futures and pasts: Japan

They stood together, hooded and clad in black each with a hand to the hilt of a sword. Two tall, straight backed warriors, standing outside the throne room doors, preparing to throw them wide open and charge into the throne room beyond. One laid a hand upon the door, but the other reached out and touched them on the shoulder. They stopped to look at each other, and the second figure threw back it's hood.

Her raven hair tumbled loose in darkly shimmering waves while her ivory skin shone in the gloom of the hallway. She turned her sea green eyes towards the hidden face of her accomplice.

“No more hiding in the shadows now,” she said softly.

“As My Lady commands,” he replied in an accented whisper. His command of her language was great, but he might never lose the flavour of his native tongue from his speech. He threw back his hood and she had to bite her lip once again as she was reminded of what they stood to lose. So they stood there and took one, possibly final, look into each others eyes.

She looked into his eyes and remembered summer skies and laughter on the steeply sloping mountainsides where they had first met. They had known then that their time would be short, and that war was set to send their lives spinning far apart again, for they walked very different paths in the world beyond their mountain idyll.

But she had fallen in love with him in spite of herself, in spite of every warning written across her soul that it could not, should not be, in spite of the grave danger it could certainly plunge them both into.

And why? It wasn't simply the way his dark eyes consumed her, the way his golden skin seemed to have trapped the light of the sun in it, the way his soft black hair seemed to make his beautiful face human, rather than divine. There was the deep respect she had come to feel for his abilities, his intelligence and his masterful skill with the blade, the way he could make her laugh and the simple joy that she found she could be completely herself in his company. No more hiding in the shadows....

There were other reasons too, unfathomable reasons that no words could easily describe. These were more to do with the way it felt to fight with him at her back, or to ride with him at her side. She felt much more complete with him there.

He reached out for her sword hand and brought it to his lips, keeping his eyes on hers.

“Are you ready now, My Lady?” he asked her. He knew she wasn't afraid, she didn't seem to understand fear, but he knew there was still turbulence underneath that mask of calm. He alone knew that she was a woman of passion, so he knew she needed this moment in which to prepare for the coming battle.

She saw the spark in his eyes and felt it's echo in her heart. She was calm, clear minded, stilled, and brimming with blood full of fire. She nodded and he turned and threw back the doors.

The many faces of the court snapped round, hands flying to the hilts of swords. She could smell paranoia and suspicion thick in the air. She took a deep breath in of it, examining it's poison so that she could know it and defend herself against it. There were many renowned swordsmen in that room.

“Master, I must speak with you,” she called out, not entering the court but waiting outside the door. Courtesy demanded it.

“Sakuro! You have ridden ahead of the messengers! Did the battle go ill?” Her master, the Shogun demanded, rising from his throne opposite the doors. He was pale and shaken to see her before him, as if he had not expected to see her ever again. He had not yet seen the sack by her feet, the one that was damp still, and oozed a little blood onto the floor .

“Master, I bring you word of the battle,” she said, then stooped down to pick up the sack and added, “ and a gift from the battlefield,”

He noticed it then, because she raised it high so that all in sight of the doorway could see it. There was fear leaping from his eyes as he looked at it. Then she stormed towards him, her lover following her, giving dark looks to the courtiers. They leapt back out of her way, parting like waves between her and the Shogun. The Shogun met the look of fury in her eyes and staggered back a few paces, stumbling clumsily over his throne. He didn't even register the loose waves of her hair, which should have been bound tightly into the Samurai topknot, and the way it so blatantly revealed her femininity, although there were those among the court that did, and who pointed and looked aghast.

“Master look! “ one of the Shoguns advisers yelled out, “She has dishonoured us all by masquerading as a man for all this time. It cannot be tolerated!” Angry sounds of agreement rippled around the court.

“It is incredible that you have bested the ninja, you were not meant to survive!” the Shogun exclaimed, all his thought on the highly dangerous woman before him. He knew better than they did about her.

“I know, Shogun. This man, “ and she ripped the head out of the sack then, almost spitting with wrath as she spoke, “told me how you meant for me to die, just before he died,”

There was a gasp from the court then, for the head she held high was none less than the head of Master Shinkai, the Master Ninja of the most infamous school in Japan, the Shadows of Fuji. It was commonly believed he was unkillable, but here was proof that it had been done. The Shogun stared in outright horror at the head.

