Trin
07-23-2005, 05:03 AM
After a very late night, I finally finished off Hiromi's story. This is long overdue, so I do apologize for taking so long with this. Anyway, enjoy!
The thatched roof that lay above Hiromi’s head was full of holes, and streams of hot sunlight shot into the ill lit room. Hiromi sat by the door to the shack, fumbling around with a pitchfork from the haystack outside. At the middle of the room sat a middle age man and his daughter. The man silently but diligently stirred the cooking vegetables in the cooking pot while his daughter looked in amazement at the fire that licked at the pot underneath.
“Toriyama-sama, when can we continue with my practice?” Hiromi asked, pretending to hit invisible enemies with the pitchfork’s blunt end.
“One cannot practice without first eating a good meal,” the man replied in a reserved tone.
“I understand, but I don’t really have much time left,” Hiromi said, with tension in her voice. “It won’t be long before my father and his envoy return from the next town.”
“Not to worry, Hiromi-chan. The vegetables I have cooked are ready. You and Asuka may serve yourselves.”
“Hooray!” the man’s young daughter cheered, her short chubby arms shooting into the air. “Hiromi-chan! Come eat with me!”
“I’m coming, Asuka. Don’t worry!” Hiromi shouted, throwing the pitchfork on the ground and racing to go eat with her favorite little girl.
As the two girls served themselves, and proceed to gulp their food down like ravenous wolves, the man looked on in amusement. With his wife lost to polio, and little help from the magistrate, raising his daughter had been hard. Hiromi’s arrival in the village was exactly what he needed. The young girl, despite being the magistrate’s daughter, was more than happy to take care of Asuka while Toriyama went to nearby villages to buy supplies.
Over the months that Hiromi had been taking care of his daughter, Toriyama saw how close the two had become. Asuka looked up to Hiromi, and had even started to emulate her. It was nice to have her around, but Toriyama found Asuka’s emulation troubling.
“All done!” Asuka shouted, as both she and Hiromi tipped their bowls in Toriyama’s direction to show that they were finished.
“Can we go train now, Toriyama-sama? Please?”
The middle aged man looked at Hiromi and smiled. There was little he could do when faced with child’s doe eyes. He motioned for Hiromi to go outside, and once she had left, he turned to his little daughter who has more than ready to follow her. Grabbing her shoulders, he looked into her eyes with a stern and almost grim face.
“Do you love Hiromi, Asuka?” Toriyama asked, his heart heavy anticipating her answer.
“Of course, father. Hiromi-chan is the best!” Asuka shouted, throwing her arms in the air as she did.
“Asuka,” Toriyama uttered, unable to swallow or talk properly. “Whatever happens to Hiromi, you must stay here.”
“Why do you say that, father?”
“Hiromi’s destiny doesn’t lie here, my little peach. Her aura is far too big to be contained within the confines of this place. Her destiny lies out there.”
"Oh daddy!" Asuka replied.
"Please, listen," Toriyama continued. "I don't know what I would do without you, Asuka. You're all I have."
As Toriyama had his heart to heart with his daughter, Hiromi worked on her spear skills, swinging a pitchfork in smooth motions around and at man shaped hay stacks. At times the staff felt like a natural extension of her water-like motions, but other times finishing a particular move felt like an upward battle. She would still succumb to a loss of balance at odd times, and even underestimated the weight of the spear’s end at critical moments. Her progress, though, had been magnificent considering much of her training was done during clandestine sessions.
As she continued to practice, she saw a mid sized man with messy hair slowly stroll past the village, and towards her father’s abode. His aura intrigued Hiromi. It wasn’t often that warriors came by, so when they did, many people took notice. The very way he walked and carried himself made it obvious that he was a man of considerable skill. Unlike most warriors, though, he had slung his katana by a frayed rope around his shoulder, as if he intended to wield both the katana and its sheath as a weapon.
Interested to know what business this strange and rather unkempt man had to with her father, Hiromi followed through the darkness, abandoning her martial arts lesson in favor of curiosity. As the unnamed man approached the guards, Hiromi noticed that he became annoyed with the inconvenience of having to identify himself.
