She smiled and walked around the room, studying everything carefully, one slender, elegant hand trailing along the book shelf, chairs, the table, and so on. Finally, she came full circle and was back in front of him. “I am Asai Furi,” she said with a small, unique bow, crossing one leg behind the other and sweeping her arms in a grand fashion. “Perhaps you have heard of me.”
Indeed he had. He was immediately taken aback at the idea that this woman was here, in his house, in his room. She was known throughout the circles of life as one of the deadliest assassins in the whole of Japan. No one knew quite how many she had put to death by her own hands, but it was estimated that the number was several hundred. It was rumored that she was hired by lords and ladies, shogun and samurai, and even emperors, to do away with those that crossed them.
He swallowed harder than he meant to. “Why are you here? Are you here for me?”
She smiled at him. It was easy to see how she could get close to anyone, especially men. Her beauty was legendary, and he now understood why. There was something about her, something that made her irresistible to him, and he assumed others. “I am here for you,” she said, leaning in closer to him, “but not for the reason you think.” In the blink of an eye, her hand darted out and caressed the hilt of his sword. “I am here because of this.”
He instinctively stepped away from her, twisting slightly to move her hand off his sword. “I don't know what you think you're doing...” he started to say.
She interrupted him with a light laugh. “Oh, I am not here to take the sword away,” she said. “It obviously has chosen you.” She stepped back and bowed lightly to him in subservience. “Besides,” she continued, now magically behind him, her dagger at his neck, “if I wanted the sword, it would already be mine.”
Scared to the depths of his soul, he stopped breathing and it was all he could do not to sink into a puddle. She laughed lightly again and let him go. “I'm not going to kill you, relax.” She sat down on his bed, sliding her hands on the silk blankets. After a moment of his quietness, she looked up at him and said, “Okay, okay, I'll tell you the whole of it.” She motioned to a chair. “You could sit. You'd be more comfortable.”
He shook his head; he still didn't trust her one bit. Slowly, he backed up until his back was against the wall and he leaned on it, feeling a little safer to have something solid behind him. She smiled at him coyly as she watched him lean against the wall. “If that makes you feel better...” she trailed off.
Leaning back on his bed on her elbows, she slightly thrust her breasts up into the air as she spoke to him, making her even more irresistible. She told him how she had been searching for the sword, the dark dragon, for years. She said that she had served under a man who had owned the sword when she was young, that he had been an amazing assassin who had trained her. However, he was never able to wield the sword as he wanted. He had told her the sword was alive, and it held a deep power that only certain people could use. While he had tried for decades to control the sword, he failed.
“He had never been able to tame it, to learn its secrets,” she said. “On his death bed, he sent for me and had me touch the sword to see if I was the one, one of the few who could control it.” She paused, her lovely face twisted lightly in the pain of the memory of her former master passing away. “When he presented the sword to me, I placed my hands on it. I was given a vision, a vision of the one who would wield it, who could control it, the one it was meant for.” She stopped and sat up, staring directly into his wide eyes. “I was shown you.”
He just stood there, staring at her. Finally, he said, “How could the sword have shown you me?” Carefully, he withdrew the sword from its resting place and held it before him in both hands. “I haven't had it very long.” The onyx in the sword flashed brightly, scattering dark rainbows all around the dim room.
“See?” she said. “It knows I am here. It knows you are its master.” She stood and approached him carefully. “May I touch it?” She asked as she neared the place where he stood holding the sword.
He looked up from the sword to her face, considering his options. The sword told him deep inside that she should touch it, that it wanted her to touch it once more. It told him that her story was true, that it had really belonged to a master assassin many years ago, while it was waiting for him.
He nodded at her. “Yes,” he said, “it wants you to touch it.”
A serene smile came over her face and she removed the glove from her right hand. Slowly, as if she were almost scared it would electrocute her, she reached out her bare hand and laid the palm on the blade. Her eyes glazed over into a sea of milky white, and he barely could hold the dark dragon as he felt the energy surging through it. He looked at her face; her mouth was moving as if she were speaking, but no sound came. Her left hand moved as if writing, and he guided her to the table and sat her down. Quickly he found paper and a brush and ink, and placed the brush in her hand. She began to write words at an alarming rate. Then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over.
She slumped down in the chair and he moved to pull her back up before she fell onto the floor. Carefully, he carried her to the bed, making sure she was still breathing. Then he returned to the paper to check what she had been writing. The marks on the paper were not words he recognized, but a few of them did match the symbols on the sword itself. He realized she had been writing in the language of the sword!
He moved the papers so that they could dry and would not be damaged before then. Next, he returned the sword to its scabbard and headed to the door of his room. Poking his head out, he asked for some food and water to be brought to them. “Just knock when you are at the door,” he told Kujo. “Do not enter.” Kujo, misinterpreting his meaning, grinned, thinking maybe the pair were doing something more than talking. Ratnakar waved him off and shut the door.
He turned around to find her sitting up on the bed, looking a bit confused.
“Are you all right?” he asked her as he moved closer to the bed. He pulled the chair over and sat close to her.
