Killer Wave

Young Tsuna Watanabe, brash, foolish and arrogant is estranged from all he ever knew and held dear. His prestige and power. Self-destructive decisions make the village a grim reaper heaven

 

Chapter 1

 

 

A young man looks out into the sea as the waves crash into the rocks just below. He lives in a strange land, in a strange time dressed in eloquence that’s become raggedy. His hair unkempt and his arse full of fleas �" he’s been unable to take care of himself in his new life as a peasant. The grey sky is a perpetual sight as it draws nearer to the winter. He waits, watching dutifully for a tiny fishing boat to come back to this island, it sails on the seabed of the harsh and unforgiving Pacific Ocean. These archipelago islands sit between the mainland of both Japan and China, awkward territories �" perfect for trade, rife with violence and strife.

Thick black hair waves in its knot. He breaths deeply and stamps his foot in anger, the rope of his sandle digs into his naked foot. The air is cool and carries with it the scent of the sea but it doesn’t help to help calm this brash and angry young man. His name is Tsuna Watanabe: the son of a samurai, a court noble. His short, stocky leg only stops assaulting the rocky ground when the intensity causes the rope to squeeze so hard into his chubby foot it goes ‘snap’. The sandal he wears is flung from the precipice of the cliff on which he stands, straight down into sharp rocks that were shaped by fearsome waves crashing against it. As he kneels down to rub his foot wobbly squatting on one leg, a harsh wind blows furiously causing his squinty eyes to flicker and close. He falls over like a rolling ball, he’s full of sinking frustration. His tumbling pulls him away from the edge of the cliff until he’s forced to stop. The sound; crunching of leaves and flowers echo into the air as the fierce wind calms down. He lays contorted on a patch of green. Hidden within is an object that smacks into his tailbone. Barely able constrain his pain, he shoots up, yelping, hopping around like a monkey.

He squeezes what it was that caused him his pain. Its dirty lacquer has an image of a flower painted with gold leaf. He moves his chubby neck up and down, inspecting it with a furious attention to detail. A beam of sunlight breaks through the thick grey clouds and with it a single heavenly stream of light shines its ray onto him like heavenly providence. When he unsheathes the katana it’s blinding as it reflects the sunlight. He doesn’t realise how large it is till he pulls it out completely, the top half of its sheath was dug right into the mud. The beauty of the blade makes an odd contrast for it lay upon a depressing ground. “What’s it doing here?” Tsuna wonders to himself. The confusion subsides, a callous and ugly looking smile is what takes over his face instead. This jovial, ambitious son of a fallen samurai family has stumbled upon a katana of his own. He tugs out of the sheath falling flat on his arse again.

As he walks back to village, ants crawl on his soft feet, he winces in pain as every footstep does nothing but clarify his not made for a life without shoes, that’s a life with hardship and no reward. The bamboo forest he strolls through is rife with sharp piercing branches which splices his foot open, a trickle of deep crimson red leaks from his shoeless right foot, however on his left foot he still wears a sandal which causes him to walk wonky, creating a higher decline for his foot to press down onto the stones with. Idiocy can’t be cured.

The boat he scouted for is still nowhere in sight, however it’s closer than Tsuna had realised, if he waited that bit longer he would have seen it burst out the fog. The sound of the waves still travel through the forest he traverses, he just hasn’t walked that far. Tsuna constantly curses the gods for his bad luck. A samurai’s katana is an embodiment of his soul, Tsuna begins to use his newly found weapon made for murder as a walking stick. His still walks, slow so slowly. The sheathed sword has it tip hitting the rocky ground, a slight ‘tat’ echoes through the air of a place seeped in serenity.

By the time he reaches the end of the forest, on the inclined path he’ll have to crawl down to get back to the village, the sun had already found itself past the horizon taking its warm, the boat he was waiting for is now stuck in a precarious position. Tsuna, lucky not to be made a snack for the sneaky snakes that slink through the mighty forest. The wound on his foot scratched itself closed.  

He falls down the hill and slowly walks to the village of people whose way of life is fishing �" that wear strange garments, and speak his language with a strange dialect. This place have had to deal with the Japanese more often than the Chinese, they find it pointless to speak their original Okinawan tongue because so late in the 1800s, they’ve only had to deal with constant invasions �" one of them, Tsuna’s father, Minamoto had participated in. This island, way out of Japan’s mainland is now new member of the Japanese territory, but it is without any purpose �" for resources or for any militaristic campaigns, in name only it joins the Japanese Empire, but it’s out of care for the Japanese authority. The islanders weren’t bitter, instead it allowed more trade to pass through �" they collect cargo from Okinawa and ship it to the Japanese turning the island so-called invasion into a prosperous endeavour. There was no fight, the village elder too old and frail he gave into the rude samurai and musket-men without batting an eye and instead deciding to get them drunk.

