Writing Prompt #2 - First Blood (9/19 - 10/3/16)

[Custodian]

Back for more? Here's this week's and next week's prompt, courtesy of Hit-Parade!

FIRST BLOOD
Write about your character's first kill (whether that is a zombie, Roman legionnaire who just won't quit, or even another agent!).​

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[Kuro-Hebi]

Yay I wrote a thing

2016.09.19 - First Blood​

In Japanese standards, he was barely out of boyhood. His uncle had sent him away to join the Dragon; he'd be under their care now, his uncle's task as mentor and teacher was done. One year of training, secluded in a secret location somewhere in China, and the new recruits were sent into the field. Some had it easier than other.

To those who had shown great skills in battle, being 'set free' also meant the end of their innocence. Katsuro was among them; he already had years of training with the sword before he even joined the secret society. But maybe his family's history had something to do with it. Generations of willing servants of the Dragon, their devotion absolute. Thus he was given a letter with instructions when he left the Dragon's coils - which wasn't in Seoul at the time, this would only happen some 10 years later, after WW2 - and he made his way to Hong Kong, his now iconic katana at his belt. The sword felt wrong in his hands back then as he lacked the power to wield it properly. It would take many more years before he and the sword truly became one, but any path must start somewhere, and this was it for young Katsuro. Twenty-one years old and he was sent to kill a man.

He was still very mortal at that time and thus, even though he knew of its existence, Agartha travel was not an option. The trip was rather long, plenty of time to think and doubt. Would he even be able to follow his mission to the end? What if he couldn't? Would he have to flee... but surely they'd find him. Would his mother be proud that he followed the mission or that he spared a life instead? By the time Katsuro reached his destination, his hands were shaking and his mind was all but at peace. Nevertheless, he followed the letter's instruction and managed to find his target. A man in his late 40's, he looked quite ordinary, had a little shop selling tobacco and newspapers and other quickly consumed literature. Katsuro waited for the sky to turn dark and the man to close shop, his little stand almost forgotten in the badly lit street. One long breath - the familiar click of his blade being pushed ever so slightly from its sheathe with his thumb - another breath... the man walked away and disappeared into a dark alley, probably toward his home.

Katsuro stood there shaking like a leaf, just looked at the man walk away. That's when he realized he'd been holding his breath and, with a gasping sound, he let the air in his lungs. It tasted of dirt and mold, of whatever was rotting in the back alley, with a hint of tobacco. It tasted of fear and confusion. That night, he found a cheap hotel and crashed on the bed, fully clothed, his dreams haunted by shadows of doubt.

The next day was gray, just like his mood, and Katsuro spent it wandering the streets of Hong Kong. He was no closer to finding an answer to his unspoken question. Yet that evening, he came back to the little newspaper stand and waited, just like the night before, until the man in his late 40's closed shop and began walking toward that same dark alley. Katsuro's hands were still shaking - one long breath, and the click of his katana - but this time his feet did move and he dashed forward, his blade sending a wave of crimson splashing upon the brick wall.

He was back in the Dragon's Coils a few days later. His handler was very pleased and his comrades were cheering for him on a first mission well done. Didn't they realized he'd just ended a life? Katsuro travelled back to Japan after this, he needed to see his mother. Maybe she'd be mad, or just disappointed, even saddened by his action. As he stepped inside the ancestral home of his family, she waited for him with a soft smile. She didn't say a word, just motioned for him to sit by her side. There was a newspaper on the tea table near her, with an article highlighted. Obviously his eyes were drawn to it and he read, not once but twice, before looking back at her, wide eyed.

"Never doubt the Dragon , Katsuro. Every action, may it be small or big, has significance." His mother told him softly.

------------
As years passed by, Katsuro learned that not all lives taken may seem 'fairly taken' at first glance. But the Dragon always has a reason and, with enough patience, he was often witness to the after effect of his actions. He learned to not question his orders, that he alone had not the gift to 'see' the ripples he and his fellow comrades made upon time and upon mankind. Now his blade is steady and his eyes as crimson as the blood he spilled over the last century.
​

 

[Cen]

As she slowly strolled down Main Street, Cen registered the sounds of feasting zombies. Behind a white picket fence lay the half-eaten corpse of a woman with three zombies munching away noisily at what remained. Cen quickly rushed the undead things, sliding her switchblade from her sleeve. They were no challenge for her, just a sidestep and a beheading. They were really squishy and that was a tad disturbing.

Continuing on, Cen spied a playground down a side street. While the town’s present situation made every scene grim and depressing, the sight still made her smile. Maybe if she cleaned up this mess she could go play on the swings a bit. She snorted and shook her head. Stuff kept flocking to this damn town. She'd already seen the mess that kept happening at the sheriff’s station. But that was a thought for later. Right now she was doing her own investigation. What was going on with the little Cousins? That question was what was disturbing her.