“Let me through, damnit,” the man snapped. Hiromi wasn’t able to see more than the profile of his face, but there was a look of disdain that she could see clearly, even at her angle.
“You’re going to need to make an appointment with the magistrate,” one of the guards sternly replied, shoving the spear close to the samurai's face.
“Get...that…out…of my face,” the samurai slowly growled at the guard, pointing at the spear that glared back at him.
“Come back when you have an appointment,” the guard replied, ignoring Kazuo’s request. Before either guard had time to react, the samurai quickly swept his arm upward to move the spear out of his path, and closed in to deliver a single but powerful punch to the guard’s neck. Grasping for air, the guard fell in a heap, leaving the other to fend without backup.
“You don’t have the guts, little boy,” the unkempt warrior whispered to the stranded guard. The guard had little reason to disagree. His fear was palpable, and his guiding weapon arm was shaking like a leaf.
“That will be enough,” bellowed a voice from the top of the stairs where the guards had been stationed. As the two men looked to the top of the stairs, so did Hiromi. She recognized the middle aged man at the top of the stairs. It was her father.
“I think you’ve incapacitated enough of my fine soldiers this day, Shishikyuu,” the magistrate said, smiling. Hiromi gathered that this “shishikyuu” had been hired by her father to perform some service. Beyond that, her knowledge of the situation was limited.
The two men disappeared into the fortress, and Hiromi was left peering at the two guards, who were trying to regain some semblance of composure. Without giving poor Toriyama any notice, Hiromi sprinted across the wide expanse between the village and the fortress in a crouched position. Before the guards had a chance to survey their surroundings, Hiromi slipped into the nigh invisible passage under the main stairs that she frequently used to slip in and out of the fortress unnoticed.
On the first floor of the fortress was a meeting room, where each wall was awash with elaborate paintings. Each one depicted a fabled victory in mythology, and each one was more elaborate than the last. One wall had two square paper lanterns on iron stands, which stood nearest to the larger of the sliding doors of the room. Hiromi hunched down just out of sight, and listened to the muffled conversation from within the meeting room.
“I understand you want to keep your name anonymous,” the muffled voice of the magistrate piped up as Hiromi sat down, “but it would be beneficial to your reputation in this province if you let me know your real name.”
“I don’t need word of mouth to keep myself employed,” the man named Shishikyuu responded, his voice maintaining a calm monotone in the presence of the lord. “My reputation speaks for itself. Once my job is done here, you’ll know what I mean.”
After that, there was a lot of silence. Hiromi tried to listen closely, but all she could hear was the white noise of the sizzling flame that illuminated the otherwise dark bowels of the fortress. As Hiromi began to shuffle closer to the door, the talking began again. Alarmed, she rushed back into her darkened corner.
“So?” Shishikyuu continued. “What’s the job?”
“There is an illegal minting forge on my land,” the magistrate replied.
“A minting forge?”
“Correct. I’m not sure who for, but they’ve been forging Chinese currency in this province, and it’s likely that it’s being distributed not only throughout this province, but also neighboring areas.”
“Sounds serious.” Hiromi noticed a tinge of excitement in the warrior’s voice.
“If this operation continues any longer, it’s likely we could have an economic crisis on our hands. My people are already suffering, Shishikyuu. I cannot afford something this drastic.”
“The usual fee applies. If I find out that you’re lying about this information, I’ll make sure you hear from me immediately. You may not like what I have to say.” What Shishikyuu said took Hiromi back. She had never heard such forceful language used against her father.
Shishikyuu’s obvious distaste for authority intrigued Hiromi. If he was as great a swordsman as her father believed, then he was exactly what she was looking for. There was only one way for her to make sure.
* * *
Shishikyuu slowly opened the heavy sliding door of the seemingly abandoned blacksmith’s forge on the edge of the small village. The steel had dug into the soft earth underneath, and the door had become more stubborn than ever. Shishikyuu wasn’t much for stealth, and his plainly colored ukata and the lack of a mask was enough evidence. Breathing in the stale air that had been milling about inside the building for god knows how long, he smelled the stench of blood and thieves.
“There’s no reason to hide from me now,” Shishikyuu shouted. “I know that you’re still here, you damn forgers. Show yourself, and let’s end this charade.”
