When Souls Scream

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When Souls Scream

Unread postby Minion » June 8th, 2012, 11:22 pm

I was recently inspired as I read articles in Superhero Nation, so in the last four days I wrote the first chapter in a series that's been floating in my head for 5 years or so. It's still a working title but for now I'm calling it When Souls Scream.
Spoiler: show
“Seven samurai killed in cold blood,” Captain Tatsuya rumbled from his elevated platform, “and we have yet to apprehend the Midnight Assassin.” He somehow fixed his glare on each of us at once.

Several heads of dark hair dipped toward the ground; mine wasn’t among them. My head remained near even with the tallest in the meeting hall, which made me stand out, since I’m female. Noticeably so, I like to think...

Being reprimanded isn’t my idea of a good time, but the feel of Captain’s baritone rattled my bones; deep voices really did something for me.

The Captain’s eyes swept the room as he continued, scarred hands folded in his lap. “Midnight has only targeted skilled swordsman. Unarmed civilians are safe. This is the only reprieve we have. Last month’s victim was a member of the Shogun’s Inner Circle.”

Cold worry started brewing in my stomach.

“Shortly after the killing, I received a personal letter from Our Lord.”

I bit my lip. For only two reasons did the Shogun deign to pick up a pen. To compose a glowing testimonial of someone who had served him, or to convey a monsoon of displeasure. No great mystery which was addressed to the Captain.

“My orders are simple,” Captain Tatsuya said with complete calm. “Apprehend the assassin, or face dire consequences.”

My stomach clenched as agitated discontent flooded the meeting hall. I knew I wasn’t the only one to imagine the Captain being forced to cut his belly. I wasn’t going to let that happen.

“He can’t do that!” one of the officers in front of me shouted, stepping out of formation, fists clenched. I easily recognized Jiro. He and I didn’t get along, but I wouldn’t wish the position he was in on anyone. “Even the Shogun’s handpicked samurai failed against the assassin.”

Captain’s face was stern like worn rock. “Our Lord is well within his rights. I have failed to bring the culprit to justice. I accept responsibility for this, and I alone will be held accountable. Back in ranks, Jiro. Control yourself,” he ordered, tone unforgiving.

I couldn’t see his face, but Jiro’s shoulder’s shook as he bottled whatever he wanted to say. The back of his neck purpled as he slid back into the fold of blue and white robes.

I counted the heartbeats of silence. I prepared myself for words grim enough to match Captain’s expression. Something apocalyptic. He surprised me as a tiny smile crept onto his grizzled face. “I’m not concerned. I have faith in each of you. You won’t fail me, and you won’t fail the city of Osaka.

“There will be no more failures. No more dead men. We will capture this criminal scum before he strikes once more. It is our duty to protect citizens, whether they are armed or not, whether they are the Shogun’s or not. By this time tomorrow, Midnight will be in chains!”

“Yes, Captain!” I shouted, my voice joining a chorus of my samurai peers. I admit, I swooned, just a little bit. I couldn’t have been the only one.

“The festival is still expecting a heavy turnout, despite the danger,” Captain Tatsuya said. “That means the people have faith in us to protect them, so we must not let him slip through our fingers. Midnight has always struck on the full moon, and tonight will be no different. He’s too arrogant to back away from the challenge. The more famous swordsman are being kept under surveillance. Each of them is a potential target, or could possibly even be Midnight themselves. We will keep a strong presence throughout the city to assure every citizen that they are safe.

“However, we will not all patrol in plain sight; I’ve decided to deploy samurai to pose as couples throughout the city, one pair for each of the seven sectors. You will operate within the search grids, blending with crowds to observe any suspicious activity that might otherwise go unnoticed from our usual perspective.”

Now this is my idea of an undercover op. I could relax, hang on to a cute guy’s arm and bum some food off him before my showdown with Midnight. An evening of flirting, food, and fighting. A holy trinity in my book.

The Captain started listing duos. I imagined myself perched on a roof, full to satisfaction with food, basking in moonlight before leaping down to cut Midnight off as he fled. I wasn’t exactly sure how that would work out, but damned if I couldn’t try and make it happen.

“In sector three...”

That’s my sector. I willed the role to me mine. Mine!

“...Kuwabara Kazumi...”

I smirked upon hearing my name.

“...with Tanaka Jiro.”

My smile withered. I bit my tongue to smother a curse. The evening is officially shot to hell.

Jiro is a real misogynistic bastard, very traditional, even has an arranged marriage. Which of course meant no flirting. He didn’t think women should be carrying swords, just umbrellas and babies. He lived in a world entirely different from mine.

And he would be in charge of the operation. Super not good.

“Stay vigilant and protect one another,” the Captain ordered. “These are Midnight’s final hours of freedom! Now go and prepare!”

“Yes, Captain!”

My colleagues of various age and gender began filing out of the hall. Everyone moved with the unified purpose of catching Midnight. It was always been our obligation to capture him and save lives. But now it hit home for us that the Captain was in danger.

I’m usually the first to get pumped up, but thinking of my assigned partner but a damper on my mood. I could see partners selected for the mission meeting up, some quite enthusiastically. I’m probably staring at what will be couples in a month or two. People who worked together in high intensity situations like this usually end up together. I wonder if the Captain realizes what he’s set into motion...

I sighed. Think positive. I suppose this could be an opportunity to change Jiro’s perspective. Enlighten his views with a fabulous display of my fabulous skills.

I adjusted the sword on my back and sought out Jiro. He was in the center of the room. My feet felt heavy with dread as I walked over.

He stared at me with his arms crossed. When he made no move to meet me halfway, I
knew he was waiting for me to come to him, to present myself to him. Typical. I planted my feet on the wooden floor and mirrored his body language with a scowl.

We engaged in a brief and futile stare down. I’m a master of Zen and patience, so I could outlast this bastard easily. Jiro sighed while I indulged herself in an irritated role of the eyes.

Jiro snorted and walked over to me. Even then, even when he wasn’t getting what he wanted, Jiro carried himself in a way that made me want to trip him and feign innocence.

Though it was kinda cute the way he stood ramrod straight whenever we talked. My height bothered him. The funny thing is, my high ponytail probably still eclipsed him.

“Kuwabara, I have seniority,” Jiro said with no preamble

My eyes rolled, completely of their own accord. “I have not forgotten, as you so enjoy reminding me.”

“Then you should have no qualms following my lead during this operation.”

I felt an intense dislike (I don’t believe in hate) for the way he looked at me. He truly lacked appreciation for what I was capable of. Actually, it was worse than that; most people didn’t know what I could do, what I have learned in my lifetime.

Jiro thought ill of me because of my skills.

Before I joined the police force, Jiro suspected little ol’ me of being involved with the assassin. I can’t blame him too severely for being suspicious, I guess. I did roll into Osaka about the time the killings started. And I did the usual, most natural thing that occurs to me when I reach a new population: seek a dojo and challenge its best students. After I found a place that made great dumplings, of course.

I guess my besting the best pupils rubbed some people the wrong way and someone wanted revenge, so they reported me. I don’t know why, I didn’t even kill anyone. You couldn’t toss a rock into one of those schools without hitting a noble, so it must have been a pride thing.

Whoever complained had enough political clout to get the police involved. Jiro was the one to check out my story. I humored him at first, but I got annoyed with being interrogated and giving alibis and maybe I got a little snippy.

Things sorta went downhill from there and Jiro hauled me in. I went willingly. No matter how much fun it would have been to put up a fight, knocking him unconscious would have been more trouble than it was worth.

Once we were at the station, I broke off from Jiro and loudly demanded to know who was in charge. Someone pointed out Captain Tatsuya to me. I marched over to him and demanded to be made a police officer.

I opened a can of boasts the likes of which Osaka had never seen. I went on about my martial skill and keen mind. That capturing Midnight wouldn’t be in question after I joined, just when and how many broken bones he had.

I’m certain that was the most surprised he’d been in a long while, because I haven’t seen his eyebrows jump like that since.

In the hushed silence that ensued, he looked at me for a while, then, without removing his eyes from mine, demanded Jiro’s report of my whereabouts. Jiro delivered it.

Captain Tatsuya nodded and ordered I be handed a uniform.

Jiro still hasn’t let the whole thing go. Maybe it’s because I embarrassed him in front of the Captain and the others. Maybe he really thought I was involved. I’m not.

Though I am related to an assassin... but not this one. And Jiro doesn’t know anything about that. No one in Osaka does.

Jiro’s suspicions had only been silenced by Captain Tatsuya. He told Jiro to drop the matter, and Jiro never said a word of it again. But he made his disapproval of me quite clear with his narrowed eyes and condescending tone.

I don’t know if we’ll both survive being partners. And I wasn’t worried about Midnight.

I ran a hand through my hair. “I might. How do you know I shouldn’t take the lead?”

Jiro looked at me disbelievingly. “You are no more suited to take the lead than you are to be uphold the law. Kuwabara, you are the single most awkward girl on the face of the planet.”

“Ah, but that’s why you love me.”

Jiro gave a long-suffering sigh. “This ruse would be more convincing if there were a real girl accompanying me.”

“Well this,” I said, running my hands from my chest to my hips, “is what you got.”

Jiro grimaced sourly. “You are utterly distasteful.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls.” I looked around the emptying hall and sighed. “Fine, whatever makes you feel like a big, strong man.”

His jaw tightened. “I do see a benefit to this arrangement. This way I will be able to keep an eye on you personally. You had better not give me any reason to think you would sabotage this operation.”

He stared at me. I stared back. Aggressive eye contact isn’t something I’m afraid of, and looking away would be like admitting Jiro was right.

After a moment, I nodded. “You want to keep me in arms reach. Got it.”

His hands tightened. I wonder if his butt would clench next. “You don’t take anything
seriously, do you?”