A harmonic song is still sang and danced too, the same on military men once moved too which is performed in the centre of the village. Tsuna limps pass, he watches the bonfire sparkle high up into the sky in a blazing rhythm of beautiful fire. It’s a peaceful place, in a passive town. Not a soul noticed the katana the foolish outsider’s son lugs. He carries on walking, he feels an inch of fat leave his body after all this exercise but there’s still another ordeal persevere. His new abode is situated high upon the peak. It’s a simple walk for most, but for him he complains every step of the way. He’s never stopped complaining, even in the womb he moaned, tugging at his mother’s nerves. His feet scramble up the hill one step at a time, it takes forever for him and to watch it’s frustrating that a man could be so unbalanced.

Tsuna stops as he reaches the top, breathing so heavily �" almost about to collapse from exhaustion, he holds all his weight up with his katana. The legs he uses are heavy and stiff, burning with pain. He brims with pride that he was able to walk up the hill, that is, until his stomach grumbles. The rumbling could cause an earthquake. Sinking as he makes to the door like an old man with three limbs, he doesn’t notice the beautiful starry sky or the harrowing sound of the night time sea that’s all around him, not of the music in the village behind him which fire that still burns with such vigour, he couldn’t if he wanted to. His hunger is so deep. In he walks into the little shack on top of the hill. Its dingy dusty smell takes him aback every time. It’s been less than a few months since his family came here, no one has adjusted and in their own ways they’re all dealing with it. His mother is laconic, insecure, and unable to do anything but stare through the hole in the ceiling. She once lived in a house with lushes garden and a large family, instead she’s always comparing that in her mind to the desolate hell she now lives in �" peace and loneliness are cut from the same cloth, the same rhythm leads you to that emotion but just like fight or flight, one is always more prominent because of context. She just feels alone.

She doesn’t care that her son has come back, or where he’s been. Instead she’s more concerned with the ‘tat’ that awakens her intrigue, ‘tat’, ‘tat’, ‘tat’ hits the wooden floor, reverberating through this trivial house. She crawls across the floor, scraping her knees and shins as she slowly moves to see what it is. Tsuna hurries all around this tiny place, trying to find the bowl of water to wash his foot with, ‘tat’, ‘tat’, ‘tat’, ‘tat’, tat’. His mother watches as he cleans his foot and falls asleep in a ball next to the door, embracing the katana. There’s only one look on her face, confusion! She recognises it but her mind still hasn’t made sense of how Tsuna came into possession of it.

His eyes open, the house immersed in darkness with nary a glimmer of moonlight through the hole. His father hasn’t been able to find his way through the dark sea back to the sandy shore of the island. He stands up with a sore body, a back all stiff and legs that ache. Suddenly, the door slides opens and a flood of wind enters the house through the black, in walks his mother with a lamp of fireflies and food. She looks down at the ground, her movements full of feverish etiquette.  Hana Watannbe �" she’s a woman with a jumbled life and a lack of fortunes. Had the gods abandoned her for having paired her up with such a foolish husband and an idiot for a son? Unable even to look at Tsuna, she steps inside, her clothes tattered. Her husband’s disgrace along with her senseless son’s, well senselessness, it’s too much to bare for this lady of honour. In her arms she cradles cooked fish and sweet potatoes that she simply lets fall to the floor. Gradually she rests the lamp next to it. A potato rolls all the way to the other end of the house. Tsuna’s eyes and ears shoot to the rolling, he flings himself across the floor grabbing it with two open palms as he hops it around to cool it down. His rumbling stomach can finally be satiated. He strides back to the door where he let the katana drop with his worn out feet, smacking the wooden floor with them; picking up a fish on the way. His mother looks at him with eyes full of disgust. He gets it into his stomach as quickly as possible.

“Mother...” Tsuna says unsympathetically, “this is all yours and fathers fault!” Hana twists her body away from the food, her clothes limp like her face that’s beginning to lose all its beauty. Her skins terse with an anger she’s never felt before in her life. Pent up emotion rage and flair.

“T-tsuna, how dare you!” She says with her high pitched voice that scratches at his ears. Tsuna looks at her scornfully.

“Why isn’t my b*****d father back yet? I want to take back his disgraced head to the daimyo [lord], so I can eat and sleep in peace.” Tsuna says, beginning to speak with tearful eyes. “Why have you cursed me you old rag?!”

Hana’s anger is extreme. Her soft-gentle movements change into a harsh ferocity as she makes another twist round. Before Tsuna realises it, she’s pounced and plunged her long nails into his chest that’s uncovered by his falling kimono. He screams in pain as he tries to crawl away, slapping the ground with numb hands as he tries to stand up on swollen feet. He crawls manically until her piercing fingers slip out.

“Curse you!” Tsuna screams, jolting in pain as he bolts for the katana.

Hana darts after him, shouting a cry of anger, of curses. The only audible in her wanting battering “I regret your birth!”