She could hear them calling, asking, “Why, why can't I leave?”
Cen approached a large congregation of little Cousins who were circling a low fountain by the playground.
They called, “He’s coming.”
Cen looked around, but no one else was nearby. Maybe they mistook the gender of this skin, it wasn't the first or last time that would happen. She smiled and approached. Modulating her voice to the correct tones, Cen called out in the first language, the one all the creations understood.
“My little Cousins, why do you sit? Why are you not flying? Is this a game?”
Many of the crows ruffled their feathers and met her eye. They understood but were waiting for more from her.
“My little Cousins, am I so unwelcome to your circle? I have brought treats. Food for your bellies!”
Cen pulled out a crumpled bag of trail mix, brown granola dotted here and there with dots of bright candies. She shook some out and tossed it a few feet away. Dark eyes gleamed and several fell on the treats with a chorus of, “Mine” and “Shiny!”
Cen's smile stopped when she realized many of the little Cousins turned back and stared at the water. Their feathers ruffled and their dark eyes scared.
“My little Cousins, what do you look for? May I watch too?”
She walked around the circle of the fountain pool. All the crows perched on its rim looked to be rooted to the spot.
“He's coming,” intoned an old crow. Those that had been pecking at the trail mix flew back into the circle.
“He's here!” they all screamed, and their little mouths gaped and panted.

From the center of the fountain came a man dressed in a dark and hooded coat. Darkness emanated from around him like a haze of black smoke. With his back to Cen, she really couldn’t tell what he looked like. However, his smell was pure evil. She could taste the metallic tang of blood and rot. The man smelled of road kill, and not the tasty kind you bring the nestlings for dinner. Cen closed her mouth and stopped tasting what he was.

“Hello, sir. Are you a friend of my little Cousins?” she called out and immediately regretted it. He turned and faced her, only he wore his animal head. The long dark beak and feathers indicated that he was like her, but the pure malice in his eye made Cen step back.

The animal-man spun and sank back into the water, disappearing. He reappeared instantly at Cen’s side and clipped her chin with his fist. She fell back and gasped, “Why? Why would you strike a fellow Cousin?”

The crows screamed and flew away, “Run! Run!” Cen could hear the old one calling out to her, “He’s not of us. Our small magics don’t work!” Other little cousins called out from a nearby power line, “He’s evil! Evil! Kill the Evil!”

Cen’s attention was brought back to the situation as the stranger struck hard at her leg. She crumpled to the ground and hit back as he closed in. Her fist made no contact, her hand ghosted through his intangible body.

“No, no, no!” cried the old crow who was now on the line with the others. “Use your magics! He’s not reallyreal!”

Cen pulled out her switchblade and launched herself at the animal-man. He attempted to step in-between and disappear on her again, but she knew that trick now. Grinning like a fool, Cen dug her blade into this belly and danced it up through his chest. The bone, feathers, and clothes melted away under the old magics the little blade was made of. He fell to the ground and Cen followed, landing on his chest. She grabbed the top of his hood and pulled it back, exposing his animal head. He was once a handsome crow, only now he looked like death itself.

“Who are you? Why did you attack me?” Cen asked in the first language. She could feel his black blood soaking into the knees of her jeans. “Answer me!” Cen ripped some feathers from his face.

He didn’t flinch or react. He just stared with hate in his eyes and continued to bleed onto the ground.

“Kill him!” chanted all the little Cousins, now lining all the perches along the nearby power lines and backs of the park benches. “Kill him!”

Cen leaned forward and looked into one of silent man’s eyes. Lighting-fast, she licked his beak, to better understand him. He shuddered and died, and his last breath ripped at Cen’s face like a sandstorm. She choked and coughed on the taste of an evil she had never experienced before.

The little Cousins cheered and called out their success to all and no one. Cen pulled away from the smelly body and its sticky blood. She got to her feet and thought about what she knew. He tasted evil, he looked evil, he wasn’t from the NeverNever or any part of the Medicine Land she had been to.

“You’re bleeding,” stated a low voice to her right. The old crow who had given her help was strutting on the ground next to her.
Cen did a quick inventory of her body but found only a bruise on her chin. Looking at the crow again, she cocked her head. “Where, little Cousin?”

“Your animal head is damaged. Can’t you see it?” He clucked at her and shook his head. “That black blood is dangerous. It seeps into you and changes you. I can see you changing, Old One.”

Cen moved to the fountain and began washing the blood away from her hands and face. She could feel it on her skin, but it was strange that she couldn’t feel it changing her animal self. She stilled herself and studied her reflection in the pool’s water. Cocking her head to the side she brought forth her animal head, which was seeping blood from patches of missing feathers where the things last breath had touched it. Cen pulled out a handkerchief, wet it, and began dabbing at the blood. Looking back at the crow she raised a brow. “And now?”

“You are more animal, but still unclean. This is the price of helping in this town. As you fight the darkness, you become the darkness. It appears that Old Ones like you are not immune. I have seen my children die. Nestlings whither.” The old crow fluffed up, trying to hide inside his feathers, “ Save us, Old One.”

Cen stood in the water and looked around her. Hundreds of little Cousins of all varieties were staring at her with their small dark eyes. She was surprised to see even the little Cousins of different species like cats and rodents looking at her from their hiding spots. Cen sighed and sloshed more water on her to get the leftover residue off her.

“I've been sent to investigate what is happening here. I cannot promise that I alone can fix this problem.” She stood again and addressed the congregated masses in the first language. “I can promise that I will do my best. You are not alone.”

She sloshed out of the fountain and nodded to the old crow. “I know now that this will take its toll on me, but that is my duty to you all.”

As she passed, headed back to the sheriffs station and possibly to the Agartha Gate, the little Cousins called out their thanks and their praise. Shaking her head, Cen’s face became human once more.

This was her lot in life. She would take up this challenge. She had always succeeded in the past. A little voice in the back of her head asked, but at what price?