“I knew it was an affront to my honour when you gave me this assignment, Master, but now in my hands I have proof of your treachery,” She reached into the mouth of Master Shinkai's severed head and pulled out the Shoguns coin with her name written on the back. The ritual first payment given to a Ninja for an assassination. She threw the coin and the head to the ground and put her hand to the hilt of her sword. It pulsed in response to her anger. She raised her voice again.

“Master, I have hundreds of men travelling this way, returning, from Mount Fuji. They will arrive at the city gates within hours. Along the coast I have boatloads of Chinese mercenaries and Pirates who are but waiting for my summons. It would be wisdom for you to surrender to me now, rather than risk a war,” although it was very clear from the hard tone of her voice what she preferred.

The Shogun stared at her with wild eyes. He pointed agitatedly at her a few times, then found his voice.

“Kill her! ”

Only the true warriors stepped forward to obey the Shoguns command, the battle hardened Samurai. Everyone else shrank back. Woman or not, her reputation preceded her, and of course, she was fighting with her Chinese warrior beside her, and his reputation preceded him almost as easily.

“Which of you is willing to gamble your life on the chance that you can best me?” she asked them now, as they ranged out before her. Every face was familiar, many she had trained with, many she had fought beside and all knew full well what kind of warrior she was. Perhaps they were fooling themselves that they could beat her now that they knew she was a woman, as if that somehow weakened her. None of them replied to her, except by drawing their swords.

Seven blades, sparking with electricity and pulsing with a gentle hum. Seven blades so sharp that they could cut through rock and metal like butter, let alone flesh and bone. Seven blades, poised in the air before her, waiting to drink of her blood.

She drew her own with a soft hiss, and behind her she heard the voice of her lovers sword as he drew it. Her sword was before her, and she became one with it and it's immense power. No other weapon made across the whole Solar System could best the Samurai Blade, and no Samurai could best her. In that moment, she was the most powerful being revolving around the Sun, and those before her were about to pay with their lives for standing in the way of her wrath.

She stood her ground, her lover beside her and as one the Samurai charged at them. Their blades hissed and spat as their Electro fields ionised the air, and the men roared, focusing their ki in the ancient way.

He would remember for ever how she had appeared during that fight. Dragon fire had burned in her eyes as she waited for the Samurai to close with her, her body held in perfect stillness, like a wave in the very moment before it is about to crash. Sparks flew, reflected in her glossy black hair as dancing lights. She let her ki-ai out as she clashed blades with the first Samurai to meet her, and he rebounded, thrown back with force enough to knock him straight off his feet. Already though she was sweeping back round with her blade, slicing a second Samurai and landing a kick on a third. Blood sprayed in an arc and splashed her pale cheek with scarlet.

Then he was drawn into the fight himself, and for a few moments he lost her in the melee. Then there she was again, slicing open the back of a Samurai who was attacking him, the rage of a she-tiger radiating from her, forcing the remaining Samurai to back away.

As they stood back to back, while the Samurai circled like sharks around them, he could feel her warmth, and drew strength from it. He glanced at her, marking the stray strands of hair that were stuck to her face by the blood of their foes, feeling as much as seeing her calm and the unblinking focus in her eyes.

“What are you waiting for?” the Shogun yelled, growing impatient. Obediently the Samurai closed again, only to find that the lovers fought together like a whirlwind of blades, making it impossible for the Samurai to get close enough to mark them. Suddenly they cartwheeled in opposite directions, whirling past the Samurai and slicing the nearest ones. The lovers finished the ones they felled as they turned back to the surviviors.

From seven, only three now remained. She knelt, watching them over the bladed curve of her sword, while they watched the steady crimson trickle that fell from it. Then suddenly she leaped towards them, and with two quick cuts of her sword, only one Samurai remained. He fell a second later with her lovers sword in his back.

Then she was up and moving swiftly towards the Shogun. He screamed for his guards, but she leapt at him, grabbed him by his top knot, dragged him to the ground and put her sword blade to his throat. There were shrieks in the court, tearing apart the frightened silence that had held while they fought the Samurai.

“Stay back,” she snarled at the guards who were approaching nervously.

“I will pardon you!” the shogun gasped, desperate for his life.

“No,” she told him coldly, “You are no longer worthy to be called Master,”

futures and pasts

Tuesday, 7 December 2010

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Betrayed