Post by WarderDragon on May 31, 2006 13:05:19 GMT -8
"Can I get you anything else, Kenichi-san?" murmured a sultry voice.
Sitting cross-legged upon the rough straw surface of a goza mat, Kenichi nearly gave a start as the voice spoke up so close behind him. He had heard no one coming. He shifted his brown eyes to his right, his alcohol-hazed visiage falling upon the brown cotton skirt of one of the tavern's waitresses. Attempting to blink the haze away, his gaze moved upward over the waitresses body. His eyes momentarily caught a glimpse of her face before suddenly shifting back down to her chest. His eyes widened significantly.
Such ample bosom! And practically hanging out of her shirt! "M...M...M..."
"Ahem! Kenichi-san?.. KENICHI-SAN! My face is not down there!"
"Oh yes, right! Sorry! My mistake!" He quickly shifted his gaze back up to a more appropriate level, taking in the womans features. Light brown hair tinged with gold streaks, and blue eyes. She looks familiar...
Kenichi quickly shifted his eyes away from the well-endowed waitress, who had obviously remembered his name from somewhere, to the table before him. Spilled Saki and empty bottles covered the polished surface, liqour dripping down the table-legs to the goza mat beneath it. For a moment, he considered licking up the liquid substance from the floor to save him some coin, but considering what some people do on these tables, he quickly dismissed the idea. One could never have too much Saki, but it wasnt worth that. But he would need to drink alot more before he could ignore the overwhelming stench of this waitresses bad perfume, no matter how pretty her clevage may be. Where did he remember her?
Raising his arm up in what appeared to to her to be a dismissive gesture, nearly falling over in the process, he waved her away. "No, I good." The waitress turned to see to another customer, when Kenichi realized that his gaze was not quite blurry enough for his tastes. "W-Wait! More Sak-eeeeee..." The girl turned around, bowing her head and reply, and then turned to go fetch his drink.
"Haven't you had enough, Kenichi?" said a younger man from across the table, sipping on a small glass of saki himself. Kenichi shifted his gaze to Shouro, smiling somewhat. The young man wasn't even old enough to shave, his raven-black hair held up in a style of top-knots common to young boys, and yet he was just as acustomed to such rough establishments as Kenichi had ever been. Kenichi smiled and nodded.
"When I slit my wrist and see saki coming out instead of crimson blood, then I shall know I have had enough."
Kenichi looked away, his blurred gaze shifting throughout the torch-lit room. The Three Rings was one of the roughest taverns in the entire city of Kyoten. Once it had been one of the most prestigious establishments here, founded nearly four centuries ago by what some say was a pointy-eared fellow - An Elf - who had travelled here through a portal from some place called Heartwood. Ha! What a bunch of rubbish. Elves don't exist! In the last few decades through, the tavern fell on rough times due to the relocation of the royal palace with the new Katsuro Shogunate, leaving only the dockworkers and forgieners as patrons; a far cry from the nobility that once frequented the establishment. Now under new ownership, it was almost more of a brothel for bandits and scoundrels than a tavern at all. Kenichi doesn't mind, though. Kenichi like brothels.
Kenichi's thoughts were suddenly disturbed by the sound of shattering glass and a loud thudding noise not far behind. Turning his attention to the aisle behind him, he saw the waitress who had been bringing him his saki attempting to push herself up from the floorboards, several large men growling at her from a nearby booth. And his saki was shattered all over the floor! Oh, woe is me! My misfortune great! He saw one of the men in a nearby booth slowly retracting his leg from the aisle, the leg that had tripped her.
One of the men from the booth beside her stood up, brushing off the wet stain on the front of his green hakama-shita, now covered in alcohol. He was a tall man, suprisingly well dressed to be frequenting such a place. His skin was pale, and his hair was slicked back, tied into a pony-tail that hung down his back to his waist. He carried a daisho, slipped through his belt, and his face was covered by a black leather mempo-mask, which was certainly odd. Walking towards the woman who had finally managed to get to her feet, he swung his arm out wide, backhanding her, sending her to the floor once more.
