Samurai 2.0 - Destiny: A Harem Fantasy Adventure

by April O'Malley

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Samurai 2.0

  Destiny

  A Harem Fantasy Adventure

  Written by April O’Malley

  Samurai 2.0: Destiny

  Copyright © 2019 April O’Malley

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.

  Chapter One

  The procession of soldiers coming up the road forced a pause in everyone in town. The body they accompanied could only be one person, and his death was not a good sign.

  As it became clearer to those watching, pressed up against fences and windows, a silence spread through the town that even the crickets took notice of. When the procession reached the manor house, the majority of the townsfolk were following it, some already holding candles. The gates were opened by tearful guards and the body was presented to his son, Nororu, who had been training his five-year-old son in the art of the samurai.

  Nororu stood stoically, tears welled up in his eyes that he would never allow to breech the lids, as the commander of the procession went through the formalities. Nororu's son, Akio, watched the happening carefully, not fully understanding what was happening.

  From inside the manor house, a wail arose and Nororu's mother, Tama, appeared at the door behind them, not quite daring to step out onto the porch. As the commander finished, he presented Nororu with his father's sword and bowed deeply, his own eyes betraying his sorrow for their fallen leader.

  Carefully, Nororu received the sword, the ancient beast that his father had forged with his own two hands when he had been but just a boy. He remembered watching his father toil with this sword, pouring months of sweat, tears, and curse words into the thing as he fought the strange metal. The Hi No Tamashi, the fire soul, was no ordinary sword; his father swore that it had some type of deep seeded magic within it.

  “Sir?” Nororu realized that the commander was talking to him.

  “I... I'm sorry, please say again?” Nororu asked.

  “What are your orders, sir?” Yonezu Motokiyo, the general of the family's command was acknowledging that Nororu was now in charge. Nororu looked back at Akio, and he motioned for the boy to stay where he was and indicated he would return shortly. Then he stepped forward and spoke to Motokiyo. The two headed toward the back of the family complex, the remainder of the procession with Akio's grandfather's body followed them in silence.

  Akio stood still and watched his grandfather's covered body float past on the arms of faceless soldiers. This was his first step in understanding death and he was shaken by it. He fully expected his grandfather to peek out from under the golden designed cloth and grin at him, winking his eye in that ornery fashion he did so often.

  But his grandfather did not move; he stayed still under the cloth.

  After the procession had moved around the corner of the manor house, his mother came out to gather him up.

  “Father told me to stay here,” Akio argued with her. “He told me to stay. He will be back.”

  “Son,” his mother, Nana, tried to soothe him as her own voice cracked, “your father will be a long while. Come inside and wait for him. He will not be angry.”

  Akio looked back toward the end of the manor house where the procession had disappeared. He wasn't sure about leaving the post his father had left him at, but it was starting to get dark. As he looked around, he saw the mass of townspeople at the gate. “Why are they out there, mother?” he asked.

  Nana's soft face peered up at the people outside the gate. She paused before answering, unsure what to say. “They come to honor your grandfather, Akio.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Come with me now, let's go inside.”

  Akio took another moment to stare at the people waiting at the gate. He could see a few were crying. His mother motioned to the guards who slowly closed the gates, blurring the people's faces and finally shutting them away from Akio's view completely. “Come,” his mother said once more, turning and moving toward the house. Akio followed her in the slowly fading sunlight.

  Inside the house, Akio could hear his grandmother, Tama, weeping. He wanted to inquire why she was sobbing, but knew better than to do so. Instead, he allowed his nanny to lead him back to the kitchen where his dinner was given early. It was his favorite, udon soup and yakitori, spiced up just the way he liked it. The cook must have been preparing the udon most of the afternoon, but he could tell that the yakitori had just been grilled as it was still steaming hot. He slurped down his udon and began to tear at the chicken on the flame-kissed skewer. He could hear his mother speaking in the other room but could not make out what she was saying. It was impolite to be listening anyway.

  As he finished his dinner, his nanny appeared and led him back to his room and began to have him get ready to sleep. He looked at the window. It wasn't quite dark yet, so why was he being prepared for bed? He asked her and she simply replied that is what she was told to do. Favorite dinner or not, he was not going to be put to his bed so early. He bolted past his nanny and headed down the hallway to find his mother.

  Nearing the family room, he heard her voice and his grandmother's speaking in quiet, rushed tones. He cleared his throat when he got to the doorway so they would know he was there. Their voices stopped immediately.

  “Mother,” he started, “why am I going to bed now? I’m not tired yet.” He crossed his small arms to show her he was upset.

  “Oh, Akio.” She got up and came toward him. “I simply want you to begin to relax for the evening, musuko. It has been a long...” She paused. “A long day, and the upcoming days will be busy and filled with work. Will you please return to your room for the evening? You may play with your toys or read, whatever you like.”

  He eyed her carefully and then glanced at his grandmother. “Can I have a hug first?”

