Once again, I've seen a taped episode of KMTR, one
of my newer passions in anime.
And once again I am inpired to write a fic.
Promise, after this I go back and finish the SLR.
Disclaimer:
Tsukikage Ran, Kaze Makase Tsukikage Ran are
owned by someone else.
The term Ichite-ryu is a concoction of my own, since
I think I missed the episode where they explained
Ran's swordstyle.
Please don't sue.
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Blood on the Road
A Kaze Makase Tsukikage Ran shortfic
by Elsa Bibat
*********************************************
As I heard the sound of many wooden slippers
hitting the gravelly ground, I knew they managed
to catch up.
Good thing I sent Myao ahead.
She hates to see me kill.
I stop walking and turn to face the idiots who didn't
know they were about to die.
Hopefully, they'd realize the fact that playing with a
bokken in a training hall is no match against real
experience.
Scowling, my opponents faces show no fear. Which
means they're probably stupid enough that sheer numbers
alone would make them win. They quickly surround me.
Only ten.
I'm insulted.
Wandering around Japan takes money and being a
dojo destroyer, a person that challenges dojos for their
shingles, the sign that they are an accredited sword
school is one of the few jobs I can find. Other than being
a yojimbo or sometimes a hired sword for the local
Yakuza clan. Beside those options, I'd rather be a dojo
destroyer. But sometimes, people are quite offended that
you managed to beat them in a fair fight. And even after
paying you good money for their shingle, they sometimes
do stupid things.
Like this.
I watch my adversaries as they draw their swords, the
raspy sound of metal grating my ears, and assume the
middle position, sword in both hands, pommel pointing
to the hip and the point aimed at my throat.
The faint click of my katana as the tsuba clears the
scabbard, lifted by my thumb pushing up, is the only sound
as I give these morons my coldest look.
Pride is not a good enough reason for dying.
And I hate killing.
The loud kiai of the first attacker pierced the air as he
slashed at me, his wide step carrying him into my Maai,
my Circle of Life.
In that place between life and death, my right hand is
a blinding blur as it reaches towards my katana's hilt and
I draw. My katana, well-cleaned and taken care of, leaves
the scabbard soundlessly. The rasping sound of metal
against metal comes from the fact that the katana isn't being
cleaned constantly, as it should be, after every use.
Iaijutsu. Battou-jutsu. Iaido.
Whatever you call it, when I do it, someone usually dies.
A clean cut, no extra blood, like my Sensei taught me. He
drops to the ground like a log. The blood starts to come out
only when he hits the ground. It disgusted me to see blood
spilled for nothing.
My hand holds the katana aloft, diagonally, the stop-position
for an iaijutsu strike. It glints a little in the mid-day sun, bloodless.
A clean cut.
Silence reigns on the road as my adversaries see their
comrade's body bleed. My face feels like it was carved from
granite as I give these idiots another look. They should know
by now that anyone who enters my Maai, the circle of my reach
with the blade, thus called the Circle of Life, will probably die.
Go home. You have paid enough. Go back to waving wooden
sticks on a tatami mat. That way you won't die.
The silence is broken by the enraged kiai of two men from
behind me.
I turn quickly, Ichite-ryu training kicking in. My katana held in
one hand I deftly block an overhead strike from one of them and
dodge the other, as my left hand snakes into my gi.
It comes out with my metal sake flask, elbow and wrist giving
power to the heavy bottle, its thin red rope handle looped
around my fingers. It strikes like a snake, right between the man's
eyes, knocking him out. Ichite-ryu developed the strength of my
arms to an amazing degree and that has served me well in my
travels.
Then two more idiots attack, seeing that I was seemingly locked
under the other man's sword. All of them still held their swords with
two hands, none of them noticing my one-handed use of my katana
could match two of their hands combined.
I move out of the way, letting my opponent's blade slip through
where I was. Unluckily, his comrade was doing an overhead
strike and the other one was doing a horizontal slash.
Blood spurted from the man's head and torso as he fell gurgling
to the ground.
I had leaped away, disgusted at the sight, trying to avoid the drops
of red from getting on my immaculate white gi. I felt the warrior's
senses alert me to a presence and I shifted my blade and thrust
backwards.
The faint "urk" was all I heard from the opponent behind me. I
draw my blade quickly and move forward, once again trying to
avoid any errant drops of blood. My katana was already stained
with the crimson liquid as I focused on the remaining six.
The two idiots who accidentally killed their own comrade were
still slack-jawed from the sight of their friend's death. The edges
of their hakama were awash with blood and their sword fairly
dripped of it.
My sake flask hit one in the face, the force of the blow supplied
by a wide swing this time. I hear bone crunch as I shift my blade
and use the back of it to take the other one out with a powerful strike
to the back of the head.
Four left. I shift my position, dancing over the pools of blood.
Can't have my socks stained red.
I slip the sake flask into my gi once again, including my hand. I
didn't need it anyway, with my Ichite-ryu training.
