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Bleurgh, it's baking hot and the train wasn't exactly fun, but I managed to write some while we were getting hoplessly late. it's just a draft, that needs some working on.
Titel: Shadows of the past
Chapter 5 Scars of the body, scars of the soul - Draft
Age- 15
Disclaimer: this is a non commercial work of fiction based on Samurai 7 by Gonzo. I don't receive any financial recompensation.
Scars of the body, scars of the soul
Tell me now, tell me when,
When shall we rise again?
Shall I be the first in that great body count?
James Fenton: Jerusalem
In days to come kanbei would be gratefull for Katsushiro’s reckless disposition for action. The dust shroud of the final impact had not begun to settle when the young samurai already darted towards the crumbling wreckage, calling the remaining defenders of the village in for assistance.
When Kanbei himself reached the point where Shichiroji had been slammed to the ground, Katsushiro was already there, coughing from the smoke. “He’s still alive, Sensei,” he reported at once nevertheless. “But we need to get this thing out of him.” His eyes pointed to the sharp piece of wreckage that had cut through Shichiroji’s cyborg arm and shoulder.
The shard had inflicted an hideous wound, Kanbei didn’t dare to ask how bad it exactly was. Wounds in artificial limbs often tended to backlash onto the still living limbs they were attached to. It had to do something with the cause why artificial limbs could move and feel, re remembered. Not that he had ever cared to find out more, despising the cyborgs more than anything else. Kanbei shoved the thoughts aside. “I hold him while you get this thing out,” he ordered, his outward calm unwavering. Years of experience made it easy to keep the mask of the calm, stern commander. He knelt down beside his wounded friend, holding him as gently as possible, to keep him still while the shard got moving. Every move of Shichiroji’s unconscious form would only made additional damage.
Fortunately Katsushiro made short work of it. Somewhere inside him he found the strength to move the heavy piece of wreckage in one go, sparing Shichiroji the torture of several attempts. Nevertheless the one hard jerk was more then enough for Shichiroji, already unconscious it came close to bring him back into the painful waking world. There was no scream, not utterance of the excruciating pain but his body got riggid, falling back cold and pale. The full view of the wound made Kanbei nearly despair. The whole upper arm and shoulder had been smashed forming of bloody tangled mass of flesh and metal. What remained of the metal arm had shattered to splinters inflicting additional damage.
Kanbei had seen such wounds before, and knew the slim chances of survival. And this had been during the war, where disinfectants, antibiotics and anaesthetics had been available. Judging by the dirt around them, the wound would be inflamed in no time. “Bring him back to the village, I’ll search for more survivors.” Katsushiro’s voice betrayed a change, something calm that had not been there before. A new understanding, perhaps a sense of greater responsibility emanated from those words. Kanbei nodded silently. He doubted there would be any more survivors, but he knew that a warrior kept looking for them, until the last body was found.
***
Night fell again but Kanbei hardly noted that it was getting dark again. Shichiroji’s condition had taken a turn for the worse ever since they had reached the village. Many people had been injured during that battle, and even as Kiara had intended to see to Shichiroji first she had nearly fainted at the sight of the wound. Which left things to Kanbei. Cleaning up the wound alone had proved to be much of a problem. “He won’t make it,” the gnarling voice of Kiara’s matriarch was dry as old timber. “and you know it.”
“Not necessarily,” Kanbei replied. “if we only can get this fever down, it will be a start.” He vividly remembered the burning fever that had nearly taken Katsushiro with a much smaller wound.
“His arm will rot anyway. It needs to be cut off, and anyone knows that cutting off unnatural limbs always results in the dead of the man too.” The ancient woman pointed out, disgust in her voice.
“Not always,” A sudden hope rose in Kanbei. He too knew that cutting off a cyborg limb killed five men out of six but he had seen it done successfully twice during the last five years and under similar dire conditions. Inwardly he sighed. It would mean asking a favour, a real favour from a man, whom he did not like to owe another favour. But when it came to saving Shichiroji…. “I need Katsushiro here at once.”
Katsushiro was tired when he entered the small hut, where Sensei and Shichiroji were. After having found the remains of Kikuchijo and Heihachi, he had searched for Kyuzo, but the blonde warrior had perished to deep inside the fortress and nothing was left of his body. There wasn’t even something to bury. Katsushiro had thought of taking his own life in repent for causing Kyuzo’s death. Yet, he felt responsible for his comrades, which also meant for Shichiroji and Kanbei. And both were in no condition to be left at their own devices.