Kenichi stood up, a bit wobbily, placing his hand upon the hilt of his sheathed katana. "Leave her be."
The man turned around, his eyes narrowing. For some reason, despite the mask, Kenichi could tell the man was smiling. "Why should I? Sticking up for this little whore, drunk?" He laughed, an ominous echo eminating from behind the leather mask. "Come on, men. Lets leave this place." Turning around, he gave the woman another swift kick while she was down, and then began to proceed out the shoji door at the far end of the dining hall, three armed henchmen in tow.
"That bastard!" Kenichi stumbled over to the woman, kneeling beside her. "Are you ok?"
"Y-Yes." She choked.
"Shouro, make sure her ribs aren't broken. I will be right back." Kenichi pushed himself to his feet, running at a light pace out the door into the rain. Looking around for a moment, attempting to clear his senses, he finally spotted the four proceeding down an alleyway. He proceeded after them.
"Stop right there, honorless knaves!" The words sounded a little too noble, a little pathetic in Kenichi's ears, but it got the job done. The four men stopped in the tracks, and turned around to face the drunkard.
"Coming to avenge the whores honor? How noble of you!" The masked man laughed. "Come now, you can hardly stand. What do you think you can do? Challenge me to a duel and make me regret my words?" He laughed behind the mask.
"That is exactly what I intend to do," Kenichi roared angrily. "I challenge you, nameless one. We shall spar with bokuto, and see who wins. If I win, you appologize."
"Certainly. I always need practice. Kaigo?" One of the masked figured companions drew two bokuto from his sash, his only weapons, handing both to the masked man. Taking one, he tossed it into the air to Kenichi.
Kenichi, despite being barely able to focus, grabbed the bokuto out of the air, quickly swinging it in a flourish, moving into a defensive stance. The masked man smiled. He held his sword aloft, and suddenly charging past his guards, rushing forward to the attack. Kenichi dodged out of the way of the attack, his own wooden sword swinging to hit the back of the other mans knees. He was unsuccesful, the masked one using his momentum to leap into the air over the swing. He turned, swinging his bokuto back down at Kenichi's head as he landed, but Kenichi brought his sword up just in time, parrying the blow.
"Well done." The masked man said simply, before using his strength to fling both their swords from their hands. Before given the chance to react, the man drew his wakizashi from its sheath, pulling his arm back. Kenichi was given no time to react. The nameless one stabbed, shoving the short curved blade through Kenichi's chest.
Kenichi felt the blade slide between his ribs and through his lung like a lightning bolt in his chest. Every sensation in his body screamed pain. Only able to react instinctivly, he grabbed onto the masked man's mask, clawing his skin until able to get a firm grasp on the mask. He jerked, tearing the mask free. Kenichi gasped in shock as he looked upon the face. It was the Shogun's son, Sangura. Despite his desire to do something, to fight, he could only stand there. Kenichi finally understood. He had been provoked into this attack on purpose.
He collapsed backwards as Sangura shoved him off the blade of his wakizashi, falling back against the wooden wall of the alley. He slid down the wall into a seated position, vainly trying to cover the hole in his chest with his hand, trying to stop the blood that freely was flowing from his wound. He looked up.
"I am slain, Sangura, Son of Katsuro."
"So you recognize me?" He smiled in reply.
"I do, son of a crone! You have made me food for the worms, have assigned my soul to the River Styx. But so too shall you be lain beside me, and shall to have you entrails be feasted upon."
"Not likely." Sangura turned away, sheathing the blood soaked wakizashi. Gesturing for his guards to follow, he stode away from what now was a corpse.
Kenichi gasped for breath, too weak to lift himself up. "Fuujinn, that was her name. Poor girl." He groaned slightly, falling to his side.
Shouro knelt at the end of the alleyway, watching fearfully while his friend and companion died for a woman he didn't even know, and probably wouldn't even have remembered in a week. After seeing Sangura turned a corner, out of sight, he rushed forward to Kenichi's form. Kneeling in the mud beside his old friend, he felt the older man's neck for a life-pulse. Nothing.
