Ichi: The Blind Fighter (Tama feat. Saga)

[Saga]

 

|| Genre: Historical,

Trap

,Yaoi

|| Warning: Violence

|| Rated:

18+

|| Players: Tama (Ichi) ; Saga (Zin)

|| Settings: China, 1700

|| OOC Thread:

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The late afternoon was a perfect time for Wu to rest. During the day he had to wear a mask, during the night he had to wear a veil - no matter how you looked at it, he was tired. Despite the rough roof, his pitch black eyes enjoyed the last rays of the day - crimson. Whether it was reflection in his eyes or a sparkle of the devil, they really shone. The male wasn't really social, so he preferred silent places. Seemingly the roof was most quietest of all, after the library. But blame him not, he wanted to avoid the flirtatious servant girls that had to clean daily at the end of the day. Eyelids closed, the shift of the wind stole an exhale off his lips - harmony.

[Tama]

The village hadn't changed much in the twelve winters since he had run away, in the falling snow of a moonlit night. Not that there was much left to change; the few pieces of wood that had not been blackened by the fierce fire long surrendered to the elements, leaving only rotten stumps above blackened earth. Here...here had been the dojo, as he supposed they would call it in Nihon, the place where he had sparred against his father, learnt to carry and hold a sword, and...

A few more steps. The stain was long gone, and he bowed softly. Here his father had died, a huge shape against the growing fire, dodging and blocking blows, growing more and more tired. He should have fought alongside him, not hid in a backroom, watching his father fight and die to those...monsters from the Dragon Clan. A few more steps, and he was once again back outside the building, crossing the dry ground, which still crunched, as it had done in his childhood, under his wooden sandals. Their home had fared no better, gutted and broken, little more than a black outline against the pale earth.

Nothing remained of his village, aside for the blackened rotting wood, barely above ankle height, apart from the shrine. Buddha lay intact, half buried, and a little rusted, whilst the iron frame, covered in gold filigree, had been stripped of its finery, but was otherwise intact.

 

He brushed the long hair out of his eyes, and sighed. Nothing remained of his home, of his family. Nothing but ash. The Dragons' fire had seen to that. 12 winters had passed, twelve summers...and all of them had only honed his revenge. A couple of days north of here, the home of the Tigers lay. His most likely ally. He adjusted the black travelling clothes, softly squeezing the padding that gave him even more of a feminine figure than he had been born with, and pulled the blindfold down, adjusting the shamisen, the beautiful musical instrument his teacher had given to him at the end of his training, and took up the stick he'd jammed into the ground at the entrance to the village.

Time to make a good first impression...

[Saga]

Once the sun shyly hid behind the horizon, Wu didn't have time to count the stars. The male heard the whispering clap of the signaling-bird. It was an old method to signalize an event. In the Tiger Clan, there was only one such event - the white pigeon was the sign for Zin only. He had to meet his master. And doubtfully the king needed tea. Slowly he opened his eyes, another bloody night.

 

The yard seemed deserted by now so he could freely land on the ground, not worrying that it would look too perfect for a clan's librarian. Worried not by his long, long clothe following after the kimono of the scribe, he made his way smoothly paced to the master's room.

 

Soundlessly he opened the door to lower his head; servant could never meet the master's eyes. Especially his personal assassin. Wu closed the door behind him as quietly and stood tall with hands clasped behind back.

- Zin. - rather calm,Bai didn't look over shoulder while drinking his before-bed tea, - It's been a while since needed your claws.

 

As expected, his eyes emptily stared at the floor; they even treated him as an animal, not a human being. At least he wasn't like the pig-whores but the symbolizing tiger of the clan. Yet, no matter what, it was an animal.

- I suppose you know about the recent riot in the town. Someone is trying to dirty my reputation and I really dislike that. Seemingly the rumors are spread through the red district, of course, what can you expect from whores. But that's just a hint for me to tell who was that. I will tell you the details, while changing. - with a swing of hand he beckoned the other to go behind the changing clothes screen in the room.

 

Clothe after clothe and word after word. The man memorized all the information his master told him, to step forth from behind the screen. The slightly long hair was tied neatly up with the beautiful red cord his mother once had, he stood right beside the screen with head still lowered humbly.

