• By: freefire95


    I could hear the slow, sudden boom of the revolution’s drum matched against the beat of my heart echoing in my ears. The sounds of metal against metal reverberated through the night like the thunder that lit the sky. The space where I hid has little room, but through the weave of the basket, I could see the blood bath that was my house and later my life. Unexpectedly a dark figure appeared in the sliding frame of the paper doors. All I can gather is that the shadow is tall and dark against the fiery backset. Slowly the man walked into the room, leaving a trail of liquid ruby.
    Steadily, with his katana drawn, he surveyed the room. I’ve all my adrenaline and spirit focused on holding my breath and stopping my shaking. The last thing my sight gathered was my mother and father walking into the room to assure my safety and instead decorating the wooden floor with gore. That beautiful, hateful liquid ruby spreading like water held the last of my breath.
    Breathing heavily, with a sudden jolt, I awoke from my dream. No, dream isn’t the right word. Nightmare is more like it. I could still clearly see the blush and color drain out of my parents and roll toward me. I could hear their cries of pain and my own of vengeance. My father’s fall sent the armies of revolutionist into celebration. I was told that my father was, being a daimyo, the closest thing to a shogun. Next was the Emperor, leader to us all by the favor of the gods.
    Seven years after this conflict, I still dream about that night and wake in a sweat that seeps through my night robe and weighs me down. My age is 14 years. That factor alone sets me apart from the other Shinsengumi members. I’ve been a sword-wielding member since my being orphaned was settled and I had proved my sword was skilled.
    Each morning out, war proves more difficult. So many decisions are made by our Shoguns and so many comrades and brothers are sent to their graves. Many have told me that the sun goddess, Amaterasu, is their souls guiding light. My thoughts are directed to the kami and my prayers to save my friends.
    I could see with my cerulean blue eyes, the gray of a hard storm looming over our battles. Each piece of information our spies retrieved brought word of western technology in the hands of the revolution. We first thought nothing of this threat that darkened the tempest. Our carelessness was the death of my nakama. We called ourselves “nakama” but we were all outcast in Kyoto.
    My dark, Japanese hair mixed with blue, foreign eyes turned people’s faces away from mine. They saw the mix of east and west inhabiting the light blue and white cloak all Shinsengumi wore. Was it so wrong, the west? My thoughts changed after the first gun powder exploded into the heart of the front line. Our “eastern” katana and sakabato wasn’t enough to stop the guns and cannons. We were forced to retreat.
    Retreat to a samurai goes against most codes. We reasoned with those who thought seppuku was punishment suitable enough for retreat. Some I couldn’t save from despair. “The shogunate needs you, my friend! Seppuku will omit your acceptance as kami!” I shouted at Jyuui.
    “If Shinto, my code, is to be forsaken then why will I be allowed? My death is punishment! Kaze, I don’t expect your own sacrifice to equal my own for you are young. But please, I beg you; allow me to see my brethren again. Please, Kaze, please hand me the knife. Let me cut my own stomach! It is my wish.” Jyuui cried, pleaded, for the sake of his ronin code.

    My will could not hold his begging glare and my hand surrendered the dagger. Everything was wrong in my eyes as he dealt his own punishment. There never came a moment when the revolution angered me more than at that time. With the death of my parents and the murder of my friends resting upon my frame, rage spilled over me. My sorrow contorted and fed my fueling fire.
    The following battles were carried out with all of my savageness. I hacked away at the Meiji revolutionists. With my short sword in tow, I became legend. It was said that an akuma or demon led the battlefront. Accompanied by my new authority, we gathered western weapons and new recruits. The squads were divided into sections and trained to wield the gunpowder explosions. As for me, I kept my late father’s short sword and refused to conform. If there was one thing that wouldn’t change it would be my sword.
    Following everyday became harder and harder. The battles were shorter than if a katana wielder had sparred with another. Each blast from the new age of war could be heard miles around and it spread panic. Before long the battles began to end in our retreat and new recruits. Time passed and it took too long to train others in the art of western fighting, a cowardly kind of fighting. We suffered heavy loss, but refused to forgo our last rights. What cowards we had become.
    I had just turned seventeen when the last battle arose. We expected to meet disaster in the outskirts of Edo. Suspecting little, we marched our reform toward battle through the forested area between the two cities. It became a test of trust to add new members now. The revolution had involved too many in their recruits and left too few out. Our numbers steadily, but noticeably declined while theirs rose tenfold. Shortly after passing the road that turned off toward the sea we called for a halt.
    Rest was well needed but would hinder our progress and would wear at my nerves. My belief was that the salty air played with my mind but not long after an ambush sprang at us. I heard the rifle being loaded and dropped to the ground just fast enough to avoid harm. They came shooting on three sides; the front, the back, and the right. Leaving the left was a wise move because our guards were spaced out and couldn’t defend. This carnage occurred within the blink of an eye and left no room for astonishment.
    I registered the few remaining Shinsengumi taking down what looked to be a dozen enemies, but they were surrounded and could not hold off the attack for long. Twisting through the mass of enemies, my blade hit home with each man I passed. Not once did I miss my aim, nor would I die willingly. When the last of the soldiers defending my argument fell, I had been slashing wildly at anyone caught in sight. Once in an open enough area, I followed the enemy’s eyes to the ground. My footprints were clearly displayed in red ink. I saw the life that flowed across the floor and puddled in places where an indent lay. Looking down at my own chest I saw, not felt but saw, the blossoming of a burgundy rose and felt its warmth. I suddenly knew I would die as the last member of marauders, against the change of alliance.
    I was not killed but taken hostage and tortured for information. My wounds would be allowed to heal and then they would blossom again. I told my capturers that I was the last one left. After a time, I don’t know how long, I was released into the world. It had changed so much. My dream, I found, had been realized. Even if the revolution proceeded so be it. My wish wasn’t to avenge my parents but to follow in their footsteps and bring pride to the family name. The last injuries I had received in the name of justice had not healed and I let them bleed out. My life, my goals, my dream, had all been realized and my nakama would soon again see my face. I found a quiet place in the forest, against a tree, and prepared to die. When sleep overcame, I saw the light of the sun burn down at me and call my name. Amaterasu appeared, a wolf, followed by every person I called friend. They were my nakama.
    When my parents stepped out of the light, tears welled in my eyes and trickled down my face. The strange feeling of euphoria that accompanied my decent into godliness was like nothing I could describe with words. The smile of happiness that lit the faces of the souls I knew filled me till the end of the years. I had someone waiting for me, as had never happened before. My human heart was finally set free and I now roam the world of Japan in search of kindness and love between people in the form of happiness. That is my last hope, for everyone I will never know through words.