“I take enough things seriously. Threats just don’t happen to be one of them.”

My blase answer wasn’t what he wanted to hear. Jiro trembled. His anger blistered on my skin and seeped into my veins. It swept through my arms, crept up my neck, burrowed into my skull.

“Don’t get in my way, Kuwabara,” Jiro said, his voice quiet but harsh. “Don’t slow me down. You may not care what’s at stake here, but it matters to my family.”

The emotion I felt was not my own. It whispered in my ear with a slithering voice to reach for my sword and do something violent. I fought it off, strangled the anger with calmness until the heat of it faded and the voice was quiet. I brushed the dried husk of a feeling off. It left me
with a pain between the eyes.

Outwardly, I only closed my eyes for a peaceful moment. My face gave away no hint of the internal struggle. I hid it almost perfectly.

I’d had practice.

But I understood, in a way I didn’t before, what he was feeling, and how the situation was affecting him. The anger and worry swirling inside of him.

Jiro didn’t want to see his father die. Who would?

If he left with this level of animosity, he would have time to stew in it. Anger would make him sloppy, reckless, and if he did something stupid because of it, something that caused Midnight to escape, he’d never forgive himself. He might even think about joining his father.

I put on a confident smirk and crossed my arms. “Relax. Being tense and biting my head off isn’t going to magically solve this problem.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Jiro said, glowering, but at least it was only partially directed at me. “You don’t have the stake in this that I do.”

I nodded. “I can’t argue with that. But don’t doubt for a second that we both want the same thing. I’m on your side, Jiro. I mean, look at this cute, innocent face. Definitely incapable treachery.”

The tightness around his eyes lessened. “I have to be the one to bring him in,” Jiro said. “Otherwise, even if we catch him, my father may still have to resign.”

Now we can’t have that. I’m rather fond of Captain Tatsuya. “Then it’s a good thing you’re with me. I’m clearly an invaluable, irreplaceable asset. You’d be crazy not to utilize me.”

The tension eased out of shoulders and his mouth twitched. Jiro snorted. “You’re a violent girl with a stick.”

I cleared my throat, affronted. Tugging on the sword strapped to my back, I corrected him. “This is a wooden katana.”

“Kuwabara... what’s wrong with you? How can you be so calm about this?”

I shrugged. “I’ve dealt with this kind of thing before.”

He gave me a dubious stare. “You have?”

“Yep!” It was only a partial lie. I had at least been around while dangerous people had been brought in. Or, failing that, at least when their bodies were recovered.

I threw one arm around his shoulders and gave him a thumbs up with the other. “We got this.”

Jiro growled and shook me off. “Improper conduct, Kuwabara. Unbefitting of an officer.”

A laugh bubbled from my throat. “You’re not going to be a very affectionate date.”

Instead of responding, he inspected my clothing. Despite the jokes I want to make at his expense, I’m pretty sure he wasn’t thinking what most guys would be.

“You will have to wear feminine garbs in order to be remotely convincing. Do you at least have something suitable?”

I shrugged. “I should be okay. As long as you don’t show up with something jewel encrusted, I’ll barely look like crap.”

“I’ll try to restrain my glorious radiance to a dim flare,” he said dryly. “I’ll pick you up in three hours. That will give us time to show up casually like any couple would. Then we can drift through the streets to begin our search.”

“Fine,” I said, mentally flipping through robes I could conceal weaponry in. I stopped and blinked when his words caught up with me. “Wait, pick me up, as in at my place?” I asked.

Jiro nodded.

“Screw that, we both live in sector three, right? We’ll just meet halfway.”

He snorted, turning to leave. “Nonsense. What kind of man fails to escort his date? An irregularity like that would blow our cover. From the moment you step through the front door, you’re my responsibility.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I said, crossing my arms.

Jiro’s departing words were, “That’s an order, Kuwabara.”

Bastard. I thumbed my nose up and gave his back the best pig-face I could manage.

I felt eyes on me and noticed the few others remaining in the assembly hall staring at me like I had two heads. I cleared my throat and scurried out of the building.

First thing I have to do is bathe. I need to smell as prim and pampered as possible. And I do so enjoy a good soak. The thought of doing so before a fight seems almost ritualistic to me.

I’ll probably wear my hair differently. I keep it in a ponytail for the sake of practicality compromising with aesthetic appeal. I prefer my hair long, but well out reach of anyone I’m fighting. Maybe I’ll wear it in a bun. But it always ends up lopsided if I don’t have any help.

“It’s about time you came out, bitch. How long were you planning to keep us waiting?”

I recognized the self-entitlement laden in those words and I have no appreciation for it. I turned my head.

Three boys with wooden swords fastened to their waists. Their stances were aggressive. They smelled clean but spoiled. Hands soft like dough.

I recognized them. Students belonging to one of the posh sword schools I embarrassed. I don’t know their names. They don’t really matter.

“You guys again?” I glance up at the position of the sun. It was setting. “Wow, is it time for your daily emasculation already?”

The boy that had so graciously called me out of name sneered. “We’re going to pay you back. You made it so our senior couldn’t show his face at the dojo.”

I tilted my head. “I broke his ribs, I didn’t scar his face. Unless...” I scratched my cheek. “Wait, which school are you guys from? I might be thinking of someone of else.”

The one on the right took a step forward that I suppose was meant to be threatening. “You arrogant wench!”

Rude.

“Perhaps a trip to the dojo will refresh your memory.” He jerked his head in a direction opposite my destination. “We’re going to defeat and humble you before of our master.”

I can’t help but think of a lioness being yipped at by three puppies. Poodles. With bows. I stifled a laugh and shook my head. “I don’t have a lot of time to waste, so we’ll fight here.”

“If you wish to be beaten in the street, fine.”

The exceptionally rude boy took another step. “I want first crack at her.”

Like I was going to waste that kind of time. “Nah, all three of you, let’s go, right now.”

“You really think you can take all of us at once?”

“Yes,” I answered, straight-faced. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

They looked at each other and nodded. “We accept.” Confident.

But foolhardy.

“Good.” I nodded at a spot on the ground.

The leader, or at least the most obnoxious among them, scowled and tossed a small sack onto the ground. It clanked with the sound of metal brushing metal.

There were three coins in it. There had better be, or I was gonna go fishing in their clothes after I won.

I crouched, my right hand curling like a tiger’s claw. My left became a fist, knuckles skyward. “Well?” I asked.

The boy in the middle went for his training sword.

I sprang forward, on him in two strides. His draw was clumsy, slow. My hand clamped his, nails digging, keeping him from pulling the sword. I punched him in the stomach, under his crossed arm. Air wheezed through his gaping mouth.

I replaced my fist with a swift knee. I could have crushed his testicles, but that would have been excessive. No point ending a noble bloodline in a spar.

I hooked my ankle behind his right leg and pushed him back. He was weightless from pain, which made him easy to maneuver. I pivoted, my hand still on his sword arm. We spun in a circle, like dance partners. I used my grip on his own to aim the tip of his sword, and his body weight to drive it into rude boy’s sternum.

I slid my grip to his wrist, my nails raking across his skin. His limp hand fell from the hilt, and my left hand claimed its place. I spun, drawing his sword away from him, and kicked his chest. He crashed into his equally breathless friend. They went down.

I drew my own sword from my back as I faced the last.

Ugh, wielding two full length swords. I feel so tacky.

The third student of whatever school had finally drawn his sword. He shook like a leaf and kept glancing at his fallen brother disciples.

I gave him a plaintive smile, flashing my teeth.

He screamed and lunged with a high strike.

I intercepted with the left sword, the centers of both wooden blades striking. I raised my arm and turned my wrist, sliding the sword along the other as my right sword struck on the opposite side near the handle, tearing it from his fumbling grip.

I raised my arm and brought it down toward his face. I stopped an inch short of shattering his nose. His eyes crossed to stare at the smooth, charcoal colored pine. He squeaked and fell on his butt, staring up at me with naked fear. The boy was beaten.

But he knew that before he attacked.

Broken bones are the best teachers there are. If you can’t learn from them, you can’t learn from anything.

I swung my sword down. It cracked against his arm and something caved.

He opened his mouth to scream, but I shut it with a kick. He was unconscious before the spray of blood hit the ground.

Nodding, I looked at the other two. They groaned, writhing on the ground, but not getting up.

I dropped the sham of a wooden sword, letting it clatter on the ground. Then I refastened my own to my back.

I picked up the coin sack waiting for me and peeked inside. Three golden coins. Perfect.

Strolling over to the fallen boys, I began my lecture.

“See, your first mistake was agreeing to fight me with this much open space,” I said, wagging my finger. “In a dojo, I wouldn’t be as free to maneuver. I’d be easier to cage.”

I stopped at the heap of moaning wannabe samurai. I crouched down, resting my chin in one hand and dangling the sack with the other. “Your second mistake was agreeing to fight me three on one. You three aren’t trained to fight as a coordinated unit, so you end up getting in each others’ way. You would have been better off fighting me one at a time, saving your strongest fighter for last while he observed my technique for exploitable weaknesses.

“And your third mistake was the biggest: seeking me out. You’re not better than the best in your dojo, and I beat the best. Only an idiot looks for an opponent they know is superior, unless they’re desperate. And there was nothing at stake here, nothing for you to gain.”

My face screwed up in thought. “Wait. I guess your third was chronologically your first. Which makes your second third, and your third... first?” I gave my head a shake. “Uh, anyway, you know what I meant.”

The blustering boy with the bloody wrist said something I didn’t catch.

I knelt closer. “What?”

He gasped and painstakingly said, “Pride, wench. Our pride is on the line.”

“Huh. Okay. Don’t you guys look like proud, dignified, young noblemen? Well, I must be going,” I said, standing. “If you feel like losing some more money, you know where to find me.”