 Tsuna teeth grit harder as he feels and sees the blood dripping from him onto the floor. He runs away, aiming for the katana as she chases after him, round in circles. She scratches his back with deeper cuts, he jumps and smashes the floor with a bang that makes the birds in the forest fly away. Hana stops when she sees the katana in his hands, the blood staining the floor. She watches and waits as he struggles to unsheathe the blade.

“T-Tsuna!”

He pulls it out, the sharp sound cutting through the air as he swings the large monstrous blade wildly at her with one hand. He closes his teary eyes and screams as she scrambles in fear shouting his name, her back against the wall, she’s slashed at wildly. Tsuna barely even realises the cuts he makes with his clenched eyes, the only thing he feels is a splashing of fluid hitting his face. Blood red. The final scream of her life is sickeningly loud. Hana’s skull creaks and cracks as her eyes begin to roll backwards. Tsuna finally stops after even he feels like he has done too much. He falls to his knees, the katana wobbling, flailing towards the floor. He knocks over the firefly lamp as he falls flat on his arse, again, the fallen light doesn’t illuminate her sunken body. He stays for what he thinks is a few seconds that turns into a minute. He whispers his mother’s name, but when he sees the flow of blood coming towards him, lit by the bugs Tsuna doesn’t scream, he panics, hopping up, barely able to see, bending over, pattering the floor with open hands to find the katana, cutting his finger on the tip of the blade. He grabs the hilt and waddles to the door, kicking the floor as he paces. The cold air hits him.

The fireflies flow out of their captivity, colourfully moving, lighting up the darkness beautifully as they dance around. They leave, following Tsuna out of the open door. Hana’s black hair, weighty thanks to thick and heavy blood that seeps out everywhere. She’s alone in the darkness with only the full moon piercing in through the holey ceiling, the only light her blurry eyes can see. Her consciousness begins the fade as the blood seeps out at an ever quickening pace. Tsuna rushes down the rocky hill towards the village, trying to get a hold of his mind �" confused and dazed at what he’s done. He vomits when he reaches the bottom.

The village elder tells stories of old karate masters fighting samurais, now they’re all fishermen and farmers who commit haphazard grazing of the land. They continue on telling their story through song when bloody Tsuna wanders into the scene. Nobody really recognises what they’re seeing. Tsuna’s blade still bloody along with his face, as fresh as can be. The children gawp at him, shocked, gormless, they stare with blank faces. The elder continues telling his stories unaware of the malicious madness next to him.

 

Chapter 2:

 

Minamoto finally arrives back at the island, on a hefty boat with several villagers after their long journey to Okinawa, surviving treacherous seas to bring back a cargo of vital foods for the winter �" it’s the cost of earning a living in his new life �" he’s again been forced to become subservient to another. On the long journey across the pacific seas, he tried to earn the trust of the welcoming villagers. He was taken as a bodyguard. A ronin still has the skills of a samurai; he holds his blade tight, it’s the only comfort he has. As the boat rocked during winds that felt as though they’d smash it asunder, he would clench it tighter like his lover. Surviving in Okinawa is harder for a single samurai than one would realise, the suspicions would all be focused upon him. The villagers originally loved the idea of having him with them, especially since his wife and son could very easily be held hostage on the island so he would be unable to betray them �" another set of hands they had to give the bare minimum of food to, how handy. After cutting down several bandits, his skills became apparent to those he sailed with, who began to fear him. Such grace and strength, cutting down men like they were nothing but fodder, throwing them to the ground like they were paper. His strength came in handy when they rowed, but all eyes stared at the back of his head and even he picked up on the uneasiness.

Minamoto and his family arrival at the island wasn’t planned. Their journey from Edo with so many men and women was triggered thanks to religious persecution. Another object he holds close is a wooden cross tied around his neck, given to him by a Christian missionary from Portugal. He was found out and only escaped thanks to his own strength. Whenever he killed he muttered “amen”, they found out thanks to that, it was too obvious. But the further away from the Shogun’s musketeers the better. The group had escaped the initial onslaught, but many were caught by the bandits and illness. The one’s that did live escaped with their families across the sea. These groups of samurais cut their knots but still lived by the sword. In the end, there were only Minamoto and his family, and one more ronin, Ishida.

 With a silver tongue he convinced the elder to take them in, they’ve been there for a few months. Ishida stayed mainly in the village, leaving his sword somewhere on the island, spending his time preaching to the villagers. The talk of a land so far away where the son of god was born, it enthralled them, they too were captivated and many converted. However as Minamoto went on the journey to Okinawa, the elder had grown suspicious of Ishida’s preaching.

As they push the boat onto the golden sandy beach, they make jokes about the atrocious hardships they’ve had to endure because of the terrible weather. They’ve landed on shore in the middle of the day when the sun’s at its highest. Clear skies and uncanny warmth welcomes them. After unloading the cargo, they rush into the crystal clear blue water. They hop in the shallow like idiots; chanting a song with smiling faces. They wash away their sweat and exhaustion in the waters that almost kicked them. They splash it into the boat and clean it as best they can. They drag the heavy cargo through the soft sand. The katana still rests on Minamoto’s side, the cross stuck to his body thanks to the water.