- So, tonight I want you to take care of the Fei clan's leader. He is getting too full of himself and I thought he learned his place after the accident three years ago. Don't make mistakes, you know what happens to these that disobey and these that ruin my image.

 

Clear difference, he knew. Disobeying meant death, but ruining the master's image meant far more than just a plain "death". Wu bowed with his palms guided next to thighs, until he heard the master's sip. It meant actually "you can go, I am done".

 

And so he left for the red district.

[Tama]

He made his way slowly into the town, tapping this way and that with his stick. It had been the Geisha teacher's idea. After all, as the old saying went, the eyes were the window unto the soul. Cover them up, and not only could you never tell in a fight what your opponent was doing, not only would people ignore or overlook a seemingly blind person, but it would be even easier to masquerade as a girl; no need for makeup around the eyes, since a blindfold would cover them, and, as she had said, with his eyes covered, he did look even more feminine. With the long hair, the soft, pale lips and skin, and his naturally slow-growing stubble, it wasn't hard for him to look like a girl. A little nuanced makeup here and there and a little padding, and even his teacher had occasionally mistaken him for a rather pretty girl.

Through the blindfold, the town bustled around him, in faint shades of red, occasionally cursing him, occasionally stopping or apologising, but largely ignoring him. It was a noisy place, and the smells...from unwashed sweaty clothes to meat and spices to the smell of tanning leather...so unlike the sweet smells of Kyoto and Edo. Still...there was a charm to the place He took a few semi-deliberate wrong turns; in the unlikely event anyone from the Dragon Clan had been sent to spy or trail him, (after all, they were large and infamous enough to have a few contacts in the closed-off Japan), they would probably report back to their master that this girl was most definitely blind, utterly lost, and of no threat to them. Confident that he wouldn't be trailed any further, he retraced his steps, and followed the battered, rather dirty lanterns to what in Japan they would probably have called "the pleasure district". A few bars, a handful of brothels, and probably, though they never advertised themselves, the hideouts of bandits, swords-for-hire, the occasional small triad, and other scum and villainy.

 

Here he barely got any looks, or at least none that he caught the eye of. Doubtless, from upstairs windows, waiting patrons were probably momentarily eyeing him with interest, but the streets were almost entirely clear of people, other than tea shop owners leaning on the doorframe of their shops. The main thing with places like this, his teacher had told him, is confidence. Always look like you know where you're going, and no-one will touch you. He stopped in front of a tea-room, examining the sign. This wouldn't be a bad place to start, at least to find out the current affairs of this region. He adjusted the shamisen on his back, and entered the light, and surprisingly airy shop.

[Saga]

The path took him to an old tea house, where the Fei's leader was known to spend his free nights in the company of beautiful women. Wu made his way to there from roof to roof, precisely landing from edge to edge. The wind was calm tonight, but something told him the quiet was before a storm. With his thin but sharply long blade attached to his back, the male blended with his dark clothes in the darkness. Only the moon could spot him from time to time through these thick clouds. He averted his chin to side, it smelled like rain. The specific humid that filled each atom in the air, it completely overtook his senses - how he loved the rain.

 

From above he saw the tea house, only a jump needed to land on the outside sill of an open window. Zin bent his torso smoothly down for he was a really tall man, it would be too bad if he made some rattle coming from the storage room while passing through the window. Still crouching lightly down on the sill, he looked around the dark room. Dead silence, he thought. Although he despised what he had to do, to justify his lord's spent money over such an insignificant life, the male seemed to lack any emotion on this perfectly cold mask - face out of compromises and mercy.

 

A mute land, he got inside to make his way to Fei's room. On his way to there, a meiko girl bumped into him for he opened the door at same timing with hers. She got startled but the clear 'shh' gesture with finger of his made her freeze. It was no joke when you see such dead on emotion eyes, simply your mind had to submit. The meiko girl bowed and hurried to vanish followed by her colorful kimono. When he closed the door behind his back, he heard the filth and even could smell it. The loud, empty laughs of Fei with the filthy giggles of prostitutes around him. How much deeper this world would sink into the filth, he wondered.

