User:Nextoy/Book of 100 Warriors/The Gathering and End of Wanderers

The forest was calm, peaceful. A tranquillity befitting of a cold night like this. Winter was approaching, but the land wasn’t quite ready for snow yet. That would come later, but not now. Instead, merely a chill that would bring some to wear thicker clothing.

However, Hyohaku did no such thing. Though the age of the samurai was dead, he still travelled from place to place with his sword. He knew no other life besides what his tachi could bring him. It was an old fashioned blade, nothing like modern katana, but it was the one remaining part of his family. For Hyohaku knew, tonight he would die.

Many wouldn’t think of him a criminal. An old man, rugged and steadfast in his ways, but honorable and kind. However, he couldn’t adapt to the new laws. The meiji restoration was harsh on his kind, but unlike others he accepted his fate.

Of course, to simply die wouldn’t be his way. He was no coward, the way he saw it, and life was worth living until his last breath. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t a dead man walking. However, he was far from a mere zombie. He was a warrior.

Tonight, in this forest, many of his kind had gathered. Their explicit purpose was death. To die at each other’s blades, as a farewell to their age. They had neither the temperment nor patience for politics, and had no special art to pass down in a dojo. For them, this would be salvation.

Although they had no masters, and thus were considered ronin at best, they still saw themselves as samurai. And a samurai has pride.

Once gathered, nobody exchanged words. Instead, they merely formed a circle. Those who locked eyes would duel. A fight to the death, like everyone wanted. However, nobody was required to remain in the fight between challengers. These men were old, and allowing themselves to rest and recover was desired. To fight at full strength was their goal.

Hyohaku was different, however. He wanted to stay in until he died. He had fought armies before, and he would fight until his last breath now. To feel the air and energy of his opponent, to hear their blades swing through the air, that was all he needed.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">The tachi danced, twirling around. He never professed to be good at any given style, and sometimes his lack of solid training would work against him, but it made Hyohaku unpredictable. But to these men, such tricks wouldn’t be an advantage.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">His final opponent, in particular, was one he had before. These two were once enemies on the fields of war, but now they were simply a couple of walking corpses. These battles were their way to keep themselves from becoming onryo, crippled by their frustration and anger towards the changing times.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">These thoughts didn’t run through anyone's minds. Instead, a calm emptiness washed over everyone there. To think was to die; and they wanted to die fighting, not thinking.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">The first thought Hyohaku had ran through his mind the same time his foe’s sword ran through his neck. That he had chosen a fitting name to give himself in death, “Straying.” That’s what had happened, he had strayed from the path a warrior meant to be on. It could even be modified easily to mean both “Stranger” and “Wanderer”, both also fitting to him.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">His last thought was that he wasn’t able to see his fellow samurai during this fight. But this was not a regret, instead it was proof that everything ended precisely as it should. He was blind, and yet he still held his own against several opponents before the third ran him through.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:11pt;font-family:Arial;color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre;white-space:pre-wrap;">Besides, when you’re blind your vision will never cloud. Not from the blood splattered on your face, nor the tears of joy and relief knowing that you had served all you could.