In the village, chaos had formed the night before. Tsuna ran away after the elder attacked him, falling over as the village kids through stones at him, running away into the forest.

A man from the village comes running to the shore, shouting as he runs. He hurriedly looks at Minamoto and shouts �" the ones on the boat all look around confusingly. Then he says it, “H-hey! Get away! Get away from the ronin.”

After one runs away, they all follow. Minamoto looks around in complete disarray.

‘Oi!’ Minamoto shouts, to no avail. Minamoto takes a deep breath and looks up at the bright empty blue sky pondering how his life had become so broken. The adrenaline begins to take over. He exhales with a sigh as he wonders why they were in such a hurry to get away from him.

“Could be worse” he thinks to himself as his face makes another miserable expression. He leaves the cargo and rushes into the village, he catches the suspicious looks they all give him, the fear, and not one person sits by the bonfire.

“O-oh Mi-Minamoto!”

The village elder appears from thin air, he smacks his chest with a clenched rock-hard fist to knocks some of the mucus stuck in his throat. It stops his stuttering. The frail old man is tiny.

“Elder!” Minamoto says with a deep gruffness in his voice. “What’s going on?!”

 “We need to tell you, your boy has been running all over the place!” he says with a weary expression. Minamoto stares at him with eyes that cut.

“Then where’s Ishida!?” He shouts. The conversation stops.

“He died of an illness.”

Minamoto stops in his tracks, a fierce emotion overcomes him, he begins to dread. He begins to think of escape again. He knows that’s not true, Ishida was completely healthy. He was able to survive the trip! His wife and son, where are they? He wonders this to himself with a racing mind and a frozen body. One thought clicks into his mind, his wife! He darts away, the elder left starring at his back, Minamoto charges up the hill.  

The door to Minamoto’s new home slides open, he now wishes it could have always stayed shut. Minamoto walks inside in a shocked daze of fear and anger upon seeing his beautiful wife as a bloodied mess, a decimated carcass. Her white kimono stained in red. He yells her name but she makes no sound, there’s but a poignant silence lingering in the small dusty house. The floorboards damp with her red fluid, his footsteps makes the ground squelch as he walks over to her. Shocked, the man has no expression; his face is as lifeless as the corpse. He falls onto his knees. His tears splash onto her forehead as he begins to scream. His raggedy clothes begins to be soaked in her liquid. He closes her eyelids with shaky fingers as the tears don’t stop streaming from his miserable eyes. Looking up and down her, seeing the barbarous act of violence was committed. He clenches the cross around his neck, pulling it off �" the beads smack the wall. He smashes it into the ground in anger, again and again! Hitting the ground with all his strength as he still hugs her limp head! He cries until his eyes are dry. Until her blood has dyed his kimono the same colour.

Resting her head as calmly as he can with shaking hands, biting his lip and clenches his jaw as what was once her touches the damp floor. Standing up, he stares at his red hands, his heart punches at his chest and a noise ripping his head.  He screams, unsheathing his katana, cursing the gods and men slashing the walls deeply. Chipped pieces of wood flicker in the air illuminated by harsh beams of sunlight breaking through the misaligned ceiling. Stamping on the wood, he kicks the walls shaking the entire structure and pierces the ground with his blade, piercing through, hitting the soil below. He slashes at whatever he looks his miserable eyes see. Becoming glazed over with an anger that can only be quenched by destruction in the process. His clenched jaw begins to ache as his screams penetrate through his closed mouth. One slash too many, almost taking the house down he falls backwards flat on his backside. His katana nicks the wood from his sandle almost cutting off his toe. Breathing heavily, the deepness of his inhalation sucks in all the air around him. On the ground with his anger rising with every passing moment he looks towards the ceiling screaming out a horrific bellow of his wounded soul. He tries to fathom who could have killed his sweet and innocent woman. There he sees it, something he missed before. A single sandle on the floor? The one his wife had made his son…

“But only one?” He thinks to himself �" and then he realises something in some mishap of rationality. He makes a mistake. “The villagers have kidnapped Tsuna and they killed Hana just like they killed Ishida! But why?” He thinks to himself, the madness of the situation quickly escalates. Minamoto looks back at his wife with teary eyes then storming out with a lust for blood. Slashing the door with maddening strokes. Minamoto wants revenge, he wants to save Tsuna! The sound of broken wood smashing the ground echoes in the wind. He races out of his house as the sound of the fierce wind blows into his face and throws his hair around. In his right hand he holds the katana with a grip so hard his hand begins to bruise.