I hummed and began tossing the sack in the air. It felt like breakfast lunch and dinner for a week. Stands were setting up in preparation for the festival and mouth-watering smells were already trying to entice me. I was tempted to get something now, but I didn’t want to spoil my appetite for what I could get Jiro to buy me.

I wonder when they’ll recover and try to challenge me again; they probably wouldn’t learn their lesson this time. Maybe I should double my fee. I wouldn’t charge those three idiots if they were poor orphans trying to learn how to defend themselves from the gaggle of people who would take advantage of them. But they were each from wealthy families. They had comfortable beds to keep them warm.

I like to think of my price as a tax for pride. Beating the best and charging for inevitable challenges was usually made my living in each new place I visited.

And I relished feeling like baddest around town. It was new to me since I was traveling on my own now. Though I probably couldn’t take on everyone in the city at once. Probably.

I took a small detour from my apartment, cutting away from sweet, promising smells to the outskirts of the city. Buildings started to become less fresh until they became worn, sour shades of brown and grey. Sector seven, where the poorest in Osaka gathered.

Once, the buildings had been the start of a small town. But over time, as the town expanded into a city, the buildings were abandoned. The shacks were decrepit but standing. And poor shelter was usually better than no shelter, unless it was coming down on your head.

The people of sector seven stared; men with worn working hands, women, a few with swollen bellies, and wide eyed toddlers. The sight of most other officers would have sent them ducking their heads. Sector seven was one of the first places to look for thieves and scoundrels attempting to blend in, and lives were usually turned upside down. But they know I don’t come by to cause trouble for any of them.

My destination was the shack furthest from civilization and closest to wilderness.

I walked up the three stairs, each step creaking louder than the last. I didn’t dare trust the guardrail. There wasn’t a door, just a red curtain with yellow weaving that looked like waves of water. I knocked on the frame, careful not to pummel the aged wood into splinters.

“Old lady, you in there?” I shouted.

No response. I brushed past the curtain. I didn’t see her anywhere, and the bed of straw and fabric was empty. She must be out foraging for berries.

Part of the roof was missing, and rays of dying sun poked through what was left of it. I’ll have to come by and attempt to repair it before winter. I had to crouch under a collapsed support beam that stretched from the caved-in side of the house, and the debris that cluttered around it.

Near the bed was a bowl with knitting needles and balls of yarn varying in colors that probably didn’t go together. I don’t know what you can make that’s pink and brown.

I tossed two of the coins into the ceramic bowl. The sound they made flushed me with a warm feeling. I turned to leave.

And came face to face with a ghost.

I’m not proud of the sound that came out of my mouth. Probably sounded like, “Kya!”

“Ah!” she screamed, throwing her hands up. The basket she held careened through the air in a perfect arc to land on my head.

I snatched the basket off. I glanced inside. There were blueberries, wildflowers and...

Dear God I hope that isn’t poison ivy.

I let out a nervous giggle. “You scared me, Ume.”

“Oh, so sorry, Kazuma.” She bowed her head of grey several times and smiled at me with teeth tinted yellow. She started picking up what had fallen from the basket. I, uh, I held the basket for her. Tentatively.

I guess I’m Kazuma today. That’s a guy’s name, but alright. “I left some money for you in the usual place.”

She looked back and forth, her eyes settled on the far wall. She blinked owlishly “The chimney?” she asked.

“Uh, in the bowl, Ume. With the yarn.”

Her smile stretched her wrinkles wide enough I worried she’d hurt herself. “Such a sweet girl!”

She patted my head. I took it, folding my grimace into what I’m sure was a deformed smile. Small mercy that it was the hand she’d used for berries.

“You’re so good to your elders, Kazuma.”

Someone had to be. Ume didn’t have anyone to take care of her. I’ve heard rumors that she was the original owner of the house and lost her family in a tragic accident. She refused to leave even as the house crumbled around her.

Once, some thugs caught wind of my charitable nature, and decided it would be an easy score. They conned the old lady into giving up her money. It was a week before she told me about it in a shambled narrative that took some time to piece together.

I tracked them down. They payed back what they had stolen.

With considerable interest.

I can’t right every wrong. Hell, I didn’t even have enough for everyone in sector seven. But what difference I can make, I will.

“I made you something, Kazuma,” Ume said, shuffling over to her bed.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Nonsense. A good girl like you deserves a present.” She pulled something away from a large whicker basket. It was a scarf, pink squares and brown squares. I stand corrected about the colors, because the scarf actually looked really nice.

She shuffled over to me, offering it. “It’s going to get cold soon.”

A smiled touched my lips as I accepted it. “Thanks, Ume. Be sure to make one for yourse-”

Ume pulled out a matching scarf with a reverse color pattern. She wrapped in around her neck. “What were you saying?”

I shook my head. “Never mind. I mean, forget it. I mean!” I shut my trap and breathed a sigh. “I have to go, Ume. Pretty busy night. Take care of yourself.”

She waved. “You too, dear.”

I headed to the room I was renting. I’m certain the itching on my head was just in my imagination, as was the itch that soon followed on my hands. But my legs were convinced otherwise and speed up into a brisk jog.

Time to get ready for my date with the assassin.

Boy was Jiro gonna feel like a third wheel.
Feedback on what was done well, could have been better, and what was done poorly would be greatly appreciated.
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Re: When Souls Scream

Unread postby gman391 » June 9th, 2012, 12:24 am

Hmm while I like the intro overall. I feel like there needs to be more. While I got a feel for many of the characters. Even if Jiro is a stock cliche at this point. I don't really know what they look like. Also I've never been to Osaka so I don't know what that looks like either. So a bit more description overall would be nice.

Also I think we need a bit more set up about the situation. Which Shogunate are we in anyway? Why is she in Osaka? Where'd she come from before that? If she goes around beating up dojo masters why doesn't she have a rep? Stuff like that.
"My friends, love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair. So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we’ll change the world."
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Re: When Souls Scream

Unread postby Minion » June 9th, 2012, 1:38 am

More description on the setting, okay. I can see I neglected that.

This isn't historical fiction, gman, it's actually fantasy, so the characters won't be real people. Based on some real people maybe.

To give a brief and spoilerific history:
Spoiler: show
The setting of the story takes place in Japanese colonies located on the continent we know as North America. Technology is actually very advanced; planes and tanks and radios exist and are common. Japan created these colonies and others like them, "deadzones", out of fear of losing the warrior spirit of their people as mainland Japan advances. So they recreate and sustain an environment that emulates the height of the samurai. The most advanced machine in the first book is the Shogun's gattling gun, and his armies are equipped with muskets to keep order.

And the best of these warriors the environments produce are taken outside of the deadzones to compete in what is known as the Olympic Tournament, where countries select a team of 5 youths (age 20 and below) to represent them, and bet land, money and resources on the outcome of matches.

Kazumi isn't from the deadzone and is fully aware of technology. And she's traveled all over the world, experiencing different cultures. But if this were discovered, she could be put to death. Part of the story is leading up to that reveal, about 3/4 in.
So it isn't the real Osaka. And I'll be honest, Osaka was just a preliminary name I chose because I recognized/liked it. I'll probably change it after revision.

Also, Kazumi doesn't beat the masters. That would incite entire schools to revenge, honor and all that. She just seeks out the ace students, ones that may be chosen for the spoiler above. As for her rep, the school are usually pretty embarrassed by their loses and don't talk about them. Osaka is the first place she's kind of lingered, and that makes the schools there especially sour.

So how would you suggest I make Jiro less cliche?
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Re: When Souls Scream

Unread postby gman391 » June 9th, 2012, 2:00 am

In a word?
Humanize him. So far he's just a misogynistic, traditionalist jerk. We've seen that before. The thing about his father being on the line was a nice touch but he still needs more character. Give him an odd habit or something. Make him a caffeine fiend. Show him caring about his bride to be, stuff like that.
"My friends, love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair. So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we’ll change the world."
----Jack Layton
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Re: When Souls Scream

Unread postby Minion » June 9th, 2012, 3:01 pm

Well he does have character and traits, such as being naturally suspicious and analytical, but I'm trying to show him at the most stressed he's ever been. And part of his using a traditionalist attitude is a defense mechanism against his attraction for Kazumi, what with him being engaged and all. She's not helping by being super friendly.
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Re: When Souls Scream

Unread postby gman391 » June 9th, 2012, 5:54 pm

Yes but we've seen that before, or at least I have. He doesn't feel unique yet. Which is why I suggest giving him something else.
"My friends, love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair. So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we’ll change the world."
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Re: When Souls Scream

Unread postby Minion » June 9th, 2012, 9:07 pm

Noted.
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Re: When Souls Scream

Unread postby Minion » June 10th, 2012, 12:17 pm

What did you think if the narration? This was my first time writing something in first-person; I'm used to writing third-person omniscient.
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Re: When Souls Scream

Unread postby gman391 » June 10th, 2012, 4:56 pm

Not bad, your voice for the narrator was fairly consistent. However you were light on description. Even is she's knew to Osaka she might associate it with other places she's been or even have other memories of the place. That would help in my opinion.
"My friends, love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair. So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we’ll change the world."
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Re: When Souls Scream

Unread postby Minion » January 25th, 2013, 3:42 pm

Finally! I've made a revision after letting the story boil in my head a few more months. It is easier for me now that I know the direction I'm going. First chapter.
Spoiler: show
When Souls Scream Ch.1

I pulled the headband from over my eyes when the peaceful undulation of the cart stopped; even asleep I remain conscious of the world around me. The softness beneath tried to lull me back, but I sat up fitfully. My nap had bottled energy in me that called to be expended.

I craned my neck to the driver, who patiently waited for me to notice him. “This is as far as I take you.”

