Blood Runner

[valen]

Cold. Nothing but cold. He thought to himself as he gazed through the window, his hand gripping the frigid steel bulkhead while he leaned onto it. The occassional rock floating into his sight disturbed him, bringing him back from the dazed state he was in. Finally he blinks again, soaking his eyes that were running dry from the cigarette smoke that was left in the ashtray on the table. He pushes himself away from the steel and feels the pads of his fingers with his thumb... Cold. Nothing but cold. He stared a moment at his hand, before leaning onto the bulkhead again, eyes focused outside, into the dark nebula of the only sunless system in Kusari. His eyes focused ont the dark, piercing the nebula for as much as the light allows it, following the Dragon fighter wing passing by before disappearing into the abyss. They do not know. Not many do. The wait is eating him from the inside like a beast of old. But there is no other option but to wait, the orders were clear. The words still ring true inside his head, "Wait my brothers, wait for Lord Hakkera to summon you, then come to my aid and we shall have victory." The blame he puts on himself is grave, he wishes now more than anything that he shouted after his master to stop, to let them come with him. They were his best fighters, true to their calling. They were like his sons. And there was four of them. He was their Sensei, or as the Gaijin call it their master. But being a humble man that he was he always insisted on being called by his name, Ozu. All of the four always agreed to call him by his name, but the respect was far too great and Sensei always prevailed. All the stories, all the memories he had were rewinding and flashing before his eyes, like he knew that he is heading to his death. But a good death it would be, were it come to it.

Then the call came, breaking the silence like a sword cutting through steel. Time was short, and he paced across the room, only pausing a moment to grab the rest of his gear that was sitting on the table. There was no need to answer the call, for he knew what it was. He rushed passed the intercom slamming the door behind him, leaving nothing but cold and smoke inside the room. And only one of those was disappearing, since the cigarette was burnt out.

Seconds felt like eternity, his legs heavy, his heart rate slow. The hallway appeared to have no end as it kept getting longer and longer, and every inch closer he was getting was not close enough. "Miyamoto!" a harsh and powerful voice cut the air to his ears, a harsh but familiar voice. He stopped in his tracks, turning his head over his shoulder to greet his brother with a smile. There was no need for words because the eyes spoke for themselves. It is no mere saying that the eyes are mirrors to one's soul. Miyamoto grabbed his brother's shoulder and clenched it tightly. A smile slipped his lips, "To victory." Side by side they reached the hangars, and wing by wing they reached Tohoku.
Radio silence was kept for the entirety of the flight, partially because there was little to be said, and partially because no words were comforting enough for the coming battle. Lord Hakkera, a great man that he was broke the rules "Brothers, what we face today is beyond each and every one of us. This is beyond us, and what we fight here for is not simply our lives, but the lives of millions of others. This is for humanity. Let us show them why the Blood Dragons are feared throughout Kusari!" Silence ensued, determination, focus and courage could be seen on each of their faces. Fear. Miyamoto felt it absorbing his heart. His vision was getting blurry from the fear, his hands shaking on the controller stick. He clinched his fists and bumped his helmet two times, but it only helped so much. Fear was getting the best of him. "Run" is what he was contemplating, but how can he run?! He is a Blood Dragon, his family of royal Blood, his Sensei needs him! There is no room for doubt and fear! But no use, the heart can only be so brave before the brain shuts it out. "Miyamoto, brother..." the private communication channel opened up "I am afraid as much as you are. But we fly together, nothing can destroy the bond we have. Come, brother, for our Sensei..." the last words Miyamoto heard before the sky turned red.

☯ ☯ ☯ ☯ ☯ ☯ ☯

"Permission to land, Kyoto" Hakkera's voice echoed through Miyamoto's ship, a sad response followed "Granted Lord Hakkera. So few of you have returned...". Miyamoto was just sitting there, relying on his autopilot to complete the base approach and the docking procedure. His hands were resting on his thighs, and his head bowed down, eyes closed. Once the ship touched the landing pad and he felt the impact he unbuckled his safety belt, and took off his helmet. Cheers could be heard outside as the Blood Dragons celebrated the victory. The gaijin that were considered invaluable were grinnig from ear to ear. It was only so much that Miyamoto could take. He smashed his fist against the side of the cockpit and got out of his fighter.
There was one more who did not celebrate, and it was Hakkera. It was not enough for Miyamoto "So this is how much our own people are worth? A filthy gaijin and a useless artifact. This is whom my brother gave his life for? This inbred piece of Libertonian filth? What about Sensei?!" he continued while raising his hands in the air, gathering people to listen, "Huh?! Tell me! Is this artifact worth all those lives? Was there no other way to go about in this war? I spit on you. I hate YOU!!" Miyamoto shouted while looking at Trent, and finally collapsed onto his knees, with tears running down his cheeks. The hangar went silent for a moment before everyone continued with their celebration and paid him little to no attention. It seems that it is indeed true that sometimes the needs of the many overcome the needs of the few. There was one who came towards him, and crouched by his side, "Miyamoto my dear, I understand your pain, it is the pain I share with you, the pain I will forever carry in my heart because it is I who called you to this task. Ozu gave his life away willingly, for he knew how important this is. We were fighting for our futures, our children and our children's children. This is not over, more will die. Someone's brother, someone's father and son. It is the way of things, it is what war does best. Ask yourself this, is this how your brother would have wanted for you to remember him? Or would Shinmen want you to remember how strong he was, and what he has done for us?". It was Hakkera, and his words were comforting, "I...I.. I do not know what to do with my life... He is gone. They both are.", Miyamoto mumbled. "Treasure their memory, and live to remember them. You are here, and you have others that care for you and need you to care for them.", Hakkera said as he put his hand on his back, and gestured towards a woman standing in the corner, with her hands covering half her face as if she was crying. Beneath the tears and all the pain a small was to be seen on Miyamoto's face, "My wife.."