The sight of this bloodied ronin with his katana out terrifies a little boy playing in the fields who sees him at a distance. He runs back to his mother shrieking about a demon that has come down from the hill. Panic takes over and all the parents run to grab their children. The men gather at the Elder’s house with weapons in-hand cursing the Elder for letting the outsiders stay �" he tries to convince them to let him speak. By the time Minamoto arrives, the middle of the village is deserted �" he walks pass the bonfire, down the rows of houses - twenty or small wooden buildings on either side all starting and ending in misalignment. He walks down the middle of the long dusty path to the house of extravagance with a rocky cliff behind it. All doors slid shut, all the women and children hidden away in safety. Minamoto screams!

“Elder you b*****d! How dare you murder my wife and Ishida! Give me back my son!”

 His words are carried by the wind that rips the sand off the ground. The mothers hold their frightened children even tighter as they wince in fear at the sound of his voice. Everybody is silent. Minamoto carries his heavy feet, walking slowly down the long road as the dust gathers and the wind carries him forward. He walks on and on and there’s nothing but silence and wind. And there Minamoto stands, outside the huge door of the Elder’s house which slides open. Minamoto’s footsteps rush as the anger overwhelms him.

“Tsuna” Minamoto cries, “where is my son?!”

For the Elder, there’s no easy way for him to explain the situation as he hardly understood it himself. He had thought that Tsuna had brandished a katana in revenge for their killing of Ishida, but Hana dying was something he knew nothing about. This confusion has only led itself towards the inevitably of conflict.

The sky above is still clear and blue with the sun bathing the island. All in the Elder’s house see him in his entirety as the sun shines down onto his raggedy bloody clothes and causes his katana to twinkle, his hair hides his sorrowful eyes. The village men inside the Elder’s house begin to step back in fear as they catch the glimpse of him. Only the Elder stands firm near the door. The group rests in fear. Minamoto continues walking forward ever closer.

“Where is he?” He screams in a fury. He wants an answer that nobody has.

The ones who Minamoto went on the journey with are the most scared, they are nowhere to be seen. Hidden away from view, unable to fight this fearsome man. The Elder turns around and looks at all the villagers with their handyman tools and sticks, frightened by the prospect of fighting this man. They’re huddled in a mass, scared of conflict. They realise how far backwards their fear has taken them.  There are at least thirty-five village men inside this house. All of them brandishing their daily tools as something to murder with but Minamoto’s presence makes even their numbers feel somewhat lacking. Their resolve is nonexistent.

“Answer me you b******s!” The Elder has no explanation, except…

He coughs out mucus and spits in Minamoto’s direction. “Your oaf of a son ran into the forest, we chased him off.”

Minamoto stops and stares, even more confused now than he ever was. “What?”

Minamoto steps inside into the Elder’s humongous home. His figure larger and more imposing to the short stocky village men that stand so far away now. Minamoto eyes adjusts to the darkness as he steps in momentarily making him blind but none of these fishermen and farmers with any experience of fighting can act upon the momentary advantage. And so Minamoto begins to walk up to the frail old man who stands before him with no fear.

“Why do you come here like this Minamoto?” The Elder’s voice echoes the confusion they all share.

He lifts his katana to the Elder’s throat, it digs a little bit more with every second, but the Elder stands there. So easily it would be able to penetrate into a vein with its slender sharpness. And then it happens, something that nobody believes. The Elder stoops lower, escaping the katana as he moves his head, while Minamoto stares as the villagers’ who halt their advance with frightened faces. He, with his thin frail arms smashes his fist into Minamoto’s stomach, breaking his stance and winding him. Minamoto’s right arm falls and his katana smacks into the wood. He’s been forced to stare at the Elder on the same height, his hair falling everywhere, breathing heavily from the force of the impact.

The Elder berates. “Minamoto. Do you want to know why we let you stay?! We have no fear of samurai!”

The Elder holds firm in place with a stance. Still breathing heavily, Minamoto stares at the ground as the fearsome unison of shouting begin rush towards him. Time slows down as they approach. He stands up slowly, concentrating on his breathing with closed eyes as a multitude of weapons are about to be shoved into his face. Softly he holds the hilt, the rush of men charge. He flicks the katana out the wood, catching one of the villagers which causes the stampede to stop. The man’s head ripped apart as the sickle almost catches the top of Minamoto’s skull. Another slash rips through the man’s chest and jaw with the tip exiting as the nose is cut through. The man doesn’t even know what’s happened as the raging faucet of blood comes spewing out of his insides. The blood enters Minamoto’s eyes blinding him, but the shock of what happened causes the rapid stampede to stop firmly in its tracks.  

Minamoto slashes away, cutting through three men as they stop in fear. He ruthlessly slashes men into pieces of meat as the body parts are flung around, no one can scream, there’s only a sudden shock at the unbelievable brutality. The first one to snap is a child, his ear-banging scream reverberates from the house to the outside as Minamoto slices through a skull. The ground is covered in a river of blood and so is Minamoto’s hair and face. The remaining villager men step back, some begin flee in terror, scattering away from the house. Suddenly! A small sharp object is thrown into Minamoto’s arm, cutting through flesh, touching the bone. He scream in agony as he hops away. Minamoto plunges his katana straight into the ground as he tries to make sense of what just happened. He’s kicked in the back and is forced to fall and roll, still holding onto the hilt of his blade which drops to the ground.