When he entered Kanbei rose from his sitting position beside Shichiroji and came towards him. “How is he?” Katsushiro asked in a hush. From what he had seen of this wound things were no good by any means.
“Not well,” Kanbei replied in equally low tones. “He needs help, a help none of us can give.”
“What needs to be done?” Katsushiro somehow managed to keep the exhaustion out of his voice. He had not slept last night and the night before, and felt like a walking corpse, but as long as he was needed, he would keep going.
Kanbei hesitated for one moment, he knew Ito never went very far after a hard fight. He’d have Ryu bring him safely outside the impact area and make camp there. He had been wounded, so he’d rest for sure. “You saw the dragon that left the Capital short before the crash?” he inquired.
“The silver rock dragon. Why, yes.” Katsushiro answered. “He went west toward the river. The dragon got hit and will need water.” he had grown up around dragons and knew exactly what the white one would need to recover from the blast hit in no time.
“I need you to find the dragon and his rider,” Kanbei explained. “He’ll have made camp not far from here.”
Katsushiro nodded. “That should not pose a problem.” In his mind he already remembered into which direction he had seen the dragon speeding off. It had been moving slower than it usually would, which had told Katsushiro that it must have taken a blast hit. Blasts could not really wound dragons, or draw blood, their scales were too strong for this, but it paralysed their muscles.
“Approach the camp openly, Katsushiro. Ito isn’t a samurai, but a shadow – warrior, an assassin for hire and his reflexes are deadly.” Kanbei slowly retrieved a Shuriken from his belt, handing it Katsushiro. “Show this to Ito, and tell him that I ask his help. He’ll want to know what this is about, you can tell him of Shichiroji’s wound. He’ll understand.” It was so short, so few words. Kanbei felt, that Katsushiro couldn’t possibly understand, what was asked of him or why he was send. But how could he explain his own complicated relationship with one of the most deadly assassins in this world? He wasn’t sure, if he’d know where to begin.
Katsushiro accepted the mission without further questions. Up till now every person Kanbei had chosen to bring in on this venture had proven to be an asset, so he trusted that Kanbei knew why he called on this assassin. Nodding curtly he turned and went off into the night.
***
Locating the camp had taken Katsushiro less than two hours. His guess had been right and it had not been all that hard to track down the path the dragon had taken when crossing the woods. Perhaps it was more than just that. Katsushiro’s father had trained dragons to carry riders into battle, and he’d developed an affinity with dragons before he had been ten. He just needed to let his mind wander, to follow the dragon and he ended promptly near the camp at the riverbank. Katsushiro stood in awe for a moment. The dragon was bigger than he had anticipated. Rock dragons were hard to domesticate and harder to breed in captivity. This one was a beautiful silver one, fully grown and easily the most impressive one of his kind Katsushiro had ever seen. He remembered well what his father had taught him about silver rock dragons, that lived high up in the mountains, and needed to be caught young or they’d never be fully tame.
A cold blade against his throat made him nearly jump. “For all but your eyes I’d have killed you,” he heard a deep resonant voice say in the darkness.
From the corner of his eye he could only guess at a black shape in the surrounding darkness. “I was send to find you, by Shimada Kanbei,” he managed to say, when his hand fell to his sword, he realised that he not longer had one and his tanto was gone too.
A low chuckle was the answer. “Only because I tolerated the company of one samurai for a couple of years it doesn’t extend to others of your kind.” Nevertheless he sheathed his sword again and allowed Katsushiro to enter the camp. Lazily the rock dragon thumbed his scaly tail on the ground. Stepping into the light circle of the small fire Katsushiro saw the assassin for first time really. He was younger than Katsushiro had expected him to be, about Kuyzo’s age. Dark hair fell free down to his shoulders, he walked with a slight limp, but that had to come from a fresh wound. “So, why did Kanbei send you?” Ito asked, ignoring the Shuriken Katsushiro showed him.
“Kanbei send me, he…” Katsushiro hesitated for a moment. “He asks your assistance in helping a wounded comrade. Our comrade – Shichiroji – got horrendously wounded when the Capital crashed.” It seemed to Katsushiro that a strange glance haunted Ito’s eyes for a moment, but it faded soon enough.
“May I ask who the messenger of Shimada Kanbei is?” he inquired, still studying Katsushiro. Whatever he might think or feel remained hidden beneath those dark eyes.
