Tag: stuff rex wrote

sevi007:

rex101111:

sevi007:

Why did
nobody tell me that Dante gets a literal cowboy
hat as his weapon in DMC 5, this is incredibly
important!

… Mainly
because I headcanon since DMC 4 that Dante likes cowboys (look at his outfit in
that game) and was especially enthusiastic about them when he was still a kid
(in that “Mum I’m gonna be a cowboy when
I grow up!” kind of you, you know) and that he would be absolutely delighted
to have a real cowboy hat.

If Dante
doesn’t say at least one dumb cowboy pun while having the weapon equipped,
like, a “yeehaw” or “steady on!” or “there’s only space for one of us in this city” or something, I’m
gonna sue.

Also now
Capcom needs to give us an extra skin for Dante so you can switch into his DMC
4 outfit and equip the cowboy hat on top of it, just to complete the damn look.

Dante gets so into it he challenges Lady to a duel, “Pistols at noon! You and me cowpoke!”

Lady stares at him without a word for a whole two minutes.

And then she shoots him in the head. 

And then she walks over to him, still grumbling about how much that stings, and yanks the damn hat off of his head and starts stomping on it despite his protests.

She shoots it a couple of times too for good measure.

Dante picks up the remains of his poor, abused, hat, cut down in the prime of it’s life, “Why?”

Lady stares him dead in the face, expression stone still, “I made a vow to destroy evil.” 

Silence.

“Also, you’re annoying enough without having an excuse to talk with that godawful western accent.”

He waits, (clearly not pouting, what do you mean, he is a grown man, he does not pout, thank you very much) until Lady seems to be out of earshot, before he leans over to Nico.

The young woman is barely holding in the loud laughter threatening to spill, but manages an inquiring noise as she catches his gaze.

“Do you think you can fix this up?”

A smothered sound, a giggle, then a cleared throat before she becomes stern again. “Count on me, cowboy!”

Dante’s grin goes from ear to ear as he puts on his best (worst) drawl. “Don’t know what I would do without ya, lassie!”

Nico snorts, a loud, delighted noise. “Oh my god, you’re worse than grandma told me.”

“That a good thing?”

“The best. Now give me that mistreated thingy, I’m gonna make it better than it ever was.”

“Off you go,” Dante pauses, considers, “Make it more durable, perhaps?”

“Demon-durable or Lady-durable?”

“Both. Mostly the later.”

Lady has never felt such utter and complete betrayal in her entire life from another human being (except the obvious, of course) as she starred at the offending headwear, patched up and reinforced with carbon fiber of all things.

Dante saunters over, thumbs in the waist of his pants and a tooth pick in his mouth-oh for the love of god are those spurs on his shoes–and grins so smugly she is tempted to shot him in the teeth on principal alone.

“Well howdy there pardner.” His grin grows when one of Lady’s eyes twitches. “Fancy seeing you around these parts.” He pointed up to his hat. “I see you eyeballin’ my hat, purdy ain’t it?”

“Dante for the love of God that’s a fucking trucker accent-”

“Now I know you must be hankerin’ to bust it up like before,” He continued, ignoring her, “but you should know-”

Lady whipped out one of her machine guns, and unloaded the entire magazine directly into that vile piece of leather and demonic metal.

Damn thing didn’t even flinch.

“-My associate here gave it an upgrade.” He pointed to Nico, who was standing by his side this whole time, nearly bent over in held back laughter.

“Bullet proof hat!” She exclaimed at Lady, eyes shining with excitement, “I love working with you guys I never would have thought of this one.”

“You,” Lady started, eyes digging through Nico as well as any bullet, “are a traitor to the whole of humanity.”

“Oh relax.” Nico waved her off with little care. “Just let the man have his dumb fun, besides I made this thing 100% Lady-proof, there ain’t a damn thing you can do to it to damage or destroy it.”

Lady raised an eyebrow, holstered her machine gun, and reached back to put a hand on Kalina Ann.

“…Except that maybe.”

Dante whipped his head to Nico, “You forgot about the damn rocket launcher!?”

“She has like twenty different guns!” Nico protested, panic seeping out of her voice. “How do you expect me to keep track!?”

“Nico.” Lady intoned mildly, aiming the large barrel of her prized weapon directly at Dante’s face. “Take ten steps back.”

Nico took one look at the bazooka, than another look at Dante, switching between the two a few more times before turning on her heel and legging it.

“Later partner!”

“Lady was right! You ARE a traitor!”

A soft click of a trigger reached Dante’s sensitive ears.

“Oh dagnabbit.”

A massive explosion rocked the immediate area, sending plums of smoke and fire into the air along with a few chunks of concrete, charred black from the blast.

Lady put Kalina Ann back on the strap on her back, crossed her arms, and nodded her head in satisfaction, “The evil is defeated.” She yelled into the smoke cloud where Dante was standing, probably grumbling about his lost hat. “Let that be a lesson to you! You should always know when to let a joke die.”

She turned away to get to the nearest bar in order to drink the memory of this nonsense out of her head as soon as possible…when she heard a few surprised peals of laughter.

“Well, waddya know!” Dante stepped out of the smoke cloud, outfit scorched and ruined, with more than a few wounds rapidly healing on his skin…

And the hat in his hand, utterly unscathed.

“She really did make it Lady-proof!”

Lady’s eye twitched again as she gaped at the utter ridiculousness of what she was looking at, before she growled and walked away with an angry stomp.

“Aww, what’s the matter? Giving up?”

“I’m getting Trish!”

“Woah nelly….”

Wounds (and how they heal)/part 2!

done! Man I tell ya, writing with a possible ear infection is not easy! But worth it so write more stuff for my baby girl ;_;

Significantly less blood and gore and this one, as well as next to no swearing (yes even though it still involves Baiken. Crazy I know)

Eri gazed mournfully at the pile of clothes at her feet, dressed in
pajamas and the memory of the previous night still fresh in her mind.

From the moment she had revealed her true nature to Baiken and Anji, the
samurai had been…quiet. Right after she told her she was a Gear, Baiken had
stared at her for a long second, as if she wanted to make sure she heard right.

Before she or Anji could say anything, Baiken rose to her feet, stating
that they couldn’t stay where they were any longer. Eri shuddered as she
remembered the corpse, slumped on the wall and bleeding not two feet away.

(Chisaki was slumped like that, bleeding in the street. She could still
scarcely believe it, sometimes, that a nightmare could be felled like that. She
still woke up at night, thinking he would appear over the edge of her bed, the
blood from the hole in his head staining the sheets.)

They snuck into the inn room they rented, grabbed what they could carry,
and left. Eri felt a bit bad about the inn staff since they hadn’t paid, but
keeping up with Anji and Baiken meant not having time to voice such concerns as
they hurried to the next village over under cover of darkness, for fear of more
assassins attacking them.

It also meant that there wasn’t any time to fix the large tear in her
kimono. Starting at the top of her right shoulder and running down the length
of the arm. And even if they had the time, the blood stains dotting the edges
ruined the precious, overly expensive silk.

She begged for that kimono, the pink flowers near the hem, and the blue crescent
moon on the back. It was so beautiful. It was the first thing she had ever
asked for since her rescue that wasn’t food, the first thing she had ever asked
for period.

And now it was a pile of cloth at her feet, a waste of money. And Baiken
still wouldn’t speak with her.

The wound on her shoulder sent a quick prick of pain through her arm,
Eri reaching up to rub it to try and alleviate the pain, with minimal success.

“Eri!” Anji called out suddenly, softly knocking twice on the
wooden screen dividing the small inn room between her and the other two, “May
I enter?” She looked up at the silhouette he cast on the screen to see he
was holding a small parcel and shaking it slightly, “I have a present for
you!”

“Um…” She mumbled, a
bit surprised and glancing between the screen and her kimono nervously before
she cleared her throat, “I-it’s okay! Come in!” Anji quietly moved
the screen, coming into view with a quiet smile and a brown parcel in his hands
as he calmly entered Eri’s side of the room.

She briefly caught sight of Baiken on the other side, back facing the
screen and completely still. She was not asleep. She did not look in Eri’s
direction.

Her shoulders slumped minutely, a pit digging into her gut.

A pat on her head brought her attention back to Anji, whose smile had
turned a bit sad, “Don’t mind her too much Eri, she just has…a lot on her
mind.”

Eri bit her lip and looked away, “She…hates me…”

“Nonsense,” Anji snapped gently, “of course she doesn’t
hate you Eri, she promised as much remember?”

She snapped her gaze to him, eye damp, “Then why won’t she look at
me?” She rubbed her eyes miserably, looking away again, “She hates me
because I’m a Gear…”

Anji was quiet for a second, before narrowing his eyes slightly,
“Eri…how much do you know about Gears?”

Eri sniffed for a moment, “Only what Chisaki told me…” She
didn’t see Anji clutching at the fabric of his pants at the mention of the
name, “A long time ago, Gears…killed a lot of people, and then the Holy
Order fought and killed all the Gears…they’re monsters…”

Anji’s eyebrows pinched, “Eri…”

“I’m a monster…” Eri wrapped her hands around her legs and
rested her head on her knees, “No wonder Baiken hates me…”

“Now you listen to me.” Anji stated, putting a hand on the top
of Eri’s head, “You are not a monster just because you’re a
Gear.” She lifted her head to look at him with tear filled eyes, “A
monster is someone who hurts people for no good reason, and for as far as I’ve
known you, you have never hurt anyone period.”