I looked at the dirt road to see one path branching into two. I nodded to him, and straw fell into my eyes.

I reached up and back to pick at my ponytail. I was lucky to come away with my fingers. I really need to find a comb one of these days... Or maybe just buy a hat. I’ve always liked those wide-brimmed hats that obscure your face when your head tilts down.

I gathered my things. My sword remained clenched in my grasp from before I fell asleep, though I will deny having cuddled with it. I stood and slipped it over my shoulder through my blue sash, which had loosened in my slumber. I tightened the silk around my waist, making sure the proportions of the bow on my back were perfect and my sword held firm. With everything I owned, I jumped onto the road.

I was patting and plucking my robes when the driver asked, “Are you certain you wish to stop here? Rumor has it the city is teeming with madness.”

A wry smile touched my face. “Yeah, that’s why I’m going. You just want more fare from me, right?”

Without shame he glanced back at his cart, now empty of passengers. “Most folks headed away from this area. Got sense that you don’t, girl.”

I kept my smile up against his rebuke. “If that’s true, why not go there yourself? Should be more customers than you can handle.”

He shook his head. “Not that desperate.” His round face pinched into a queer look, directed at me. “What you think you gonna do about all that craziness?”

My teeth flashed. “The only thing appropriate for a lawful native of Yamato. Replace it with my own, of course.”

The driver gave me a look one gives to a pig marked for slaughter. “You're bound to offend some mighty tempers with an attitude like that. The nobles won’t much care for it, girl. Last chance.” He gave the reins a small tug. The horses neighed and trotted in place.

I drew in breath and put my hands to my sides, then bowed to the elder. “Thank-you for safe passage.” More yellow fluttered from my hair, perhaps dampening my attempt at propriety.

He looked bewildered when I rose. Then he shook his head again and whipped the reins, speeding away. Probably very smart of him.

I loosened my limbs, reaching up to the cloudless sky, then down to my stuffy socks and sandals, sighing with every wonderful pop.

I set off down the winding, serpentine road, almost bouncing on my feet toward civilization, bathing. And the food! The food they must have in the city. I like to try new cuisine wherever I go. Except meat. I can’t eat meat even if it smells so, so tempting.

The empty air next to me was unsettling. I still hadn’t adjusted to traveling on my own. All sixteen years of life it had been Mother and me, trampling the world underfoot. But I’m on my own now; I’ve got to be the hero of my own story.

I’m not without lessons learned and skills, however. Most acquired through my own sacrifices, some... acquired.

I knew the city neared when the road wound through an expanse of rice fields, ripe stalks on either side of me monopolizing the land. In the muck were hundreds of heads of dark hair muffled by cooling hats and headwraps. Peasants. Men, women and children. Their pants hiked to the knees as they stood ankle or shin deep in the water, though many of the children were altogether pantless. In neat, uniformed rows they advanced through their fields, slicing scythes in hand.

No, I suppose the field does not belong to those who attend and cultivate its riches day in and day out. Despite that they alone keep the land productive, and the people fed, peasants are afforded a sliver of their labor’s fruits.

I tilted my head, eyeing the arcs of their swinging arms as their other hands snatched the cut stalks. Some of the movements were more polished than those of samurai I’ve encountered.

This doesn’t surprise me. A warrior will often come to think their training and resulting skills suitable, and after tasting victory, think themselves insurmountable. They become content, which spawns complacency and laziness. No desire to reach their greatest height while they are warm and well fed and placed high enough on the mountain to look down upon others.

Contrarily, the farmer must continue to plow, plant and reap in order to survive. None is more diligent in their repetitive tasks than the farmer, a repetition crucial to any martial art.

I could see worn hands, the muck clinging to their bare feet as they stepped out and into the water. They were dirty, yes, working in the earth with the sun flogging them overhead. But my mind could not classify them “vulgar”, as was said of them more often than not.

Mother and I had tried our hand at growing our own food. We had the land, tools, and seeds of vegetables and fruits. Cucumbers, peaches, apples, corn, radish. Even medicinal plants. We envisioned an edible rainbow sprouting from the ground. I remember the two of us rising early to work our patch of Yamato, then waiting. Sometimes we’d stay up by a fire, my mouth running with air as my arms throbbed from the tiling, mother reserved and soft speaking and unshaken by wielding a hoe larger than she was.

Ah, but we were no farm hands. We grew only weeds that sent even rabbits scurrying. The thought of how we laughed made me smile.

The work had been difficult, certainly not glamorous, and in our case without the intended rewards to bring in. But I could no more associate “vulgar” with my mother than I could with the sun.

Though I cannot help but covet the farmers ability to create life, I would not wish to take a position among them. I simply recognize the vitality of their service, and respect their ability to persevere despite hardships. Something to be commended and emulated.

It is thanks to peasants that no matter what dish I have the luxury of choosing, it will be complemented or completed by rice, and my stomach will be full. Nobles are oblivious, or willfully ignore this, using behemoth egos and self-entitlement to interpret their dependency as generosity and tolerance. I’ve seen vulgar things. Nurturing the earth doesn’t come to mind.

A bit of distance from the sweating workers, with plush acres of grass to act as a buffer, stood the capital city, Edo. Far from the wall I could see the tops of the taller buildings, darkly colored square crowns of tile stacked upon one another.

Armored samurai lined the top of the wall like stone guardians. Bow and quivers strapped, arrows itching to be loosed on invaders. Beside and between each archer stood a rifleman, positioned to fire in volley, the long fuses of their guns looped around wooden barrels. Their obsidian armor made them dark stars hanging in the sky, with glinting gold crescent moons on their helmets, chests and shoulders; the symbol of the shogunate.

Uniquely decorated headbands of various designs and colors were tied around each helmet, all located directly under the crescent moon; a symbol of their subordination to the shogunate’s will.

Each head trained solely on me as my steps carried me nearer. With the demonic scowls of their facemasks, the attention was heavy. I was not afraid, but acutely aware of their attention and lethality.

The metal gate was closed with an aura of prideful impenetrability, each door forming half a gaping mouth with fangs that jutted from the flat surface, sharp enough and large enough to impale several men upon each tooth. Four sets of eyes and a number of horns bulged over the maw. I took a moment to admire. Likely, the shogunate commissioned its design to send a message to each visitor of his city without speaking a word, and deter any force that would consider rebelling against him. Trifle here and be devoured.

Standing before the gate was a trio of samurai, armored as the gargoyles above them, but with no ranged weaponry. Two swords on their hips. The man in the center, a red band tied around his sword arm, stepped toward me, motioning for me to halt, the offhand resting on the scabbard of his primary weapon. The other ground level sentinels swaggered behind him, armor noising with every step. Only around their eyes skin remained visible

I planted my feet, back straight, eyes forward. I’m tall, dwarfing other girls; the top of my ponytail reached even with their helmets. I am no simpering peasant afraid of being beaten, nor a craftsman dreading his wares would be smashed by a temperamental brute. I faced them in equal standing.

“By order of the Shogunate,” the redband said, voice attaining metal resonance filtered through his mask, “none are permitted to enter the city at this time without just cause. State your business.”

I licked at the scar on my lower lip, thinking. Rumors of turmoil had led me to this daunting gate, as they had to every target Mother and I pursued. Often our leads were wrong.

Under my own initiative, failure was relentless. Three months of traveling and searching, I had yet to locate the target.

I looked for the signs: climbing crime rates of theft, murder and rape, and scrutinizing the depraved individuals who committed themselves to these acts. Animals behaving far too aggressively, tamed horses throwing off their riders and trampling them, family dogs mauling children, flocks of crows descending on a healthy man and taking him to pieces as he screams. Mass exodus of a populated metropolis. Plague. And in the most extreme, a collapsing society where civil order deteriorates and primordial chaos ensues.

I thought myself an honorable helper when I stopped by every town, city, or province, or inn. To locate missing children, to slay something foul, something truly vulgar. My altruism demanded I leave the inhabitants better off than before I arrived. And I had done so.

But had I only been sniffing at the outreaching tendrils of the beast? Perhaps my compulsion to do good for those around me has been an obstruction?

For Edo to be locked down as if under siege, I knew it was my true destination. Would snuffing out the source have expediently aided every person I met, and the many more I did not?

Would Mother have stood, months beforehand, where I stood now?

I needed some idea of what was causing this. Locating the nest was challenging enough, but finding the target would be like catching one drop of rain in the storm.

I looked at the guard and asked, “Why has His Most Excellent Highness made this decree?”

The guard drew himself up, eyes exuding outrage. “Your lack of knowledge is woeful, girl! Several high ranking officials, men whom the Shogunate held in personal regard, have been assassinated. Surely such news has reverberated through every noble house!”

“Forgive me,” I responded, “I have not been home in quite some time.”

I digested the pompous guard’s words. The assassin must not have been apprehended yet. Which meant the shogunate wanted to keep someone in more than he wanted to keep others out.

Assuming the assassin my target, I had best locate them before they are captured. An execution would be imminent, and my search would begin anew.

I won’t fail my mother.

I dipped my head respectfully. “I humbly request entrance to the Shogunate’s city, so that I may test my martial value.”

“Family name,” he demanded.

I looked into his helmet and said, “None.”

From the way his eyes crinkled, I’m guessing his lips curled to summon a cursed word. “Clanless.”

I let silence ring.

He scoffed at me. “That explains your disheveled appearance and ignorance. No head would allow such an unsightly reflection of himself. Return to where you hail from, masterless warrior. You are of no consequence.”

I stared at the guard, keeping my face impassive. Then said, “I am not without a master.”

Eyes over the silver mouthpiece remained dismissive as he asked, “Under whose name do you act?”

I smiled and hooked a thumb at myself. “Kazumi.”