“My name is Okamura Katsushiro,” he had no idea why this question was asked, and decided not to stray from the topic. “Shichiroji was hit by a shard of metal, when the…”
“When the Capital crashed, I saw enough of that.” Ito replied, hastily gathering his belongings and stuffing them back into the dragon’s saddle. “His cyborg arm was damaged, I guess?”
Katsushiro nodded. “Horrendously so, and if you can help him in any way…”
Ito’s wheeled around, surprised for a moment at Katsushiro’s near-plea. His eyes scrutinized the young samurai again, then he nodded approvingly. “Well then Katsu-san, we’ll have to hurry. Have you ever ridden a rock dragon? No, don’t answer, judging by your name you’ll have.”
Ryu made short work of the distance to Kanna village. Even tough their situation was less then desirable Katsushiro could not help it but enjoy the ride dragonback. Ryu moved silently, gliding through the night like a mute lightning. It was a glorious feeling that made him feel light headed. When they dismounted in the village, Katsushiro clapped the massive shoulder blade of the dragon in a friendly goodbye before he followed Ito to the hut.
***
Ito had silently knelt down beside Shichiroji. It hadn’t needed any explanations from Kanbei or any words at all. He examined the wound, then sighed. “That will be a tough one, and he already is weak,” the words were directed at no one in particular, not even at Kanbei. “And I can’t do it, with just the things I have.” He rose, walking to his saddle, which Katsushiro had set down by the door. Rifling through the saddlebags he produces a near empty vial, filled with a violet liquid inside. Slowly he shook his head. “That wouldn’t be enough to get a man out of an ordinary wound-fever not speaking of something of that scale.” He turned a second vial in his hand, a pale green liquid flashed inside it. “I still have this, Kanbei,” for the first time he directed his words at someone else present. “it’s enough to soothe any pain of this world and gently help him into the next.”
Kanbei’s face turned deadly pale at these words. “Is there nothing you can do?” he asked in a hushed voice. “Is there really no chance to save Roji? I saw what you did for that rogue Jim-Ming in Jakura.”
Ito’s jaw tightened, then his face lost all the cold hardness that usually marked it. “Do you know what I hell I’ll send him through should I attempt to save him? This arm needs to be cut off, and to do this I can’t sedate him. Not much at least, just enough to take the edge off the pain, not more, or I might damage his nerves even further. And even if I manage to pull this and he survives losing his arm a second time, he will have to cross an ocean of pain and despair just to survive, not speaking of the bitch it is to attach a new cyborg arm. Have you any imagination what it will put him through? I have known men who’ve preferred death to this.”
Kanbei rose this time bridging the distance between him and Ito, a distance they had kept ever since Ito had tracked down Shichiroji in the first place. “I can’t loose him, not a second time, Ito.” It was a hushed confession, of something that perhaps only Ito could understand.
The assassin took a step to the side, avoiding close contact with Kanbei, like dodging an attack. “I’ll do what I can.” Carefully he retrieved a black urn from his saddlebag. “Katsu-san, I’ll need your help in saving Shichiroji.”
Katsushiro had silently observed the two elder warriors. There was a tension here, that he couldn’t quite riddle out. He was startled when Ito turned to him. “What can I do?” he suppressed successfully a yawn.
Ito produced a small smile. “I know you are tired, but I need someone to take Ryu and ride to the Skirimoribitu shelter and get something for me. You are the only one here who knows to ride a dragon decently.”
The young samurai forced down his exhaustion, the pain of his own wounds and nodded. Perhaps it was the more respectful way Ito treated him, or the bad condition of Shichiroji, but he was ready to do whatever was necessary. “What can I do, Ito-san?”
“You’ll take Ryu and ride to the shelter as fast as you can. Once there you tell them you want to see the one who lives below. They will show you where to go and bring you to a forge deep below that mountain. The man you’ll meet there – Dec – you tell that I send you and you give him this.” His eyes pointed to the urn. “Do not attempt to open the urn, you’d faint dead away. Give him the urn and tell him I need it transformed before next dawn. If he can’t do this, he may keep them and exchange them for one of his crystals, I trust him on that. He’ll ask what it is needed for, tell him of Shichiroji. What you will bring back to me, is a chest of things I left with Dec and a strange crystal. You must hurry to bring both back, for we don’t have much time to loose.”
Katsushiro’s head was swirling. “Find the one below – name is Dec – retrieve a chest of things and have this urn turned into a crystal – returning as fast as possible.” He repeated the order in short.
Ito nodded. “Exactly.”
Titel: Shadows of the past
Chapter 5 Scars of the body, scars of the soul - Draft
Age- 15
Disclaimer: this is a non commercial work of fiction based on Samurai 7 by Gonzo. I don't receive any financial recompensation.