  “Of course you can!” His grandmother smiled. “Come here. Hug this old neck.”

  Akio smiled and almost ran to her. Her warm arms encompassed him but he could tell she was still shaking. As he pulled away, he looked into her eyes and said, “It will be ok, grandmother.” She smiled as tears welled up again, a couple spilling over her lids and onto her dress. His mother appeared behind him and carefully steered him away, back toward the hallway, where his nanny waited. Akio stopped and looked up at his mother. “Is grandfather gone?”

  She nodded at him. “Yes, son, he is, but he will always be with us here.” She pointed to his heart and then his forehead. “Your memories of him will keep his spirit here with us, always.”

  With that, Akio turned and followed his nanny back toward his bedroom. He sat down with his wooden soldiers to play, but found no joy in it tonight. He simply held two in his hands and stared down at them in silence.

  ***

  The monastery gates were massive and old, with iron hinges rusted from decades of harsh weather. The boy peered up at them, unsure of what to do. Waking up here was unexpected to say the least, but it did not really surprise him. He had woken up in too many places throughout his young life that he did not recognize…


  He peered at the note in his hand once more and wished he knew what it said. Nearby, a bird squawked out, startling him, causing him to drop the note, which flittered away on the light breeze. He didn't chase after it. It probably meant nothing anyway and was simply the words of a mad woman who had told him too often that he did not matter to her.

  A huge creak and crack in front of him turned his attention back to the gates. One was moving slightly, opening, beginning to reveal what it concealed. He thought it might be a magical place, one where he would never have to beg or fight for food again; one where he always had a warm blanket. A place where he wasn't hit or kicked daily.

  A man materialized in the opening and appeared stunned by the presence of such a young boy at this hour of the day.

  “Why, child, what are you doing up here so early?” the man said. The boy looked him over. He wore long, brown robes and held a small staff in his right hand, a large basket filled with breads in the other. “Are you all right, child?” the man asked, his face clearly lined with worry.

  He shrugged. “I think so.”

  “What are you doing up here?” the monk asked again.

  Again, the boy shrugged. “I don't know.”

  The monk looked puzzled. “Where is your father? Your mother?”

  The boy cocked his head to the right. “I don't know.”

  The monk paused and studied the boy. His clothing was torn and patched horribly, and it was clear he was malnourished. His small eyes were sunken in, meaning he was dehydrated as well. “Are you hungry?” the monk asked.

  Finally, something the boy knew the answer to. He nodded vigorously. The monk pulled a smaller hunk of bread from his basket and offered it to the boy. The boy's eyes narrowed slightly as he considered the man. “It's okay, child. I won't hurt you. You can have this piece of bread, if you like.”

  After a moment, the boy moved closer and reached for the food, but he pulled his arm back immediately without taking it. “What's wrong?” the monk asked.

  The boy shook his head. “No money.”

  The monk laughed, startling the boy slightly. “Oh, child,” the monk said, “this bread is all yours, for free. I need nothing from you.” He held the bread out closer to the boy. “Here, please, take it.”

  The boy grinned from ear to ear and reached up with lightning speed, snatching the bread from the man's hand and instantly gobbling it down. Within a few seconds, the hunk was gone. The monk pulled out another lump and offered it to him. The boy grabbed it and demolished it as well.

  “I have more food than just bread. Also clean water to drink. Would you like some?” the monk asked. The boy nodded. He was starving. “Come with me then.” The monk motioned and began to move back inside the gates. “There is plenty for you, child.”

  The boy paused again, uncertain if he should follow the man inside the massive gates or not. Finally, the monk managed to persuade him that no one would hurt him. And so the pair walked inside the gates and the monk shut them. They began to walk a small path through some ornate trees. Within a few steps, the trees gave way to a beautiful array of buildings. The boy was amazed at the beauty of the place.

  “Have you never seen a monastery before child?” the monk asked. The boy shook his head. The monk smiled. He led the boy to the kitchen first and sat him down at a small table. There were other monks here, cooking, and they paused, visibly intrigued to see a child in their kitchen.

  “Where did he come from, Asas?” one of them asked.

  “He was just standing outside the gate. Just standing there. He says he has no idea where his parents are or how he got here,” the monk, Asas, answered. The boy watched the men with fascination. He'd never seen men talk to each other so nicely. Asas continued speaking to the other men and finally said, “He needs food. Can we get him a better breakfast than simply bread?”

  One of the other monks, a quite large man, grinned widely at the boy. “Breakfast is my favorite meal of the day. Let me prepare you a feast!” He giggled lightly and did a little bow, making the boy smile back. As he turned to begin preparing the boy some food, Asas told the other monks that he would return shortly. When he reached the door, the boy got up to follow him.

  “Oh, no no, you stay here child.” Asas motioned to the table. “Nagao there will fix you a breakfast like you've never had before.” The child looked back over to the large monk. “While you eat, I am going to see if I can find you some warmer clothing.” The boy looked at him oddly. “Will you stay here while I find you something else to wear? I will return shortly, before you are done eating.” The boy nodded slowly and backed up, returning to the table.