From the rafters above, a shadowy figure dropped. The grace of the figure made it obvious that it was female, but the landing had a primarily masculine footing to it, asserting an offensive stance. Shishikyuu turned slowly to the figure, scratched his head, and frowned.
“The great mastermind behind this forgery is a mere girl?” Shishikyuu questioned, clearly unimpressed.
“I’m not behind the forgeries,” the figure refuted. Clearing her throat and lowering her voice, the figure continued. “I’m here to help you.”
“You’re kidding me, right? I don’t need help little girl. Go home.”
“Hahahahaha!” a loud echo of laughter bellowed from the rafters of the old shop. “I thought I had caught one beetle, but in fact I have two. This is delicious, indeed.”
“Ah, that’s who I’m here to see,” Shishikyuu growled, a maniacal grin growing on his face. “Out of the way little girl.”
“I’m not a little girl!” the female figure shouted in his direction, her rage increasing.
“Bwahahaha!” the bellowing laughter began again. Several torches in the rafters sprang to life, revealing the residents of the dilapidated shack. Not only were several fully armed ninja hiding in the rafters, but so was their master. He was dressed in a blood red outfit, and his face was covered with a painted Oni mask.
“Greetings, my insects,” the masked leader bellowed from the rafters. “I am Sasaki the Demon face, and this is my humble abode. You have trespassed onto my property, and I’m afraid you’ll have to pay the price!”
With a snap of his fingers, the brown clothed ninja that hugged to the rafters sprang into action, raining down upon the two warriors below. As the first ninja fell into striking distance, Shishikyuu’s arm snapped involuntarily over to the katana on his back. Pulling the sword from his sheath, he sprang into action, delivering lighting quick swipes in rapid succession to any man that came within distance to hit. As unseen slashes sprang forth from Shishikyuu’s arm, crimson splashed from each of the fallen ninja, painting the dusty ground and walls.
As sinew and steel met in a violent ballet around Shishikyuu’s personal space, the warrior caught glimpses at the girl close by, who was taking care of herself with little effort. She had acquired a bo staff from the body of one of the ninja, and was attacking with effective, albeit rudimentary attacks.
As Shishikyuu continued to cut down each foe, he kept an eye on the girl, memorizing her style and predicting each of her attacks. She was predictable to someone as skilled as Shishikyuu, but it was obvious that she was trained by a true master. Her attacks had determination and definition. Her forms were near flawless, but she lacked the emotional ferocity that filled every slash of Shishikyuu’s sword.
When the last ninja fell to his knees in agony, Shishikyuu looked up to the rafters, and pointed at Sasaki.
“You,” he yelled with excitement, “are mine!”
With that, the blood red ninja jumped from his place on the rafter, and landed on the ground, splashing the blood of his minions onto the shins and thighs of his clothes. Reaching behind his back, the ogre-like ninja pulled out two kama, each more than ready to drink Shishikyuu’s blood.
“Wait behind me, girl,” Shishikyuu shouted. “This is my fight.”
“I’m not a girl!” the female exclaimed, and struck Shishikyuu over the head with her newly acquired bo. Shishikyuu collapsed in a heap, and blood began to pour from the wound.
“Oh…oh damnit,” the girl whispered to herself, realizing the error of what she had just done.
“Hahaha!” Sasaki cackled. “This truly is my day. Come, little girl. I promise I won’t bite.”
When Sasaki finally inched into bo striking range, the female warrior took a determined swing at his side, hoping to hit him square in the ribs. Without a second thought, Sasaki blocked the bo with his forearm, and cut the long range weapon in half with the razor sharp blade of his kama, leaving the young girl defenseless. As Sasaki’s cackles began to grow to fill the room, he raised each kama into the air, ready to strike.
“Hey, ugly,” a gruff voice shouted from behind Sasaki. “Is our dance finished already?” Shishikyuu got up slowly with katana in hand, blood still streaming down from his head, into his eyes and mouth.
“Leave the girl alone,” Shishikyuu growled, “or I promise you’ll regret it.”
“Hahaha,” Sasaki cackled. “You’re half dead, boy! What can you do?”
