Fan Fiction ❯ Yasha: Saga of the She-Devil ❯ Tale One - The Soul of an Angel ( Chapter 1 )

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Yasha

Saga of the She-Devil

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Tale One: "The Soul of an Angel"

The sun rose in the east. The first rays of the shining light sparkled across the horizon. As they cascaded through drops of freshly collected dew that had formed overnight, dull rainbows spread across the land. These transparent rays caused the fields of the Mazushii property. They traced the beaten dirt roads that acted as borders. They raced across the fields of rice and browning grass that provided food and a living for the Mazushii family. Finally, the traveling beams traced their way to a secluded cliff, obscured by scattered bushes.

Otomo Mazushii stood in the light of the new dawn. The virgin rays warmed her young, nubile body. She stood in concentration as she held the old katana blade steadily in front of her. Her hands grasped the carved ivory and in-laden jade without wavering. The polished steel blade sparkled in the sun. The light reflected onto her short and simple white kimono, the extent of which ended two hands' lengths from her knees.

Suddenly, she moved. The blade arced in her hands and it whistled as the air was cleaved. It swam and dove with Otomo's artful slices. She moved as if she and the sword were one. She sliced forward in a circle, and her body followed suit. She flipped and spun and jumped with the blade. It was as if she was involved in an intricate dance of metal and light. She continued the dance until the sun had raised its full form away from the horizon.

Otomo stopped. She looked back to the east. As she saw the sun in all its glory, she wiped the sweat from her brow. She let out a sigh as her muscles relaxed. Otomo walked slowly over to the end of the ledge. With her free hand, Otomo pulled at the satin belt that held her kimono together. It fell gently at her sides. Her naked body glistened as the sunlight hit her sweat-laden body. She took the kimono from the ground around her and gently wrapped it around her katana blade. With the parcel in hand, she walked to the very edge of the promontory. She threw the parcel through the air. The blade fell slowly but with great precision. It landed forty feet below on a tuft of lush, green grass. It was a mere meter away from a large tepid pool of crystal clear water. This pool lay at the base of a great waterfall, the mouth of which lay from just below the ledge where Otomo stood.

Otomo spread her arms and pushed off from the edge. As if in slow motion, her beautiful, perfect body fell towards the pool below. The wind billowed against her long, black hair and whipped across her nude form. As she approached the water below, Otomo entered and made the slightest ripple. She soon resurfaced, water plastering her hair against her smooth, round face. The cool water felt good against her body. Her hands rubbed over herself as she became accustomed to the water. Her hands cupped together and brought fresh water against her face. She traced down her face with her fingertips. She passed her neck and continued to her supple breasts. Her hands kneaded and massaged her full bosom as she closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling. As her right hand continued to tease her erect nipples, her other hand snaked down her body into the cool water. Her hand traced down between her legs. Her fingers played gently with the supple flesh of her labia. Otomo gasped slightly as she enjoyed the wonderful feel of her hands on her own body.

The air roared with a thunderous boom. Otomo instantly snapped out of her trance. She looked to the air. From behind the promontory could be seen a slowly rising pillar of smoke. Otomo quickly swam over to the edge of the pool and climbed out. She reached for the bundle she had thrown and quickly unwrapped her kimono from the blade. She threw the robe over herself and began to run, sword in hand, up the path that lead back up to the promontory and beyond.

"The farm!" she cried to herself. "I've got to get back there." A feeling of dread began to gather inside the pit of her stomach. Her legs pumped wildly as she ran back through the grass and the rice, water still dripping from her hair.

As she continued through the fields, Otomo approached upon her family homestead. A large, billowing column of smoke rose from a heap in front of the house. Otomo slowed upon her approach, her fingers tightening on the handle of the blade. This was a hollow gesture; she didn't know how to use the katana in battle. She saw the sword as a tool in an intricate dance. She marveled at its weight and shape, and the way it flew through the air… but she could not wield it as a weapon.

"Otomo!" cried a voice from the building, "Run away!" She realized to whom the voice belonged - Shimai, her sister. As she realized this, she saw a large group of armed men mounted on horses coming into view from behind the house. They had been hiding.

As Otomo reached the house, the men surrounded her. She saw one of them - dismounted from his horse - throw her aging grandfather onto the ground in front of her. He was bleeding from bruises and cuts along her wrinkled, age-worn face.

"Ojisan!" cried Otomo. As she said this, another man, holding a chain which bound her younger sister, appeared. Another dismounted soldier grabbed the sword gruffly from her hand. She didn't struggle; she knew that it would've been a stupid and futile struggle.

"I told you to run," stated Shimai sullenly. "You never listen to me."

"What are you doing here!?" Otomo asked to the men. She looked over all of them, looking for a response.

Finally, a large man the size of a young red oak made his way from behind the men. He stepped forward with a saunter in his walk. He was covered from head to toe in war armor. A large broadsword was attached to a scabbard at his side. His face was rough and ugly.

"Well, well," he said in a gravely, abrasive voice. "What do we have here?" His fingers brushed away some wet hair from the side of Otomo's head. She winced, but did nothing. "And what is your name, my dear?"

Otomo hesitated. "O-Otomo Mazushii." She looked over to her bleeding and collapsed grandfather. "What have you done to him!?" she cried, tears forming in her eyes.