 

Unlucky Fei was, for the girls to leave to the bathroom and take their time to 'prepare' for the full service of VIP room in the tea house. The man greedily drank from the small cup newly poured with alcoholic beverage. Step after step, Zin was one with the oxygen filling the room. No sound, not even a creak. The finest slide of his blade from behind back, it took a skilled blade-master to be able to hear the 'zing' it made to pierce the soundless air. A smooth place, Fei surely got paralyzed when felt the coldness of the blade.

- ..Who are you? What do you want? - almost choked on his own saliva, the man had to try and stay idle if wanting his head for a bit more on his shoulders.

However, the silence of Wu was scarier than any given answer. He was forbidden to talk, he was forbidden to feel, forbidden to even dream. All he had to do is fully obey, but if one looked closely - it seemed just like the male obeyed only to pay for his sin.

[Tama]

He was guided to a seat by one of the attendants, who gently took his hand, allowing him to feel the route from the door with his stick. His chinese was still a little rusty, but the young woman understood him well, nodding at his order and stepping away. She sounded, from her slow, deliberate footsteps, like she was taking the occasional glance back at him. He smiled to himself, listening. Soon, the feet returned, slower, the quiet slosh of water.

"Here, Miss."

He saw the shadowy movement of her form against the door, and the sound of tea being poured. She wasn't bad looking, longish hair, arranged in the local style. It smelled good, too. He reached out, making a show of feeling for the cup, and allowed her to place it into his hand. The touch was gentle, her fingers slightly rough. He took the cup, smiling.

"Thank you."

 

He tool a sip; as he'd expected, the local blend. Sweet, a little stronger than he remembered it, but still the same tea his father had made before each day's training. He took another sip, and, once again feeling his way, took the shamisen off his back, placing it gently on the table, noting the girl's movements toward him.

"It's fine." He allowed himself another smile "I can deal with it. I've been blind my whole life...I suppose...one gets used to it after a while?"

He took another sip, and continued. "But, I suppose...ah...even though I'm blind, I need to see the world...even though I can't see it, people can always tell me...I'm told I have a great imagination..."

Another sip, and a fumble for the kettle. The pouring of tea.

"Thank you again, Miss...so, I suppose...I should ask...what has been going on in this part of the nation recently? This seems quite a lively town...for such a quiet place in the nation"

The young girl nodded, and mentioned something about troops being mobilised from the capital. A storm was brewing, she said, fractious behaviour between clans threatening to burst into war. And there and again, that name. Dragon.

"And the Tiger clan?"

To the north, dangerous. Warring with the Fei, the group that controlled this town. Well. If the Fei would lead him to the Tiger clan...it was time to pay the Fei a visit. He paid for the tea, and got to his feet. It was getting dark, approaching the perfect hour, that time poised between day and night to slip in undetected...

[Saga]

Each time he stood at that same spot but with different faces down on knees, the very same thought passed him, "I am sorry." He was a man of loyalty, morals and principles. He was given a life in order to take lives. And god, he swore, he preferred to turn back time and stab that male not. If he lived his life even miserably poor, it'd never be so miserable as now. That was the price of 'revenge'.

 

Zin slightly twisted his wrist, his shoulder curving for a swing. How many times he swung this blade? How many times he bathed in the fear and pleads of his master's targets? It already reached the point where he could shut his conscious and blankly do it - yes, that many times.

 

Would his father be proud of him? Hardly he believed so. Would his mother forgive? Doubtfully he administrated that thought. No parent would like to see their child bathing in crimson pain. And without suspecting what the future held, he could be the damn good advice why revenge was never a good idea.

 

Wu's blade forced its sharpness through the flesh of the man's neck. Bones broken, flesh torn, flow of blood pushing against the blade - all these different patterns of sensation ran across his blade to cry over his own hand. The true feeling of killing was never felt through the blade, it was somewhere more sharper and more harder. It was where one's guilt and reasons debated, it was that stuff in one's chest. If you managed a soft and fragile heart, your blade could never cut.

 

The thud of headless body took him back to reality. His mind registered the mission being successful, but then a feeling crawled up his spine. Lowering his blade, chin averted to side - was someone in the room? The lightning illuminated the dark corners, the blood looked like silver despite its redness. Quiet drops of dripping liquid, it was different sound from the firstborn raindrops, it was Wu's blade soaking in blood.