"I have to find Kenshin! He will know what to do." Quickly he stood up, running down the alleyway in the direction he came.
Sitting cross-legged upon the rough straw surface of a goza mat, Kenichi nearly gave a start as the voice spoke up so close behind him. He had heard no one coming. He shifted his brown eyes to his right, his alcohol-hazed visiage falling upon the brown cotton skirt of one of the tavern's waitresses. Attempting to blink the haze away, his gaze moved upward over the waitresses body. His eyes momentarily caught a glimpse of her face before suddenly shifting back down to her chest. His eyes widened significantly.
Such ample bosom! And practically hanging out of her shirt! "M...M...M..."
"Ahem! Kenichi-san?.. KENICHI-SAN! My face is not down there!"
"Oh yes, right! Sorry! My mistake!" He quickly shifted his gaze back up to a more appropriate level, taking in the womans features. Light brown hair tinged with gold streaks, and blue eyes. She looks familiar...
Kenichi quickly shifted his eyes away from the well-endowed waitress, who had obviously remembered his name from somewhere, to the table before him. Spilled Saki and empty bottles covered the polished surface, liqour dripping down the table-legs to the goza mat beneath it. For a moment, he considered licking up the liquid substance from the floor to save him some coin, but considering what some people do on these tables, he quickly dismissed the idea. One could never have too much Saki, but it wasnt worth that. But he would need to drink alot more before he could ignore the overwhelming stench of this waitresses bad perfume, no matter how pretty her clevage may be. Where did he remember her?
Raising his arm up in what appeared to to her to be a dismissive gesture, nearly falling over in the process, he waved her away. "No, I good." The waitress turned to see to another customer, when Kenichi realized that his gaze was not quite blurry enough for his tastes. "W-Wait! More Sak-eeeeee..." The girl turned around, bowing her head and reply, and then turned to go fetch his drink.
"Haven't you had enough, Kenichi?" said a younger man from across the table, sipping on a small glass of saki himself. Kenichi shifted his gaze to Shouro, smiling somewhat. The young man wasn't even old enough to shave, his raven-black hair held up in a style of top-knots common to young boys, and yet he was just as acustomed to such rough establishments as Kenichi had ever been. Kenichi smiled and nodded.
"When I slit my wrist and see saki coming out instead of crimson blood, then I shall know I have had enough."
Kenichi looked away, his blurred gaze shifting throughout the torch-lit room. The Three Rings was one of the roughest taverns in the entire city of Kyoten. Once it had been one of the most prestigious establishments here, founded nearly four centuries ago by what some say was a pointy-eared fellow - An Elf - who had travelled here through a portal from some place called Heartwood. Ha! What a bunch of rubbish. Elves don't exist! In the last few decades through, the tavern fell on rough times due to the relocation of the royal palace with the new Katsuro Shogunate, leaving only the dockworkers and forgieners as patrons; a far cry from the nobility that once frequented the establishment. Now under new ownership, it was almost more of a brothel for bandits and scoundrels than a tavern at all. Kenichi doesn't mind, though. Kenichi like brothels.
Kenichi's thoughts were suddenly disturbed by the sound of shattering glass and a loud thudding noise not far behind. Turning his attention to the aisle behind him, he saw the waitress who had been bringing him his saki attempting to push herself up from the floorboards, several large men growling at her from a nearby booth. And his saki was shattered all over the floor! Oh, woe is me! My misfortune great! He saw one of the men in a nearby booth slowly retracting his leg from the aisle, the leg that had tripped her.
One of the men from the booth beside her stood up, brushing off the wet stain on the front of his green hakama-shita, now covered in alcohol. He was a tall man, suprisingly well dressed to be frequenting such a place. His skin was pale, and his hair was slicked back, tied into a pony-tail that hung down his back to his waist. He carried a daisho, slipped through his belt, and his face was covered by a black leather mempo-mask, which was certainly odd. Walking towards the woman who had finally managed to get to her feet, he swung his arm out wide, backhanding her, sending her to the floor once more.
Kenichi stood up, a bit wobbily, placing his hand upon the hilt of his sheathed katana. "Leave her be."