Scars of the body, scars of the soul
Tell me now, tell me when,
When shall we rise again?
Shall I be the first in that great body count?
James Fenton: Jerusalem
In days to come kanbei would be gratefull for Katsushiro’s reckless disposition for action. The dust shroud of the final impact had not begun to settle when the young samurai already darted towards the crumbling wreckage, calling the remaining defenders of the village in for assistance.
When Kanbei himself reached the point where Shichiroji had been slammed to the ground, Katsushiro was already there, coughing from the smoke. “He’s still alive, Sensei,” he reported at once nevertheless. “But we need to get this thing out of him.” His eyes pointed to the sharp piece of wreckage that had cut through Shichiroji’s cyborg arm and shoulder.
The shard had inflicted an hideous wound, Kanbei didn’t dare to ask how bad it exactly was. Wounds in artificial limbs often tended to backlash onto the still living limbs they were attached to. It had to do something with the cause why artificial limbs could move and feel, re remembered. Not that he had ever cared to find out more, despising the cyborgs more than anything else. Kanbei shoved the thoughts aside. “I hold him while you get this thing out,” he ordered, his outward calm unwavering. Years of experience made it easy to keep the mask of the calm, stern commander. He knelt down beside his wounded friend, holding him as gently as possible, to keep him still while the shard got moving. Every move of Shichiroji’s unconscious form would only made additional damage.
Fortunately Katsushiro made short work of it. Somewhere inside him he found the strength to move the heavy piece of wreckage in one go, sparing Shichiroji the torture of several attempts. Nevertheless the one hard jerk was more then enough for Shichiroji, already unconscious it came close to bring him back into the painful waking world. There was no scream, not utterance of the excruciating pain but his body got riggid, falling back cold and pale. The full view of the wound made Kanbei nearly despair. The whole upper arm and shoulder had been smashed forming of bloody tangled mass of flesh and metal. What remained of the metal arm had shattered to splinters inflicting additional damage.
Kanbei had seen such wounds before, and knew the slim chances of survival. And this had been during the war, where disinfectants, antibiotics and anaesthetics had been available. Judging by the dirt around them, the wound would be inflamed in no time. “Bring him back to the village, I’ll search for more survivors.” Katsushiro’s voice betrayed a change, something calm that had not been there before. A new understanding, perhaps a sense of greater responsibility emanated from those words. Kanbei nodded silently. He doubted there would be any more survivors, but he knew that a warrior kept looking for them, until the last body was found.
***
Night fell again but Kanbei hardly noted that it was getting dark again. Shichiroji’s condition had taken a turn for the worse ever since they had reached the village. Many people had been injured during that battle, and even as Kiara had intended to see to Shichiroji first she had nearly fainted at the sight of the wound. Which left things to Kanbei. Cleaning up the wound alone had proved to be much of a problem. “He won’t make it,” the gnarling voice of Kiara’s matriarch was dry as old timber. “and you know it.”
“Not necessarily,” Kanbei replied. “if we only can get this fever down, it will be a start.” He vividly remembered the burning fever that had nearly taken Katsushiro with a much smaller wound.
“His arm will rot anyway. It needs to be cut off, and anyone knows that cutting off unnatural limbs always results in the dead of the man too.” The ancient woman pointed out, disgust in her voice.
“Not always,” A sudden hope rose in Kanbei. He too knew that cutting off a cyborg limb killed five men out of six but he had seen it done successfully twice during the last five years and under similar dire conditions. Inwardly he sighed. It would mean asking a favour, a real favour from a man, whom he did not like to owe another favour. But when it came to saving Shichiroji…. “I need Katsushiro here at once.”
Katsushiro was tired when he entered the small hut, where Sensei and Shichiroji were. After having found the remains of Kikuchijo and Heihachi, he had searched for Kyuzo, but the blonde warrior had perished to deep inside the fortress and nothing was left of his body. There wasn’t even something to bury. Katsushiro had thought of taking his own life in repent for causing Kyuzo’s death. Yet, he felt responsible for his comrades, which also meant for Shichiroji and Kanbei. And both were in no condition to be left at their own devices.
When he entered Kanbei rose from his sitting position beside Shichiroji and came towards him. “How is he?” Katsushiro asked in a hush. From what he had seen of this wound things were no good by any means.
“Not well,” Kanbei replied in equally low tones. “He needs help, a help none of us can give.”