  Another monk, who was preparing more loaves of bread, looked over at the boy and inquired, “Do you have a name? We can't just keep calling you ‘child.’”

  The boy shook his head. No name.

  Asas was puzzled. “Surely you have a name.”

  Again the boy shook his head. “Okay then, I will be off to find you clothing and I will return shortly, after your belly is happy and full.”

  Nagao laughed deeply. “Oh happy and full he shall be, Asas!”

  The monk left the kitchen, leaving the small boy behind to ease his hunger. He scurried around, finding a smaller robe and cutting it here and there to fit the boy’s frame.

  When he returned to the kitchen, he found the boy smiling over an empty plate, which he was still licking.

  Nagao laughed. “Never have I seen such an appetite!” he told Asas.

  “Oh I have,” said the other monk, “Right here, on your own plate, Nagao!” Both monks roared with laughter, which the boy found amusing. He'd never seen men like this before and it fascinated him. He studied them laughing and playing around at each other's expense as Asas watched.

  Finally, Asas excused them and he led the boy outside of the kitchen once more. He presented the robe to the boy and helped him get it situated. When it was tied up with a short cord, the robe was still huge, but it would help keep the child warmer than the torn up clothes he had on underneath.

  Asas led the child around the monastery, showing him where different buildings were and introducing him to other monks. Many asked the child's name, which the child never gave. Finally, it seemed that the sun was as tired as the young boy that Asas had been caring for all day.

  Yawning, the boy wiped at his eyes repeatedly. They had just finished dinner and Asas was trying to determine what to do with him. He finally decided that he would sleep in the infirmary with the kid to keep an eye on him and make sure he was fine. Plus, the beds were softer there than any of the rooms that monks kept.

  In the infirmary, the boy was amazed to see the beds covered with blankets and pillows. Asas told him that they would be sleeping here tonight and that the boy could pick any bed he wanted.

  “Is this heaven?” the boy inquired.

  “What?” Asas asked, “Heaven? Oh, no. Why would you think that?”

  The boy shrugged and looked around. “Beds. Food. Clothes. Heaven.”

  Asas felt his heart break slightly inside for the child. He whispered, “No, child, this is not Heaven. We are simply a monastery that is dedicated to a better way of life, of saving people who need help, and providing faith for those who have lost it.”

  The boy studied his face as he spoke, “So, you help other people find Heaven.”

  Asas paused. “Maybe so. Yes, maybe we do.” He looked at the beds. “Did you choose one yet?”

  The boy ran to the nearest bed, launching himself up onto it. “This one!” He bounced slightly on it, enjoying the softness of the mattress and the blankets. Asas realized that he didn't know how to turn down a bed or get inside the coverings, so he helped him. As soon as the boy's head hit the pillow, his eyes started to flutter.

  Asas sat on the edge of the boy's bed and began to relate a story that he had been told when he was young. As the boy was about to drift off to sleep, Asas decided to ask one more time for the boy's
name.

  “Ratnakar,” the boy replied sleepily, a few mere seconds before he nodded off.

  “Goodnight, young Ratnakar. Sleep well,” Asas whispered, lightly brushing a lock of hair from the boy's forehead as he stood up. He made sure the boy was tucked in well and warm before he made his way to the next bed over and prepared for sleep himself.

  He looked back to the sleeping boy, who had an angelic smile on his face. But something about the boy was not right and Asas shivered deeply as he crawled into bed.

  Chapter Two

  The weeks after his grandfather's funeral were a mesmerizing blur to Akio. His father took control of the soldiers, the lands, and the town that his grandfather had been ruling over, and Akio now sat as the next heir in line. He began to meet people who were to show him how to act, what to say, how to plan battles, how to handle negotiations, and so many more things that a six year-old cares nothing about. As often as he could, he escaped to find his best friend, Kiso, and they would practice their fighting moves.

  On a glorious spring morning, Akio awoke before anyone else in the house and rushed to put on his clothing. He had just turned seven and felt every bit of fifteen in his mind. Grinning at the idea of how mad his nanny and advisers would be at finding him gone already, he climbed through his window and landed softly on the grass below. Making his way to the southern side of the compound, he dodged a patrolling guard by way of a large ornate bush, and then rushed to the wall where he and Kiso had a small tunnel hidden.

  He was grinning from ear to ear when he made it through the tunnel and began to run toward their favorite spot in the forest to train. He had been out there for almost an hour when he heard a noise behind him. Turing swiftly on his heel, he raised his small sword straight out in challenge to whoever, or whatever, was behind him.

  “Don't kill me,” Kiso's voice shouted through the trees with a laugh.

  Akio launched toward Kiso, his sword at the ready, but Kiso was ready too and had a sword waiting for him. The two began to fight halfheartedly, laughing more than actually striking any type of blow. Finally, Akio put down his sword and hugged his friend tight.