The large man glanced over to the elderly man nonchalantly. "Him? He refused to cooperate. I decided he needed some persuading." He turned back to Otomo. "Otomo. Such an ugly name for such a… beautiful young woman."

Otomo ignored his comment. "What do you want with him… with us!?"

He sneered. "Do you know who I am, girl?" He inflated his chest. "I am Zan'nin, the Lord of the Eastern Lands!"

"Warlord is more like it," Otomo mumbled defiantly.

Suddenly, Zan'nin grabbed her by the throat and lifted her off the ground. "I am Zan'nin! Lord of the Eastern Lands! I have decimated armies! Pillaged villages and raped whole countries! You will address me with respect!!!" He threw her back down to the earth.

Otomo landed hard against the ground. Her kimono had come partially undone and one of her bountiful breasts spilled out. She rubbed her throat and glared back up at Zan'nin. But this time, the defiance had faded from her eyes, and had been replaced by fear.

"Now," began Zan'nin in a more diplomatic fashion. "I was simply passing through on my way to the Southern Lands, on a campaign as it were. And me and my men happened across this… shack of yours. Since you are, undoubtedly, loyal subjects to your Lord and Master Zan'nin, I planned to do what we will with your lands and," he glanced over at Shimai, "have our fun. Then leave."

Otomo closed her eyes and a tear ran down her cheek. She knew what Zan'nin and his raiders meant by "fun." She had seen the desolation of the Rinjin Homestead. The burning crops, the mutilated cattle… the dead bodies. The Zan'nin Raiders occupied a farm, raped the women, killed the men, and moved on. Before they left, they would leave a permanent reminder of their stay: three acres of scorched earth. But as Otomo cried, she cried not because she feared what they would do to her… but what they would do to her beloved Ojisan and her sister Shimai. In a moment of clarity, Otomo knew what she had to do.

"Take me, " she said.

"What?" Zan'nin smiled and raised an eyebrow. He was interested and mildly amused.

"You may use me, take me, whatever you like. But leave my family and the farm alone." She stood up now, pulling her kimono back over herself.

"Actually," Zan'nin said with a devilish smile. With a flick of his hand, he opened up Otomo's kimono again. "I was planning on doing that anyway. But I am rather amused by your spirit." He paused for a moment. "On the other hand, my three wives are back in the Far East, and have yet to produce a viable heir. I will be in the South for some months, and I do not wish to sire a bastard child with my concubines."

Otomo's eyes widened in fear.

"Very well," Zan'nin said, as if he had won a silent argument. "I will spare your grandfather, sister, and the 'farm.' But in return, you will become my wife and will leave this place. Forever." The way he said it, it was not a proposition, but a statement.

"No!" Shimai spoke up. "Don't do it, Otomo! It's not worth it!" Tears were streaming down her face as she struggle against the chains that bound her.

Otomo pulled her kimono back over herself. Silently, she walked over to where her grandfather lay and her sister stood, bound. She looked similar to Otomo, though her hair fell only to her shoulders. She was fifteen, while her older sister was three years older.

"I've got to," she explained in a soothing, calm voice. "It's the only way."

"No!" The voice was strained and weak.

Otomo turned back to look at her prone grandfather. He stirred from a pool of his own blood. Weakly, he stood up. He only stood roughly three feet tall, and the hair on his head had been relocated to his eyebrows and his flowing mustache. The gray hair had been dyed red from the excess loss of blood.

"You… mustn't… go… with… him!" His breathing was heavy.

Otomo walked over to her Ojisan. "No, Grandpa. I have to." She sighed, holding back the tears. "When mother and father died, I was only five. You took me and Shimai in. You raised us. Protected us. Now, I must return the favor. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

Ojisan tried to object, but his energy was spent. He closed his eyes and lowered his head. He knew that there was no way he could change her mind. A tear rolled down his cheek. Not one of sadness, but one of joy and pride. It warmed his heart that Otomo was selflessly sacrificing herself for him.

"Come now!" ordered Zan'nin. "We set out for the South Lands now!"

"My katana," ordered Otomo. "That sword was my father's. It is mine now. Give it back."

Zan'nin silently glanced over to the raider who held the beautiful blade. With a nod, the soldier threw the sword at Otomo. Silently, and without turning to look, she grabbed it by the handle in mid-air.

"Come," order Zan'nin. He grabbed Otomo by the arm, not violently, but just strong enough to lead her. They marched to a covered wagon at the head of the mounted army. Zan'nin lifted her up and threw her into the wagon. He jumped in behind her.

Forcing her onto her back, Zan'nin ripped aside her soiled white kimono. Otomo's full breasts toppled out. She whimpered at the suddenness of it. Zan'nin dropped his pants as the wagon began to move. He grinned with wild lust as he held his erect penis in his hand.

Silently, he shoved the throbbing member deep inside Otomo. She gasped as her hymen was violently broken. Zan'nin didn't care. He continued to pump himself inside her. Violently, he slammed his penis insider his new acquisition.

"Yeah!" he grunted as his tongue began to lick and suck and bite at Otomo's nipples. "Now, you're mine!"

The tears began to flow from her eyes. She didn't feel the pain of her lost virginity, for she had distanced herself mentally from that. Instead, she cried for her grandfather and her sister. She cried because she knew she would never be with them again. She cried because the sun was covered by clouds, and the rainbows had gone.

TO BE CONTINUED…

(NEXT: DEALS WITH A DEVIL)