FF of The Week-02

[Feathers!]

Welcome everyone to our FFOTW#2.
Week 2-Topic Options:
Samurai Champloo Fan Fic or
Original Fantasy Fiction

Should Include:
Warrior+ Love+ Feudal Era.
word limit: 400-1000 words

Do NOT!:
steal other's stories and present them as your own.
go over or under the word limit.
Use offensive language.
Hint at or Blatantly go into sexual themes.
Post anything that is against previously set NFF Rules.
Be mean to fellow writers.
(Moderators may add to this as they seen fit.)

To Do!:
Follow the rules, be creative, and have fun.
Create stories that you want to tell.

Voting: Judges: Ghost, Yoshitsune, Zouri.
The criteria for grading:Creativity/Content/Writing Mechanics.

Entrys will be due by Saturday Night.
Post Entries here.
Discuss in the other thread:
http://forums.narutofan.com/showthread.php?t=86993

[Shogun]

Before we get onto the story i just want to say a few things regarding it: first of all it is not a samurai chompaloo fan fic as i have never read it. But it is a feudal love story-ish one and it features warriors. I don't know much about the feadaul era, only what i picked up from rurouni kenshin! which i last read last august so forgive any of the little details which you may point out. Since this story is entirely original it is written quite differently to a fan fiction but hopefully you will at least think it isn't a pile of crap, but it was written in less than an hour and the original ending had to be cut off because of the word limit. So if you want to full story pm me and i will send it to you (it is only 100 words longer). Hopefully next time i can write a real fan fic. Keep in mind that i am terrible with story names so you can pretty much ignor this one but without further adieu:
Hoamaru's last few days
Konoura was such a peaceful town; it had everything a man could want, plentiful food, water and people who you could truly trust, visitors would always comment about the lack of history of this place as we have gone about our daily lives, unnoticed to the rest of Japan. Perhaps we were too naïve in thinking that we would never have any problems, but we were told by messengers that our whole country was in the midst of a major change and samurai were being done away with. Never seemed like much of an issue to us, as they only passed through here whilst going to bigger and more prosperous places. If I had known about what was to happen I wouldn’t have been so courteous to them.

Ayane, the love of my life in such a small town you would be lucky to find someone you truly loved. Usually the people who stayed seemed to marry whoever was available or left town because they wanted something more. We never wanted much, she wasn’t interested in money she liked the security of this town despite the lack of any real law official. It seemed odd that a woman this beautiful and this wonderful wouldn’t care about money or living in such a small house, but we had each other. Well, I always told her that because it was true! I still remember those days when we were young and all of the kids around town played together. As we got older it was obvious that all the boys were after her, but she was interested in me and that is all that mattered. I still sense a little bit of ill feeling from Shibata and Yamada but my one triumph in life has to truly treasured. My lack of ambition was something that felt like a rock in my heart, I really should have done more, if we went to a bigger town we could have been safe.

Messengers always bring bad news is generally the common perception, why else would we be bothered by those in Edo? After that message we got people didn’t seem to care, wow, this doesn’t affect us, why didn’t I think about the possible problems that this might cause? It was obvious, what would I have done if everything I held dear was taken away from me? Perhaps that is a trick question now, that one man, how could this have happened?

A month passed and this man, none of us had seen before wandered into town sword still by his side, which we had been informed was illegal, I saw him whilst I was making my way back home from the rice fields. He was yet another messenger who again brought a message of change. Apparently he conveyed a message to our town leader talking about bringing others to burn this town to the ground unless we harboured this gang of samurai who I suppose wanted to keep things the same way. Hiro, what a wise man we all thought, he usually always made the right choices for everyone and we trusted him completely. He refused and he gave us three days to clear the town or we would all be dead.

Something like this seemed ridiculous, Yamada my one time best friend felt otherwise. The general feeling was this guy must have been a drunk and was just blowing off some steam. The precautions we made seemed quite satisfactory, sending someone to Kagoshima to gather some help just in case was good enough, but I felt that this would be wasting their time and we might lose our good relationship that we had with that town. Yamada was being rash, uprooting his wife and kids just because of this? That offer he made to me to come with him, sheer pain and anguish is what I feel when I think of that now.