His eyes widened at my brazen claim, then narrowed. “You tax my dwindling patience. An errant girl with a sword has no place here. I will not permit your bothersome presence.”

“Shall I report to any and all, then, that the grand capital city which houses strength above all others, turned me away in ignorant fear?”

“Hold your tongue, wench,” he snapped, crouching, hand grasping the hilt of his sword. The two behind him mirrored this. I heard the shuffling of feet scraping against the walls above.

My heart sped, the weaknesses of the group before me glaring bright as I formed my words. I became aware the samurai most left of me had been slowest to his stance, and that I could take him out quickly if I prevented the leader from drawing his sword. The leader would be my shield against the final samurai. I would strike them both as they shuffled around one another in their protective gear.

My mind told me these things without my order, but I would rather avoid a fight at the moment. It wouldn’t do any good to claim that I arrived to help. They don’t know what I know. I had to convince the guard I was worthy.

I lifted my chin and reached back into my sash, a smile creeping on me as the tension thickened. I grasped the cloth I kept tied around my waist, where it was most useful to me. I pulled on it.

From between my sash and robes came a long collection of cloth strips tied to another, coloring green, blue, white, red and more. Symbols of the sun, of trees, mountains and fish adorned them. Many times had this cloth been wrapped around me. I spun my arms in half circles as I unfurled it.

Their eyes had gone wider and wider as I continued, and likewise had my smile. As any samurai, I do savor the chance to level a prideful boast at an audience. It’s an addictive rush of powerful feeling that rings in the soul.

I spoke in a most daring voice. “I have entered more than a dozen schools that claimed their roots from this city, and left the prized student of each dojo crumpled before the weight of my prowess. Fellow disciples who attacked me for my victories were defeated as well. I have dueled praised samurai in honorable combat, and bested them.”

I fished the last of the cloth, dozens of knots weaving headbands of the defeated. I held the collection in my hands, contained in a lumpy fold.

I raised the colorful array overhead, and the three flinched back as one. “I fearlessly stand before this city of warriors in challenge! You cannot deny me!”

I stared unbended, keeping my expression of fierce confidence as my body shook in excitement of the presentation, anticipation of combat, and hunger.

Vindication may have caused it, but I’m certain a trickle of sweat rolled down the redband’s nose. The other two broke from staring at me to trade glances of concern.

The guard relaxed his stance. He dipped his head. “You are correct, Kazumi. Questionable as your lineage may be, I cannot deny your prestige. Only a true samurai could have amassed such a testament of skill.”

He drew a long, wooden whistle from his side and raised it to his lips, fitting it through a slot in his mask. It birthed a deep tone, joined seconds after by two separate, lighter notes.

I heard the rustle of chains before the fanged gate moved. The demonic face split outward with a ghastly exhale of breath.

The guards clasped their hands and bowed lightly. “Edo welcomes you, Sword Saint.”

I returned the gesture of respect. “Thank-you.”

They stood aside for me. As I passed, the redband said, “You need not want for opponents here. Many worthy challengers will surely seek you out.”

I gave a polite smile and thought, Perhaps the assassin will come to me.

I entered the city. Somewhere within these high walls, a malevolent spirit had taken root, tainting the air, sowing strife and spreading torment with its quiet presence of dread.

And I had to save it.
Last edited by Minion on January 26th, 2013, 7:49 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Re: When Souls Scream

Unread postby gman391 » January 25th, 2013, 8:14 pm

Very nice, off hand I'm not entirely sure how dojo have routes but I got the gist I think. Good start eager to see more.
"My friends, love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair. So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we’ll change the world."
----Jack Layton
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Re: When Souls Scream

Unread postby DIT_grue » January 25th, 2013, 8:40 pm

I barely remember the first bit of this, and I'm afraid the new stuff didn't hook me well enough to reread it or even do a full proofread for you. Three problems I did notice before I wandered off:
My nap had bottled energy in me that called to be expunged.
I think you mean 'expended', although 'expelled' is barely possible.
perhaps dampening my attempt at proprietary.
propriety
I set down the winding, serpentine road,
set off down

The bit about needing a comb was a nice turn of phrase, though.
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Re: When Souls Scream

Unread postby Minion » January 25th, 2013, 8:59 pm

Very nice, off hand I'm not entirely sure how dojo have routes but I got the gist I think. Good start eager to see more.
I think I should make it more clear that the masters of the dojos were from/prominent in Edo
I think you mean 'expended', although 'expelled' is barely possible.
I was shuffling with a few "ex" (expressed being the) words here but I chose the wrong one. I'm going with expended.
propriety
Yes, thanks for that. Damn googledocs spellcheck. I thought that was the word it chosen, should have looked more carefully. After a while some words just start looking the same...
set off down
I guess you could say I'm taking artistic license with her narration. I don't feel it has to be perfectly grammatically correct. But "set off" might be more clear..

Thanks for the feedback.
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Re: When Souls Scream

Unread postby DIT_grue » January 26th, 2013, 7:32 pm

You're certainly welcome, and I'm sorry I didn't do a better job.
Very nice, off hand I'm not entirely sure how dojo have routes but I got the gist I think. Good start eager to see more.
I think I should make it more clear that the masters of the dojos were from/prominent in Edo
*coughs* It seemed to me that that was understood, and the comment was pointing out the use of 'routes' when you meant 'roots'.
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Re: When Souls Scream

Unread postby Minion » January 26th, 2013, 7:47 pm

Hah!
Changed.

You know that point where you work on something a while and you get sick of revising and proofreading it? Think I'm gonna have to leave it and come back in a few days.
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Re: When Souls Scream

Unread postby Minion » February 1st, 2013, 10:17 pm

I think this is the last revision of the chapter, I feel ready to move on. After some very insightful critiques, I trimmed about 600 words from it, all fat removed.
Spoiler: show
“Sure you wanna get off here, Miss?” The driver lowered his voice. “Word has it the city’s gone mad.”

I jerked the headband from my eyes, then stood, peering at the branches of dirt road.

“You just want more fare from me, right?” I asked, reaching behind me, slipping my sword through the sash.

He glanced back at the cart inhabited by one. “Most folks headed away from this area. Maybe got sense that you don’t, Miss.”

I tightened the blue silk sash around my waist, making the bow wide as hawk wings.

The driver’s word rang in my ears. Considering that in all of Yamato, I alone understood the precarious situation, and still ran headlong into it, I couldn’t refute his claim.

With all my worldly possessions, I vaulted onto the road.

Before my feet touched ground, the horse neighed, a loud and violent defiance. I heard the reins whipping before I spun; they’d been ripped from human hands.

I darted alongside the hopping cart in two strides, my sleeping muscles screaming awake, bones popping in symphony.

The mare was a thrashing gangle of hooves, jumping and kicking to shake off the harness. Straw flurried. The driver hollered in a higher pitch than I could manage, squeezing down into his seat to avoid getting his head knocked off. Leather reins lashed at him, catching his side and ankles.

She reared, high, trampling air. The wood securing her to the cart snapped, freeing her.

I had no choice. She had hurt her owner, could hurt others, would certainly hurt herself. She was free to gallop off, nothing impeding her. Except me.

I sprang in front of her before she could take a step. She reared again, speckled belly like a slab of mountain. My legs stood still. She wanted to flee, not fight.

When her hooves shook the earth, her teeth gnashed at me. I wrenched my sight from her mouth to catch her giant eye with mine, and held the gaze. Her fear and panic seeped into me. I felt it as my own, crawling over, into, under my skin. My soul lurched to stamp it down like a small but growing fire. I refrained, knowing that would hurt her and stoke her anger. With meditation fresh in my mind, I exuded calm over her like an umbrella, smoothing down anxiety to a thin, breaking layer until docility shone through its cracks.

I shut my eyes, a headache blossoming, cutting under the bridge of my nose with sharp petals. It always hurt, every time worse than before. Once certain my eyes wouldn’t shoot from my skull, I peaked at the horse.

She shuffled, ears twitching, then shook her head sideways. I approached, hand raised.

Frantic hands waved at the edge of my vision. “Miss, stay back! She’s a biter!” It didn’t give me pause.

“Sorry,” I said, rubbing her long face. “That was inconsiderate of me... protecting you from it without realizing. I would have been less cruel to leave you under its influence.”

The driver rolled, like a dumpling, off the cart. He approached with respectful fear, rubbing his side where welts doubtlessly formed. “Miss,” he said, voice steady, “you could have been trampled. You should have let her go. What were you thinking?”

I shrugged. “She was going to hurt herself. Besides, it was my fault.”

“No, she’s been difficult for a while now. I thought she’d been unusually well behaved on this trip.” His round face pinched. “Come to think of it, every horse I’ve used has been this way. I thought a female would be more manageable, but,” he gestured helplessly at her.

As I said, my fault, I thought, and asked, “Is that why your fee is so low?”

The tiniest hint of guilt dwelled in his sheepish smile.

My eyes rolled. “You shouldn’t be working her so hard right now.”

“What do you mean?”

I scoured him with a frank look, which he returned blankly. It seemed he didn’t know. “You haven’t been watching her too closely, have you?”

“What?”

I sighed. “When you tie up a mare, you’ve got to keep her away from the stallions.” I patted her ears and smiled. “Well, let’s hope it was a stud, right, girl?”

As he worked it out, I reached back into my sash and pulled out a vial of medicinal cream and a roll of bandages. “This will ease the pain and fade the scars.” I dumped them into his hand.

He fumbled with them. “Miss, this is expensive! Isn’t this expensive?”

I distracted him by asking, “Think you can fix this on your own?” nodding to the cart.

He blinked, then frowned. “Of course!” He slapped his arm, which jiggled like a worm.

