| abstract
| - Hida Mimori laughed. It was a booming, explosive sound that filled the entire house and likely several adjacent houses as well. It was a familiar sound as well, for on those days when Mimori was spared from his duties upon the Great Carpenter Wall, he could always be found at home with his wife and small children, and he seemed to relish the life they shared. His wife was such a strong woman. So rugged. Beautiful, he thought. So beautiful. They had known one another since childhood, and to Mimori it was a sign of favor from his ancestors that they had been allowed to marry. She had been his greatest friend for a number of years, and their marriage had only increased that. Their son, now four years of age, was the best of both of them. Even now the little one toddled over to where his wife held their newborn daughter, who was his wife made over. He was pleased by that, enourmasly so. His wife was the perfect Crab woman, and his daughter would be as well. The little one peered over the edge of the bundle his mother held, and the baby reached out and grabbed him by the nose. The boy was so surprised that he yelped and backpedaled away from the two women, only to stumble over the toy wooden tetsubo his uncle had carved and then sat heavily into a bowl of water that they had put out for their pet dog. The boy began caterwauling at once, lodged in the bowl, water slopping everywhere. Mimori roared. Laughing.
*
*
* Mimori ran. Two others tried to bar his path. One of them started to say something, but Mimori punched him in the face and made him stop. There was nothing he wanted to hear from him, not from any of them. The other reached up to stop him, but Mimori put him on the ground. He might have been seriously injured, but Mimori neither noticed nor cared. He ran to the place where she had been posted. The attack had been brief but frighteningly intense. The demons that had attacked were of a kind never before documented. They were insectile, extremely fast and agile beyond anything that Mimori had ever seen. Their legs, so many of them, could be used as weapons. Razor-tipped weapons that Mimori had seen eviscerate no less than four men on his duty post alone. Now all he could think of was if there had been similar losses as this duty station. Mimori shouted his wife's name. Others looked at him and tried to talk to him, but he would not listen. Far more concerning, however, were the ones who looked away. They could not look at him. Why would they do that, unless... He saw a form, a terribly torn and bloodied form, lying amid the others on the surface of the Wall. He rushed to the sight, knocking another from his path as he did so. He dropped to the ground and wailed as he saw the ruined form of his wife. So still. Still so beautiful. He grabbed her and lifted her to him, crushing her cool form against his chest. Weeping.
*
*
*
* Mimori's son was doing well at the dojo. He would reach his gempukku in another year or two. It should be three, by rights, but his studies were coming along so well that he would likely graduate early. Mimori had not spoken to the sensei himself, but he had spoken to others who had spoken to them, and their glowing reports of his son's progress filled him with pride. He had not seen his son or his daughter, who was currently in training to be a shugenja and who had already been arranged to marry one of that family upon her gempukku, since a few weeks after his wife's death. The changes that had come over him since that day were too great. Instead, they were remanded to the custody of his extended family, and he threw himself into his duty to the exclusion of all else. His only interaction with his children, the only interaction he allowed himself, was to watch them from afar when they were unaware of his presence. As he was doing now. Watching.
*
*
* The demons gibbered like fools, and despite their bestial nature, Hida Mimori knew that they sensed their impending doom. Even the simplest creature could know that it was in a trap, after all, and this was no different. One of them, a corpulent, reptilian creature, turned toward them and placed its back against the stones. something in its eyes, some primitive intelligence, told Mimori that intended to fight. Thank the Fortunes. He needed a fight. He needed to be tested, to push against himself and overcome it. Maybe this beast would be the one that finally sent him to be with his wife? No, probably not. None of the hundreds that he had faced since her death had managed it, so why should this one? The beast drew back and belched fire. Not a trivial amount, but a massive gout, a spray of fire worthy of a volcano. One of Mimori's comrades was incinerated immediately, and the others leapt back to avoid being burned. Mimori himself did not. He leapt up, hurling himself over the flames and rearing back with his weapon. It was his only purpose, his only skill. It was the only thing he was capable of since the death of his wife. Killing.
|
![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)