Without uttering a response, Shishikyuu sprang into action. Using his katana and sheath as a shield, he blocked the kama that Sasaki had poised to attack, and slammed the two of them into a wall.
The thatched roof that lay above Hiromi’s head was full of holes, and streams of hot sunlight shot into the ill lit room. Hiromi sat by the door to the shack, fumbling around with a pitchfork from the haystack outside. At the middle of the room sat a middle age man and his daughter. The man silently but diligently stirred the cooking vegetables in the cooking pot while his daughter looked in amazement at the fire that licked at the pot underneath.
“Toriyama-sama, when can we continue with my practice?” Hiromi asked, pretending to hit invisible enemies with the pitchfork’s blunt end.
“One cannot practice without first eating a good meal,” the man replied in a reserved tone.
“I understand, but I don’t really have much time left,” Hiromi said, with tension in her voice. “It won’t be long before my father and his envoy return from the next town.”
“Not to worry, Hiromi-chan. The vegetables I have cooked are ready. You and Asuka may serve yourselves.”
“Hooray!” the man’s young daughter cheered, her short chubby arms shooting into the air. “Hiromi-chan! Come eat with me!”
“I’m coming, Asuka. Don’t worry!” Hiromi shouted, throwing the pitchfork on the ground and racing to go eat with her favorite little girl.
As the two girls served themselves, and proceed to gulp their food down like ravenous wolves, the man looked on in amusement. With his wife lost to polio, and little help from the magistrate, raising his daughter had been hard. Hiromi’s arrival in the village was exactly what he needed. The young girl, despite being the magistrate’s daughter, was more than happy to take care of Asuka while Toriyama went to nearby villages to buy supplies.
Over the months that Hiromi had been taking care of his daughter, Toriyama saw how close the two had become. Asuka looked up to Hiromi, and had even started to emulate her. It was nice to have her around, but Toriyama found Asuka’s emulation troubling.
“All done!” Asuka shouted, as both she and Hiromi tipped their bowls in Toriyama’s direction to show that they were finished.
“Can we go train now, Toriyama-sama? Please?”
The middle aged man looked at Hiromi and smiled. There was little he could do when faced with child’s doe eyes. He motioned for Hiromi to go outside, and once she had left, he turned to his little daughter who has more than ready to follow her. Grabbing her shoulders, he looked into her eyes with a stern and almost grim face.
“Do you love Hiromi, Asuka?” Toriyama asked, his heart heavy anticipating her answer.
“Of course, father. Hiromi-chan is the best!” Asuka shouted, throwing her arms in the air as she did.
“Asuka,” Toriyama uttered, unable to swallow or talk properly. “Whatever happens to Hiromi, you must stay here.”
“Why do you say that, father?”
“Hiromi’s destiny doesn’t lie here, my little peach. Her aura is far too big to be contained within the confines of this place. Her destiny lies out there.”
"Oh daddy!" Asuka replied.
"Please, listen," Toriyama continued. "I don't know what I would do without you, Asuka. You're all I have."
As Toriyama had his heart to heart with his daughter, Hiromi worked on her spear skills, swinging a pitchfork in smooth motions around and at man shaped hay stacks. At times the staff felt like a natural extension of her water-like motions, but other times finishing a particular move felt like an upward battle. She would still succumb to a loss of balance at odd times, and even underestimated the weight of the spear’s end at critical moments. Her progress, though, had been magnificent considering much of her training was done during clandestine sessions.
As she continued to practice, she saw a mid sized man with messy hair slowly stroll past the village, and towards her father’s abode. His aura intrigued Hiromi. It wasn’t often that warriors came by, so when they did, many people took notice. The very way he walked and carried himself made it obvious that he was a man of considerable skill. Unlike most warriors, though, he had slung his katana by a frayed rope around his shoulder, as if he intended to wield both the katana and its sheath as a weapon.
Interested to know what business this strange and rather unkempt man had to with her father, Hiromi followed through the darkness, abandoning her martial arts lesson in favor of curiosity. As the unnamed man approached the guards, Hiromi noticed that he became annoyed with the inconvenience of having to identify himself.
“Let me through, damnit,” the man snapped. Hiromi wasn’t able to see more than the profile of his face, but there was a look of disdain that she could see clearly, even at her angle.