Purely in deference of his male ego, not a laugh or snicker escaped me. I nodded. Straw fell from my head. I reached up and back to pick at my ponytail. Luckily, I came away from the tangles of hair with my fingers attached. Really need to find a comb one of these days... Or maybe just buy one of those wide-brimmed hats.

As I patted and plucked my robes, the driver asked, “How did you do it?”

“Hm?” I looked up, brushing my sleeve.

He glanced at my headband, then away, as if afraid to look directly at me. “How did you calm her? How’d you know she was pregnant? Is it because you used...?”

I smiled teasingly. “Since you aren’t going to the city, I might consider letting you in on a secret.”

He looked at me.

My smile stretched. “The horses won’t be difficult for much longer.”

I spun on my heel, a giddy laugh bubbling from my throat. I’d been dying to talk to someone about my quest for months, warn them off instead of holding the truth in as it scraped at me from inside. I still couldn’t bring myself to say it. But even edging as close as I had left me deliriously lightheaded.

My sandals bounced down the serpentine road, toward civilization. Warm water awaited. A week’s worth of cold streams was enough for a lifetime. And the food! The food they must have in the city. I like to try new cuisine wherever I go. Except meat. I’ll have to remember that meat will make me sick to my heels even though it always smells so, so tempting.

I still hadn’t adjusted to traveling alone, but ignoring the unsettlingly empty air next to me had gotten easier. All sixteen years I had been with Mother, the world underfoot. But I’m on my own now; I’ve got to be the hero of my own story.

I’m not without lessons learned and skills, however. Most acquired through my own sacrifices, some... acquired.

I knew the city neared when the road wound through an expanse of rice fields, ripe stalks on either side of me monopolizing the land. In the muck were hundreds of heads of dark hair muffled by cooling hats and headwraps.

Peasants. Men, women and children. Their pants hiked to the knees as they stood ankle or shin deep in the water; many children were altogether pantless, some square shouldered men wore nothing but undergarments. In neat, uniformed rows they advanced through the fields, slicing scythes in hand.

I tilted my head, eyeing the arcs of their swinging arms as their other hands snatched the cut stalks. Some of the movements were more polished than those of samurai I’ve encountered. I suppose none are more practiced in their repetitive tasks than the farmer, a repetition crucial to any martial art.

It determined me to make time for practice swings. To find a tree I could punch before my knuckles became too soft, incapable of breaking bodies.

I examined the peasant physique. Worn hands, the muck clinging to their bare feet as they stepped out and into the water. Unclean, yes, working the field with the sun flogging them overhead. But my mind could not classify them “vulgar”, as was said of them more often than not.

Mother and I had tried growing our own food. We had the land, tools, and seeds. Cucumbers, peaches, apples, corn, radish. Even medicinal plants. We envisioned an edible rainbow sprouting from the ground. The two of us rising early to work our patch of the world, then waiting. Sometimes we’d stay up by a fire, my mouth running with hot air as my arms throbbed, Mother reserved and soft spoken and unshaken by tilling the land with a hoe larger than she was.

Ah, but we were no farm hands. We grew only weeds and mutations that sent even rabbits scurrying. The memory of plucking turtle-shaped, ghost colored carrots made me smile.

The work had been difficult, certainly not glamorous, and lacking the prize of bountiful crops we anticipated. But even remembering how we were caked in dirt, I could no more associate “vulgar” with my mother than I could with the sun.

Past the sight of sweating workers, after roving, plush acres of grass, stood the capital city, Edo. Far behind the wall I could see the highest of its tallest buildings, darkly colored square crowns of tile stacked upon one another.

Armored samurai lined the top of the wall like stone guardians. Bows and quivers strapped, arrows itching to be loosed on invaders. Beside and between each archer stood a rifleman, positioned to fire in volley, the long fuses of their guns looped around wooden barrels. Their obsidian armor made them dark stars hanging in the sky, with glinting gold crescent moons on their helmets, chests and shoulders; the symbol of the shogunate.

Uniquely decorated headbands of various designs and colors were tied around each helmet, all located directly under the crescent moon; a symbol of their subordination to the shogunate’s will.

Each head trained solely on me as my steps neared. With the demonic scowls of their silver facemasks, the stares were heavy. I was not afraid, but acutely aware of their attention and lethality.

The metal gate was closed with an aura of prideful impenetrability, each door forming half a gaping mouth of fangs that jutted from the flat surface, sharp enough and large enough to impale several men upon each tooth. Four sets of furious eyes and a number of horns bulged over the maw. I took a moment to admire. Likely, the shogunate commissioned its design to send a message to each visitor of his city without speaking a word, and deter any force that would consider rebelling against him: Trifle here and be devoured.

A trio of samurai stood before the gate, armored as the gargoyles above them, but wielding traditional weapons; katana and wakizashi on their hips. The man in the center, a red band tied around his sword arm, wore a holstered dueling pistol, an ornately decorated and envied weapon of lords and their most loyal. He would be speaking.

He stepped toward me, motioning for me to halt, the offhand resting on the scabbard of his primary weapon. The other ground level sentinels swaggered behind him, armor rustling with every step. Only around their eyes skin remained visible

I planted my feet, back straight, eyes forward. I’m tall, dwarfing other girls; the top of my ponytail reached even with their helmets. I am no simpering peasant afraid of being beaten, nor a craftsman dreading his wares smashed by a temperamental brute. I faced them in equal standing.

“By order of the Shogunate,” the redband said, metallic resonance in his voice, “none are permitted at this time to enter the city without just cause. State your business.”

I licked at the scar on my lower lip, thinking. Rumors of turmoil had led me to this daunting gate, as they had to every target Mother and I pursued together. For Edo to be locked down as if under siege, it was my true destination.

To narrow my search, I required a lead. Locating the nest had been challenging enough, but finding the target would be like catching a single drop of rain in the storm.

I asked the redband, “Why has His Most Excellent Highness made this decree?”

He drew himself up, eyes emitting outrage. “Your lack of knowledge is woeful, girl! Several high ranking officials, men whom the Shogunate held in personal regard, have been assassinated. Surely such news has reverberated through every noble house!”

“Forgive me,” I responded, “I have not been home in quite some time.”

I digested the pompous guard’s words. The assassin must not have been apprehended yet. Which meant the shogunate wanted to keep someone in more than he wanted to keep others out.

Assuming the assassin my target, I had best extract them before they are captured. An execution would be imminent, and my search would begin anew.

I chewed my lip. I’m not going to be an embarrassment to Mother anymore.

I dipped my head in respect. “I humbly request entrance to the Shogunate’s city, so that I may test my martial value.”

“Family name?”

I peered into his helmet. “None.”

His eyes crinkled to summon a cursed word. “Clanless.”

I let silence ring.

He scoffed at me. “That explains your disheveled appearance and ignorance. No lord would allow such an unsightly reflection of himself. Return to where you hail from, masterless warrior. You are of no consequence.”

I stared at the guard, my face impassive. Modesty would not coax the gate open for me. The opposite then. Samurai respond one way or another to inflated pride. Please don’t be the other way. I gave my voice no inflection and said, “I am not without a master.”

“Under whose name do you act?”

I smiled and hooked a thumb at myself. “Kazumi.”

His eyes widened at my brazen claim, then narrowed. “You tax my dwindling patience. Though you have a crown, do not think yourself above a beating for impertinence.”

“Shall I report to any and all, then, that the grand capital city, which houses strength above all others, turned me away in ignorant fear?”

“Hold your tongue, wench,” he snapped, crouching, hand grasping the hilt of his sword. The two behind him mirrored this. I heard the shuffling of feet scraping against the walls above.

Damn. The other way. My heart sped, the weaknesses of the group before me glaring bright as I formed my words.

I became aware the samurai most left of me had been slowest to his stance. I could end him quickly if I prevented redband from drawing; I would snatch the leader’s pistol and fire through his helmet. A half-second before dying, the leader would serve as my buffer against the third sentry, who looked to be the thinnest, a body I could haul to shield my retreat from arrows and bullets.

My mind told me these things without effort, but I would rather avoid the fight. How? It wouldn’t do any good to claim I had arrived to help. They don’t know what I know. I had to convince the guard I was worthy. Push on.

I didn’t want too much attention on me in the city, but there was no avoiding it.

I lifted my chin and reached into my sash, complete stillness inside of me as the tension thickened. I grasped the cloth I kept tied around my waist, where it was most useful to me. I pulled on it.

From between my sash and robes came a long collection of cloth strips tied together, coloring green, blue, white, red and more. Symbols of the sun, of trees, mountains and fish adorned them. Many times had this cloth been wrapped around me. I spun my arms in half circles as I unfurled it.

Their eyes had gone wider and wider as I continued, and likewise had my smile. As any samurai, I do savor the chance to level a prideful boast at an audience. The addictive rush of powerful feeling echoes soul deep.

I spoke daringly. “I have entered more than a dozen schools that claimed their roots from this city, and left the prized student of each dojo crumpled before the weight of my prowess. Fellow disciples who sought retribution found only humility. I have dueled the praised and decorated in honorable combat, conquering their valiant efforts.”

I fished the last cloth, dozens of knots weaving headbands of the defeated, the collection a lumpy fold in my hands.

I raised the colorful array overhead, and the three flinched back as one. “I invoke the trophies of my victories past to sing praise of my name. Kazumi fearlessly stands before this city of warriors in challenge!”

Each crown flared to heed my command, reacting, as they were designed, only to the call of whosoever defeated the rightful previous wearer. The colors and marking of each headband projected in a dazzling, nauseating cacophony. The trees, the fish, mountains, rivers, whatever had been woven into the cloth now danced around me as apparitions of light.

It lasted no more than five seconds before fading, but I hoped everyone in attendance was as vision impaired as I was for the next minute.