“But…” Eri hiccupped, “But, Chisaki said-”

“With respect to the dead, Chisaki apparently left a lot of details
out of what happened…” Anji scratched his chin for a moment,
“Though to be fair, generally speaking he told you the truth.” Anji
sat down next to Eri, folding his arms as he looked at her, “A long time
ago, Gears attacked the world, and hurt a lot of people in the process.”
He looked at the screen from the corner of his eye, pausing as if waiting for the
person on the other side to speak up, before looking back to Eri, “…Baiken
included.”

Eri’s eyes widened, turning her head quickly to look at the screen door,
as if expecting the samurai to open it at any moment. She then turned back to
Anji, one of her hands touching her face, “Is that how she lost-?”

“Yes.”

A light shuffling sound came from the other side of the screen, and then
nothing.

Eri was quiet for a moment, eyes still wider, “And her-?”

“Yes.” Anji nodded solemnly, a faraway look in his eye, “When
she was very young, Gears attacked her home, destroying it completely.” He
sighed, “She was one of the only survivors.”

A frown deepened on Eri’s face, “No wonder she won’t-”

“She spent a long time after that being…very angry,” He
interrupted, looking away, “Angry at everyone, and at everything.” A
sad smile rose on his face, “And she hurt a lot of people while she was at
it. Very badly too.”

Eri’s eyes grew wetter again, though for an altogether different reason.

“Eventually, Baiken grew past it…though not completely.” He
glanced at Eri’s bandages peeking out of the sleeve of her pajamas, “Some
wounds never really heal.”

Eri bit her lower lip, but said nothing.

“You being a Gear complicates things, no question…but Baiken isn’t
that single minded, not anymore.” He grinned and ruffled her hair,
laughing lightly, “give her some time, she has a lot on her mind to sort
out…but have faith, she’ll get there.”

Eri was quiet for a moment, before rubbing her eyes dry and nodding resolutely,
blushing mildly as Anji kept ruffling her hair.

“And another thing,” He said, mock seriousness lacing his tone
as he leaned down to stage whisper into her ear, “about this whole ‘Gears
are monsters’ business,” He grinned, mischievously, “I actually know
a few Gears that might change your mind about that.”

Eri’s eyes turned into dinner plates, disbelief etched on every feature,
“Really!?”

“Really.” He clapped his hands suddenly, grinning even wider,
“But! That’s for later! For now…” With a flourish he drew his
fans, did a few fanciful twirls accompanied by a faint swirl of blue ki, the
display capturing Eri’s attention completely. Putting one palm forward placing
the ceiling, he hid it by opening one fan and then, pausing briefly for effect,
he closed the fan to reveal the parcel he came in with, “Your present!”

Eri, caught up in Anji’s theatrics, was bouncing slightly in her seat,
the previous heavy thoughts drifting away slightly as she looked at her present
with shining eyes, carefully taking it from Anji’s outstretched palm.

She sat the parcel down on the floor between her and the pile of her
ruined dress, slowly opening the brown wrapping paper. She reached her hand
inside, and when she grabbed it and pulled it out a light red cloth followed.

It was a kimono, colored the same ruby hue of her eyes. Butterflies of a
blue shade swarmed the length of the sleeves and up to the pink blossoms on the
shoulders. A few more butterflies littered the hem with a lighter shade of
blue.

Eri’s eyes shined brighter and brighter with each inch of the kimono
that she pulled out of the wrapping paper.

“It’s a bit much I know.” Anji said humbly, a gentle smile on
his features, “But seeing you so bummed after last night made me want to
cheer you up!” He tapped his head with one of his fans with a goofy grin,
“And when I saw it in the store it reminded me of cute little you! So I
had to get it!”

Eri’s sniffed. Then sniffed again. Anji’s grin quickly fell into panic

“Eri?” He fretted around her, unsure of what to do with his
hands as she kept sniffling, “Are you okay? Do you not like it? I can give
it back just let me-”

“I love it.”

Anji stopped when Eri looked up, mouth wobbly and thin lines of tears trailing
down her cheeks, sighing with relief, “You’re welcome.”

Eri sniffed for a few more moments, Anji sitting across from her with a
calm smile and resting his head in his palm as he chuckled. Eri gave out a
mildly louder sob trying to calm down, and right on cue the screen slid open,
revealing Baiken in loose fitting pajamas, her hair flowing free around her
shoulders.

Her one eye giving out a rather mean and tired look to the other two
occupants of the room, who quickly quieted down in her presence, their faces
heating a bit from embarrassment.

“Do you two know what time it is?”

Anji and Eri exchanged a quick look, and Anji looked back at the samurai
with a nervous smile, “Late?”

“Very late, Anji.”

He visibly shrank and cowered at her calm glare, smiling wilting as he swallowed
the lump in his throat.

Baiken glanced at Eri specifically, her gaze softening noticeably when
she caught the wetness on her cheeks…and then went right back to unamused when
she saw the kimono in her grasp.

“Anji…”

“Yes dear?”

“Where did that kimono come from?”

Another audible gulp, “Well, I bought it, of course.”

She looked back at him, a curious look in her eye, “Oh? Did you
now?” She took a few steps closer to him, Anji sweating more and more with
every inch she overtook, “And with whose money did you buy it,
exactly?”

A moment of silence, “Mine, obviously.”

“And what exactly made it your money?”

“…the fact that I’m going to skip lunch for the next week?”

Anji and Baiken locked eyes for a few moments, Eri looking back and
forth between them in confusion. Eventually, Baiken sighed and rubbed her
forehead tiredly, “Fair enough.” She thrust her thumb behind her to
their shared futon, “Bed. Now.”

Anji got up with minimal ceremony and a quick bow, “Yes,
ma’am.” He left the room in two strides, leaving Baiken with Eri, who was
still clutching her new dress.

A few moments of awkward silence sank between the two, Baiken looking
away and clearing her throat.

“…how’s your shoulder?”

Eri rubbed her arm where newer bandages covered the wound from yesterday,
“It’s better…” Eri looked up at Baiken, the woman still looking away,
before lowering her gaze to her feet, “…I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“…don’t worry about it kid.”

Eri worried the cloth of her kimono between her fingers for a moment,
before getting to her feet and walking towards the futon with the folded gift
under her arm, her eyes trained on the floor the whole time. As she lifted up
the covers to lay down, she heard a frustrated sigh and a soft thump, looking
back to see Baiken resting her forehead on the side of the screen door.

“Bai-Miss Baiken-?”

“I’m not a good person, Eri.” She said, solemnly, her forehead
still pressed to the door, “never was, and chances are I never will
be.” She took a deep breath, and raised her head to look at the young girl
directly, eyes steady and serious, “But, when I make a promise? I always
keep it.”

Eri bit her lower lip, her eyes pricking at the edges.

“Do you understand?”

The girl nodded once, not trusting her voice.

“Good.” Baiken rubbed her forehead, watching Eri as she used
her sleeve to dry her eyes, catching sight of the red fabric again,
“Eri?” The girl looked up with a ruddy face, “…could you show me
the dress?”

Eri blinked a few times, before she blushed hard enough to glow and got
to her feet, grabbing the sleeves of her dress and spreading it over her form
above her sleepwear.

Baiken was quiet for a moment, eye roaming the designs on the cloth and
the vibrant red color, a soft smile gracing her usually hardened face, “Looks
good on ya kid, wear it tomorrow when we head out.”

The girl nodded rapidly, face still glowing red “Yes, thank you!
Miss Baiken!”

“Just Baiken is fine kid, I already told.” The samurai
rolled her eye, but the soft smile still rested on her face as she turned to
her side of the room, her hand grabbing the screen door in order to close it.

But before that she stopped, and looked back at Eri as she folded her
kimono and put aside before she crawled under the covers.

“…Good night, Eri.”

The screen door quietly slide closed, shutting with a feather soft thump
of wood and paper. The little girl bundled herself up in her blanket, and sunk
into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The wound on her shoulder, though still pulsing with quick moments of
pain, didn’t bother her at all.

(They left early in the morning. She had just barely enough time to get
dressed in her new clothes, taking Anji’s hand and grabbing Baiken’s pant leg
as they walked down the street.

She threw away her old kimono without a thought, determined to take
better care of this one.

Her shoulder stopped throbbing as she did, and soon she forgot about
it.)

Wounds (And how they heal)/part 1

(based on one of many lovely Eri-and-Baiken crossover prompts graciously sent to me by @mystech-master  😀 I swear I’m surrounded by enablers. It’s great.) Warning: Blood and violence, like a lot of it. 

It took Baiken a
second to notice. Which was odd, because Baiken had made it a point to notice
things as soon as possible, losing a limb made her cautious of her surroundings
and hyper vigilant of the people around her. Almost to the point of paranoia in
her younger days.

