patterns adorning the hem, and a intricate crimson-spotted obi wrapping around her stomach. In her arms she held something bundled in white linen cloth. Behind her, two bushi guards followed her swiftly, katana's drawn.
"Hold!" Katsuro shouted, gesturing for the two bushi to stop. They both did so immidiately, but both still gripped their blades tightly at the foot of the stairs, eyeing the Saku'rai woman climbing the stairs above them. After a moment, the woman finally made it to the top of the stairs, collapsing to her knees before Katsuro, short of breath. Kenichi prepared to walk towards her, anger in his eyes, but the daimyo extended his left arm, his hand stopping his nephew in his tracks. "No, Kenichi-san."
Katsuro's gaze shifted back towards the gasping woman as he removed the leather-plated gauntlets from his hands, kneeling before her. He placed a hand on her shoulder reassuringly, an act of kindness most daimyo would never have shown to a mere peasant. She finally regained composure for a moment, fear suddenly evident in her eyes. She laid the bundle before Katsuro, kneeling before him, touching her forehead to the stone pavers. Katsuro's hand still hung there in mid-air, staring at her momentarily.
"Please forgive me, sama!" She begged. "I plead for your help."
Katsuro's brow furrowed slightly as he lowered his arm to his side. He finally realized that her obi was not intentionally spotted crimson as some were, but almost completely stained by her own blood, flowing freely from a wound on her side. "Kenichi," Katsuro ordered. "Summon a healer, immidiately!" Kenichi only nodded in reply, rushing down the stairs. Better to follow the daimyo's strange orders and prosper, than to question them and suffer the consequences.
Katsuro reached his arm out towards her again, but feeling his touch upon her shoulder, she shrunk away. "Sama, death has come for me." Already he could hear the weakness of death in her voice. "But have mercy upon my child. He shall never survive the trip to Kyodao. No Saku'rai would dare spare any compassion for such an orphan, not if it meant any increased hardship upon themselves. Please, my lord!... Please, Katsuro-sama!"
Katsuro looked to the bundle, noticing movement beneath the linen cloth. Reaching down, he peeled back the white sheets to reveal a blue-eyed infant. The child began to cry. The daimyo reached out, lifting up the infant and the linen cloth, holding the infant gently in his arms in an attempt to sooth his sobbing.
"What is his name?" Katsuro asked.
"Kenshin."
"Heart of the Sword." Katsuro murmured, taking her hand with his left, rising to his feet. She raised her head, her eyes following his. "The healer shall arrive shortly to heal you of your wounds." He did not notice the approaching figure, sneaking up behind him.
"My lord, look out!"
Katsuro turned, just in time to see a man garbed completely in black cloth, wearing the mask of a ninja, swing his katana at him. The daimyo, with barely enough time to react, instinctively threw his shoulder against the ninja, turning so that the infant was guarded from the attack. The blade only barely missed its mark. Katsuro cried out in pain as the ninja's blade sliced a line across Katsuro's face, cutting into the daimyo's right eye. He lurched backwards, the ninja preparing for another swipe.
"NO!" the woman cried out, leaping up protectively in front of the man who held her son. The ninja did not stop for her, slicing through her stomach in a quick swipe, then backhanding her with his right hand, knocking her aside. The assassin stepped forward, raising his sword above his head to strike the killing blow to the Lord of Kyoten. Katsuro fell to one knee before the ninja, but despite the searing pain in his head, he curled his body over the infant protectively.
The ninja froze before he could attack, looking down at the blade driven through his back, emerging forth from his stomach. Kenichi stood behind the ninja, ripping his no-dachi free, knocking the ninja aside. With another swipe of his curved long-sword, the daimyo's nephew beheaded the ninja who had fallen upon his back.
Katsuro fell face-forward into the ground, the infant gently landing on the stone pavers beside him. Katsuro managed to open his left eye, looking in the direction of the Saku'rai woman. She lay not far before him on her back, coughing, blood flowing freely from a new wound in her abdomen. He reached his hand out to her, attempting to crawl forward.
"Someone help her!" He yelled. Everything blacked out...