Their faces were now unsure, probably finally realizing how
stupid this venture was. But I see in their eyes that they won't back
down.
Damn stupid macho pride.
Four of them. A single continuous movement would take
them all out.
But that would mean using the sharp blade of the katana.
No, can't do that.
Not that I couldn't but I'd have to wash this gi if I had blood
spilled on it.
The decision on what attack to use on them was interrupted
by their simultaneous kiai, as they charge me to attack.
I dodge the first one. Then the next. I was relieved that I had
left the bloodied part of the path after these dodges and I roll
under the horizontal strike of my third opponent, coming up
his guard, katana, pommel first, striking his jaw.
I bound over his crumpling body to deliver another pommel
strike to his ally behind him, this time to the forehead, following
it up with a good kick to the groin.
I then turned to face my last two opponents. They were charging
already.
I block another overhead strike, striking it aside with a sparrow
cut, shifted my katana and countered with the flat of the blade to
the man's arm, hearing the bone crack as he screeched in pain.
A good punch with the hilt of my katana and he is unconscious.
I leap aside as my final adversary lashes out with a vertical
slash.
I slowly back up from my opponent, going into Ichite-ryu's
central kamae: legs relaxed, right hand relaxed by the side,
holding the katana vertically straight.
My eyes hold my opponent's eyes as he goes into the
middle position once again. The point of the katana is aimed
perfectly for my throat.
I smile. And a sudden wind blows, making the rice stalks
in the paddies on the sides of the road sway. I feel my long
ponytail sway a little, along with the tattered edges of my
still pure-blue hakama and the sleeves of my immaculate
white gi.
I see it in his eyes. He flexes his muscles, and at the
moment his mouth opens to shout his kiai, I strike.
A heartbeat later, I am a few steps behind him, katana
held aloft once again, the back of the blade foremost.
I hear the soft sounds of a body crumpling to the ground as
I pull a white towel from with my gi. Wiping away the blood
on my katana I look upwards.
Ten men, either dead or unconscious and the midday sun
had not even moved an inch.
I look back and I am disgusted at the sight.
Faintly moaning men and silent bodies litter the path, the
red of the blood serving as macabre backdrop to the scene
of violence.
I hate blood. I sheath my katana back into its scabbard.
I agree with Myao. Nothing's as disgusting a sight as blood
on the road.
*******************
kiai: onomatopaeic sound used when doing a sword strike,
to supposedly focus your ki into the strike. You would notice
that Ran is always silent when she strikes as all the other
master swordsmen and women on KMTR.
kamae: position or stance.
sparrow cut: an arcing cut, more properly called the
sparrow-on-the-wing cut since it was supposedly
practiced by killing sparrows in flight. Usually used
to make a strike for the neck. (Picked this up from
Musashi. ^_^)
Ichite-ryu: literally, one-hand school. The best name
for Ran's school since she always uses one hand,
with the other hand free to do quite a few dirty tricks if
against multiple opponents. Though she rarely does
that nowadays. It is to be noted that the traditional
use of the katana requires two hands, making Ran's
school a heretic style. But hey, this is the Sengoku-jidai
who cares. ^_^
tsuba: the guard on the hilt of a katana.
Maai: The Circle of Life. This is a swordsman's reach,
within it you're either dead or you've killed the swordsman.
Iaijutsu; Battou-jutsu; Iaido: The various names for the
quick-draw technique of draw, slash and return of the
katana to sheath. But is is more populary attributed to
speed draw and strike than the sheathing, probably
because of RK. One of Ran's more incredible feats, if
I remember correctly, is the one-hand battou-jutsu, one
hand drawing the blade from the scabbard without the
other hand supporting the scabbard, a true surprise strike
since a battou-jutsu stance requires two hands to do: one
hand holding the scabbard while the other draws, making
it noticeable in advance. And she's one fast battou-jutsu,
starting with her drawing hand relaxed on the other side of her
body. ^_^
Afterword:
Once again, a Kaze Makase Tsukikage Ran fic has rampaged
out of my mind. The show is a jidai-geki of the chanbara tradition
and a jidai-geki always has the magnificent sword battles, usually
one man/woman against at least twenty supposedly well-trained
samurai. KMTR itself has almost no blood, since if you noticed
above, Ran doesn't like blood and she rationalizes it away by
saying it's a pain to clean a blood-stained gi. And she almost
always uses the back of her blade, but if faced with five or
more opponents or a ninja or another swordmaster, she has no
compunction on using the businness side of her sword. And
Myao has rarely seen her "elder sister" kill, probably Ran's
way of keeping the kid as innocent as possible. The next time
I write one of these, I'll probably write about Myao the Catfighter
(that's my translation of Nekotekken, with my Nihongo ^_^)
And finally in a week or two Victor Entertainment is to release
the series on video. I'm going to preorder the damn thing, even
if it's the last thing I do, damn it!
And thanks to the guys who helped me with the sword technique
stuff, though this fic is a more of bonus use for the stuff you gave
me, especially Morgan Hudson, who's kendo basics are the
basis for this.