But still, it took Baiken a second to realize that the attack
she dodged, a massive set of hooked claws, wasn’t actually aimed at her. It
took her a second to realize that the assassin she was fighting, some gangling
spook with arms like a tree branch, was not trying to hit her.

That second was all it
took for the claws to reach into the hole she had Eri hide in when the freak
showed up, for the freak to look over her shoulder and brandish a wicked grin
as he felt his weapon catch on something and heard a sharp yelp of pain.

The willowy form of the assassin shuddered as a wet, coughing
laugh crawled out of his throat, “Found you~”

The laugh halted
abruptly as Baiken dug her knuckles into the side of his mouth. She could feel
the needles filling his jaw shatter with the impact, along with quick jabs of
pain as some of them embedded themselves into her flesh.

She barely noticed as
she ripped her fist out, several needles flying out with it, and grabbed the
limb holding the claws so she could yank them out of Eri’s hiding spot.

She held him by the wrist, and started to squeeze.

The willow laughed again, “So, the rumors were true…”
He stood up with no sign of discomfort, even as Baiken tightened her hold and
bones started to audibly crack under her fingers, “The lone samurai stole
from the yakuza…and such a precious thing indeed…” He grinned widely,
showing off the gaps in his teeth Baiken had given him, blood dripping from his
nose and gums, “The followers of the crow will pay me most handsomely
once I return it…”

A soft whimper sounded
from the hole behind her.

She flexed her
fingers, and the wrist in her grip caved in on itself like wet paper. She
savored the high pitched wail of pain for a few short moments before tugging on
the limb as hard as she could, lifting her right leg to kick the bastard in the
teeth when he got close enough.

Or at least, that was
the plan. 

It took Baiken a
second to notice, a second to see the long blades going right through her leg,
three hooked claws gleaming with her blood under the full moon. 

The assassin had twisted his arm in some grotesque way, and grinned at her with bloody teeth.

It took her a second
to notice, and when she did it was very hard to drag her attention away from
it.

“I heard stories of
you,” The willow muttered, voice tinged with pain and anger as he held his
claws deep in her inner thigh, “Stories of the woman with one arm and one
eye, who swore to  kill the Gear Maker…”

Baiken could feel the
sensation leaving her leg as blood flowed from the massive stab wounds, she
could feel the claws brushing up and scratching her bones every time she
twitched in barely contained pain.

“Heard of the woman who faced the leader of the Holy Order in
combat and drove him back,” He grinned again, beady eyes glaring at her as he
moved his tried to take back his other limb from her quickly loosening grip, “the
one who defied the Japanese containment, the one who fought the Witch and lived…”

Baiken’s mind raced to
try and find a way out, she needed to grab her sword, but as soon as she let go
of his wrist she would have a second, maybe two, before he lunged at her.

Darkness appeared at
the edges and started to spread, what little remained was blurry and
unfocused. 

She felt cold. 

It was hard to breath.

“I expected more.”

He yanked the blades
out, blood gushed out in a river, staining the stone road as it rushed from the
wound.

The pain robbed Baiken
of all of her plans, it drove her to her knees as she collapsed and let go of
the wrist she crushed, her hand the only thing keeping her upright as her
fingers dug into the stone for purchase.

“BAIKEN!”

Sounds of rushing and
scrambling footsteps reached her, she looked back to see Eri running towards
her and the assassin, cloths in disarray with a long gash going through the
left shoulder of her kimono, a thin stain of blood visible on the bottom of the
gash.

Eri begged Baiken up
and down for that raggedy thing; she said the pink flowers on the bottom of the
skirt looked pretty, that they reminded her of the samurai’s hair. 

Baiken felt her head
spin, and wanted to apologize for getting the dress ruined and promise to get
her another in the next town, but the pain made it hard to speak.

She bit down on her tongue and sharp focus stabbed into her mind
as he vision cleared up a little, “DON’T COME CLOSER!” Her bellow startled the girl
into a stuttered stop and made her head spin and her stomach lurch, she bit
harder on her tongue for focus, “AND GET BACK IN THE HOLE!”

“B-but!” Eri stammered, tears running down her
face, “Baiken you’re hurt!”

“I said BACK!” The look of fear this earned her made her
clench her teeth, “This isn’t your fight!”

.Eri’s face twisted
for a second before she shook her head and began walking forward once more,
this time with purpose, her eyes, wet but steady, trained on the willow, “Yes
it is.”     

The assassin, who contented himself with watch Baiken bleed,
sent a gap-toothed grin at Eri,”Finally decided to join us dear? Should have
done so sooner.” He looked at Baiken, still on her knees and bleeding and
glaring at him for all she was worth, “If you had, perhaps your friend wouldn’t
be in such a shameful state.”

Baiken clenched her teeth hard enough to hear a crack, pushing
herself to her feet and grabbing the hilt of her sword, “Rotten bastard…” Her
glare faltered as Eri walked passed her, only stopping to throw a pleading look
over her shoulder as she walked towards the willow, “Eri! What are you
doing!?”

“If I come with you,” Eri looked up at the lithe form
of the assassin, her shoulders set and fists clenched at her sides, “Will
you leave her alone?”

“ERI!”

The assassin chuckled and bent down to be eye level with the
girl, grin still stretching his face, “I give you my word dear, I will
leave your friend to bleed where she kneels.” He looked over her shoulder
at Baiken, his grin growing spiteful, “Hell, if she runs fast enough, she
might be able to find a doctor that can save her.” He glanced down at her
wounded leg, more teeth flashing as he observed the blood still rushing from
the three holes he carved in her thigh, “Though, he might need to get rid
of that leg,” he laughed heartily, “Oh well, nothing she isn’t used
to I’m sure!”

Baiken’s knuckles turned white as she tightened her grip on her
sword.

“Enough!” Eri shouted as she grabbed the fabric of his
pants, wiping the grin off his face as he suddenly glared down at her,
“Let’s just go back an-”

She stopped short as the assassin lifted his one unbroken arm,
the claws dripping with Baiken’s blood, and snarled at her, “Don’t you
talk back to me you brat-!”

It took him a second, a second to notice that Baiken had
suddenly appeared in front of him, her face a stone mask.

A second to recognize and absorb the sheer amount of hate
in her eyes.

A second to see her hand taking the sword out of its sheath.

That second was all Baiken needed.

In a single motion, she drew her sword, and ran the blade under
the pit of his healthy arm. The edge cut through flesh and bone as easily as
air, blood flying in an arc as the blade finished its upward motion.

The arm dropped on the ground, twitching uselessly for a few
moments before it laid still. Its former owner cried out in agony, stumbling
back as blood rushed out from his fresh stump.

”No one touches my kid.“

The growl stilled the assassin’s screams, his mouth open in a
gape of abject horror as he took in the sight of the Lone Samurai.

Bleeding heavily from the thigh, kimono torn and stained in
crimson, eye blazing in unrestrained and slightly delirious rage. Sword held in
a steady grip and the line of her mouth drawn tight.

Terror and indignation mixed and roiled around in his head, and
he launched into a desperate flail to try and strike her down, "You bitch-!”

Three flashes of moonlight, and his arm was a pile of segmented
meat on the cobblestone.

He scrambled backwards, pain driving him into a panic, until he
hit a wall and slid down, blood pooling around him as he let out a throaty
scream of pain.

A scream cut short by the tip of her blade sinking into his
throat. He made a few pathetic gurgles, his body convulsing, before one final twist
of the sword robbed him of whatever strength he had left.

His body went limp, and slumped to the side when Baiken yanked
her sword out.

Baiken breathed heavily for a few minutes, glaring down at the
mangled corpse of her enemy, the tip of her sword resting on the stone road by
her feet, blood slowly pooling around her.

Eri starred at her wide-eyed, slowly getting up from being
knocked down by Baiken before she killed the assassin, tears flowing free down
her cheeks, “Baiken?” She received no answer, the samurai continuing
to glare at the body of her enemy, “Baiken?” She tugged at the fabric
covering her legs, closing her eyes to try and stop the tears, “Baiken
p-please you’re, you’re hurt please we need to-”

“Promise me.”

Eri stopped short, looking up to see Baiken staring down at her,
her gaze gentle and frim, “Promise…promise what?”

Baiken bent down so she could put her hand on Eri’s shoulder and
look her straight in the eye, “Promise me that you will never throw
yourself away like that ever again.” She grabbed the girl’s
shoulder firmly and shook her a bit, “For anyone, not me,
not Anji, not anything do you understand?”

Eri hiccupped, “Why?”

Baiken sighed and put her hand on the top of Eri’s head,
“Because you are worth more than that, you deserve better than to
just be a sacrificial lamb for people to use and throw away, you deserve to
live.” She offered a weak smile as she wiped some tears away with her
thumb, “Alright?”

A few sobs climbed out of Eri’s throat, but with some effort,
she managed a few firm nods of her head, her eyes still teary.

Baiken offered a tiny smile, “Good,” She muttered
weakly, her body listing to one side, “That’s-that’s good…” Baiken’s
eye rolled into the back of her head, and she collapsed on her side, unmoving.