"Hai, my dear wife, I remember it as it was yesterday. It was you that gave me the strength that I needed to forget that day. Without you, and without my Rising Sons I would not have made it. We have done Kusari well, have we not? We fight to one day rule Kusari, to restore the Hideyoshi Dynasty to its rightful throne. Much has changed since then. I have grown as a man, I have made my ancestors proud, I have proven worthy of my blood. I h...", he was interupted by a ring on the intercom. A hand gesture by the Shogun was enough to send his wife to another room for he wants privacy in all his dealings. A wife is a man's treasure, but she has no place to sit next to him when he rules. "Who is it that disturbs his Shogun at this time of night?", Miyamoto shouted and took a seat, picking up an already light cigarette and puffing a smoke.

A shady figure wearing Blood Dragon uniform enters the room. His face partialy covered by the neck long black hair. The uniform fabric seemed old, but strangely familiar. The figure took a step into the room, the door closing behind him. An eerie atmosphere was surrounding him, until he finally lifted his head and pulled his hair aside, "Hello, brother."
Miyamoto's face went pale in an instant, the cigarette slid down his two fingers and fell onto the floor. The silence in the room was so loud that the impact from the cigarette echoed through it. "Brother is it you? It cannot be... Your ship fell, you fell... I saw you fall! I was there!", Miyamoto exlaimed while standing up from his chair, barely catching his breath. "Did they take you?! What have they done?! No brother, it can't be! Not you!". Memories took over, feelings rushed through his heart, but instead of love for his brother there was only one other feeling, hatred. Hatred towards the Aoi Iseijin, the same ones he was figthing all these years, that take and take but never give anything back. Those that hide in the shadows and lurk like the beasts they are. Lies and deceipt is their philosphy, warmongering their sole purpose. Hate. The strongest of feelings, surpassed only by love. But there is a thin line between love and hate, a line easily crossed when one feels betrayed. "It is us, brother, you do not understand.", as soon as these words slipped Shinmen's lips Miyamoto no longer felt love, there was nothing in his heart but sadness, betrayal, and anger. His eyes turned red with rage, and he grasped his ceremonial blade he was given when granted the title Shogun of the Rising Sons. "You are no longer my brother." In that moment Shinmen spotted Miyamoto's wife peeking into the room by the corner of his eye, it was enough to have him distracted and not see Miyamoto pull his blade and run it into his gut. Cold sweat rushed down his forehead as Miyamoto pulled the blade upwards and then left, ripping through his ribs and opening his heart. Blood flowed down the blade handle and Miyamoto's hands, dripping down to the floor. Warm, not cold. Shinmen turned his head towards Miyamoto, blood slowly appearing on his lips. "I still love you brother." He whispered, gathering what strength he had left spitting a few drops of blood onto Miyamoto's face. Finally realizing what he has done he let go of the blade and his brother. Shinmen motionless body fell down, his eyes open and staring at Miyamoto. He was dead. Miyamoto took a step back and lost his balance what caused him to fall down. His wife came rushing into the room and hugged him. It did not help, his eyes were focused on his brother's dead body. He did not hear a single word his wife was saying, he was in shock. Finally he came to his sense and stood up, looked around the room and walked to the window of the room, staring at the nebula. "Cold, nothing but cold." He said as he felt the steel bulkhead underneath his fingers. "I must go. I cannot prove he was not one of our own, it is impossible. They will trial me for murdering a brother in anger. That is punishable by death. I cannot die, I still have a purpose in life, it is not my time. I feel it, I know it. How, do not ask me for I cannot provide an asnwer. I must go. I will kill them all, I promise. Remember, my dear wife, however cold, my heart is the furthest from when I think of you. I love you." And he left her speechless as he passed Shinmen's body, he kneeled and kissed him on the forhead. The emptiness of space awaits...

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