[Tama]

He felt it as he took a step out into the street. Something...wrong. Something other. His father had honed this skill to near perfection, this sixth sense of somehow just knowing there was something disrupting the world. A scream. Chopped off in mid-yell, stifled. A sound of finality. The sound of a person being silenced. He took a step out into the street, then another, still feeling with his cane. It had, even through the blindfold, got darker, and the feel of cool rain on his skin, as well as the sound of his wooden sandals on the uneven tiles, told him that it had been raining only for a few minutes. So a few dozen paces. A roll of thunder, as though the gods were marking this poor, anonymous man.

 

He walked across the road, still feeling with the stick. A few people, clearly alerted to something untoward happening by the death-scream, had gathered in the doorways. One house, however, had a small group dashing from it. Ichi made for this one, sidestepping a young woman whose face was contorted in terror, and entered. Ah. There it was. Like the scent of a new season, but more sickly, darker. Blood. He climbed the stairs, no longer bothering with the pantomime of feeling his way. He reached the landing, all dark laquered wood, now adorned with a new crimson varnish, pulled up the hood on his travelling clothes, and took a step into the room immediately opposite. A figure, hunched over what, in a flash of thunder, was clearly a headless body.

A fight. Against a proper swordsman. At last, time to hone his skill. This swordsman might even work for the Fei, who would lead him, slowly and surely, to the Tiger clan. And revenge...

[Saga]

He could speak. But he was forbidden to do so. The man shouldn't let face be seen ,nor voice be heard - for his master's sake. Or was it a pure excuse to wash his sinful, bloody hands from the guilt? Zin averted his body to the man standing behind him. The questions 'who and what, more likely why' were pointless. With a tilt of head, he lowered his chin; has he seen the male before? More importantly, he seemed to have quite the stance there.

 

Balanced. Calm. Mute.

He felt so natural, just like a shadow of the ever so fleeting light. Wu had his blade lowered, but his guard was never let down. Just the opposite, his muscles were ready to react in case something 'unexpected' happened. But for some reason, he wondered..why the male.., why a blind male stood right before him without a second thought of the danger. They said blind people could feel danger naturally. Was he a fool or...?

 

Zin had no reason to fight a blind person. Even if the other was aware someone was around - he couldn't see, nor prove it. Besides, who would believe the blind? With a swing he took rid of the remaining blood over the blade, intending to draw it back and retreat.

 

A glance to the corpse for last, Wu headed for the window. The rain had a good timing, it seemed.

[Tama]

...Could it be? He'd had men ignore him before, thinking he was just some stupid blind woman, unable to see, and who no-one would listen to even if she told the truth. It was a useful disguise at times; no-one expected that sort of person to be capable of bloody murder...It was a mask he was more than happy to wear...and this man had seemingly fallen for it...

But he was good. Oh, very good. For a throat injury, that stopping of life so violently, he'd made comparatively little mess...a lesser assassin would have dyed the entire room, walls, floor, ceiling, and maybe the floors outside...And knowing this type, he had already lined a cleaner up. Heck, it might have been one of the people outside...but...back to the problem at hand.

 

The man moved lightly, like a shade, moving almost silently to the window. Ah, a typical route. Kill then leave via the window, have the screen door kicked down minutes or even hours later, or the body quietly removed by one of those repulsive types who dealt in the dead. But not this time. He chased the man to the window, letting the lower half of the cane he always carried come loose, tapping as he did, the bamboo clattering to the floor. A cold blade, maybe half an inch across, and sharp as anything. More than a match for this man's own blade, not that the man would notice...

"Who's there... it smells of blood"

She'd trained his voice too, and though it was a little deeper than most girls, it still had that high, imperious tone that some women used...

[Saga]

Startled to the surprise, the voice was too pitched to belong to a man. And he could have sworn, the signals he got from the other wasn't one of a beautiful woman, but a beautiful man. But another startle came his way, it was a skillful sword-master. The smoothest and finest gestures, it really gave away how trained this body was. Zin paused wisely his step, it could be bad to push his luck in a room with a corpse and another sword-master.

 

The advantage he had was the blindness, probably. But they said blind people had the other senses altered, which honestly put a grin on his face. Now, that could be thrilling. He turned around, hand reached slowly for his own blade. With a step backwards he retreated from the window, eyes fixated on the other.

 

What better than a fight in a rainy night? The drips and the drops decorated Zin's movements as he circled around the male.