“BAIKEN!” Eri screeched and started to tug on
Baiken’s kimono, tears flowing rapidly down her cheeks, “Please don’t
die! Please! Stay awake! PLEASE!” She managed to roll her onto her
back, holding her face between her small hands, “Please….”

Baiken visibly struggled to open her eye, her face pale and
drawn as she tried to make an encouraging smile, “It…okay kid.” She
somehow managed to lift her hand to put the girl’s wet cheek in her palm,
“This…has been a long time coming…the way I’ve been living…I’ve been
expecting this…I-”

“NO!” Eri shook her head vigorously,
frowning and glaring down at the dying samurai, “How come I have to
promise not to throw my life away, and then you turn around to do the same! Its
not fair! You shouldn’t have to die either!”

The girl’s tears fell on Baiken’s face, the samurai’s smile
falling slightly, “Everyone dies Eri…” She looked straight up into
the night sky, her voice calm, “Everyone has their time, eventually…”

“Bu-but…” Eri sniffed miserably, “This
happened-this happened because I-”

“You hid because I told you too.” Baiken barked,
flinching from the strain, “There was nothing you could have done,”
She gestured with her head to the wound, “that happened because I
let my guard down.”

“But-!”

“And you can’t do anything to save me,” She continued
with a brief shake of her head, “So, unless you have some healing magic up
your sleeve…this is it for me.” She chuckled, “Try and not take
advantage of Anji alright? You know how much…he likes to spoil you…”

Eri mumbled in a panic, shaking her head, looking around for
anyone who might help as Baiken grew paler and her breathing became shallow,
tears falling all the while.

All of a sudden, she stopped, her hands flying to her horn, and
her eyes widening in realization. Her gaze snapped to Baiken’s bleeding leg,
before her face scrunched up in determination and she rushed to it, placing her
hands on the gaping wounds.

Baiken flinched slightly from the contact, although the pain was
fading into numbness at this point, and tried to see what Eri was doing,
“Kid? The hell are you-” She stopped when Eri’s horn began to glow,
streaks of color firing off from the tip, “…Eri?”

“Please don’t hate me.”

Baiken was stumped by the sudden whisper, barely heard from the
low pitched whistling emitting from her horn, “I could never-why would
you-”

Whatever Baiken was about to say was swallowed by a sudden explosion
of light from Eri’s horn, her vision filled to the brim with blinding white, as
the pain of her leg spiked…before gradually fading away.

 ———————-

Dodge to the right, kick out knee, slash neck.

Dodge left, break rib, slash neck.

Right, elbow, neck.

Again. And again.

The motions blurred together in Anji’s mind as he danced among
his opponents, barely having enough time to breath after he felled an enemy
before another took his place.

The assassins struck while the three of them where heading back
to their inn after eating at a restaurant, Baiken’s and Anji’s reflexes dulled
and sluggish from the long day and big meal.

They were twenty in all, with one tall, gangly, and infamous
leader at the front.

They separated in the chaos, the group focusing their attention
on the dancer, while the leader rushed off to deal with Baiken and retrieve Eri
himself, the willowy bastard vanished into the alleyways as he ran off,
cackling all the way.

Anji had been fighting for about 10 minutes at this point, and
he had not seen either Baiken or the leader since. Worry gnawed at the back of
his mind as he fought a niggling feeling of dread as the minutes dragged on and
no news of a victor came.

He had full confidence in Baiken’s abilities, but The Phantom
was no ordinary hired killer. World class, hired and lauded for his success rate
and brutality. Baiken was tired and fighting with a full stomach, not to
mention protecting Eri.

The Phantom was no doubt planning to exploit this from the
start.

One of the assassins managed a glancing blow to Anji’s arm,
ripping him away from his musings, and dragging a frustrated growl from his
throat, “That’s it!”

Pushing Ki through his limbs, Anji’s fan grew in size, and with
a swift strike he sliced the assassin clean in half. Turning around he threw
two fans infused with his blue tinged Ki at the other assassins, catching them
in the throat.

Another deliberate flexing of his Ki, and the fans exploded,
catching the reminder of the group.

Anji stood in the middle of the carnage, breathing heavily as he
whipped his head back and forth to catch any survivors, finding none.

He stood for another minute, before his eyes widened,
“Baiken…ERI!” He ran in the general direction he barely
remembered the two ran off to when this whole mess started, yelling out their
names as he did, hoping against hope he wasn’t too late.

All of a sudden, a bright light filled up a back street a few
blocks from where he was, and for lack of any better idea he ran towards it at
full tilt, his mind racing with what he would find and if Baiken and Eri were
still okay.

When he turned the final corner, and was rewarded with the sight
of The Phantom’s mangled body slumped on a wall, and Eri and Baiken sitting
down a bit away, seemingly without a scratch on them, he felt a bit silly.

He slumped onto a nearby wall with a dramatic sigh, “Here I
was, worrying myself sick over you two!” He shouted, catching the
attention of his two girls, “And here you are, right as rain!” He
couldn’t help the breathless laugh and foolish grin that came as he said it,
damn near giddy as he was with relief.

He pushed himself off the wall and walked over to the two,
taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes, “I don’t know about you, but
I want nothing more than to go to the inn and sleep for the next two days
straight.” He looked between the two of them, “Any injuries we need
to take care of?”

Baiken nodded after a moment before pointing a thumb at Eri,
“Her shoulder might need a bandage or two.”

Eri shook her head while holding her injured arm, “m’okay.”
She mumbled under her breath, refusing to meet either of their gazes.

Anji raised an eyebrow, kneeling to be eye level with her,
“Eri, if you got cut the wound could get infected, at least let us take a
look at it at the inn?” Eri stayed obstinate, quietly looking away from
Anji and flinching away from his attempts to put a hand on her shoulder.

Anji blinked before sighing and looking at Baiken who was,
strangely enough, completely unharmed.

Anji blinked again, starring dumbly at the oddly quiet samurai,
before she growled and glared at him, “What?”

“You’re not hurt.”

“And why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?”

Anji put up his hands in surrender, “No, of course not, you
being unharmed is very good but…you just fought the Phantom.”
He gestured towards the body of what was no too long ago a world-class hired
killer, “Winning is fine, but without a scratch?” He chuckled
good naturedly, “I mean, color me impressed, is all. Did you use some
trick or-”

“Not without a scratch.”

Anji was quiet for a second, something in Baiken’s tone giving
him pause, “…excuse me?”

“I didn’t beat him
without a scratch,” She slapped her thigh, “He stabbed me right here,
right through the leg, damn near bled out before finishing him off.”

Anji blinked once. Twice. On the third he put his glasses back
on and squinted at Baiken’s very visibly uninjured leg, “I must
need to change my prescription, because your leg looks fine…” He grinned
mildly as he starred at the muscled thigh for a second longer than he needed,
before giving a thumb up, “Very fine indeed.”

She smacked him upside the head, “I’m serious Anji, I damn
near died on these fucking cobblestones.”

He rubbed his head while pointing at Eri, “Language
dear.”

She scoffed again, “Yeah whatever, point is I beat him but
was bleeding out…and then,” She turned to look at Eri’s back, “She
saved me.”

Eri’s shoulder tensed a bit before relaxing as she turned to
look at them at last.

Anji scratched his head as he looked between Baiken and the pool
of, mostly dried, blood around them, “So…she knows healing magic?” He
turned to Eri with a smile, “Good on you Eri! Always knew there was
something special about you!”

“Not healing magic.”

Anji stopped short, “Pardon?”

“Look at my leg again,” She glared at him when a grin
started to crawl up his face, “seriously damn it, look at here on
my thigh, see any marks?” She pointed at her inner thigh, and indeed,
there wasn’t a single mark on her flesh, “Does it look like I ever got
injured in the first place?”

Anji’s brain processed the information. He knows how healing
magic works, had it done on himself in fact. All that healing magic really does
was speed up the natural regeneration of the body; bones knitting together,
blood clots covering scrapes, and flesh fusing back after grievous injury.

All these things left a mark on the body, especially grave
wounds left scars, even if healed properly.

But Baiken’s leg was completely unmarred by scars. Well. By any new
scars anyway.

And then there was all the blood that Baiken apparently
lost. Healing magic doesn’t restore blood loss, if Baiken’s injury was as bad
as she made it sound, she should be pale as a ghost and rushed to a hospital.

And yet her skin was tan and healthy, her lips a healthy pink
color and not a deathly blue, and her one eye not glazed over but glaring accurately
at him because he was, again, starring at her leg for longer than he needed to.

Drawing his head back to escape Baiken’s swipe, Anji put all
this information together and came to a clear conclusion.

Eri didn’t heal Baiken’s wound.

Eri, somehow, made it so Baiken’s wound never happened in the
first place.

The implications made his head spin and his heart sink to his
gut. Rewriting events so they never happened was never a good thing, a
certain witch and a man with scythes on chains came to mind. And with thoughts
of them came thoughts of That Man, and thoughts like that
never ended well.

Especially when Baiken was concerned.

Turning his head to Eri, and already fearing he knew the answer,
he asked, “Eri…how did you do this?”

Eri took a deep breath, apparently to steel herself,
before turning to them fully, sitting down on her knees and starring down at
the blood stained cobblestones.

