THE DOGS OF WAR
By Nokoru
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, but are the property of Watasuki Nobuhiro, Jump Comics, and any other respective owners I have not mentioned here. I give all credit to them and their inspirations. I am only writing this fan fiction for the amusement of myself and others. I do not wish to cause any harm to the owners’ original intent. Also, if any reader should feel that my interpretation of historical accounts shows any disrespect, please realize that this is a fiction piece. I do not mean any harm to any history, but I in fact adore it.
Author’s Note: I hope that the form isn’t too confusing. All of the plain text is in third person omniscient I think, while all of the italics represents first person from Okita’s thoughts. It was my attempt to make the story more interesting and poetic. Questions, comments, and compliments are always welcome. ^^ Flames, however, will be used for my own laughter in pointing out its non-existent foundations. ^^() It’s my pathetic attempt to keep my self-esteem. ^___^ Please enjoy, that’s what it’s made for.
Prologue
A darkness surrounded the night, overtaking it and all who dwelled there with its suffocating presence. It was a tangible darkness like no other. One could reach out with their own hands, struggling to find some source of light. No amount of pawing at it could break the never ending thickness, though. The longer a person remained in the darkness, the more it consumed their heart, their soul, their world.
War is not an event,…
Footsteps echoed across the road of dust and dirt, scattering the grains every which way - creating and destroying the universes about them. Nimble, rapid scraping sounds thrummed through the hearts of the chargers, quickening their heartbeat with such an unfaltering and unerring pace. Eternities passed around the fighters as if they could never reach their destination - the centre of all the universes.
Small fingers clutched at the hearts of the samurai warriors, whispering adrenaline into their veins. The intoxicating voice blinded both of them to the rest of the world, only opening the door of darkness to ravage their souls. And ravage it did. Part of their souls lusted for the darkness while the other part cringed from it - slowly tearing the fighters in two, letting eternities pass before them in a matter of only seconds.
An inanimate object,…
A spark illuminated the darkness, only to be smothered and devoured like a lamb. The two swords had met each other, causing two completely different universes to collide. Centimeter after centimeter gained and lost by each side broke away bits of the edges of these universes. The incredible will of both samurai poured into the bodies of the swords, illuminating them with their own darkened secrets and desires. Years and years of eternities passed in a matter of seconds before the blades repelled each other, succumbing to the inevitable darkness surrounding them.
Or even a concept.
Crimson liquid as thick as the infamous darkness itself flowed freely and unrestrained. The reflection on the sword mimicked the body, spreading rivers of blood across the night. Pieces of the samurai’s soul had been stripped with that blood creating cracks inside his universe. However, Fate and Chance had far from decided the battle’s victor as both universes refused to back down or away.
Some say… It’s a state of being, and they’re not far off.
Ragged breaths infiltrated the darkness, both carried and suppressed by its hands. Eyes, ears, all senses were opened to the darkness and the battle at hand. All senses stifled by the darkness, blinding their eyes, deafening their ears, muting their voices, choking their breaths, and tearing their hearts. Their world as a samurai had come to this, and neither could back down. The future, though undetermined, never held as much gravity as the present offered before them.
I like to believe it’s a person.
Somewhere, in the midst of the darkness, stood a figure - invisible to all but a person’s heart. Crimson tones outlined its figure - sultry and oppressive as it was. Sly grins and shifty gazes found their way into the hearts of the two samurai warriors. The ravenous darkness, only a puppet at the figure’s right hand, obeyed its every whim. The collisions of the universes created a symphony for the being, only causing more yearning in its fraudulent heart.
War likes to take his hands and blind people with them,…
Blood coloured hands covered Okita Soushi’s eyes, burning them with blinding hatred. The embodiment of all the previous battles came before those eyes as his soul staggered backwards.
To whisper things in their ears,…
A hoarse whisper quickened and heated Okita’s blood. “Kill him. Slaughter him. Give no mercy.” Leaning his head to the voice, Okita listened, inebriated by its undertones.
To possess their souls.
The crimson hand summoned Okita’s own hand upward, aiming the sword for the samurai’s heart.
The only way to avoid this is accept it. Know that War will do things to you. Allow such crimes to take place. And somehow… you will still see clearly, still act upon your beliefs, and still have your soul more or less… intact.
And Okita obeyed.
Some can do this…
The haunting smile never left Saitou Hajime’s face. His unwavering eyes followed Okita’s every move, as if he could see the crimson being beckoning the movements himself. At his side, another blood-stained sprite awaited its turn for glory, an exact replica of the first being.
Some can’t…
An image of a man entirely covered in bandages flashed through the darkness. Heat haunted the image, entire ideals changed and altered by this one crimson sprite that constantly whispered through his soul. Another image of a child locked inside a young man’s body flickered into the dark being. Unshed tears locked behind masks of eternal smiles illuminated this image. He had never discovered his devouring spirit, and yet he was still changed by it.
And even others… won’t.
Red hair… Cross shaped scar… ice blue eyes… These images shone before Okita’s eyes along with thoughts of a sakabatou… wandering for years and years… noble words and promises to shield the innocent from such a creature as War. In an instant, all of these images vanished from his memory, but not his heart.
If you don’t, then your whole entire world is destroyed… and you either die… or rebuild your world in a different way.
Revolution… Meiji… Kyoto… Edo… Tokyo… Too many images crossed Okita’s mind without enough time to comprehend them. Thus, time swept them from his entire being before he had even acknowledged their presence.
The point is… War uses you like a dog… but… if you realize that you were a dog to begin with… then you wouldn’t mind War allowing you some room to use your fangs.
A howl echoed through the darkness and the night. Blood spread across its paws, the wolf marched down to the battle site. Its eyes gleamed with clarity in the mass chaos and lack of mercy called War…
Would you?
… and a smile that spread across its face, allowing it to keep its heart.
Feedback: Mail Nokoru