I stared unbended, keeping my expression of fierce confidence as my body shook in excitement of the presentation, anticipation of combat, and hunger.

Vindication or partial blindness may have caused it, but I’m certain sweat rolled down the redband’s nose. The other two finally broke from staring at me to trade glances of concern.

The guard’s hand slipped from his sword. His head plunged low in apology. “You are correct, Kazumi. Questionable as your lineage may be, I cannot deny your prestige. Only the truest of samurai could have amassed such a testament of devastating ability.”

He drew a long, wooden whistle from his side and raised it to his lips, fitting it through a slot in his mask. It birthed a long, deep tone, joined seconds after by two separate, lighter notes.

I heard the rattling of chains before the fanged gate budged. The demonic face split outward with a ghastly exhale of breath.

The guards clasped their hands and bowed deeply, almost in half. “Edo welcomes you, Sword Saint.”

I answered the gesture with a much lighter bow. “Thank-you.”

They stood aside for me. As I passed, the redband helpfully said, “You need not want for opponents here. Many worthy challengers will surely seek you out!”

I smiled politely and tried not to think about how every self-important warrior in the city would set their blades on me. An attribute which likely applied to all of them.

The silver lining is that perhaps now the assassin will come to me.

But I’ve cleared the first obstacle. I entered the city, my hunting ground until I succeeded, or died. Somewhere within these high walls, a malevolent spirit had taken root, tainting the air, sowing strife and spreading torment with its quiet presence of dread.

And I had to save it.
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Re: When Souls Scream

Unread postby gman391 » February 2nd, 2013, 5:53 am

Much better.
"My friends, love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair. So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we’ll change the world."
----Jack Layton
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Re: When Souls Scream

Unread postby Minion » February 8th, 2013, 7:34 pm

Second Chapter. This turned out a lot darker than I originally envisioned it.
Spoiler: show
When Souls Scream, Chapter 2: Tore

A bubbling tide of unwashed masses pullulated the cobblestone street, dressed in tattered rags, huddled around small fires and blankets that lined wooden buildings. A merchant counted coins in a wheeless wagon that was filled to capacity with lounging people. From the stagnant air rose a scent of cooking horsemeat.

Every face turned, not at all once, but in a trickle of that spread through the crowd like contagion. A fleet of dangerously desperate eyes locked in my direction.

The cluster of pure negative emotions almost crippled me. I gritted my teeth, insides knotted with a blend of misery, quiet, painful hope, and fear. Dear Mother, the fear flowing from these people, a festering, obstinate stain etched on their souls.

“The gate’s open!”

Many murmured and chorused these words in various tones ranging from awe to incredulity to panicked glee. One vacant eyed woman stepped toward us, and with that act, the restraining fear crumbled. The mob shuffled forward with unsure, dizzy steps.

A guard next to me, one of a platoon stationed at the gate’s interior, unsheathed his sword. “Get back, you swine!” The actions was quickly mirrored by his compatriots, signing steel drawn from scabbards.

My breath shallowed. I craned my neck to see lit guns peaking over the wall’s edge, bow strings pulled back.

Swords guided by dutiful rage. Gunman and archers, poised like deities prepared to rain judgement on mortals. Powerless people wanting nothing but escape. And I was in the middle of it, crushed on all sides.

I heard chains again. The gate began to close.

For a heartbeat or two, that was the only sound.

An unintelligible screech pierced everything. I felt a snap as fear frothed over sense. They piled toward us, an avalanche of footfalls stampeding the gate.

A sword swooped to point at the mob, a redbanded arm guiding it. “Fire!”

The barrage roared like drums struck by thunder. Blood misted the air, spraying faces. Gunfire faded, succeeded by whistling silver bolts. The swarm gobbled its fallen.

I heard a whisper, “Stop.”

The gatekeepers strode forward, their blades shimmering with hints of color. Ki, power to extend one’s soul within a weapon to strengthen it.

I heard the same small voice, closer.

The augmented blades dismembered or bisected in sleek strokes. Thrusts impaled shoving masses, skewering them like shrimp. Red rivers flowed through cracks in cobblestone.

A third time,“Stop!” and realized it was my voice. Senses came back to my control as I swam from the chaos to my body. The copper smell, my sore throat.

The mayhem drowned me out. I couldn’t stop it, or slow it down, not with this many. I barely escaped the cacophony myself. The fray shackled everyone together, twisted by the same dark whispers. This was the spirit’s doing. It was laughing, watching this. Its influence is stronger in Edo than anywhere.

I could pull one person from it, maybe, but...

No. No maybe. I came here to stop this, not watch people die. I would save at least one person from this slaughter! If I couldn’t do that much, I might as well gut myself.

And that one person would help save more.

I overlooked the carnage, seeking the soldier who ordered the attack. He had the authority to end it. The spirit exasperated negative qualities, but did not mute reason and personality. Loyalty and obedience ingrained in the warrior class would prevail.

He stood at the largest pile of thoroughly murdered corpses, violet hued sword in reverse grip. He grabbed a woman by the hair, twisted her head back, then ran her through the abdomen. He threw her away as her arms flailed, dark helmet turning to another hapless victim.

I tackled him from behind. Redband’s sword tumbled from his grasp, losing its purple sheen. He threw an elbow. I caught it below the joint and rolled, locking his arm. My foot planted on his helmet, forcing him to look at me. I returned the feral glare, grasping the soul beneath. It whisked me into the sickness, as though I clutched the feathers of a giant bird.

The pain screamed above everything. I felt the cuts as my own, along my arms, head and sides. Piercing agony, swords stabbing my ribcage, arrowheads like ticks in my skin. Festering heat of bullets. None of the wounds were fatal, not yet. Even I couldn’t feel the hurt of the dead.

Everything blurred, but I hardened my will to remain conscious. I endured, adopting the torment until I could focus beyond it.

A sound, loud then soft, the screaming echoes of departing souls as they drifted upward, taken by The Cycle.

The redband’s soul remained in grasp, wriggling to escape my touch, bonded to the chaos encapsulating us.

I wrenched the soul from its confinement, gliding through turmoil, evading the grope of shadows. Pressure mounted the further I went. I carried on to the edge, a beacon of light and fresh air that spread like a crack inside an eggshell. It must have been where I initially escaped.

I backed through, emerging from the conglobate of thrashing souls beneath. Planting my feet on the surface, I pulled the soul with me.

The malevolence reached, crawling up my arms. Icy fingers clenched my organs and wrung them with snarling, possessive rage. I thrashed, shrieked, and felt dark laughter slithering in my ear. My grip slackened.

Maddened souls clawed from beneath, dragging Redband’s essence back in.

Fear and pain faded. Quiet anger burst from within me. The cold recoiled, sizzling away.

I extended as far as I could to the soul.

And it reached out to me.

I grasped and heaved, freeing us both from the swirling vacuum of collective emotions.

My world was white with anguish. A hammer pounded my brain in all directions, from the inside. I was breathing, good. The rapidly blinking eyes of Redband came into focus.

I pointed behind us, to the closed gate. I wheezed out, “It’s. Over.” I released the arm

Redband towered over me, still for a moment, facing the massacre, then snatched up the abandoned sword, stabbing the sky. “Hold your fire! Hold your fire!”

Guards on the walls and within earshot responded, yelling “Ceasefire!” to neighbors.

Guns fell silent. Arrows stopped drizzling. Swords were sheathed.

The violence didn’t altogether stop without weapons. Armored fists pummeled the dying frenzy, jujitsu holds ground faces into stone.

But negative emotions had fed on each other. The cap of military violence suffocated peasant uproar, as fire without oxygen. The waves slowed, they must have noticed the gate had closed. Many sank to their knees, faces swollen with despair. The rest retreated to their hovels, cowering.

A samurai kicked the backside of a peasant who scurried away. Others paced like restless animals eager to pounce.

It was over.

I sat on my knees, trying to steady my breathing. Phantom pains danced all over me, too faint to be real, but too strong not to be felt.

How many had died in that minute? Everything in me wanted to dig a hole and crawl in it. But knowing things would get worse banished the thought. I had to stop this from happening again.

My legs got under me, lifting me up. I pulled a handkerchief from my sash to wipe blood from my nose.

“Have the undertakers transport these bodies to the pile. Personally see to it that there are no mistakes.” That was Redband, issuing orders and pointing, before marching up to me, removing the red dappled helmet.

She was in her mid-twenties, a head shorter than me. Brown hair. Lips pressed together. “The notes they played out front are to herald a Sword Saint.” She eyed me. “That is you?”

“Yes?” I shook my head. “Yes.”

She held the helmet underarm to bow. “Saiki Ayame. I will escort you from this mess, to a district where you can find suitable lodging.”

I nodded and thanked her with as much voice as I could muster. I might need a shoulder to lean on. She lead the clearest path over chopped bodies, glassy eyes staring up at me.

Peasants whispered as we passed, fleeting glances at our feet.

“They opened the gates for her.”

“Why? How?”

“Does the Shogunate know?”

My socks were erubescent when I cleared the corpses.

An elderly woman collided into me, fisting my robes, sharp uncut nails that bit my skin. “Please! Whatever you did, please, once more. We have to get out!” Her halitosis stung my eyes.

I stared, numbness hibernating in my chest. Don’t lose it, Kazumi, I thought. Not yet.

My escort glared coldly. “Release her, or I remove your hands.”

The woman paled, doing as told. She babbled apology, dipping her head of white hair, stumbling down an alley.

Ayame’s glare lingered. “I apologize, Sword Saint. Our commoners have forgotten their place.” She had raised her voice, a clear message to the dredges that lined the street. Heads dipped meekly, trying to sink in the ground. Some discreetly covered injuries sustained in the skirmish. They were the lucky ones.

I rubbed my arms as we walked.

