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The red sun:tale of the shogunate
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The red sun:tale of the shogunate |
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Ina Senior Member
since 2000-10-09
Posts 1236Quebec, Canada 
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NOT FINISHED...FAR FROM IT The Red Sun: Tale Of The Shogunate By: Regina M. Levy Prologue The red sun drops onto our sky, an old man lies down in the dust. The soft whistling of a nightingale floats through the trees. The sweet smell of cherry blossoms, crouched within these branches are men of stealth. Samurai wanderers, the Ronin. The warriors with a license to kill. The year is 1628, it is the era of the Shogunate, and the Shogun of Japan is Shogun Tokugawa Ieyasu, he who introduced the Shogunate in 1603. Edo has lost its beauty and the peasants are starving in the Hans of Japan. The displaced Samurai have plundered and destroyed, using their skill for evil and dishonour. This is the tale of a hero, an assassin, and a Shogun. Gokudoh lies down in the cherry blossom orchard, he thinks of his young students. He does not believe them ready, their skill is lacking, and their Ki is misplaced. “What shall I do? I have lived long and seen the fortitude and spirit of many a men. Where can I begin with these young students, they do not embrace nor believe of their Ki, they are not Ninja, they are the destruction of nature and all its energy. Have I, Gokudoh failed? There is no Shinto. They will not excel. These are not the souls of Ninja, they are like the Ronin, master less Samurai, with no purpose, no faith or belief in there ability or in the Mikkyo of the Ninja.” His voice is lost in despair, for who will rid Japan of Tokugawa? Gokudoh rises and begins pacing the soft ground, his sandal-clad feet smack the earth with every step, it is not like him to become agitated, he is the calm master. “Ah, here comes Kazekan, a student of great potential. He is quite and reserved, much too solemn for his age. A great loss lurks beneath his eyes, a dangerous beast.” It is Sensei Gokudoh, he looks perturbed. A slight crease between the brows, so unusual. I am at a loss, Sensei, I want to shout, and all this hatred is consuming me. My spirit is destroying me. Why can I not speak to you? Everything is screaming in my mind, my soul is collapsing. Both student and teacher battle their thoughts, an ever growing battle between all that makes the entity whole, all that increases our energy to a an ever flowing river. Both Sensei Gokudoh and Kazekan are in despair, yet the culture of honour forbids them from discussing it like equals. “Kazekan, the blossoms are sweet smelling, the sun dips into the sky, yet your head hangs in worry.” “Sensei,” he bows his head. “ I have much distracting my thoughts, the blossoms are rancid and nature is no longer filled with beauty and spirit.” Gokudoh stares intently into the eyes of his student Something disturbs the gentle power of Kazekan, he no longer one with his Ki. “Has Honshu lost its beauty? I see none of the desecration you hint.” Kazekan’s thoughts are no longer clear, everything recedes into the background, and everything is focused on his surroundings. The tree is gripped by the souls of his feet. We hear no sound, just the soft rustle of trees, like wind. He waits, lying prone, an arm dangling. Wind Shadow waits… Part I: Kazekan Our story begins in Edo, the capital of Japan. The year is 1610, the beginning of the Shogunate era, Tokugawa has been in power for seven years. The Hans of Japan are slowly rotting, those who were once the heroes of Japan are now shiftless assassins. Kazekan, as a young boy of 10 years old has just passed an eventful day of lessons with his father, and old Ninja. The wind is stirring in the trees, a quiet scene in the hills belonging to Kazekan’s family, his ancestors. “Nooooooooo!” an ear-piercing scream rends the silence in half. A young boy’s sandal-clad feet are heard racing on wooden floors, frozen in the doorway with a look of absolute confusion and slow understanding. The blood is congealing on the damp earth. The bodies of his parents lay mutilated and decapitated desecrating the land of his family, the earth mourns. “Tomoda’shi, little one. Come…” a voice that stops Kazekan’s thoughts, his breath, his heart. “You are no friend!” “Boy! I am warning you!” The man raises he Katana in the air in response to his fierce threat. Kazekan screams and screams his small body shaking with every mournful cry. The men have left and he kneels by his parents’ bodies. They have grown cold with death. I shall avenge your deaths! Mother, Father what shall I do… His hands covered in blood cradle his heavy head; his tears run white streaks down his bloodied face. He walks back into his home, gathering all he will need to survive, his fury mounting with every step. He stalks into his father’s weapon room. He takes his father’s Katana, his mother’s dagger and his own short dagger. We see a young boy’s face covered in blood, and white streaks, black clothing and the eyes of Mu, the perfect assassin. He walks through the village with no other thought then his vengeance. The villagers cower and the sight of the evil in his eyes. In the distance we hear a cry for fire, Kazekan has burned his home, his soul and his balance. This young boy wanders through forests, his eyes grow cold and distant. He bathes in the stream and the blood runs off his face, off his hands yet it has lodged under he fingernails. Lodged like his anger, a cold wind in his soul…. Kazekan, has continued to roam the forests of Edo it has been only four years since the death of his parents, yet the anger and pain has not yet let up. The shadows that march along the trees and the forest floor have become his refuge. His companion is vengeance, it does not keep him warm, it keeps him fed and strong. Creeping along the forest floor, Kazekan trains away his weaknesses . He has fashioned a Bokan out of cherry wood, he pilfered from a garden. With the force and practice he pushes his Chi outwards while balancing on a log suspended above a rocky stream, filled with quick rapids, stabilizing the bokan in his left hand. “Ich…Ni…San…Chi…go…roku…” Continuing his striking against the air , while switching from left to right hand. The sun dies within the sky, Kazekan is running through the ever darkening forest. Pushing his feet up against the tree-trunks, his body is airborne, arms are placed strategically as to decapitate his target. “ To death!” his voice is both a guttural cry and sharp. The target is decimated. Kazekan picks up the piece of wood and beings fashioning another Bokan. There is a slight hitch in his breath, although barely any outward signs of exertion, except for the slight sheen on his face. He is calm, yet boiling on the inside. As his rage subsides, kazekan continues to whittle away at the strong wood of the forest. Night has fallen and the forest is silent. Much to silent thinks, Kazekan. |
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| © Copyright 2003 Regina Levy - All Rights Reserved | |||
Marge Tindal 
since 1999-11-06
Posts 42384Florida's Foreverly Shores |
Regina~ This is a fascinating tale~ I can't wait to read the next addition to it~ Great story material~ *Huglets* ~*Marge*~ ~*When the heart grieves over what it has lost, |
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