Miashara wrote:
I sheathed my sword unblooded today.
That really brings be down. It means it was a boring day, and boring days
suck.
That's the
first time I've ever done that, I think. Yes, I've never done
that like today.
'like today'? Sounds off.
but not in all. I had been wondering if the street I was
looking for would be wet or dry. Yes, that was it. It wasn't.
I was standing in an alley, listening to them come.
'approach' sounds better to me here;
I
had been almost tempted to stand in the street, waiting.
That wouldn't do though. Efficiency, efficiency, efficiency.
In all things with the sword, efficiency must be first. That
was the key to speed, speed the key to victory.
Right after skill, anyway.
Just
standing in a street would neither nurture efficiency or
improve my speed.
But it would increase one's chances of dying an tragic steamrollar accident.
So I stood, unmindful of the damp,
waiting and ready.
Sure enough, shortly the moment was right. I heard
the footsteps and lunged out to the way.
'to the way'? Again, sounds awkward.
My sword
unsheathed before they knew I was there, I almost cut them
down then. But I didn't.
My skill was not as strong as it could be. I had
grown weak. It was so long since I fought a warrior skilled
enough to give me pause that my highest techniques were
growing slow.
Yeah. I could see where that might be a problem. Once no longer dancing
along the razor's edge, wits become dull.
Examining the blade now, it looks thirsty. Its
It's
alive,
we both know this. Lying here as it is, unmoving in my
hands, it makes me wonder, wonder and dread what it
would say if it could speak.
Sword: Oil me. I feel rusty.
What silent, temptuous and
pleading voiced words would it bury in my mind, pushing
them deeper and deeper.
deeper?
What begging commands would I
be issued? I am glad it doesn't, for already the insidious
voice that it doesn't have has told me everything it needs to.
Ohh. A paradox. :)
Perhaps more. Perhaps it's already whispered, for I know
the words it would speak. Perhaps it is I whispering to the
blade. My own dark voicings and vampiric tendencies are
the origin, not this animate piece of metal.
Or maybe you're a loon.
Oh, it's silent now. Unmoving, innocent, harmless it
lies here. Its
It's
to, for many could not let their blades come alive. I almost
couldn't understand that, mine seems to force my
concentration to keep it asleep, not to lift it now and let the
river flow. The red rain.
Nice passage there.
I did not respond, did not have to. He knew, and I,
looking down the tunnel or wind and rain, knew that as
well.
"I shall spare you the effort." His knife did the
double slittings perfectly. The crimson that my own blade
thirsted so mightily for spilled across that little tanto,
birthing his organs and life to the outside world.
Hmm. Interesting reaction.
now. It, I won't name it he, was death, death from afar as
well as near. I could kill by will alone now, my power had
exceeded even my skill.
True.
was pleased but most likely disgruntled that it could not
personally move to the feast.
Perhaps its
it's
I think I see. Death is more than I had thought and a
greater servant of mine than I had ever expected. She was
my lady in waiting, a handmade
handmaid
romancing my blade both
behind my back and before my face.
Nice description. I like the imagery in this so far. Very elegent. YOu might
want to consider using first person more often.
lead me forward; it sang to lead me to my next insight. I
grow eager for that wisdom.
That one man did not have it.
He was a fool, I guess. Walking alone in the night,
no guards to protect him, he was an easy mark. He carried
himself as a beaurocrat,
bureaucrat
A reward, perhaps? An easy mark to offset the usual
level of difficulty I interact with? If so, it failed miserably. I
need the lessons that this blood and life drinking blade
teaches me. I need strong ones. Almost I am offended by
this case.
Heh. Nothing like being undervalued.
I must have it. That final piece of information, that
undisclosed piece of lore. My blade taunts me and jumps
from my clutches now. Its
It's
Mitsurugi Ryuu was my fife and drum. It spoke, screamed,
whispered, and cajoled. I was drawn, mothlike, before its
shining light. This light, this undeniable light, it pulled me.
Venomous voices whispering madness and wisdom. I
listened.
Yep, definitely a loon. :)
Its never enough. It would never be enough. Should
I give the world to my blade, it would not be enough.
Staring at me as I had my epiphany, my exmaster
ex-master
I took my oath today. No more. That path is closed.
Who were you who named me the cause of the red
rain? Why can I not remember either your name or face? It
matters.
I will go and learn. For that knowledge may be
greater.
Very nice work. I can see how this would be a turning point for Kenshin.
Very elegant and the style really worked. Not much more I can say other than
that.
D.B. Sommer