Sakamoto and Hamano, the two youngsters were entrusted with going into the big town, the elders amongst us were worried that they wouldn’t be taken seriously and want me to go with them. Two offers for me to get out of town over this, but my field needed tending to. It provided rice for the whole town and I felt proud doing my work, that work that brought us nothing in the end, respect from no one, no big house, nothing.

So here we are, three days later no Sakamoto and Hamano, no help and Yamada was long gone. Early morning was to bring just another day of hard work to contribute to Konoura. That piecing screen that woke me up instead of the usual sweet whispers of Ayane, my ears still hurt from it.

Wondering out into the street I followed the sounds that were so unfamiliar, all I had was this knife that I received as a wedding present. It was coming from my field, my legs are still shaking from running so fast. This sight before me, my friends dead this tall man with this sword.

Right now I can feel death is about to strike me at any second, but all I can think about is what has led me to this moment, the warning, the fact that me and Ayane could have been long gone, the fact that I failed to protect what was important to me. This town is treasured will be erased from the map, everything we all strived for, a peaceful existence, nothing more. They butchered everyone she was next I can’t move I can’t look but I know she is dead now. I failed, I was probably left asleep to be burned to death anyway, but perhaps now we can be together forever. He has struck and it is going dark, when the light returns I just hope we are together again.

[Rarablue]

Small Note: Sorry if you dislike the story, Im not used to writing medieval type of stories and I have a cold so I cant think of a fairly solid story at the moment. I know the story is really weak, but I will post a story for the next topic and hopefully it is better. This one is just for you all to get the feeling of how I write. I hope you enjoy the story just a little bit although I'm pretty sure I wont win. Well, sorry for ranting on. Enjoy the story

A Man's Tale

Scattered dust fell through the air as the wind’s strong movements swung the trees above. The dark sky stood monstrously above as if a reminder of how weak and meager we really are. A young boy sat below watching the sight, trying to take in all of the wonderful experience, his tattered clothes and torn hands would lead anyone to believe he was of a low social class. This assumption would be correct of course for he was born into a family of merchants, working with his father traveling across foreign lands and picking up more and more trades.

“Jonathan, where are you?” these words quickly broke the child out of his daydream as his mother’s voice often did. He got up and walked through the open door escaping from the courtyard into the busy streets inside of the castle walls. His mother stood at the edge of the street motioning towards her son to hurry. Jonathan smiled brightly and hurried over to his mother’s open arms. They embraced each other softly and then broke apart as a customer arrived to greet his mother. “Morning Betty, how’s business going?” the man asked casually as the studied the many items on display. “Business is fine Waldon, my husband is away in Tristan trying to find a novice to aid him. Hopefully he’ll be back by early daybreak if you want to return then, you certainly are welcome to.” Waldon looked up from the items and stared at the woman, her scarlet eyes and smooth flowing hair astounded him. Her extraordinary beauty was not like that of any other he had seen before and compared to the other working women in the city she was by far the most dazzling. “I shall return at daybreak to greet him, enjoy you’re time taking care of the shop.” His lips pursed as he slowly turned away, jealousy consumed him and only thought of him and Elizabeth filled his mind.

Jonathan watched the man as he walked away towards the center of town and then turned to his mother as she began to set back to work. He gripped her hand tightly and shook her trying to get her attention. She turned to him questioningly and bent down to his level. “My son, what a man you have become! You will make me proud one day, but now you are only 8 and not strong enough to work at the shop. The day will come when you shall take on your father’s role.” Her hand swept across his face and brushed his coarse hair from his eyes.

As time went by Jonathan grew and became the man his mother had talked about that day. Eight years after that regular day and Jonathan no longer dreamed of the stars and of the wind. He was a man now and had no time for such trivial thoughts. His father had died three years earlier while out traveling, his caravan had been sacked and destroyed by a band of local peasants. The news reached Jonathan and Elizabeth 3 months later and left them both in mourning. The grief left his mother in disarray as Jonathan had to take charge of the small shop they held. Now Elizabeth was wed to Waldon, the minister of services, and lived an enjoyable life in a rather large house.