“Eri,” Baiken whispered quietly, “I won’t hate
you, I promise.”

The soft tone Baiken used caused affection to build up in Anji’s
chest, but he kept his gaze on Eri, “And neither will I, ever.”

Eri took another breath, before raising her head to meet their
gaze.

“I’m a Gear.”

(They never returned to the inn that night, though they did
leave a note with the money they owed at the counter.

A kimono store found one of its extra small dresses missing,
though it too had money for it on the rack.)  

weird crossover prompt Idea: Baiken’s rage crumbling before the adorableness that is Eri.

(my daughter and my wife??? what a concept….)

—-

(warning: lots of blood and mentions of grievous injuries) 

Anji was always quick to take in a situation, no matter how odd or seemingly overwhelming it might first appear.

Going from place to place mostly on foot looking for criminals to either apprehend for money or discuss safe passage required that he make snap decisions based on the reality of whatever predicament he found himself in.

Whenever he was at a loss, the first thing he always did was ascertain the facts.

The facts of this particular situation being that Baiken was currently sitting down while holding onto a sobbing child with her one arm, and her sword was lodged firmly between the eyeballs of someone with a bird like mask strapped to his face.

The man was also missing both arms, though Anji couldn’t really bring himself to look around for them.

Anji didn’t say a word as he surveyed the area, his mind itching to jump to all sorts of wild conclusions, both about the man and why Baiken might want to kill him, but he refrained, instead choosing to focus on the other person of interest in this matter.

For what he could see of the girl as she sobbed into the front of Baiken’s kimono, she was very young, perhaps six or seven at the oldest. She had ivory white hair, and was dressed in looked to be a hospital gown.

The most interesting thing however, was the single slightly stubby horn sticking out of her forehead.The sight of it throw him for another loop, the possibility she might be some kind of Gear (and goodness would that complicate matters if that was true and Baiken was not aware of that) swirled in his head for a moment, before he took a deep breath and focused his eyes on Baiken once more.

Her hair was a mess, falling around her face and partially obscuring the crying girl. Her clothes were heavily stained in blood and ripped, a few deep cuts around her arms and legs showing through the gaps.

Her eye-patch was missing, another shallow cut going through her forehead and spilling blood over the much older scar.

Her face was calm and measured, her eye focused squarely on the top of the girls head as her arm traced slow and deliberate circles on her back, the girl’s loud sobbing gradually slowing.

Soon the girl fell silent and the death grip she held on Baiken grew slack and her hand fell down to her side without a sound. Amidst the now quiet breathing of the girl a few more scant sniffles and hiccups sounded before all was silent.

Baiken let out a slow breath and raised her head to look at him, the first time she had acknowledged him since he showed up.

Anji thought very carefully for a few moments, knowing he can only ask a few questions before they would need to get as far away from the fresh and bleeding corpse as possible, clearing his throat.

“Baiken, who was that man?”

He pointed behind her to the corpse, the sun glinting off the blade stuck in his skull.

“A bastard.”

She answered quietly and calmly, her gaze firmly on Anji and without a hint of glancing back at the aforementioned dead man.

“….Why did you kill him?”

Her eye narrowed and stabbed through him, but her voice remained calm, “Didn’t you hear me? He was a bastard.”

He didn’t flinch from her glare, and on his tongue the possibility to mention the dozens of other bastards that Baiken had met and not killed rested, but he chocked it down.

“How did you know he was a bastard?” Was what he inquired instead, voice level, “since, unless I’m forgetting something, this is the first time either of us had ever met him.”

She glared at him for another half second, before she sighed and began raising to her feet, her arm curling around the little girl in her lap, “She told me.”

Anji couldn’t help the scoff that rose from his throat, “A little girl told you that someone was a bastard?”

Baiken adjusted her hold before she walked, well limped more like, towards Anji, stopping when she reached him ,”She didn’t need to.” And then, with more gentleness than Anji has ever seen her employ, she deposited the girl in his arms. Anji adjusted his arms to cradle the child on reflex.

A bit bewildered Anji glanced at the girl in his arms, noticing the massive amount of bandages wrapped around her limbs for the first time, the raggedy state of her clothes, and the ashy texture of her pale skin for the first time.

He looked back at Baiken, she stared right into his eyes, the shadows of the alleyway bringing the scar on her left eye into relief. She was waiting, daring him to object to whatever she was planning to do.

Instead, he sighed, and offered a smile, “Alright…who is she then?”

Her glare softened considerably before she looked down at the girl, her hand reaching up to move a few stray white hair from her face, “Eri.” She lowered her hand and turned on her heel, walking towards her dead opponent.

He threw a tired smile at her back as she walked, chuckling a little, “Right, so then, what do you think we should do with little miss Eri?”

She reached her sword and grabbed it, “Get her as far away from her as we can first off,” She intoned blandly, tugging at her sword to try and get it out of the skull of her enemy, “Then we feed her, bath her-shit it’s stuck-and put her in some clean clothes.”

Anji turned himself away from the gruesome sight of Baiken trying to get her sword out, keeping his eye on her while he made sure Eri would not witness it, “And after that? What?”

With a growl of frustration, Baiken stomped on her opponent’s face for leverage, crushing the bird mask in the process, and with one last yank finally retrieved her sword with a load squelching sound.

Anji discreetly removed his palms from Eri’s ears.

Baiken huffed as she wiped her sword on the legs of her kimono, staining what little white was still left, “Ask me in the morning.” She sheathed the katana and walked away from the body, her boots splashing slightly as she stepped on a few errant puddles, “For now we need to move.”

She walked passed him, only sparing half a second to give a quick glance at the sleeping Eri, and he followed a few steps behind, trailing her as she choose the most out of sight route out of the city.

He looked down at the girl and smirked, “Who knew? You actually had some maternal instincts after all.”

“Shove it up your ass.”

He clicked his tongue, “Now now, if Eri is going to accompany us, you will need to watch your language a bit more dear.”

She scoffed and shook her head, but said nothing.

(Kai Chisaki would be found a few hours later, a quick investigation is conducted but soon grows cold for lack of any leads. A few sightings of Eri would be reported over the following months, accompanied by two people dressed in long kimonos.

A samurai in white and black, and a dancer in blue. Eri herself would be dressed in salmon colors, a short dagger and fan tied to her hip.) 

Swipes of Sword and Fan 8

after a bit of a break, here’s another slightly longer one! 😀

Word count: 1384

Chapter 8: Shoes and Pity.

Baiken
can tie her own shoelaces.

That
sentence by itself may not make that ability sound very momentous, and Baiken
would be inclined to agree. But when one takes into account that Baiken lost an
arm when she was about seven years old, and that the arm she had left (pun not
intended dammit) wasn’t even her good one, might make it sound a mite
more impressive. (If you heard it from Anji anyway, but Baiken doesn’t put much
stock into biased opinions.)

Point
is, Baiken can tie her own shoelaces. It took a few years of walking around in
wooden sandals, lots of bullheaded stubbornness and refusal to try zippers
while she practiced, but she could do it just fine.

It
takes her a bit longer, but she compensates by getting up a bit earlier than
everyone else does. The fact that her footwear these days were a pair of one
lace boots that only went half way up her calf also helped.

They
provided good enough protection to her feet both when walking and in combat,
they were less likely to be knocked off in a fight as well, and she could lace
them up with one hand in about a minute each.

At
least, that was the standard.

Baiken’s
shaking fingers were making it a bit more difficult than she was used to.

Her
and Anji were having a bit of a slump lately, apparently their reputation had
spread far ahead of them and most petty criminals, on which they made their
living, went deep underground, thus depriving the two of them of any income.

Less
money, which meant less food.

Baiken
was fine with that, she once went a whole two months without any fresh food,
she went through worse, through infinitely worse, she can stand to not
eat for a few weeks.

Now
if only her fingers would stop trembling.

“…Are
you alright Baiken?”

She
stops, doesn’t move an inch, before he shoulders sag with a sigh, “You’re
up a bit early.”

“Your
cursing woke me up.”

She
clicks her tongue and goes back to trying to tie her shoe, not looking in
Anji’s direction, “You better not be expecting an apology.”

He
chuckles, she can imagine him rubbing his eyes, “An apology? From
you?” He laughs a bit louder, she can picture the stupid grin on his face
that goes with it, “I would never dream of insulting you like that.”

She
clicks her tongue again, too busy with her unlaced boot to continue their early
morning back and forth, a few more muttered curses grinding out between her
teeth, the sound of Anji getting up and putting on his kimono serving as white
noise.

“…do
you need help?”

“No.”

The
answer is sharp and quick, as automatic as the beat of her heart. Help was a
thing other people needed, help was a thing Baiken offered when
it suited her, she went her whole damn life without any damn help.

Anji,
bless him (damn him), did not even flinch, his voice level and polite,
“Your fingers are shaking.”

“Thank you for the observation.” She
was growling at this point, a desire to use her teeth to assist her fingers
pushing on the back of her nose. “Get dressed, we’re moving to the next
town.”