“What needs to be done?” Katsushiro somehow managed to keep the exhaustion out of his voice. He had not slept last night and the night before, and felt like a walking corpse, but as long as he was needed, he would keep going.
Kanbei hesitated for one moment, he knew Ito never went very far after a hard fight. He’d have Ryu bring him safely outside the impact area and make camp there. He had been wounded, so he’d rest for sure. “You saw the dragon that left the Capital short before the crash?” he inquired.
“The silver rock dragon. Why, yes.” Katsushiro answered. “He went west toward the river. The dragon got hit and will need water.” he had grown up around dragons and knew exactly what the white one would need to recover from the blast hit in no time.
“I need you to find the dragon and his rider,” Kanbei explained. “He’ll have made camp not far from here.”
Katsushiro nodded. “That should not pose a problem.” In his mind he already remembered into which direction he had seen the dragon speeding off. It had been moving slower than it usually would, which had told Katsushiro that it must have taken a blast hit. Blasts could not really wound dragons, or draw blood, their scales were too strong for this, but it paralysed their muscles.
“Approach the camp openly, Katsushiro. Ito isn’t a samurai, but a shadow – warrior, an assassin for hire and his reflexes are deadly.” Kanbei slowly retrieved a Shuriken from his belt, handing it Katsushiro. “Show this to Ito, and tell him that I ask his help. He’ll want to know what this is about, you can tell him of Shichiroji’s wound. He’ll understand.” It was so short, so few words. Kanbei felt, that Katsushiro couldn’t possibly understand, what was asked of him or why he was send. But how could he explain his own complicated relationship with one of the most deadly assassins in this world? He wasn’t sure, if he’d know where to begin.
Katsushiro accepted the mission without further questions. Up till now every person Kanbei had chosen to bring in on this venture had proven to be an asset, so he trusted that Kanbei knew why he called on this assassin. Nodding curtly he turned and went off into the night.
***
Locating the camp had taken Katsushiro less than two hours. His guess had been right and it had not been all that hard to track down the path the dragon had taken when crossing the woods. Perhaps it was more than just that. Katsushiro’s father had trained dragons to carry riders into battle, and he’d developed an affinity with dragons before he had been ten. He just needed to let his mind wander, to follow the dragon and he ended promptly near the camp at the riverbank. Katsushiro stood in awe for a moment. The dragon was bigger than he had anticipated. Rock dragons were hard to domesticate and harder to breed in captivity. This one was a beautiful silver one, fully grown and easily the most impressive one of his kind Katsushiro had ever seen. He remembered well what his father had taught him about silver rock dragons, that lived high up in the mountains, and needed to be caught young or they’d never be fully tame.
A cold blade against his throat made him nearly jump. “For all but your eyes I’d have killed you,” he heard a deep resonant voice say in the darkness.
From the corner of his eye he could only guess at a black shape in the surrounding darkness. “I was send to find you, by Shimada Kanbei,” he managed to say, when his hand fell to his sword, he realised that he not longer had one and his tanto was gone too.
A low chuckle was the answer. “Only because I tolerated the company of one samurai for a couple of years it doesn’t extend to others of your kind.” Nevertheless he sheathed his sword again and allowed Katsushiro to enter the camp. Lazily the rock dragon thumbed his scaly tail on the ground. Stepping into the light circle of the small fire Katsushiro saw the assassin for first time really. He was younger than Katsushiro had expected him to be, about Kuyzo’s age. Dark hair fell free down to his shoulders, he walked with a slight limp, but that had to come from a fresh wound. “So, why did Kanbei send you?” Ito asked, ignoring the Shuriken Katsushiro showed him.
“Kanbei send me, he…” Katsushiro hesitated for a moment. “He asks your assistance in helping a wounded comrade. Our comrade – Shichiroji – got horrendously wounded when the Capital crashed.” It seemed to Katsushiro that a strange glance haunted Ito’s eyes for a moment, but it faded soon enough.
“May I ask who the messenger of Shimada Kanbei is?” he inquired, still studying Katsushiro. Whatever he might think or feel remained hidden beneath those dark eyes.
“My name is Okamura Katsushiro,” he had no idea why this question was asked, and decided not to stray from the topic. “Shichiroji was hit by a shard of metal, when the…”
“When the Capital crashed, I saw enough of that.” Ito replied, hastily gathering his belongings and stuffing them back into the dragon’s saddle. “His cyborg arm was damaged, I guess?”
