Fan Fiction ❯ Mitsurugi: Samurai ❯ Chapter V ( Chapter 5 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Mitsurugi: Samurai
Chapter V

Note: I am well aware this is a bit different from the SC story line, but I don’t care and think this is much better. So do not tell me about how this contends with SC history.


“What do you mean we lost?!”
“Well, sire, it was a-a-a samurai.”
“Of course it would be, isn’t that what our armies are made up of?”
“No sire, this wasn’t any samurai. This one, he started in the front line, in center. He was surely to die from arrows or samurai, but he did not. He fought through the masses, sweeping his sword side to side, up to down he killed our men. He fought through and through until he met with our general.”
“He did not…”
“He did, sire. It was insanity after that. This samurai, he fought through men as if-as if they were wheat and he the farmer. It was amazing.”
**********
“We lost! But how?”
“It-it was a-a,”
“A what?”
“A demon! He shot fiery arrows lit by hell itself from afar, but when we met with his awful, evil sword, he reaped through our men. Arrows from hell! Sword from evil gods! We cannot defeat this! He will surely over take our castle! Kill us all! The demon! He will come like a swift breeze through the open window and kill us all!”
“Guards! Take this fool away and lock him up with a sword!”
**********
“A ‘one man army’ you say?”
“Yes, he has never been on the losing side of a battle. Many men fear him through these places. Rumors have spread that he is a demon here to reap souls. A few men have been driven to insanity and committed seppuku to save their souls out of fear.”
“I see. I think this is the man we need. Go and find him!”
**********
It had been three years since he left Bizen. His mind had often wandered back there and mingled on the memories of Master Shonto, his family, Taka. But they soon went away, buried under the blood of too many battlefields. And now, he kept them there by drowning them with sake.
“More sake!”Mitsurugi yelled. There were many geisha around him, complementing him frequently, but he didn’t notice. He had been to these places so many times, all there compliments and faces slurred into one. Even the one’s he was interested in were nothing but a façade to distract while they reached into his money pile.
“Master Mitsurugi, a man is here to see you.”
“Let us see this man! Let us see if he is truly worthy of being in my presence! The great Mitsurugi of Japan! Eh, girls? Let him in, let him in. I said let him in!”
The places owner run off quickly and a man tall, lanky man walked in, holding a note in his hand.
“My master wishes to meet with you.”
“Tell him I have enough money! I do not need his now.”

“He said, it would be in your be in your best interest to…”
“Leave! Before you too meet the legendary edge of my sword!”
The man bowed and walked. Mitsurugi laughed, and returned to his pleasures.
**********
The night was harsh, by both weather and dreams. Mitsurugi rolled back and forth in his bed, his mind tormented by memories. This was the irony of sake and war, they hid his memories from his waking mind but harshly ravaged his sleeping mind. His grip around his sword tightened and he wished but once he could sleep without these dreams, no nightmares, no that they never happened at all.
But, unbeknownst to the samurai, three silent figures fell through a hole in the roof and silently landed in the middle of the tavern room. They were dressed in black, each armed with a different but deadly weapon. One with a chigiriki, a mace like weapon, one with a bo or staff, and one with neko-te, or iron fingernails.
The one with the bo crept slowly and carefully to the bed, then stood over the samurai silently with his staff raised in the air, then quickly began to bring down onto his face. At the last second, with the staff ten inches away from his face, Korefuji rose from his restful place and sliced the staff then stabbed the attacker of his owner. Mitsurugi began to rise out of bed, but had to duck when the chigiriki swung towards his head. Then he rose his sword up to let the weapon wrap around, then pulled the man towards him and stabbed him with his sword. Seeing his comrades fall in a matter of seconds, the third began to escape out the hole in the ceiling, but Mitsurugi, now standing, threw his sword into his back and the deserter fell to the ground.
Mitsurugi lit a lamp and examined the dead men. “Ninja,” he searched their bodies for clues, and on the third man’s he found an invitation.

Master Mitsurugi
You are invited to a tea with the Daimyo Kunimitsu.
Please accept or do you think you can stand them that long?

Mitsurugi crumpled up the paper and hurled towards the wall and watched it bounce off and onto the floor. Not as satisfying as a solid object. He sat on the bed and pondered the situation, deciding whether he should accept or not. If this daimyo was bluffing, if he could withstand these attacks for such a time.
**********
Mitsurugi slowly sipped his tea, his eyes scanning the room. He didn’t trust this daimyo. His eyes were to confident, to proud, to strong. They reminded him of someone else he used to know, or hate.
“So, Master Mitsurugi, what brings you to my humble castle?”
It must have been some kind of gloatful joke. His castle was large with over fifteen gates.
“You invited me.”
“Of, yes, how could I have forgotten. I am sorry if my techniques are a bit…abnormal, but you gave me no choice.”
“I gave one, to leave me be.”
“I shall pretend you did not disrespect me. Now, I need your assistance in an attack.”
“I am well aware of what you want. I have been told. The Manji Clan is peaceful and wishes not to participate in this time of war, and this is something I give great respect. I will not help you ambush them.”
“Do you worry of their fighting prowess? I have their greatest warrior in my castle, unable to escape. Yoshimitsu shall be not trouble at all.”
“Whether we win or not is not the trouble, it is my honor that is. I will not attack a peaceful clan unaware.”
“Well, then. If that is your answer, I beg of you to stay. Rest at my castle for the night before you leave in the morning.”
“Very well.”

Mitsurugi did not sleep. His mind went over the conversation at the tea very carefully. He did not trust this Kunimitsu. His eyes never turned to any anger when he refused, yet he had tried to kill him when Mitsurugi refused his first invitation. No, tonight he sat with his sword in hand.
The morning came rather quickly. Mitsurugi heard a cheer and the footsteps of a thousand men. He looked out the window to see the daimyo’s armies leaving towards Mt. Fuji.
“Such dishonor.” Then he heard footsteps in the hallway.
“First, we kill the Manji warrior, then the samurai.” When Mitsurugi heard this, his stay was over. He tried to leave, but his door was locked, then he heard to screams and footsteps. Then his door flew open and he barely dodged a sword which kept swinging until he blocked and held it with his own blade. Then, he saw into the eyes of the warrior. Yoshimitsu.
He knew the plan, he knew of what was happening, his clan was about to be slaughtered. His master, his friends, his family, and perhaps his love was about to leave him forever. If he could, a tear would of escaped Mitsurugi’s eye. Then, there was an odd moment of salience, for both now knew the other’s pain, but both being kept from sharing by a warrior’s silence.
Then the Manji lowered his sword and ran. Mitsurugi sat on his bed, and tried to remember sadness as memories flooded back to his mind.
An unknown warrior had revived this samurai heart.