“I
am dressed,” He says, and she whips her head towards him to see
that he speaks the truth, he even did up his top and put his shoes on, which
she thinks is just adding insult to injury at this point, “I am only
waiting on you.”

She
grinds her teeth and glares at him, grabbing her shoe and lifting it over her
head, “Well sorry for only having one fucking arm!”

She
throws the shoe; it passes next to his cheek and hits the wall. It flops down
to the ground with a pathetic thump of leather on concrete.

They
stare at each other for a bit, Baiken huffing for a moment before her actions
catch up with her and she slams her palm against her forehead.

Anji’s
eyes are soft (not with pity never with pity never Anji) and he
offers a small smile, “I apologize if I offended you.”

She
shakes her head, “No, no don’t I-” She lets out a harsh breath,
“I shouldn’t have done that, shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

She
hazards another glance at him, he doesn’t judge her when her eye meets his
gaze, only waiting for her to continue.

“I
fought Gears for decades,” she started to mutter, barely loud
enough to hear, “killing them for decades, I travelled the whole
world and back going against all sorts of freaks and monsters,” she
growls, “I went toe to toe against that crazy witch and won, I
should be able to tie my own damn shoelaces.”

“You
can tie your own shoelaces.”

Her
voice sounds petulant to her own ears as she barks, “Yeah, until now apparently.”

Anji
sighs long-sufferingly and looks at her shoe slumped against the wall, before
turning back to her with a tired gaze, “Just let me help.”

She
looks away with a twisting scowl, reaching out her hand impatiently, “you
can help by getting me my damn shoe so I can tie it.”

“Baiken…”

“It’s
three miles of gravel road between here and the next town and it rained
yesterday,” she looks at him from the corner of her eye, “You’re not
going to force me to walk on a muddy gravel road barefoot are you?”

“Are you willing to walk on a muddy
gravel road barefoot?”

She snaps her head to look at him wide eyed
her jaw hanging a bit loose, “You’re not fucking serious.”

Anji only raised a single eyebrow and
waited.

“Anji for the love of-”

“There’s no shame in it.” He says
quietly, stopping her mid growl, “No shame in asking me
for help, you know that right?”

Despite herself, her face heats up
marginally, she looks down on the ground as she scratched the back of her head,
at a loss for what to do.

Finally she throw her hand up in defeat,
“Too damn early to argue…” She looks away and waves her hand dismissively,
“Just…do whatever you want.”

A moment passes, she hears him walk towards
her and kneel down on the floor next to her feet, she one more looks at him
from the corner of her eye as he grabs her right foot and helps it into the
shoe.

He handles her like an ancient blade, sharp
and priceless.

“You
know how to lace it?”

“I’ve
seen you do it enough times.”

“Hmm.”

His
hands grab the edge of the lace, working it through the holes going up the
front to close it. She sees both sets of fingers hard at work, one holding
things in place while the other moves the string.

“You
can do it with one arm you know.”

“You
can do it with one hand,” he says pleasantly, his eyes focused on his
task, “I need to use both.”

Her
face heats up and an urge to argue the point raises in her chest, but she
brushes it aside with a sigh, letting Anji grab her second shoe and help her
put it on.

Five
minutes later, she’s standing and moving rolling her feet back and forth,
testing the tie.

“So?
How is it?”

She
wiggles her left foot slightly, making the sole shift a bit, “This one’s
loose.”

Kneeling,
a sound of string moving across leather, a feeling of mild tightness around her
calf.

He
looks up, “Better?”

She
tries not to think of how this position, kneeling and looking up, makes him seem,
tries to push the sound of certain words out of her head at the look he gives
her, kind, faithful and adoring.

She
shrugs noncommittally and starts for the door with an unhurried step, knowing
Anji will stand back up and follow her without needing to look, “It’s
fine.”

The
grin he throws at the back of her head is another thing she doesn’t need to
see.

(A
few days later they get drunk and Baiken tells him, unprovoked, to never kiss
her feet. Despite her disposition, she isn’t into it.

He solemnly
promises to only to do so metaphorically.)

Swipes of Sword and Fan 7

shortest one so far, but I still like it 😛

Word count: 701

Chapter 7: Money and Honor

“Is it just me, or are these guys weaker than the bounty would have us believe?”

Anji takes half a step right, not looking in the direction of the angry looking bandit attacking him as his rusty mace rushed past his head and lands harmlessly in a wall.

“What do you expect? Villagers are super jumpy in this part of the colonies; every little band of thieves might as well be a vicious band of marauders.”

Baiken said all this as she used her sword to block the mad swings of a battle axe being wielded by a another bandit twice her height, her arm moving the blade a few inches every time to masterfully deflect each blow as it raced towards her.

“But at this rate if we actually charge full price for these guys, I’ll feel bad for a whole week.”

Anji took another half step to dodge a frankly embarrassing punch from his would be opponent, using a closed fan to strike at his neck, and grabbing the soon limp body and placing it gently on the ground all in one motion.

“Feel bad then, it’s their money to throw away, who are we to judge?”

Baiken sliced the battle-axe into a clutter of metal shards, twisting her right shoulder to shoot out her club. The metal hit her opponent on the side of the jaw, and several teeth flew out as his head snapped aside. She turned away as the body hit the ground with a loud thud to face two more bandits, both of them shaking in their boots.

“So we just preform high way robbery on these people? Have you no honor?”

Anji twisted his body this way and that in and out of three attackers, fluidly blocking, parrying and striking back in a manner more akin to a dance than fighting. He stops with a flourish of fans, his enemies falling to their knees with pained moans, their bodies covered in bruises.

“Honor and two mon might buy you a half decent cup of tea Anji, we can’t afford to be generous, not if we want to keep ourselves fed.”

Baiken slowly sheathed her katana, gazing directly at the last bandit, his forehead pressed to the floor as he muttered pathetic pleas for mercy surrounded by the three dozen beaten bodies of his allies.

Anji didn’t reply, tapping his chin with the tip of a closed fan as the bandits groaned in pain around them. He hummed in thought for a few moments, absentmindedly kicking a bandit that tried to reach for a knife between the ribs, before turning to face Baiken properly, “Why don’t we help with the repairs to the village? If we undo the damage these criminals caused, the villagers would get their money’s worth!”

Baiken scowled at him for a long second, “You’re not letting this go, are you?”

Anji shrugged with a light smile.

Baiken groaned, “Fine, if it’ll stop you from hounding me about this for the next month,” She pointed a finger at him with a snarl when he opened his mouth, “And don’t pretend like you wouldn’t!” Anji wisely decided to keep quiet. “Then fine.” She scoffed with a shake of her head, “Never pegged you for a bleeding heart.”

“I’m not, I just have this thing about earning my pay.”

Baiken clicked her tongue, “Well if that’s your problem, you can earn your pay by carrying these losers back to the village.” She kicked the pleading bandit in the head without looking at him, raising her eyebrow at her companion. “I’m not throwing my back for this job any more than I have to.”

Anji grinned, and with a flick of his wrist the fan in his hand grow to a considerable size and floated in mid-air.

“….Cheating bastard.”

(They did end up helping to fix the village, and the sight of Baiken on a roof with a hammer in her hand and nails in her teeth as she put roof tiles back in place was an image he would treasure for a long while.

The look she had while throwing the hammer at his head when she noticed him staring, a bit less so.)

Swipes of Sword and Fan 6

I decided that every third drabble of this “collection” will be at least a little angsty. Keep that in mind ;P

Chapter 6: Fire and Grass

The
world is burning.  

The
sky above her head is glowing red and the ground under her feet is naught but
dark soot and ash. She is on her knees, her weapons strewn around her in disarray,
bent, broken, and useless. All she can do is lay there, lay there and
look up into the pitiless eyes of her enemy.

It
is tall, large enough to reach out a hand and crush the sun in its grip. It
could be ripping the world in two, but instead it focuses its attention on her,
this ant at its feet that thought steel and gunpowder could cut down a god.

The
rage and hatred in her heart refuse to let her cower, they light a fire as
intense as to dwarf the blaze around her. She glares with all her might at the
monster, gritting her teeth and clenching her only fist.

On
the head of the monster stand a man-no a coward-and with a wave of his
hand the monster-his monster-moves.

Gleaming
and flawless white and blue armor lurches forward, blood red mane swings in the
gale brought on by the inferno.

A monstrous
limb the size of house rises, and begins to descend upon her, the air whistling
as it rushes aside.

Suddenly,
her clenched hand is not empty, instead in her palm lays a broken wooden fan,
blood and burn marks cover what is left.

The
hand is close. The descent is slow, what should have been a second stretches
long just before it reaches her.

She
closes her eye.

She
is awake.

She
is on her back, her head propped up on something soft. Her back tickled by a
multitude of grass blade. A moment later and her mind snaps awake completely.

They
are in a village, a modest place where farmers spend their days tending to corn
and rice. They reached this place in the early morning when Anji suggested they
stop and rest.  

They picked, or rather, Anji picked and
dragged her, a large grassy hill half a mile off from the village proper. He
promptly sat down on his knees, opened up his parasol for shade, and patted his
lap for her to lay her head.

She
sent him a glare that could have cut through concrete, judging by how Anji
flinched.