It goes on…

Minamoto can’t even catch his breath as he carries on running out the village. The remaining villagers’ begins to notice his slowing down and fatigue. They watch him fleeing up the hill and in an anger and faux-courage that builds up in their souls, they are pressed to act. First one, then two, then ten form a group that continues pacing after Minamoto as he runs passed the sandy beaches up the inclined hill. Minamoto looks back; running at a quicker pace as he hears their shouting and witnesses their charge. They want to kill him for the friends he’s killed �" Minamoto needs to get away from them, he no longer has the energy to fight back or run, the enclave of the forest is his only bet at survival.

Back in the village, the villagers’ who’ve had their bodies slashed suffer a slow death, their guts seeping out squashy stomachs. Pieces of body parts litter the village. To top it all of the cowardly screams of one of the surviving man who watched the battle unfold and did nothing sends shivers down the spine of the women and children who’re scarred by the violence. It’s barbaric. The elder watches from where he still stands ready for a fight, but the look on his face now is of shock and horror. He shouts a maddening shout, the men who hid inside the house cower and scatter in fear.

For what felt like miles Minamoto ran and ran before the screams of antagonism had begun fading away into the distance along with their footsteps. He nudges himself forward barely able to move into the bamboo forest to get away from them, making his way further inland, hiding with the snakes. They wander around on the grassy ground as his slowing feet and heavy breath forces him to stop his pace. He falls to the comfort of a tree. The warm blue sky turns grey before his eyes. Trickles of sweat runs down his exhausted and confused face. The heavy breathing stays the same as the world around him changes. This forest is a respite for the animals, he’s a wounded animal. His lip and shoulder leak red. Minamoto rips off part of his bloody kimono and ties it around the wound�" he sucks the blood from his lip. He bites at the fabric as he pulls with his right hand to tighten the cloth.

The katana he used to slash down so many villagers hasn’t been cleaned of the disgusting coalescence of internal organs and ripped flesh. The tip of the blade has been cracked by bone. His mind relents, his body begins to quit and his soul loses all its hope. A dead wife and friend, a missing son and a village out to kill him. It couldn’t get much worse for Minamoto. He picks himself up, the green moss stains his torn hand. Picking up his brittle katana, he moves slowly, he’s restless but tired. The birds in the forest suddenly begin to flee and the snakes rush to hide back in their little holes. Night begins encroaching the sky, he was sitting down for longer than he thought. The wind twitches his ears, he turns around in a fright, reacting to strike anyone down. But there’s nothing there. Emotional fatigue begins to get the better of him.

Minamoto has no clue what’s behind him, he doesn’t notice. The weight of a man barges into him, he smashes into the ground littered with the small piercing pieces of bamboo. Confused with closed eyes, face touching the ground, his mouth licking the grass. The wound on his shoulder spews out a gush of blood, his thigh pierced with two tiny pieces of bamboo which have dug deep. His body and mind in complete disarray, he can’t move. Minamoto’s drowsy eyes begin to fade into a deepening black, he’s almost lost consciousness. But he hears a familiar voice speak out to him, a voice he was searching for.

“Father” the oaf weeps, “I’m sorry!” He cries. “I-I have to kill you before you kill me” he says, barely being able to get the sentence out with bawling eyes.

Minamoto doesn’t fall asleep, he just lays still. Unable to quantify anything, it all turns blank. He winces in pain ‘eurgh’ as he tries to move. Trawling his knees through the ground, he curls up into a ball.

Tsuna’s scared self begins walks forward slowl, he knocked his father a fair distance away. While Minamoto grimaces in pain the tangents in his mind begin to connect, but still, there’s no sense to be found. His brain soaked in adrenaline. He doesn’t feel his cracked ribs or pain, pushing himself up with his blade, even with his eyes beginning to glaze over he takes a step forward towards Tsuna’s anxious voice.  

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he pleads, the words falls onto deaf ears. Tsuna spits as he hurriedly speaks.

Minamoto mumbles, “dumb b*****d! Dumb b*****d!”

Tsuna stops speaking as he tries to listen to the tired voice. His father screams. “Stupid brat!”

Almost… almost, Minamoto has almost nearly reached the voice �" the blade that has served him for years has a mind of its own. Launching the blade into the face of his son. His end seems to be an inevitably �" time begins to slow down for him to a state of minute perpetuity. Tsuna feels as though he’s going to die, he sees the red blade about to pierce his watching eyes. He falls back in fear.