Katsushiro nodded. “Horrendously so, and if you can help him in any way…”
Ito’s wheeled around, surprised for a moment at Katsushiro’s near-plea. His eyes scrutinized the young samurai again, then he nodded approvingly. “Well then Katsu-san, we’ll have to hurry. Have you ever ridden a rock dragon? No, don’t answer, judging by your name you’ll have.”
Ryu made short work of the distance to Kanna village. Even tough their situation was less then desirable Katsushiro could not help it but enjoy the ride dragonback. Ryu moved silently, gliding through the night like a mute lightning. It was a glorious feeling that made him feel light headed. When they dismounted in the village, Katsushiro clapped the massive shoulder blade of the dragon in a friendly goodbye before he followed Ito to the hut.
***
Ito had silently knelt down beside Shichiroji. It hadn’t needed any explanations from Kanbei or any words at all. He examined the wound, then sighed. “That will be a tough one, and he already is weak,” the words were directed at no one in particular, not even at Kanbei. “And I can’t do it, with just the things I have.” He rose, walking to his saddle, which Katsushiro had set down by the door. Rifling through the saddlebags he produces a near empty vial, filled with a violet liquid inside. Slowly he shook his head. “That wouldn’t be enough to get a man out of an ordinary wound-fever not speaking of something of that scale.” He turned a second vial in his hand, a pale green liquid flashed inside it. “I still have this, Kanbei,” for the first time he directed his words at someone else present. “it’s enough to soothe any pain of this world and gently help him into the next.”
Kanbei’s face turned deadly pale at these words. “Is there nothing you can do?” he asked in a hushed voice. “Is there really no chance to save Roji? I saw what you did for that rogue Jim-Ming in Jakura.”
Ito’s jaw tightened, then his face lost all the cold hardness that usually marked it. “Do you know what I hell I’ll send him through should I attempt to save him? This arm needs to be cut off, and to do this I can’t sedate him. Not much at least, just enough to take the edge off the pain, not more, or I might damage his nerves even further. And even if I manage to pull this and he survives losing his arm a second time, he will have to cross an ocean of pain and despair just to survive, not speaking of the bitch it is to attach a new cyborg arm. Have you any imagination what it will put him through? I have known men who’ve preferred death to this.”
Kanbei rose this time bridging the distance between him and Ito, a distance they had kept ever since Ito had tracked down Shichiroji in the first place. “I can’t loose him, not a second time, Ito.” It was a hushed confession, of something that perhaps only Ito could understand.
The assassin took a step to the side, avoiding close contact with Kanbei, like dodging an attack. “I’ll do what I can.” Carefully he retrieved a black urn from his saddlebag. “Katsu-san, I’ll need your help in saving Shichiroji.”
Katsushiro had silently observed the two elder warriors. There was a tension here, that he couldn’t quite riddle out. He was startled when Ito turned to him. “What can I do?” he suppressed successfully a yawn.
Ito produced a small smile. “I know you are tired, but I need someone to take Ryu and ride to the Skirimoribitu shelter and get something for me. You are the only one here who knows to ride a dragon decently.”
The young samurai forced down his exhaustion, the pain of his own wounds and nodded. Perhaps it was the more respectful way Ito treated him, or the bad condition of Shichiroji, but he was ready to do whatever was necessary. “What can I do, Ito-san?”
“You’ll take Ryu and ride to the shelter as fast as you can. Once there you tell them you want to see the one who lives below. They will show you where to go and bring you to a forge deep below that mountain. The man you’ll meet there – Dec – you tell that I send you and you give him this.” His eyes pointed to the urn. “Do not attempt to open the urn, you’d faint dead away. Give him the urn and tell him I need it transformed before next dawn. If he can’t do this, he may keep them and exchange them for one of his crystals, I trust him on that. He’ll ask what it is needed for, tell him of Shichiroji. What you will bring back to me, is a chest of things I left with Dec and a strange crystal. You must hurry to bring both back, for we don’t have much time to loose.”
Katsushiro’s head was swirling. “Find the one below – name is Dec – retrieve a chest of things and have this urn turned into a crystal – returning as fast as possible.” He repeated the order in short.
Ito nodded. “Exactly.”
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no subject
Date: 2006-07-28 11:02 pm (UTC)From:And I like how you're slowly developing Ito while still deepening the mystery around him and Kambei- and Ryu was very cool in this chapter! *grin*
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Date: 2006-07-29 05:41 am (UTC)From:*hugs* i am glad you liked the beginning and thanks so much that you take your time to read and comment on my stuff. I just hope the hints I have here and there about Ito and Kanbei don't point into the wrong direction.