Jonathan sat atop of his half starved horse as he watched the slaughter commencing below him merely 100 feet away. The forces of the North had decided to take control of Southern artillery deployments, their surprise attacks had left most of the Southern cities in ruins. Jonathan’s eyes looked out across the scene with disdain and hatred boiling inside of him. His spurs kicked into the side of his steed as it reared up and galloped into the fray. He ripped through the Northern attackers with the force of a tundra as his sword cut through flimsy armor.

With the battle finished and the town salvaged he trotted back towards his home past the roaming hills and streaking rivers. Through a land of memories and empty dreams: leaving him only with the constant reminder of his mother and life without her. This thought tormented him daily and left him no room for contemplation or relaxation. Her forgotten love destroyed him day after day until the final moment when his shining blade tore through his flesh and left him cold and empty as he was the day he caught news of his father’s death. The familiar feeling crept upon him as the pain which he initially felt slipped away. His eyes filled with the vision of the tremendous sky. I guess, I was but a grain of dust in this confusing world after all. The wind swept across his face and carried through the air until finally dying down into a whisper.

[Therahedwig]

I posted mine on fiction press:

The joust. (http://www.fictionpress.com/read.php?storyid=2159119)

[Guntar]

Here it is. Called "A True Fool":


“It seems I’m the only one left…” The tall figure standing in a field of corpses whispered. His gray kimono swinging gently in the light breeze, he seemed so strangely calm in such an unnerving environment. A brown ponytail, loosely tied up, and a trimmed goatee decorated this calm figure.
Rows of burnt houses implied the tragedy that had occurred here. Implied the reason for the field of bodies.
The figure’s face is black and emotionless, and his movements are calm as he continued into the ruined village. The figure would seem almost inhuman, unbreakable, perhaps even invincible.

He was a fool for letting pride get in his way. For mistaking honor with self-importance and ignoring everything he was taught in the dojo.

Kazunori Aona collapsed to his knees when finally reaching the center of the village, reflecting the massacre of the woman that hung before him. A woman who meant more to him than life; who was the reason for his life and who will be the reason for his death.
Looking at her tortured face the man wept and remembered the first time he glanced at her face.


-“Say Kaz, you know all about us but we don’t know a damn thing about you… You always keep quiet when we talk about the past, barf some childhood stories will ya?” The always-noisy small Scotsman called Edgar shouted. Probably drunk, Edgar had lost his wits completely. But drunk or not he was correct. To his bounty-hunting colleagues Kazunori never said anything concerning his past and overall remained quieter than his partners.

“What does it matter?” Kazunori states quietly with a slight smirk and shrug. Enjoying the company of these drunken bounty hunters although he was not drinking. Instead taking another bite of his dumpling meal.

“You! You’re Kazunori Aona aren’t you?!”


Kazunori heard the rather tough female voice behind him. When he finally looked back he witnessed a beautiful woman with long brown hair and chestnut eyes. Wearing a gray kimono similar to his.

“Do I know you?” Kazunori asked, quite curious about the mysterious woman. The woman raised an amused eyebrow at his question, leaving Kazunori confused.

“I’m Shimeyo, from the dojo, remember?” The woman replied with a white-toothed smile.

“Shimeyo?!” Kazunori’s eyes widened as he recalled the younger and spoiled child. But she transferred to a more advanced class in a different dojo far from him. It has been 11 years since then, she changed a lot from the noisy annoying child to the beautiful woman now standing in-front of him.

“What are you doing here?” Kazunori asked with a soft stuttering, not really sure how to respond to such an encounter

“Well I’m on a….”


Shimeyo began talking but Kazunori’s attention quickly focused elsewhere. A scarred man entered the bar, fitting the description Kazunori and his partners received. There was no doubt about it, this was their target.

Kazunori spent his days as a bounty hunter. Working together with Edgar, and Umeharu, a Mongolian man.
“I’m sorry, but I have urgent matters… you should leave now,” Kazunori told Shimeyo pointedly.
Shimeyo couldn’t respond before Kazunori suddenly noticed 5 people in the bar, bows readied aiming at him and his colleagues, Kazunori realized they have been ambushed and stayed unmoving, and so did his partners.