It all happens so quickly Tsuna doesn’t realise what’s happened. His eyes, shut as he fell, both of his hands clutch the blade. Minamoto’s head rolls to the ground, lopped off with a perfect stroke of luck to counter his lunge. As he looks down with his father’s head sitting between his legs, he stares at what he’s wrought, he ponders what to do. He’s killed his father and in his stupidity he killed his mother! The snakes slither out the holes as the bloodlust lessens. His thoughts descend to madness �" chaotic and ridiculous thoughts.

He stands up straight and firm. Unable to scream. Something snaps within him. `His kimono dirtied by moss and his face dirtied with blood. Tsuna knows what to do next with his weapon as any god would with their power. He shall force the island into subservience. The slithering snakes begin retreating from their initial advance of attack, their instinct once again telling them to flee for stupidity is the most dangerous of things. Tsuna begins to walk broken through the forest with his father’s head �" now it will be his own.

The grey sky begins to cry down tears at the needless destruction. The blood on the dirt begins to be washed away by the cold pouring rain.  Broken bones and murdered lives �" Tsuna walks away from the dismantled forest to continue his campaign of prestige as the rain washes his dirty skin and red katana. Tsuna’s stomach rumbles. He craves for food again but no longer will he accept having it thrown onto the floor for him to eat like a beggar. He decides to take it all for himself. He wants all the food, the clothes and women within his grasp. Hunger, his only motive motive. His naked feet have an easier time walking in a world soaked with cries of gods. For all the murder, the most broken thing is his silly mind.

 

Chapter Three

Two nights later, the bloodied mess of mangled bodies have been cleared from the village, carcasses cast out into the sea. The bonfire is lit to sombre faces as the sons and daughters cry at the losses of their fathers’. The men who ran away live to fight another day. Still, they have lost their pride as men. They who fled with cowardice during the assault, and those who ran after him only after Minamoto began to escape from the bloody battle still have their lives. Several village fishermen arrive back at the village in their tiny boats to find a tragedy has taken place. Arguments blow up and fights occur by the recently arrived fishermen berating the living about how cowardly they are. But the Elder decided enough was enough and a plan was made to hunt for the man who caused the madness. The farmers pass their tools to the fishermen to use as weapons.  They will not rest until the body of the bloodied samurai has been found and his body burnt.

Off they go up the hill on the left to the demon’s house only to find a disgusting smelling corpse of his now dead wife. They set fire to the house �" it burns brightly in the night sky. They travel down and head up the other hill to the coastline. The wander off in the hostile environment at night with only fireflies lighting their path; they think of themselves as the most dangerous beings. The fishermen are charged and ready for blood, but the ones who saw Minamoto before are less eager, walking slowly �" only tagging along because of their pride. As they travel up the hill, Tsuna watches hidden away in the bamboo next to the village; scared his rumbling stomach might alert them he stays as quiet as possible but the numerous villagers’ make so much noise they do not notice him shuffling in the leaves. Tsuna hold his katana to the ground which rests softly on the grass. As the villagers’ leave to hunt for the dead. Tsuna begins to sneak down into the village travelling down the hill, bathed in darkness. As the villagers’ marauder off for what ends up being miles and miles �" Tsuna carefully plans every footstep to the Elder’s house. He’s famished and a fight right now is the worst thing that could happen however all he needs is one slash. Drinking the trickle of rain-water is the only reason he’s survived thus far but his body is ailing and sick from infected cuts filling up with puss, a feral instinct takes over. With his bare feet now hardened he walks on rocky ground travelling along the outskirts of the village and its house. His katana scratches at the rocks but the women inside are crying and do not notice. One step at a time he walks. The ones who haven’t gone hunting are huddled up by the bonfire in a scared mass, worried about their husbands’ and fathers’ who went out to seek revenge.

The only man still left in the village �" the Elder forces the only teenage girl of age in the village to join him in his abode. Her mother cannot say no, her husband died fighting the demon. She’s the young fifteen year old: Ayano. The Elder’s daughter Akiko knows what he will do her but she can’t argue, better this girl than her. Ayano walks into the Elder’s house, the blood cleaned from the floor and all that’s left is a squashed bit of flesh inside the crevice formed between floorboard to floorboard. The huge door is slid shut by the old man. They travel to the floor above. Both are silent. ‘Tap’, ‘tap’, ‘tap’, as their sandles hit the dirtied floorboards but they do not notice even with the light of the fireflies lighting their path that someone hides in wait. Up the sturdy steps�" a few too many for this decrepit old man. Travelling down a straight and narrow hallway they go into the back room. Tsuna watches, hidden in the guest room he stayed in when he first arrived �" the slit in the paper still hasn’t been repaired. His katana is resting on the silky floor next to him. Tsuna hears it all. The disgusting act of maliciousness towards flesh and blood: the Elder forces her naked and cuts into Ayano’s soft skin with a short-blade katana. He pierces deeply enough to leave scarring. And as her cries grow louder and louder Tsuna starts to act, the perfect moment when the Elder won’t pay attention to his interruption. The sound of the huffing penetrates his ears. He walks out of the room slowly and quietly sliding open the door to the back room soundlessly. He takes the few steps in the direction of the horror. He sees a sight you would want to forget.

