"Some songs are not played to be heard—they are played to be remembered." - Unknown
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The moon gradually crept higher. Raito found himself a rare moment of relaxation as the scent of fresh matcha drifted softly, carried by a breeze.
The weight of the past few weeks finally began to drift off his shoulders.
The soothing feel of the tea did wonders in relieving his stress.
Plus there was also...
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Money: 150,359,807 Ryo
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Suddenly, the underworld did not seem so bad.
Sensei regarded us for a moment before looking elsewhere.
His gaze shifted momentarily to the training ground where the bald instructor guided the other disciples, correcting stances and offering words of chastisement.
He frowned a bit. They weren't doing as well as he expected.
"So, how was your 'Break'?"
Raito didn't rise to the barb.
"Fruitful. I enjoyed myself immensely."
"That's not the point!" she snapped leaping to her feet, then immediately reined herself in. Her jaw tightened. "You're reckless. You think just because you walked away breathing, it means you were right. This time you came back all sliced up. How long do you think your bod-"
"I think," Raito said, his tone still level, "that I am allowed to treat my body however I please."
"You..." She growled
"I also think, that as a free Shinobi who currently still owns himself and is still not sworn to anyone because his intended master is too weak to best him in combat, I am not obligated to listen to you."
"I-"
"You are a bit too involved in the affairs of a bodyguard..." I concluded, clearly stating my position.
'I am your bodyguard, not your servant.'
She has two years left at best to beat me in mortal combat before our contract concludes.
Risky? Maybe, but such is the price of having an instructor like Sensei.
Thanks to this agreement I've improved rapidly so far and am set to get another boost the moment the contract ends.
On her side,
She has certainly grown in strength during this period that I have been here.
Don't get me wrong, she is by no means weak.
I could certainly see the dedication as expected of a granddaughter Lian-Yu Sensei dotes on. As a result, she might even be close to reaching what they call high-class and that is without counting whatever Jinchuriki BS is going on with her. A prodigy amongst the Clan heirs from what I can gather. It is unusual for pure humans to improve this fast.
But compared to someone who has something to lose, she still falls short.
I literally dedicate every second I can to training.
Thus, as it stands,
Things aren't looking too promising for her.
Sensei knows it.
And she knows it.
'Whatever intentions for me you have, prove it with your strength.'
Silence stretched like a drawn bowstring. Then:
"You're impossible."
Voice slightly breaking, Suzaku turned abruptly, her long hair whipping behind her like a cloak. She stormed off toward the far side of the courtyard, boots echoing sharply against the stone. A faint aura of heat shimmered behind her—subtle, but telling.
(Sigh)
Sensei didn't even look up from his tea as he spoke again, his voice almost too casual.
"She's worried, you know."
Raito remained quiet, eyes fixed on the fading figure in the distance.
"I certainly didn't ask her to be. I am still functional and capable of doing what I am contract-bound to do. Thus, what I do with myself should be of no concern."
"No," Sensei agreed turning to me this time.
"But that's not how bonds work, Raito. You don't need to ask." This time taking on a lecturing tone. "People interact, and connections are formed negative or positive regardless of wants."
"It is a mystery that can't, and frankly does not need to be explained."
"Not everything can be written down on a piece of paper."
Raito frowned, glancing back at the direction in which she had left.
'Bonds... a dangerous concept for Uchiha. This is why I prefer clean contracts.'
One of the greatest taboos a Shinobi could make is to get emotionally attached to a client. It compromises reason, reduces efficiency, and makes a special form of room that can only be filled with errors. And above all, especially in a world like the Elemental Nations...
It gives rise to Tragedy.
'My goals are clear. Something so spontaneous and messy, I have no interest in it.' I firmly decide.
Hearing no further response, Lian-Yu returned his attention to the training yard below.
The breeze carried away the rest of the steam from Raito's cup.
And somewhere under the moonlight, his shoulders seemed just a little heavier again.
For a time, they said nothing. Just the wind, the tea, and the soft sound of effort from below.
Then Lian-Yu spoke, his voice lightly tinged with...regret?
"The sword swings slower than it used to."
Raito glanced over. "Yours or theirs?"
A rare twitch of his mouth. Not quite a smile. "Theirs. Mine still cuts."