“Yes,” she replied, lightly rubbing her temples. “I am okay. The sword...” She looked down to his side with wide eyes, “it... it spoke to me again.”
“What did it tell you? What did it say?”
She looked up at him, slight confusion crossing her forehead. “It told me to protect you from the other.”
“What other?” he asked, genuinely alarmed. “Who?”
“The other who holds the sword of the fire soul,” she said in a whisper, mesmerized by his face. “The sword of the Eza. The key to their survival. The sword of Akio.” A tear slid down her face and he instinctively reached up to wipe it away. She did not flinch, move, or even blink.
“I assure you,” he said to her. “I am safe here. I do not know an Akio or who Eza is.”
“Eza is not a person,” she said. “It is a race. They are to die. All of them.” Another tear. He could see pain deep in her eyes. “All of them...” she whispered.
A knock at the door interrupted them and he rushed to answer it. Kujo held out a platter of food with two cups of water. He thanked his friend and shut the door, while Kujo tried to peer around him to see what was going on.
Ratnakar presented the platter to the girl but she didn't move. “Eat, please,” he said to her. “Enjoy this with me and we can continue to talk about what the sword told you.”
She looked up at him, a look of pure confusion on her face. “What?”
“We can talk about the sword's message while we eat,” he repeated.
She looked from him to the food for a moment, then blinked hard. Her hand reached out, as if in a trance, and selected a piece of fruit then brought it to her mouth. She sat there with him and ate off the plate like a small bird. When the food was gone, she didn't say anything more; instead, she turned her back to him and lay down on his bed, pulling the silken blanket over her. Within minutes, she was sound asleep. He just sat there, unsure what to do.
/>
Finally, he placed the platter on the floor and went to have a seat. He spent the night standing over the table, one hand on the blade of the sword, learning the language that she had written in. The writings that she had done told him all about the Eza, the other sword, and the man called Akio who wielded it. Fear crept into his gut as he discovered more about the evil that the Eza had done throughout the universe and how the other sword could destroy both him and the dark dragon.
As he finished reading, he realized that he must do anything he could to train and beat that Akio. He knew that if that bastard were to win, the dark dragon and its people, the Nax'oix, would be wiped out forever.
Chapter Seven
Deep in the woods, Akio was showing the builders where he wanted his new temple built. The plans were exquisite, elegant and beautiful, but sturdy and timeless as well. He had been up all night drafting them, and he felt that somehow, Aichu had been guiding him.
After walking through everything with the builders, he told them to get started right away and that he would pay extra for them to work more than their normal hours so it could be completed quickly. He could feel Aichu underneath him, but not once did he stop to think about why he was having the temple built over the ship; he just knew it was the right thing to do.
As he headed back to his home, to prepare to meet Saru, he heard someone following him. He slowed his pace as he neared a familiar clearing and then darted behind a tree quickly. The feet following him stopped and a familiar voice said, “I just need to talk to you.”
He should have known it was Kiso following him, especially out here. He moved from behind the tree, expecting to find her smiling or feigning an attack, but she simply stood there, a sad look on her face. “I heard the news,” she said. “Why didn't you tell me yourself?”
Pausing for a moment, trying to figure out what she was referring to, his face wrinkled into a frown. “I'm not sure what you're talking about,” he said. “The temple?”
She looked at him, narrowing her eyes. “You know damn well I'm not talking about the temple.” Her arms immediately crossed tightly and he understood that he was in serious trouble with her.
“Kiso,” he said, “I really don't know what you're talking about.”
Her hands flew apart as if an explosion ripped them away from her chest. They flung wide at him, smacking his chest. “Really?” She almost yelled. “You don't know? You have no idea why I'm mad at you? How stupid are you, Akio?!”
Then he realized that his mother had probably been spreading all over that he was to marry. He closed his eyes. “Oh,” he said, lowering his head, “I am sure that you heard something from my mother.”
She stood there, waiting for him to say more, her eyes smoldering.
“Kiso,” he began, “you need to understand that I don't want to marry her. I really don't want to marry anyone...” He paused and looked at her, “anyone but you.” Her face softened. “But, you refused me. You told me that there was no way. I don't agree with you, but I understand your reasons.” He placed his hands on her arms. “I would ask you once more to shed this charade and come be my wife.”
Her answer was tears running down her face.
“That's what I thought,” he said, removing his hands. “My mother wants me to marry, to have an heir to the family name and title as soon as possible.” He paced slightly around the clearing. “I haven't even met the girl. I know of her due to her status, but that is it. I am not excited about knowing her, or marrying her. I do not care about an heir with her. I only do this to please my mother, and...” He trailed off for a moment. “Because I have to. It is the right thing for a daimyo to do.” He stopped moving and came to her again. “I hope that you understand.”
Tears still ran down her face. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. He kissed her back. The two stood there for a long while in the quickly darkening clearing as the sun set behind them in the trees. He pulled away and looked deep into her eyes, searching for the right thing to say. Nothing came. So, he kissed her again, deeply. She wrapped her arms even tighter around him and kissed him back. Their kissing became something more, and within a few minutes, they were shedding clothing in the clearing. Finally, they were on the ground, on the soft grass, bodies entwined, making love so deeply that it left both of them crying afterward.
