Post by Gedatsu Onryō on Apr 24, 2013 18:14:33 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true] The feel of the wet grass below his body comforted him. This was the land of his birth, the land of grassy plains and breeze. The land where his adoptive grandfathers laid the souls of the fallen to rest. The land where tears birthed new life from the earth. Even now, sitting here still and silent, he could feel the weight of the earth. The heaviness of sadness and the lightness of joy all in one. There was a significance to this place. The breeze ran over the green blades of the earth, swaying them in waves shooting serenity into the atmosphere. Here sat the ruler of all these lands his eyes could take in. Here sat the originator of the first joint military force in all the land's history. Here sat the man who say on the pinnacle of grassy glory. Crystal blue eyes rested behind his eye lids and in his mind images of the past ran vivid as though happening now. A better description for this particular man might be that images replayed from the depths of his soul, the emotional content of what he was recalling consuming him. He was spirited away into the past, drifting into it further and further with ever subsequent gust of air. 怨霊選集: 過去に (Onryō Anthology: Toward the Past) (seventeen years ago : kusa no kuni : wartimes) the days were frightening, the nights even moreso. Despair blanketed the grass of the land as shinobi of both Gedatsu and Inbe origin feared the end of their mortal lives. Corpses littered the battlefield, feeding the grass below the red nectar of their bodies. A fire. The cackling of the wood taunted the soldiers who sat around the bringer of warm. Seated there were the descendants of the leader, Gedatsu Nobudō his son, and Onryō and Kigai, the sons of the former. Seated atop a small stool, his blood-stained robes resting upon the grass below, was Gedatsu Mateisōka.     The war counsel was silent as the night. A day of fighting and bloodshed weighed heavily on the four Gedatsu clansmen. Even weighing enough to drown out the impulsion the younger two had to berate one another. Familial feuds and pettiness had no place in the battle field where such weaknesses yielded the arrival of death. A word. mateisōka broke the silence cautiously, his words obviously utterly rehearsed and selected. "the coming of the dawn heralds the end of this conflict. we have pushed the Inbe back with each advance. we have broken them. their morale is no more as we continue to cut their supply lines to Yotoha Castle. At dawn we will cut the last one." "So it shall be, otō-san." Nobudō offered, his words powerful and dedicated to the cause while his voice lacked the vigor to adequately accompany them. Despair had gripped him. Onryō looked on at his father with grief in his eyes for on this day did his father truly lose his life. "Tame no daiku, you shall lead the men tomorrow." Mateisōka responded, his eyes cutting over toward Kigai. "Daini no mago, you shall accompany your father in this endeavor. This is the final front and your healing abilities will be of critical importance in this battle." "Hai, Sofu." Kigai responded, his nod strong as he mentally prepared himself for the battle he would be attending to with the rising of the sun. There was a silence to follow, and all three of the younger attendants were thinking the same thing and knew the other two were as well. What of Onryō and Mateisōka's duties when the war returned from the brief respite that was the night? They all thought. None dared ask. "Saisho no mago, you and I have other matters to attend to. We shall not be involved in the cutting of the last supply line no matter how important i--" The words stopped flowing into Onryō's ears as he felt the skin on his body tighten over his muscles. He could feel the heat of the fire intensify as though he were being thrown into it. His gut folded in on itself, a pit of despair lurking therein. This was a feeling akin to that of killing intent, something he'd felt many times in the heat of war--but somehow it was different. Guttural. He could feel it in his soul. Cold sweat raced down his temple as this feeling dissipated, the cracking of the wood returning to consciousness. It was over, but the effect was made. He knew what this meant. Never before had his grandfather extended his soul onto him but to transfer positive energy. This transference of negativity so strong only meant one thing. He knew. He knew and he intended to do something about it. Something drastic. He intended to kill him. The silence continued, and as it dragged on, his brother and father drew their attention over to Onryō awaiting his response to what their sire had disclosed to him. "Hai, Sofu. So shall it be." "Acceptance," mateisōka said as he stood from his small dais. "Our enemies should accept their fates as to minimize pain and bloodshed. It's the only way a whole soul can be laid to rest. We cannot put to rest those souls which oppose our blades. Those are shattered souls. Shattered souls must be eliminated." His eyes were forever on Onryō during his monologue and as he turned and left the fire. (next: the shattered soul)  TAG: NONE 959 WORDS © MOO OF OTE |