“You’re going to need to make an appointment with the magistrate,” one of the guards sternly replied, shoving the spear close to the samurai's face.
“Get...that…out…of my face,” the samurai slowly growled at the guard, pointing at the spear that glared back at him.
“Come back when you have an appointment,” the guard replied, ignoring Kazuo’s request. Before either guard had time to react, the samurai quickly swept his arm upward to move the spear out of his path, and closed in to deliver a single but powerful punch to the guard’s neck. Grasping for air, the guard fell in a heap, leaving the other to fend without backup.
“You don’t have the guts, little boy,” the unkempt warrior whispered to the stranded guard. The guard had little reason to disagree. His fear was palpable, and his guiding weapon arm was shaking like a leaf.
“That will be enough,” bellowed a voice from the top of the stairs where the guards had been stationed. As the two men looked to the top of the stairs, so did Hiromi. She recognized the middle aged man at the top of the stairs. It was her father.
“I think you’ve incapacitated enough of my fine soldiers this day, Shishikyuu,” the magistrate said, smiling. Hiromi gathered that this “shishikyuu” had been hired by her father to perform some service. Beyond that, her knowledge of the situation was limited.
The two men disappeared into the fortress, and Hiromi was left peering at the two guards, who were trying to regain some semblance of composure. Without giving poor Toriyama any notice, Hiromi sprinted across the wide expanse between the village and the fortress in a crouched position. Before the guards had a chance to survey their surroundings, Hiromi slipped into the nigh invisible passage under the main stairs that she frequently used to slip in and out of the fortress unnoticed.
On the first floor of the fortress was a meeting room, where each wall was awash with elaborate paintings. Each one depicted a fabled victory in mythology, and each one was more elaborate than the last. One wall had two square paper lanterns on iron stands, which stood nearest to the larger of the sliding doors of the room. Hiromi hunched down just out of sight, and listened to the muffled conversation from within the meeting room.
“I understand you want to keep your name anonymous,” the muffled voice of the magistrate piped up as Hiromi sat down, “but it would be beneficial to your reputation in this province if you let me know your real name.”
“I don’t need word of mouth to keep myself employed,” the man named Shishikyuu responded, his voice maintaining a calm monotone in the presence of the lord. “My reputation speaks for itself. Once my job is done here, you’ll know what I mean.”
After that, there was a lot of silence. Hiromi tried to listen closely, but all she could hear was the white noise of the sizzling flame that illuminated the otherwise dark bowels of the fortress. As Hiromi began to shuffle closer to the door, the talking began again. Alarmed, she rushed back into her darkened corner.
“So?” Shishikyuu continued. “What’s the job?”
“There is an illegal minting forge on my land,” the magistrate replied.
“A minting forge?”
“Correct. I’m not sure who for, but they’ve been forging Chinese currency in this province, and it’s likely that it’s being distributed not only throughout this province, but also neighboring areas.”
“Sounds serious.” Hiromi noticed a tinge of excitement in the warrior’s voice.
“If this operation continues any longer, it’s likely we could have an economic crisis on our hands. My people are already suffering, Shishikyuu. I cannot afford something this drastic.”
“The usual fee applies. If I find out that you’re lying about this information, I’ll make sure you hear from me immediately. You may not like what I have to say.” What Shishikyuu said took Hiromi back. She had never heard such forceful language used against her father.
Shishikyuu’s obvious distaste for authority intrigued Hiromi. If he was as great a swordsman as her father believed, then he was exactly what she was looking for. There was only one way for her to make sure.
* * *
Shishikyuu slowly opened the heavy sliding door of the seemingly abandoned blacksmith’s forge on the edge of the small village. The steel had dug into the soft earth underneath, and the door had become more stubborn than ever. Shishikyuu wasn’t much for stealth, and his plainly colored ukata and the lack of a mask was enough evidence. Breathing in the stale air that had been milling about inside the building for god knows how long, he smelled the stench of blood and thieves.
“There’s no reason to hide from me now,” Shishikyuu shouted. “I know that you’re still here, you damn forgers. Show yourself, and let’s end this charade.”