The man turned around, his eyes narrowing. For some reason, despite the mask, Kenichi could tell the man was smiling. "Why should I? Sticking up for this little whore, drunk?" He laughed, an ominous echo eminating from behind the leather mask. "Come on, men. Lets leave this place." Turning around, he gave the woman another swift kick while she was down, and then began to proceed out the shoji door at the far end of the dining hall, three armed henchmen in tow.
"That bastard!" Kenichi stumbled over to the woman, kneeling beside her. "Are you ok?"
"Y-Yes." She choked.
"Shouro, make sure her ribs aren't broken. I will be right back." Kenichi pushed himself to his feet, running at a light pace out the door into the rain. Looking around for a moment, attempting to clear his senses, he finally spotted the four proceeding down an alleyway. He proceeded after them.
"Stop right there, honorless knaves!" The words sounded a little too noble, a little pathetic in Kenichi's ears, but it got the job done. The four men stopped in the tracks, and turned around to face the drunkard.
"Coming to avenge the whores honor? How noble of you!" The masked man laughed. "Come now, you can hardly stand. What do you think you can do? Challenge me to a duel and make me regret my words?" He laughed behind the mask.
"That is exactly what I intend to do," Kenichi roared angrily. "I challenge you, nameless one. We shall spar with bokuto, and see who wins. If I win, you appologize."
"Certainly. I always need practice. Kaigo?" One of the masked figured companions drew two bokuto from his sash, his only weapons, handing both to the masked man. Taking one, he tossed it into the air to Kenichi.
Kenichi, despite being barely able to focus, grabbed the bokuto out of the air, quickly swinging it in a flourish, moving into a defensive stance. The masked man smiled. He held his sword aloft, and suddenly charging past his guards, rushing forward to the attack. Kenichi dodged out of the way of the attack, his own wooden sword swinging to hit the back of the other mans knees. He was unsuccesful, the masked one using his momentum to leap into the air over the swing. He turned, swinging his bokuto back down at Kenichi's head as he landed, but Kenichi brought his sword up just in time, parrying the blow.
"Well done." The masked man said simply, before using his strength to fling both their swords from their hands. Before given the chance to react, the man drew his wakizashi from its sheath, pulling his arm back. Kenichi was given no time to react. The nameless one stabbed, shoving the short curved blade through Kenichi's chest.
Kenichi felt the blade slide between his ribs and through his lung like a lightning bolt in his chest. Every sensation in his body screamed pain. Only able to react instinctivly, he grabbed onto the masked man's mask, clawing his skin until able to get a firm grasp on the mask. He jerked, tearing the mask free. Kenichi gasped in shock as he looked upon the face. It was the Shogun's son, Sangura. Despite his desire to do something, to fight, he could only stand there. Kenichi finally understood. He had been provoked into this attack on purpose.
He collapsed backwards as Sangura shoved him off the blade of his wakizashi, falling back against the wooden wall of the alley. He slid down the wall into a seated position, vainly trying to cover the hole in his chest with his hand, trying to stop the blood that freely was flowing from his wound. He looked up.
"I am slain, Sangura, Son of Katsuro."
"So you recognize me?" He smiled in reply.
"I do, son of a crone! You have made me food for the worms, have assigned my soul to the River Styx. But so too shall you be lain beside me, and shall to have you entrails be feasted upon."
"Not likely." Sangura turned away, sheathing the blood soaked wakizashi. Gesturing for his guards to follow, he stode away from what now was a corpse.
Kenichi gasped for breath, too weak to lift himself up. "Fuujinn, that was her name. Poor girl." He groaned slightly, falling to his side.
Shouro knelt at the end of the alleyway, watching fearfully while his friend and companion died for a woman he didn't even know, and probably wouldn't even have remembered in a week. After seeing Sangura turned a corner, out of sight, he rushed forward to Kenichi's form. Kneeling in the mud beside his old friend, he felt the older man's neck for a life-pulse. Nothing.
"I have to find Kenshin! He will know what to do." Quickly he stood up, running down the alleyway in the direction he came.