His gaze shifted to the bald instructor below, who stood shouting at the struggling disciples.
"Not like that, you imbeciles!"
The instructor's voice cut through the now creeping night like a whip. "Form Four, again! Center your balance! The heavens won't wait for your feet!"
The disciples reset, stepping into their stances, bokken raised in practiced—if imperfect—unity. Their forms wavered in the creeping moonlight:
Raito had seen the set of Kata they were practicing. They weren't improving.
"Kamae!"
"Men-uchi!"
"Do-uchi!"
"Tsuki!"
'It is strange... for how much time they have put in, they are improving far too slowly. It's not sustainable.'
The bald instructor stormed in again, striking a disciple's bokken out of his hands. "Your balance is trash! Even a blind monkey could kill you in this stance!"
The student flinched, eyes downcast. No retort. No defiance. Only shame followed by determination.
He swung out once more and Raito could make out minute improvements in his skill. However, that bit of inspiration seemed to vanish and the boy was left doing the same thing as before.
'I know academy students with better Kenjutsu skills. I can understand one or two, but for the entire class to be this untalented... What is going on?...'
His answer came without needing to ask.
"The soul of the blade…" he turned to listen as Sensei murmured, more to himself than anyone else, "…has lost its edge." He finally concluded as if accepting his fate.
His shoulders trembled.
He sounded like he was on the verge of breaking down and weeping before catching himself.
He had tempered warriors in the shadow of crumbling shogunates.
He had honed blades in silence beneath the eaves of burning forts.
He had stood shoulder to shoulder with disciples who bled beneath banners long forgotten, their trembling hands wrapped around steel and hearts around ideals as if they were the last truth left in the world.
But now, these boys and girls…
They moved like dancers in a ruined theater.
The sword was no longer sacred. It was a performance.
Silently, Lian-Yu turned away from the sight.
Seemingly deciding something, Lian-yu set down his tea.
Raito POV:
"Let me tell you a story young Raito..."
"Hmm?"
'A story?'
"But before we begin, we must soothe ourselves." He continued, and now I'm immersed.
"What things tea alone cannot wash away, the melodies of an instrument will dull."
He pulled out an Erhu from somewhere... I wanted to ask, however the hint of mischief entering his eyes already told me I wouldn't get a straight answer.
He continued...
"I have made it a point to learn many instruments. This one, is by far my favorite. And I hope for you to take up the art. It does not have to be an Erhu..."
He performed minute checks on the stringed instrument while speaking in that same lecturing tone.
"A hobby to soothe your reckless spirit and hopefully reduce your frequency of arriving from vacations injured...' He sure didn't forget to slip in a lecture there at the end huh...
"Enough words, I have a tale to tell..." Thus he began.
He didn't start with words, no he started by strumming a tune and I soon found myself ignoring any other sounds coming from the courtyard, completely entranced... 'This one, I think I recognize it...'
< Rain in Jiang'nan >
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八幡の挽歌
(Hachiman no Banka)
夕暮れに矢が歌い
紅の花は空より舞う
骨を裂く刃の中
八幡は沈黙の風となる
千の敵,ひとつの息
雨に濡れた笑み残し
神々さえ目を逸らし
誇りは刃で浄められず
旗は裂けても名は残り
臆せぬ地に倒れし者
母の門へ月よ告げよ
子は勇の眠る地にあり
山の石にその名を刻め
浄火にて清めよ魂を
未来の刃よ忘るなかれ
八幡がここに生きしことを
(In dusk's last cry, the arrows sang—
Red petals fell from heaven's sleeve.
Steel met bone, and still, he stood,
Hachiman, the wind beneath our grief.
A thousand foes, one final breath,
He smiled beneath the falling rain.
The gods looked down and turned away—
No blade could cleanse such noble pain.
His banner torn, yet honor whole,
He fell where no coward would tread.
O moon, bear word to his mother's gate—
Her son sleeps where the brave lie dead.
So carve his name in mountain stone,
And wash it clean in sacred flame.
Let future blades remember this:
That Hachiman once lived by name.)
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.....
'Hachiman is... dead?'
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A short one but here:
I hope the end wasn't too off-putting. I'm attempting to be unique in my way of writing.
Till next time, Mechaheart out.