Moon in the pond

Chapter 1

The yamato river

The blade stops moving and he can hear the sound of his opponents armour as he collapses, the plates that are linked with cord of bright vibrant colours rattle as he stoops, falls and dies, he hardly sees the blood on him against his dark red armour. He was one of the yamato warriors. Cursing his body as he lays there in front of him "bastard", he dislocated his thumb . the warrior looks upon his face and watches his life drain from him quickly, his face constantly changing colour in front of his eyes. He stands quietly alone and wonders "if he were alive, would he look at me in the same way?"

He squats down to take a rest from the fighting, the battle is over, He's exhausted. His hands are trembling from the adrenaline. He can feel a trickle of blood running down his left arm from a arrowhead still embedded in it. The warmth it gives him almost feels pleasant against the cold morning, it gives some degree of comfort as he closes his eyes and recalls an old poem that was told to him many years ago by his father. It went " life and death are but the same, only by way of the sword can we learn to understand nature, for it has it's own order, of life and death!"

He stands up slowly taking the weight of the armour on the legs; normally this would be all too easy, but not today. Today it feels like he is carrying a horse on his back. Once more he opens his eyes and begins to focus on the surroundings again. Slowly regaining strength and composure, the first thing he notices is the sun hanging high in the sky over the sumori mountains surrounded by beautiful clouds, they float peacefully across the sky and captivated he watches them as they appear to have their own light radiating from them. He Wonders exactly what they are and how they can fly. Maybe gods? Are they mearly playing with us?

"MOVE!" even before he recognises what the word means his head and torso turn violently sideways. His weary legs stay firmly planted on the ground bearing the weight of his armour.

He Feels the wind from a shuriken as it fly's past almost touching his ear, the sound reminds him of the moths he used to watch as a child dancing around a candle at night as he lay in bed, the memory seems to last an age but it's passed in only a moment. His thoughts return to the present and on turning around he sees a samurai from the yamato clan bring to bear another shuriken "shit" The distance is too great to cover. He prepares himself and looks intently at him, but the samurai has already stopped readying the blade. He now merely looks over with sad apologetic eyes. He give's a faint bow and sits down on a fallen comrade. Both the men look briefly at each other and then turn way from each other. They both look around but all they can see are bodies, slain and crushed. Arm's here and there scatter the field along with the occasional head or foot. The dead appear to look like a flowerbed of colour with their ornate armour and flags. The wounded and sick crawl around like maggots between the dead. Trying to find some miracle cure for their mortal wounds.

Unbelieving his bad luck. "What a day to be caught up in a civil war"; he was merely passing through the district.

The sword given to him is still in one piece although now it looks like it's been made by a crude smith. Noticing the blood of different colours and intensity, running off it. "at least I vanquished my opponents swiftly, I saved them from a painfull, agonising end. Let alone the misery of dying in this hell, among the slain and wounded" he thinks to himself. He begins to look for the scabbard for his sword only to find it smashed and broken. "unfortunate", but it did save him from the blow of a halberd. Glancing around and noticing another scabbard about the right shape and size, he takes it. The owner has no need of it now. The fit's not too bad either, but he can work on that later. He finds another sword in much better condition, hardly a scratch on it. so he helps himself to that as well.

He could just throw his own blade away now, but no. He needs that. It's important.

He begins to walk southwards towards the yamato river, to continue on his way and hopefully find a healer of some sort. Trudging carefully though the dead and the mud. Within a few minutes a sudden glint of light catches the eye.

It's a spider making a web between two of the dead, one from the yamato and one from the honsa clan he stands motionless and ponders over what the spider is thinking. And realises It's a pity the warlords did not see this as well. Maybe then they would have no need of this war if they had? The spider seems to bond the two clans together. It has no desire for power or gold. Only to survive and exist.

He continues south down towards the river, carefully treading over bodies, taking care not to slip or fall, his eyes contantly scanning the area surrounding him, trying to spot samurai who would try to take him with them as they slowly die. Noting if there are any survivors he can give aid to, but no its of no use most of these people died first. He stumbles over corpses one by one, now he begins to count in tens, then hundreds. He passes one body in particular and on looking back at it counts over fifteen arrows in him. "what use is a sword against a hail of them". He takes a quick note of the angle the arrows are in him, the tail is quite high in comparison indicating long range. He was probably one of the first to fall.

About a hour later he hears the sound of the the yamato river, colliding and splashing just over the hill, this river marks the boundary of the yamato and honsa clans territory.

Arriving a while latter at the now swollen water, wide and forcefull from all the recent heavy rain. Looking down the bank he sees a stretch of shallow water, taking a dead mans yari from him to aid his swimming at the deepest parts, he can see the river has a red tinge to it now from all the blood that has run down the hill, a steady stream of it flows into the water where the cold autumn snow has broken from the mountain and is breaking over the rocks at this point.

Carefully he makes his way down across the rocks and slopes, and using the yari to balance here and there. He finally reaches the bottom where he can see the blood in the water is now even more apparent.

Slowly he enters the water, carefully placing each foot in turn. He shakes as the icy cold water stings his body, it enters the wound on his left arm "at least it will clean it for me!" he murmurs to himself as he grinds his teeth together, to cancel out the pain, while he withdraws the arrow in his arm. Not wanting to cry out.

As he slowly wades across the river filled with blood something catches his attention. a body comes tumbling over the rocks, it floats lifelessly towards him. wearing nothing more than a simple kimono, a bright blue one with a white pattern, no jacket, no tabi, nothing. Curiously he reaches out the left arm and painfully stops the body. In the distance he can just make out the sound of horses at full pace.

Turning the body over to see who it is, shocked.. he almost lets go as he sees before him a mere boy, No more than fifteen years old. His eyes still open, probably from shock. A massive wound in the torso looks like the work of a sharp shooter. "This is no warrior" he thinks "he's only a boy, why kill him". he examines the wound and is surprised to notice the burns don't look normal on the cloth or on the body, "strange" he thinks and begins to wonder why.

He holds the boy tightly to him in the river with his legs flailing lifelessly in the the ice cold water. It appears to look like the boy is crying. But no, it is only the water passing over his head and down his face. His thoughts go back to his own village as this boy reminds him of the children who he sees playing in the fields near his own family. A single tear fills his eye, rolls down the cheek and falls softly into the water only to disappear. He shuts the boys eyes and prays for his spirit, then releases him and watches as he continues to tumble and fall down the river and out of sight. "karma".

He turns around and looks forwards into the woods on the other side. All is peaceful. he can hear the birds and the frogs. Way out in the distance he can just make out a deer shrouded in the mist. Turning around once again to see from where he came, only to see the carnage.

"fool's" he thinks "if only". As he turns back and heads for the wood.

"Who knows why it happened and what for? But who am I to question, for they are samurai and in their eyes I am merely ninja"

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