A throng of degraded people stretched as far as I could see, planted before shops and inns that face inward the street. I smelled food, fish mostly, maybe eel or shrimp. Either dish would no doubt be complemented by rice. Not that my stomach would hold anything stronger than air.

More than peasants littered the area. We passed a group of five monks sitting on a startlingly clean blanket, wide hats obscuring their faces. My chest itched and burned. They were likely on a pilgrimage. Their lips moved in synchronized prayer. I didn’t know who would answer them. A few coins would usually dot the blanket, offerings from any passersby. I saw none.

There were also samurai, not in armor, but in robes like my own, standing in front of a shop here or a two story home there. They said nothing, but eyed us with disdain as we passed... until they got a good look at Ayame’s armor. Then their posture would become markedly more respectful.

“Why...” I nearly choked on my words. Logically I knew there wasn’t blood in my lungs, but the feeling lingered. Being flanked on either side by a miasma of wretchedness didn’t help. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could function.

“Pardon?”

I swallowed and steadied myself. “Why are these people in the streets, camped so close to the gate?”

Ayame sneered. “There’s nowhere else for them. The inns in this district are filled to capacity, and we certainly can’t allow their stench near the castles.”

“Oh, how would we sleep at night?”

Ayame nodded. “Precisely. The situation has tensions high enough.”

“You mean the manhunt?”

“Yes.” Her eyes flashed with hate. “For the Spider.”

“That’s what you call the assassin?”

“Only until his identity is uncovered.”

I fought a groan. “So you have no idea who it is?”

Ayame hesitated. “Is that why you’re here? Do you intend to go after him?”

I licked at my scar. “Thinking about it.”

She gave a measured nod. “Perhaps it can be done only by a Sword Saint.”

“Why do you say that?”

“His targets thus far have been no ordinary samurai.”

“Who, then?”

“Three of The Seven.”

I stilled. The Seven Hands, selected personally by the Shogunate. The greatest warriors Yamato offered, each protected by a small army of retainers. A position only a Sword Saint could be considered for.

The information didn’t ease my headache. I rubbed my temple. “Why Spider?”

“Witnesses claim he reaches targets around corners or through walls.”

“Sounds like he uses ki.”

Ayame gave me a queer look. “That is self-evident. No one could defeat any of The Seven without it.”

I nodded. “Of course, yes. Spider must be a samurai, then.”

“We believed that as well, but... after the first murder, we had detained every samurai in the city. Over nine-thousand, in total.”

My eyes widened. “That many in Edo?”

“The first murder occurred during a summer festival. A good time, until the body was discovered.” She shivered, which made me nervous. I knew what this woman was capable of. Lack of restraint could be attributed to the spirit, but the capacity for violence was her own.

“It was an animals doing. All the retainers as well. It took hours to assign each body proper identification.”

“You mean like at the gate?”

“That was tame by comparison.”

I shouldn’t have brought it up. What I had felt became more acute. My thighs started to burn from bullet wounds.

The charred remains of a wooden building gave me an excuse to stop. Some of the foundation remained, at least in the front. It didn’t appear inhabited. A man entered the building, searching for something on the floor. He hiked up his robes and bent over.

I hurried away.

“Better there than in the streets,” Ayame murmured. “Most of these animals relieve themselves in any lake they can find.”

I shook my head. “After you accounted for everyone?”

“We questioned them all, but they each maintained their innocence. We had no evidence or leads. But the Shogunate was... is, dissatisfied. Many samurai had arrived with their families to attend the festival, and those not present were quickly marched to Edo. The Shogunate ordered they all be taken hostage. Our Lord threatened to kill every one of them unless the assassin came forth.”

I felt cold and wrong all over. “What happened?”

“The next day, a second Hand was killed. The Shogunate responded with a public ceremony. The first born son of one accused was beheaded.” Her face hardened. “The day afterward, it was an eldest daughter of another man. By Our Lord’s decree, this will continue every day until the Spider is captured.”

Everyday... That was months ago. Mother, I prayed, give me strength.

“Today’s execution was a girl. It always gets people riled.”

My legs shook. “No one has come forward?”

“One man did. But he had been detained at the time of the second murder, and witnesses placed him far away from the first. He sought to to spare the others by taking the blame. He, his wives, and his children were executed as conspirators.”

“And to revolt in any way, your family will be killed,” I said to myself. “Even those who have lost one child still have others, and wives. Which means the only solution they have is to,”

“Find the Spider. Every noble is devoted to the search.”

“But no idea how to find him?”

“We have unprecedented numbers, but nowhere left to uncover. There are no leads. It is the sword over our heads.”

I nodded at a robed warrior in front of a noodle stand. “What about them? Are they searching?”

“Some of our brothers have taken to lodging with peasants, protecting them as payment. They have no other way of earning coin during the lockdown. Many have become resentful for this compromise to their honor.”

That explained the looks we’d gotten earlier.

“Then what about the peasants? If you know a samurai has done it, why not let them leave?”

She shook her head. “The Spider clearly has no honor, and therefore no qualms hiding among them, waiting for us to do just that. Until he’s found, no one will leave the city. I hope you fully appreciate the situation... Sword Saint.

“Excluding the logic, by trying to escape, they disobeyed the divine word of the Shogunate. Our Lord demands their obedience, yet they forget themselves, that they live at his benevolence.”

“You didn’t have to kill them.” I couldn’t keep the snarl from my voice. Felt good to feel something other than worry and despair, even if it was anger. Still, I had to remember that Ayame was a victim, too.

But she’d live to be free, unlike those souls sent away.

Her eyes narrowed. “There certainly would have been no need, had you not required the gate be opened.”

Hearing the words stung in a new way. If I had prescience of what would happen... I still would be in the city. I had to stop this from escalating, at all costs. I could have snuck in, but only without my influence as a samurai, clout I needed to resolve the crisis.

Even knowing that, guilt gnawed me.

“The guards I spoke with, how do they get into the city?” I couldn’t fathom a slaughter such as that happening daily.

“They don’t. Supplies are lowered to them. The gate has not been opened in two months. They’re brave men.”

We arrived at a defended bridge arching over a tranquil stream. The area beyond it was devoid of unwashed people, the buildings higher, made of stone. The guards nodded as we passed.

“This is the district of elite warriors,” Ayame said. “You won’t have to worry about vagabonds here.”

We were halfway across the bridge when my legs caved. I casually threw myself at the ledge to prevent myself from falling. I grasped the polished red wood, holding myself up with burning arms.

I felt Ayame’s befuddled stare. “Would you like me to show you to a suitable inn? I can recommend one with a marvelous hot spring.”

I didn’t speak, wasn’t sure if I even could. I stared at the peaceful stream, an antithesis of the tumult inside me.

It hadn’t been more than thirty minutes of walking, and in this small section of the capital, I saw all the signs to signify a dark spirit had taken root. Three months of traveling and searching without locating the target... when one glance of Edo’s streets would have confirmed.

I thought myself an honorable helper when I stopped by every town, city, or province, or inn. To locate missing children, to slay something foul and truly vulgar. My altruism demanded I leave the inhabitants better off than before I arrived. And I had done so.

But had I only been sniffing at the outreaching tendrils of the beast? Perhaps my compulsion to do good for those around me has been an obstruction?

Would snuffing out the source have expediently aided every person I met, and the many more I did not? Could it have saved all the people that were butchered just an hour ago?

Would Mother have stood, months beforehand, where I stood now?

I can’t. I couldn’t... A girl was murdered today, while my ass was in a cart. How many had died because of my ineptitude? More than too many.

“Sword Saint?” Ayame called after I don’t know how many minutes.

“Kazumi,” I said faintly. “Please, just Kazumi.”

“...Very well. Kazumi, I was hoping to ask you something.”

I looked at her, trying a smile. From the way her brow furrowed, it probably failed. I sighed. “Certainly, ask away.”

She chose her words carefully. “When you pinned me... actually, no, before that. I was furious, so angry I...” Shame painted itself on her. “I wanted to kill the peasants. I relished in it.”

I cradled my chin in my hand, looking at her.

“I’ve killed, but never had I cut anyone without a weapon. I did my duty to the Shogunate, yes. But I shouldn’t have felt that way. And after I looked into your eyes... I didn’t.

“I feel as if a haze has been lifted from my head.”

“That’s because it has.” I turned and leaned my elbows against the bridge. “Three months ago... or even as you are now, would you have ordered to open fire?”

“I would have, no, I should have ordered that we beat them back until the gate closed.” Her eyes downcast. “Instead, I was was so lost in bloodshed that I didn’t notice it. And my subordinates, they were not bothered by our behavior, not one of them. And when I saw them, as I cut the peasants, I realized... I wanted to cut them too.”

I listened to the gentle flow of water.

“I don’t think you’ve asked a question yet.”

She looked at me, and edge in her stare. “Kazumi. What is going on?”

I rubbed my temple. “How’d you like to help me save this city from the brink?”

Ayame’s expression was as if to judge which of us was insane. “What does that entail?”

“Finding the Spider, to start with.”

“What more could be needed?”

“It might be more complicated. I’m too tired to explain right now. Will you help?”

She looked me in the eye, searchingly, then bowed. “I would do anything to see that beast apprehended. If you are going after Spider, it will be my honor to assist. I am off guard rotation tomorrow. We can convene then.”

Halfway through a bow, nausea erupted in my chest. I swallowed it down. “Superlative. First and foremost, I need you to tell me... where’s the red-light district?”

Ayame blinked. “Excuse me?”

I repeated myself.

The response was as if without her will. “To the east, past the gardens.” She gave me a look demanding elaboration, but I didn’t have time for it.

“Thanks. I will see you tomorrow.”

On feebling legs, I set off in search of the most respectable whorehouse in Edo.
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