From the rafters above, a shadowy figure dropped. The grace of the figure made it obvious that it was female, but the landing had a primarily masculine footing to it, asserting an offensive stance. Shishikyuu turned slowly to the figure, scratched his head, and frowned.
“The great mastermind behind this forgery is a mere girl?” Shishikyuu questioned, clearly unimpressed.
“I’m not behind the forgeries,” the figure refuted. Clearing her throat and lowering her voice, the figure continued. “I’m here to help you.”
“You’re kidding me, right? I don’t need help little girl. Go home.”
“Hahahahaha!” a loud echo of laughter bellowed from the rafters of the old shop. “I thought I had caught one beetle, but in fact I have two. This is delicious, indeed.”
“Ah, that’s who I’m here to see,” Shishikyuu growled, a maniacal grin growing on his face. “Out of the way little girl.”
“I’m not a little girl!” the female figure shouted in his direction, her rage increasing.
“Bwahahaha!” the bellowing laughter began again. Several torches in the rafters sprang to life, revealing the residents of the dilapidated shack. Not only were several fully armed ninja hiding in the rafters, but so was their master. He was dressed in a blood red outfit, and his face was covered with a painted Oni mask.
“Greetings, my insects,” the masked leader bellowed from the rafters. “I am Sasaki the Demon face, and this is my humble abode. You have trespassed onto my property, and I’m afraid you’ll have to pay the price!”
With a snap of his fingers, the brown clothed ninja that hugged to the rafters sprang into action, raining down upon the two warriors below. As the first ninja fell into striking distance, Shishikyuu’s arm snapped involuntarily over to the katana on his back. Pulling the sword from his sheath, he sprang into action, delivering lighting quick swipes in rapid succession to any man that came within distance to hit. As unseen slashes sprang forth from Shishikyuu’s arm, crimson splashed from each of the fallen ninja, painting the dusty ground and walls.
As sinew and steel met in a violent ballet around Shishikyuu’s personal space, the warrior caught glimpses at the girl close by, who was taking care of herself with little effort. She had acquired a bo staff from the body of one of the ninja, and was attacking with effective, albeit rudimentary attacks.
As Shishikyuu continued to cut down each foe, he kept an eye on the girl, memorizing her style and predicting each of her attacks. She was predictable to someone as skilled as Shishikyuu, but it was obvious that she was trained by a true master. Her attacks had determination and definition. Her forms were near flawless, but she lacked the emotional ferocity that filled every slash of Shishikyuu’s sword.
When the last ninja fell to his knees in agony, Shishikyuu looked up to the rafters, and pointed at Sasaki.
“You,” he yelled with excitement, “are mine!”
With that, the blood red ninja jumped from his place on the rafter, and landed on the ground, splashing the blood of his minions onto the shins and thighs of his clothes. Reaching behind his back, the ogre-like ninja pulled out two kama, each more than ready to drink Shishikyuu’s blood.
“Wait behind me, girl,” Shishikyuu shouted. “This is my fight.”
“I’m not a girl!” the female exclaimed, and struck Shishikyuu over the head with her newly acquired bo. Shishikyuu collapsed in a heap, and blood began to pour from the wound.
“Oh…oh damnit,” the girl whispered to herself, realizing the error of what she had just done.
“Hahaha!” Sasaki cackled. “This truly is my day. Come, little girl. I promise I won’t bite.”
When Sasaki finally inched into bo striking range, the female warrior took a determined swing at his side, hoping to hit him square in the ribs. Without a second thought, Sasaki blocked the bo with his forearm, and cut the long range weapon in half with the razor sharp blade of his kama, leaving the young girl defenseless. As Sasaki’s cackles began to grow to fill the room, he raised each kama into the air, ready to strike.
“Hey, ugly,” a gruff voice shouted from behind Sasaki. “Is our dance finished already?” Shishikyuu got up slowly with katana in hand, blood still streaming down from his head, into his eyes and mouth.
“Leave the girl alone,” Shishikyuu growled, “or I promise you’ll regret it.”
“Hahaha,” Sasaki cackled. “You’re half dead, boy! What can you do?”
Without uttering a response, Shishikyuu sprang into action. Using his katana and sheath as a shield, he blocked the kama that Sasaki had poised to attack, and slammed the two of them into a wall.