The Elder doesn’t notice. Tsuna screams! He runs at the naked defenceless old man who has enough time to see but no time to react. His blade stabs through the throat as the sweat drips down from his forehead, Ayano picks up her kimono and runs with scratched knees, trying to cover her body as she moves �" she runs as quickly as she can to get away.

The women and children at the bonfire gaze in shock and horror to see Ayano screaming “the Elder was killed”. Following her moments afterwards is Tsuna walking barefoot to the bonfire. The women and children flee in terror when they see the murderous maniac Tsuna exit, they hurriedly begin pacing away from the village. Ayano quickly disappears from all seeing eyes. The women and children holed in the houses hear the shouting look to see what’s going on �" but now they find themselves in the same position as two days earlier wanting to hide away. They scream and shout for the monster to go away �" screaming that the outsider doesn’t belong but when he begins to look around for the source of the noise, they stay in silence. Those by the bonfire run �" they run as fast away as possible from the village.

Tsuna continues looking forward, the blares of screams echo into the harsh night air. They flee, up the hill to the right to travel along the coastline �" the same way the village men sometime earlier had wandered off to. Kids become separated from their mothers in the chaos. His body already tired from the cold and fatigue; deciding to make use of the bonfire which blares out an unconditional warmth. He’s the only one outside in this large narrow village now. Tsuna sits and rests near the burning flame, its heat being absorbed into his skin, revitalising his body. The idiot is too comfortable, very nearly falling asleep due to the comfort, he stands up with numbing legs. He decides to carry on with his spontaneous and surprisingly successful plan, raiding one house after another taking food, drink and blankets.

He finds villagers still hiding in their houses weeping soundless tears in fear and brash little boys giving him dirty looks. He barely pays attention, concentrating instead on all the loot. Barging through on door after the next, he holds more than he can carry leaving a trail of food behind as he runs up the hill to his burnt down home. Potatoes roll down the hill as he lugs his

The ailing Tsuna walks away from his burnt, shoddy home, finding a place to rest beneath some trees. Tsuna rests with a red blanket, chewing on dried fish as his mind wavers from exhaustion which quickly takes him over. Slowly his mind wafts away into sleep, carrying on eating unconscious. He imagines a reality where he’s the Shogun looking down at his army in a castle that goes as high up as the clouds.

The sun blares down in the morning like the past few days. The hunting party finally make their way back to the village �" exhausted and shocked at what they had found. The man they were hunting for already headless, his hand still holding the same katana that cut them all down. They all wonder the same thought. The women and children who ran into the forest weren’t able to find the men; becoming lost in the darkness, they wander the forest, most barely able to stand and with the children complaining, their headaches are beyond what they’re used to. As they approach the village, the hunting party turns into a search party after they hear what happened from those still in their houses, but none could bare the madness. All they want to do now is sleep. Tsuna stays with his back against the tree, plotting what to do next. He listens to the wind and sees the blue sea sparkling in the distance overviewing the village. The sound of birds and leaves and trees wafting relaxes his soul, forgetting the deeds he has done, the sins he’s committed. He’s warm and in comfort even though he rests out in the open �" feeling as though he has to be afraid of.

 The party’s anger can’t keep up with their fatigue, they all sit round the dead fire, and feeling like their light has been unlit. Most falling scruffily to the ground with closed eyes. Tsuna nonchalantly roams into the villagers, nobody noticing his callous walk. He scratches the back of his neck as his long black hair falls behind his kimono.  His pale skin has become darker these days. As soon as one of the villagers’ notices him the noise travels like a wave, the women scream with a high-pitched ear-bursting loudness and the children run away. The tired men are forced to pick up their tools to a stance as dirty Tsuna walks towards them without a care. The men sweating and agitated over what he does. Throwing his father’s head into the crowd, some falling over and scurrying back. Tsuna wears a creepy smirk, not caring to give an explanation.

Looking straight at them. “Why don’t you let me rule? I’ve already killed your Elder!”

Then, silence!

 “Argh!”  Tsuna screams like a raging beast.

A slashed man lies at his feet with pieces of his chipped blade embedded into their skull, he can’t pull it out. The hoard has only one man stepping forward for the attack, but that’s all that’s needed. Tsuna loses an arm. The blood leaks, forming a river of blood. The pain is unbearable but so too is his fear of death. He spins around in circles screaming curses and splashing blood over their faces, he tries to run away but he’s bombarded by several men who pile up on top of him as he screams. They tug at his hair, trying to rip pieces of his flesh and gouging at his eyes with slimy fingers. Darkness and pain are all that surrounds him as his face is smashed into by fists that feel harder stone, the back of his head pours a leaky red. Unable to fight back, unable to think about anything but pain.

What a stupid beast.

 

 

END