Ryoshu struggled to catch his breath in the dark forest that loomed over him, his heart hammering in his chest and his pupils dilated with horror at what he had seen. He could still feel the phantom touch of a cold blade against his neck, his mind reeling from the sight of his comrades lying at the feet of their enemy. His sandals were stained with the blood from their limp bodies, the wood of his footwear absorbing its crimson color.
"Why…" he whispered to no one in particular, his hands tearing at the blades of grass that seeped through his fingers, his eyes filled with anger and tears falling onto his bloody knuckles.
"Why, why, why, why!" he roared, his fingers clawing and flinging grass behind him, his cry sending crows flying up into the dark night sky. They lingered above him, watching a man on the edge, a man slowly losing his sanity.
His hands ran up his arms and clawed at his face, tearing the sleeves and collar of his kimono. His skin felt foreign, prickling as though a thousand needles pierced him—a discomfort that made him wish he could leap out of his own body, that made him wish he could simply die.
His last meal surged up his throat, spilling onto the grass that bore his torment in silence. The moment refused to release its grip on him. In his vision, he saw Mirai standing before him, eyes shrouded in darkness, a malicious smile on his face, standing in a pool of blood as Ryoshu watched in horror and unease.
"Why… Why–"
"Why, why, why!" Mirai's voice echoed as he sheathed his blade before Ryoshu, his smile fading into a silent warning before he disappeared into the shadows.
When he finally came to his senses, Ryoshu lay in an open field, his gaze fixed on the night sky above. The clouds seemed to mock him, along with the stars and the moon. His fists clenched, nails digging into his flesh until his own blood ran, his pent-up emotions numbing his wounds.
"We finally… had a place to stay—a home…" His breath hitched as his self-inflicted scratches stung in the cold morning breeze. "Why… why did this have to happen."
"Mirai Tachibana!" he roared, his voice thick with anger, raising his only hand to the sky, to the moon. "I swear it! On everything I have! Your head will be severed by my blade!"
"Ryoshu!" came a cry from the bushes. Out stepped Rosaki, hunched over with his hand on his knees, his clothes torn as though he'd tussled with a bear. The warrior's head hung low as he panted, desperate to regain his stance.
"Ryoshu, thank god you're alive–" Ryoshu lay emotionless, oblivious to his comrade's relief, lost within his own mind.
"Ryoshu…" Rosaki called again, walking over and taking in his partner's current state.
"I heard you. My arm may be gone, but my ears are here," Ryoshu muttered, turning his head away from Rosaki, his tone tinged with irritation, his sharp words clearly affecting his partner.
He shifted in the grass below him, propping one hand behind him for support as he sat upright, his gaze falling to his bloodstained sandals.
"So," Rosaki muttered, sitting by the side of his disheveled comrad. "What do we do now?"
There was a moment of silence their thoughts taken away by the cold night breeze before Ryoshu spoke once more.
"The same we thing we always have been before this…" He muttered, standing up, the loose parts of his kimono fluttering in the wind, showing off his sickly and scrawny frame illuminated by the light of the moon. "We just run–"
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"Ok, show of hands! Who wants to train under me!" Mirai cried out, his hands raised as an example, he stood infront the crowd, the sky clearer than last dawn. Many were reluctant and no hands other than his was raised to the sky, the lack of enthusiasm bringing our Young samurai's mood crashing.
"Come on!" He urged, his finger tapping on his lap in an almost impatient display. "A good empire needs warriors! How do you expect to stop living in fear when you cant even protect yourselves!?"
"Maybe we should focus on repairing the village—" One of them pondered, the other villagers nodding to their logic.
"Our houses were completely ruined from the attack," Another chimed in, then another and another, until it became a conversation amongst themselves.
"We should really get to burying the dead though–"
"Enough!" Mirai roared, hsi anger shining through. The villagers wen quiet at his command, though there was a few mutters of confusion and concern left within the crowd.
"As it stands now, Me and Utsusuki are our only defences!" He mentioned, turning to Utsusuki who stood at his side with a soft nod. "How long do you think it would take for word to get out about that?!"
"No matter how strong the person is a battle of numbers is just that!" The samurai continued his boisterous rant, the point striking the villagers senses.
"So I ask you this again! Who wants to train under me!?" There was a long pause as the villagers weigh out their options, a hand flying up amongst the crowd, everyone turned to the volunteer, clearing way so he can be seen before the boy.
"You huh…" Mirai muttered, his voice laced with intrigue to the sight before him, the boy from yesterday who plead for Utsusuki's justice, stepping before him ready to lay down his life for the village.
"Is there a problem?" He pondered, staring Mirai in the eyes. Only for the boy to explode in boistrous laughter.
"Haha! No, Infact, I was worried you were just a loud mouthed kid," Mirai complemented?
"Look who's talking…" Utsusuki retorted under his breath, watching as Mirai walked up to the boy who seemed to be a bit taller than he was. "What's your name?"
"Kenta, Kenta Arakawa," He murmured, a bit put off guard by the familiar interaction of his supposed superior, a hand falling on his shoulder in a proud pat.
"Welcome to the team then," He grinned, another man stepping out of the crowd.
"I'd also like to train under you." he declared, bowing before Mirai, then like clockwork, another stepped forth.
"Me too!"
"Me also!"
"Lord Mirai!"
They got to their knees before the young samurai, the action catching him offguard for a mere moment before a soft smile formed onto his face. Kenta also, though reluctantly at first, got to his knees before the young samurai.
"Please my lord, let me serve you," they all said in union.