But
still he insisted, saying that she didn’t have enough sleep and that he didn’t
have enough time to meditate, and that this suggestion of his was perfect for
both. Tired and unwilling to spend energy to argue for an inn, she relented.

Looking
up, Anji’s face is serene and unflinching. The same as it was when she first laid
her head down and right before the exhaustion she didn’t knew she had dragged
her under. She knew that she didn’t jolt awake from her nightmare, all she did
was snap her eye open and stared straight up, right into a clear blue sky.

Still,
her heart thundered in her chest, her breathing shallow and quick. Her eye
darted this way and that, unsure of her own mind, thinking that this vision of
peace before her to be a trick of a dying spirit trying to comfort itself
before the end.

A
hand threaded through the hair at the crown of her head, the long pink strands free
from her usual ponytail. The motion is slow, gentle and familiar. Slowly, she
turns her one eye to gaze at Anji again, seeing him peering down through half
lidded eyes.

She
is confused by his lack of glasses for a moment, before she remembers he took
them off to lay them by her feet along with her eyepatch.

Anji
continues his ministrations for a short while, Baiken’s breathing slowly
winding down as her heartbeat evens out. She closes her eye again and takes a
breath, “How long has Justice been dead?”

“Eight
years.”

“Where
are we?”

“China,
about 30 miles from the Vietnamese border.”

She
stops; a flock of sparrow passes overhead, a dozen small shadows racing past.

“Is
this a dream?”

“No.”
He places a hand on her cheek, moving a finger over the long scar going through
her eye, “Do you want to go back to sleep?”

She
leans into his palm for a moment, breathes him in, “What time is it?”

Anji
looks up at the sun, tilting his head in thought, “About 1 in the
afternoon, I’d say.”

She
nods, and turns her head so her nose buries itself in the cloth covering his
midsection, “Wake me in two hours, we still have ground to cover.”

He
chuckles gently, “Alright.”

His
hand stays on her head, slowly and gently moving through her hair, and then he
starts singing. It is an old song, older than the both of them put together,
older than all of this, and she focuses her mind on the soft notes and nostalgic
lyrics as her mind once more drifts off.

(She
dreams of an endless stretch of grass, where she lays her head in his lap as he
sings for her. Around her the world flows between green and blue and white.
There are no Gears to slay, no coward to hunt. They are safe.

The smile this pulls from her later scares her infinitely
more than the monster.)  

Swipes of Sword and Fan 5

First one of these to be over 1k words long (which is about as long as they’ll get, give or take) Also, what drabble collection would be complete without a jealousy story? 😉

Word count: 1302

Chapter 5: Clouds and Jealousy 

Anji
may not be the biggest fan of heights, nor did he have much love for the
methods of traveling that involved being very (very very oh dear loving Buddha)
high up in the air, nor was he a fan of the air ship he was currently on. (The
various crude drawings of aquatic life on most of the walls and hull was tacky
at best)

At the very least, he could appreciate the
view. White clouds stretched far and wide in every direction, racing past as
the ship soared through the sky in the direction of llyria, he and Baiken
having been invited by the first king Ky Kisuke for a report on the colonies,
the ground a rushing smear of brown and green far (far far)
below.

In
the interest of not wasting the generous meal the crew of the
“Mayship” prepared for Baiken and himself, Anji extracted himself
from the window and began walking back to the dinner hall.

As
much as he would rather jump off this godforsaken hunk of metal and become a little
stain on the jagged rocks below then go back to the sight of the captain
flirting with Baiken.

He
respected Johnny well enough, both for his actions in support of the colonies
and his strength he displayed in the whole “Valentine” fiasco, but if
he saw the man looking at Baiken with that smirk  (especially when looking there when
Baiken looked away) for one minute more he was going to take the man’s
sunglasses and shove them down his throat.

(The
lone samurai was rubbing off on him; if she ever found out, she would never let
it go.)

He
stopped outside the door to take a deep, centered breath before he entered, his
face a polite display of calm. A display that faltered for a quick second when
he caught sight of Baiken laughing gruffly at something or other that the esteemed
and venerable captain of the Mayship said.

Anji
walked around the room, the corner of his eye always on the two seated
together, and his steps probably a mite louder then was strictly necessary,
which had the side effect of catching the attention of one of the pirate crew
who was cleaning the tables, “Oh! Hey Mr. Mito! Need anything?”

Johnny
and Baiken looked in his direction, the pirate with a carefree smile and the
samurai with a raised brow. Anji hesitated for a moment before giving the
younger girl a polite smile, “Oh no, I’m alright dear I’m just,” He
glanced at the two again, noticing that the captain’s shaded eyes dipped a bit
lower than they should; “I’m just…walking around.”

“You
sure? I could get Leap to cook something special for you-”

“Sephy!”
Johnny scolded lightly, “Don’t bother him, Anji’s a grown man, he can take
care of himself just fine until we land in Ilyria,” A kind smile was
directed his way, “Right?”

The
captain’s tone was jovial and joking, not patronizing or malicious in anyway
and yet Anji found himself suppressing the urge to grind his teeth, “Of
course Mr. Sfondy,” He forced a grin on his face, “Which reminds me!
How soon will we land?”

“Heh,
still a bit sky sick huh?” Johnny intoned with a friendly smile that made
Anji want to punch him, “We’ll dock in about 4 hours or so, don’t
worry.”

“Good,”
Anji muttered tightly, the polite smile on his face not quiet reached the rim
of his glasses, “I will retreat to my quarters than, if it’s all the same
to you.”

Johnny
shrugged easily, “Suit yourself my man.”

“I
will.”

As
soon as he stepped out into the hallway, he began stomping in earnest, his mind
whirling at the memory of Baiken eating, drinking, laughing, and smiling
with that self-important Robin Hood wannabe of a pirate. She had shown
reluctance about boarding his ship, chiefly because of the captain’s history of
flirting (Anji had to commend his courage if nothing else) with her.

He
had foolishly pointed out that going by ship was the fastest way to Ilyria, and
now he had wished he had not and walked the damn way instead.

He
needed a drink.

“Anji!”

He
stopped mid angry stride to look behind him, the sight of Baiken resolutely
stomping her way to him with a supremely annoyed look on her face making him
gulp despite his mounting frustration.

She
walked until she stood at his side, placing Anji between herself and the wall, effectively
trapping him, “Alright,” She started without bothering to hide her
displeasure. “What crawled up your ass and took a great big shit?”

He smiled;
her blunt statement making it a bit warmer then Anji thought would be possible,
it still did not reach his eyes, “I assure you Baiken, I am perfectly
fine.”

“Oh
really?” She said, utterly unconvinced, “Because last I checked, your
eyes weren’t that green.”

Anji
opened his mouth to refute further, but his jaw snapped shut when Baiken shot
him a look, a look that roughly translated to ’for the love God don’t
bullshit me’, so he sighed and decided to cut to the chase, “I think
you…understated Mr. Sfondi’s…affection for you.”

Baiken
didn’t look surprised, having apparently figured that out herself on the way
(Anji guessed as much), but her glare did soften a bit as she sighed. She
looked up, right into his eyes, “What are you?”

Anji
blinked in confusion, “What are you-”

“You
seemed to have forgotten what you are.” She continued, as if he didn’t
speak, she reached her hand up to catch the back of his neck, bringing him down
to her level, “Let me remind you.”

Their
lips met, soft at first, before quickly growing heated, Baiken pushing him
against the cold metal wall as lips smacked together and their tongues writhed
on top of each other. For a long minute, all thoughts of the captain and his
nerve flew out of Anji’s head; all he could think of was Baiken’s hand on his
neck and Baiken’s lips on his and Baiken Baiken Baiken.

Baiken
leaned back and rested her forehead on his, a bit out of breath,
“You,” she started, her eye burning into him, “Are mine.”
A shiver went down his spine, his gaze refused to budge an inch from her, a
dopey smile lit up his face, “Mine, do you understand?”

“Yours,”
He said, breathlessly, devotedly, cut down and at her mercy, “Yours, always
yours.”

Baiken
smiled again, softer, kinder, and brighter than anything he saw her do when
talking to him, “I only need one arm,” She said lowly, just
loud enough to hear, “One eye, one blade, and one Anji.” Her
head rose from his, one eyebrow climbing a few inches on her face,
“Alright?”

Anji
breathed, calm, deep, and untroubled, though a little embarrassed,
“Okay.”

Baiken
nodded, and leaned off Anji so he could extract himself from the wall,
“Good.” She rolled her shoulders, “I’m gonna go rest before we
land, you joining me?”

Anji
laughed a little, “In a bit, going to grab myself a cup of tea
first,” He smiled softly at her, “You want one?”

“Sure,”
She said airily, “You know how I like it.”

Anji
laughed before turning to make his way back to the kitchen.

“Also,”
Baiken called out before she went out of earshot, “If you see him, tell
that half assed pirate that if I catch him looking at my tits again, I’ll shove
his stupid hat so far up his ass he’ll choke on it.”

Anji
laughed all the way to the teapot.

(When
they landed, Anji made a show of him draping an arm over Baiken’s shoulder,
which she requited by leaning against him slightly. Johnny, to his credit, only
smiled and gave an encouraging wink.)