“I’ve been on to you since you started tracking me. You don’t think a man with 300,000 Ryou on his head goes unprotected?” The scarred man said mockingly, amused by the failure of the bounty hunters.
“And now you’ll die” The man laughed wildly. And raised his hand as an order to his archers.

Just when the man was about to drop his hand, Umeharu, the gigantic Mongolian, threw a table at two of the archers. Crushing them against the wall.

Quick as lightening Edgar drew two pistols from leather holsters, shooting in two directions, taking down two archers.

In a flashing movement, Kazunori drew for his Katana. Black handled with golden decoration and a blade made in perfect harmony.
Kazunori sprang amazingly fast toward the scarred man; his Katana plunged into the man’s heart before there was time to react. The remaining archer, a mere meter away aimed his next arrow directly at Kazunori’s head. Kazunori realized he couldn’t dodge an arrow from such a distance. But just as the archer was ready to release, a Katana, similar to Kazunori’s smoothly cut the archer in-half.
Shimeyo wielded that katana, and again found herself in an eye-lock with Kazunori, whose life she just saved.

“I can take care of myself in these situations… And I guess I can also take care of you in these situations…” Shimeyo told Kazunori.


Kazunori looked at the lifeless body of the meaning of his life. He felt as if it was he up there, hanging, dead. He wept on his knees, the remnants of sounds of fire reflecting his anger and sadness.



-“Don’t go! If you’ll go he will kill you!” Shimeyo cried and begged her husband. Foolish was her husband’s pride; he was going to have a duel against the most dangerous criminal known, Utsugi Dokuga. A ronin known to defeat his enemies using plots and cunningness.

“I’m sorry my wife, but I must go. I will not shame myself by refusing a duel,” Kazunori replied with a stern expression.
With that said, Kazunori left his home, his wife and his village. He calmed himself down as he headed to his destination.

Three days later he was there, Utsugi’s Castle. His heart pounded fast, he was nervous. At the entrance to the castle waited Utsugi who smiled wildly at the arrival.

“You came, I am surprised… Most are shameful; they fear death so they do not come. But you seem you value pride more than life. Good.” Utsugi stated, his voice cunning and sinister.

“Let us be done with it” Kazunori replied, his face turning stone-like cold as he releases emotions to enhance his concentration.

Utsugi nodded and drew two Wakizashi. They were both perfectly made, with decorations of both red silk and silver. Wielding them in a unique style. Utsugi continued smiling, determining the outcome of this battle in his head.

The two warriors charged forward. Kazunori was first to swing his Katana, which was easily deflected by a slashing Wakizashi. Down came the other Wakizashi for a clear hit if Kazunori wasn’t so agile. With a quick twist of his torso he dodged the blow and pushed his Katana up while doing so, forcing Utsugi to take a step back and releasing Kazunori of the deadly situation.
Utsugi’s smile was not removed from his face at any time; he wasn’t worried in the slightest.
Kazunori’s expression gave him away, the uncertainty and the insecurity. Kazunori’s expression did not go un-noticed and Utsugi decided to end this battle with a ‘secret weapon’ he had been saving up.

“I wonder… What sort of a husband would leave a wife behind?” Utsugi laughed, and studied Kazunori’s expression. The ‘weapon’ hit exactly where it was designed. Kazunori’s expression revealed what previously did not exist in Kazunori… Fear.

It was all Utsugi needed and he launched at Kazunori, Wakizashi in hand. Kazunori remained unmoving as both weapons impaled his wrists, cutting through the flesh. and re-emerging on the other side of both wrists. An intended disarming attack to allow a more painful death. Kazunori remained unfeeling as he thought of Shimeyo. As if he did not even see or sense Utsugi. Still not fully snapped back to reality, but feeling overwhelming pain snapped his leg upwards, hitting Utsugi straight in the chin and causing Utusgi’s own jaw to cut his tongue.
Utsugi screamed in pain, and crumbled to the floor, his decapitated tongue squirting gushing blood.
Like that Kazunori left Utsugi, and began his walk back to his village.

Kazunori watched the dead body, hanging from the neck with a thick rope. His wife. He slowly pulled his Katana out of the scabbard and placed the blade against his chest. With an instant pull, he was no longer Kazunori, but a figure, a stone-cold figure, unfeeling, invincible.