The next morning, Akio woke up filled with regret. He wished that their lives had been different and that Kiso would be his. He wished that she had grown up with a different father, a different family. But he knew that if she had, he may have never met her or had her for the close friend she'd been all these years. She was a loyal soldier and an impassioned warrior that was always at his side. He sat on the edge of his bed for a moment, rubbing his face.
A knock at his door pulled him from his thoughts. One of his servants carefully opened the door at his call and told him that the Lady Saru was there to meet him. He thanked the servant and shooed him away. Sighing deeply to cleanse his soul, he got up and began to get dressed. His mother appeared at the door and let herself in.
“I am so excited!” she said. “Arima Saru is here and she is so beautiful. You will love her, Akio!”
“I'm sure I will, mother,” he replied, letting her help him with some of his clothing and accessories.
She continued to ramble on a bit. “She brought her whole family! Her father is here to meet you, of course, and pay her dowry. Her mother, a beautiful lady in her own right, is also here to meet the man who will become her son in law.” Then she paused. “However, they also brought her younger sister.”
“So,” he said, “what's wrong with that?”
“Well…” She looked disturbed a bit. “She's... well, she's sickly. Always has been. I'm afraid her appearance isn't quite as nice as the rest of the family's.”
He frowned at her. “Mother, seriously? Who cares? If she is a sickly child, then of course she isn't going to be looking like a goddess. What does it matter anyway? I think it sweet that she came with the family to meet me.”
His mother looked down and then continued to help him with the finishing touches of his outfit. “There,” she said when they were finished. “You look so handsome, my son.” She kissed his cheek and then followed him out of the room and into the formal living room where Arima Saru and her family awaited.
Akio had expected to feel something at meeting his future wife. He'd hoped that maybe there would be an instant connection between the two, some sparks, something. However, there was nothing more than formality when the two met. She bowed to him, he bowed to her. Yes, she was extremely beautiful, but there was no attraction, no excitement, nothing between them. He frowned.
Her father, seeing his frown, asked if there was something wrong.
“Oh, no,” he said, “nothing at all.” They knew he was lying, so he quickly thought of something else. “I only wish my father were here to be a part of this, that is all.” The family seemed to buy this lie and he straightened himself up and plastered a light smile on his face. He said hello to the father, and the mother, and then came the younger sister, Arima Uba. Confined to a wheeled chair, the young girl was so small and frail, but in her eyes was a brilliant light, a wonderful spark that showed the world that it had been robbed of a truly great woman. Her smile was just as brilliant as well.
“So,” Akio said, “this is the little firecracker I've heard so much about!” The girl blushed and tucked her head a little.
“Surely you haven't heard much about me but what a sickly burden I am,” she replied.
Her mother knocked her lightly on the head. “Uba!”
“No,” Akio said, “she's fine!” He laughed a little. “On the contrary,” he told Uba, “I have heard that you would be a brilliant artist.”
Again the girl blushed. “I do like to paint, yes. But I am no artist.”
“Well, we shall see about that.” Akio grinned. “How about if you come here, whenever you like, every day if possi
ble, and I shall make sure that you have the best teacher and all of the supplies that you could ever need to create beautiful works?”
The girl grinned from ear to ear. “I would love that!” She turned to her father. “Please may I father?”
Her father looked a bit put out at the idea of bringing her here. “Well, I... I'm not sure, Uba,” he started to say, “the journey is hard on you and we barely made it here with you here today.”
The girl's spirits fell. It made Akio upset. “Well, I am offering to pay for everything,” he told her father. “I shall also arrange for travel and accompaniment daily. I will also order a room here for her, fully ready, if she should get tired and need to rest. She shall have every comfort of home while she is here and she shall be as welcomed as if she were my own sister.”
Uba's face lit up like she was watching a parade in her honor. Akio felt that the girl had never been the center of any welcome attention and that made him even more determined to ensure that the girl came every day to paint. Her father and mother did not say anything more, even though he could see that the larger man was thinking of another way to decline the invitation.
“Good,” Akio said before anyone could object. “It's settled then. Uba,” he said to her, “I shall see you tomorrow for your first lesson.” Then he turned to Saru. “Would you like to take a walk with me in the gardens?” He extended his arm for her to take. She nodded politely and took his arm with one dainty hand, and the pair exited the room.
Out in the manicured gardens he so loved, they stopped at the pond with the golden fish. Both were quiet. Finally, she said, “Forgive me, but why are you so worried about Uba? She is not part of this marriage deal; there is no need for you to burden yourself with her.”
He pulled away slightly and looked at her. “If she is your sister, then she is important to you, which means she is important to me.” The look on Saru's face told him everything he needed to know about the woman he was to marry – she didn’t care about her sister one bit. He suddenly resented his mother for making this arrangement with this girl who was not at all kind or fit to lead any group of people, especially his people. He vowed to himself that she would never have any type of power over his subjects, his lands, or anything else. She was already showing her true colors with her own sister and he had only known her a few moments. He could only imagine how bad things would get once they were married a few months.
Samurai 2.0 - Destiny: A Harem Fantasy Adventure Page 9