Swipes of Sword And Fan 4

a slightly fluffier chapter to make up for the angsty one I made this morning 😀

Word count: 884

Chapter 4: Late Nights and Compassion.

Late
at night, a commotion rumbled from the inside of a seedy looking bar. A decrepit
sign baring the name “Broken tooth” donated it as the sort of place
people of ill repute and foul reputation looked for a drink.

A
fight breaking out in that sort of bar, even at such a late hour, was not
unheard of by any stretch.

The
fact that the noises of the fight stopped abruptly, punctuated by a series of high-pitched
yelps, on the other hand, was more notable.

A
few beats of silence followed the sudden stop of the fight before Baiken kicked
open the doors to the bar with all the grace of a sleep-deprived rhino, one of
them ripped clean off its hinges and landing on the street with a crash, startling
a few late night pedestrians who were passing by.

Baiken
adjusted the nearly limp Anji draped over her shoulder, her left hand holding
his right, with a canyon deep scowl, before making a sharp right turn and
stomping her may down the street, people clearing her path three whole steps
before she reached them.

The
difference in height between the two made the situation much more amusing for
any who happened to glimpse them, though few dared to laugh for fear the angry
looking one-armed samurai would hear them.        

Anji
blinked his eyes a few times, his vision unfocused, “Baiken,” He
started, his voice mildly slurred, “Where are my glasses?”  

“In
my pocket.” Baiken muttered darkly, “They fell off your dumb face
when you slipped on your robe.”

“Oh,
right.” He was quiet for a moment, before rubbing the back of his head
with an apologetic, and still slightly drunk, smile, “Guess I should have
watched my step huh?”

“What
you should have done,” She muttered again, “was mind your damn
business when that fight started.”

“They
were ganging up on that poor guy Baiken.”

She
scoffed in mixed annoyance and affection, “Never would have pegged you for
a compassionate drunk.”

“I
am full of surprises my dear.” He declared with a lopsided smile,
“And besides, I only drank about 5 glasses.”

“Ten.”

“Ah,
must have lost count.”

Baiken
scoffed again, and paired it with a shake of her head as she attempted to
Anji’s position again to he could walk with a bit more ease.

Anji
looked askance at Baiken for a moment, before letting out an intrigued hum.

“What?”

“Why
didn’t you try to help before I drew their attention?”

“Because
I don’t care Anji.” She stared ahead at the cold, empty street between her
and the cheap in the two of them rented for the night, her voice level and
calm, “You know that.”

“I
most certainly do not.” The booze has seemed to give him a new
level of nerve, sober Anji would never voice such things, and Baiken was disturbed
to realize she was missing sober Anji, “You care a great deal,
about a lot of things.”

“I
don’t care about people, especially drunk people.”

“Really
now?” He asked with a laugh, vaguely motioning at their current situation,
“And what do you call this then? I’d say you care a great deal
about me at least.”

“You’re
not people,” She growled impulsively, a headache growing from
somewhere behind her eyepatch, very pointedly not looking at him as a
warmth crept up her neck, “You’re Anji.”

A
few moments passed as Anji looked at her in utter shock, his legs dragging
behind him as she kept stomping forward for a couple more steps before she
stopped and whipped her head to look at him, mouth open to shout at him to move
his drunk ass.

Her
jaw snapped shut as she took in his gaze, cheeks flushed, surprised, grinning
like a fool.

It
took another second or two before she fully realized what she had said, a
second more after that for the warmth on her neck to invade her cheeks as her face
flushed at her slip.

“Never
pegged you for a romantic drunk dear.”

She growled, her blush growing a bit darker,
“I swear if you breathe a word of this to anyone
I’ll-!”

Whichever,
probably very cleaver, threat Baiken was about to throw Anji’s way was lost in
her throat as his lips met hers in a clumsy yet gentle kiss, his free hand
cupping her flushed cheek as her shoulders lost their tension and sagged down.

“Don’t
worry,” Anji said lowly as their lips separated, giving her a sleepy
smile, “I’m probably drunk enough that I won’t even remember this in the
morning.”

Baiken
smirked kindly at him, “Tch, you better hope you are, or I’ll-”

Again,
Anji interrupted Baiken, though this time he did so by vomiting on her shoes.

He
lost consciousness soon after, forcing Baiken to carry him across her shoulder
like an overstuffed sack of potatoes.  She
cleaned his mouth and put him under the covers with minimal ceremony.

She
felt mildly vindicated the next morning when his hangover eclipsed hers by a
fair margin. She offered him coffee and was only slightly disappointed when
it turned out he actually forgot.

(Anji,
now properly sober, wisely choose not to comment on the dour mood Baiken
carried all morning. Sober Anji knew to mind his damn business and drink his
coffee.)  

Swipes of Sword and Fan 3

Warning: A bit more graphic than the last two, also vaguely sad and angsty, the best kind of angst.

Word count: 889

Chapter 3: Rain and Smoke.

The
roof of the aging metal gazeebo rattled loudly above them, heavy rain pelting
it without cease as they sat and waited for the downpour to stop, or at least
lessen.

Around
them, marks of combat scarred what was once a park not a few hours ago, trees
charred and ripped from the ground roots and all, stone walkways and roads
slashed and riddled with bullet holes and scorch marks. Around them the smoking
and bleeding corpses of Gears lied motionless, some with limbs missing and
holes large enough to fit your head through dotting the bodies of the larger
ones.

Baiken
took a slow, methodical drag from her wood and metal pipe, her eyes following
the smoke raising to gather at the roof.

Anji
closed his eyes, listening to the chaotic cadence of the rain.

Baiken’s kimono had a few cuts along the legs
and shoulder, and her hair looked scorched in places. One of the lenses of
Anji’s glasses was slightly cracked. Otherwise, they were no worse for wear,
ready to head out and reach their next destination as soon as the rain decide
to turn to drizzle.

“Been
a while since we had rain like this,” Anji said mildly, just loud enough
to be heard over the raindrops, “there’ll be a good harvest this year,
don’t you think?”

Baiken
didn’t say a word, only puffed out another cloud of smoke and watched it drift
upwards, her eyes very far away.

Anji cracked one of his eyes open to glance at
her, he held his gaze for long minute, his heartbeat drowned by the rain,
before he looked askance at the destruction they left behind.

The
park was relatively modest, both in size and in scenery, but it was a nice
change of pace from crowded villages and dirty cities. It even had a small pond
with ducks and fish in it for the park goers to fawn over and feed.

(Convincing
Baiken to part with even a tiny part of her loaf of bread was like pulling
teeth, though worth it to see a sparrow land on her shoulder as she bent down
to give her offering to duckling. It still surprised him she waited a whole
minute before shooing the bird away.)

A
bisected corpse of a Gear was floating in the pond, staining the water a sickly
red. Dead fish and birds littered the waters along with it, a few bigger fish
found themselves tangled in the hanging guts of the monster.

Anji’s
stomach stayed where it was, it did not lurch and he felt no desire to empty it
into the gazeebo. Which was just as well, Baiken would have kicked him out into
the rain if he did.

“You
think the rest of the people made it out alright?”

“Who
knows?”

(The
words were not unkind or cruel. A few years ago, he suspects her answer would
have been, “Who cares?”)

There
were not a lot of other park goers that day, an old couple on a bench, a boy
catching butterflies while his mother kept watch, a family having a picnic. An
old man sharing old loafs of bread to give to the birds and fish in the pond.

A
lump was not stuck in Anji’s throat, and his eyes did not water.  

“It
was raining then too.” Baiken muttered, somehow carrying over the rain,
“Even heavier than now.”

(Smoke
in the air, blood on his face and flooding the streets.

People
crying and screaming.

Dozens
and dozens crowding the makeshift field hospital, nurses rushing back and forth
to tend to as many people as they could, giving priority to those in dire need.

Unless
you were all but dying on your cot, you were not in dire need.

He
had a broken arm splinted and held in place by a thin piece of cloth, a head
wound cleaned and dressed with little concern for his comfort or age. He still
had blood on his face, not his blood.

He
sat next to girl with a bloody stump for a right arm, and half her face covered
in gauze, the spot where her left eye should be was a growing red circle beneath
the bandage.

They
were the only two people who could draw breath in that hospital and didn’t use
it to scream or sob.

He
focused his gaze on his bare feet, her eye blazed at some distant spot directly
in front of her.

“I’m
going to kill them all.” She said, voice clear and sharp and burning and addressing
no one who could hear her, “Every last one of them, every single one of
them.”

He
did not need to ask whom, did not dare to ask how.)

“Yes,”
He said, a second after she finished speaking, “nearly flooded the
town.”

“Or
what was left of it.”

A
second passed, he nodded his head soundlessly, and closed his eyes again to
listen to the rain.

Baiken
took a deep breath from her pipe, blowing the smoke out into the downpour.

(They
sat there for a long while before the rain slowed enough to walk through; the
sound of their shoes hitting blood soaked mud was louder than the drizzle. His
hand found hers between their umbrellas; she grasped him hard enough to hurt.
He didn’t say a word.)