• An adolescent swiftly climbed through a window, an unsheathed katana in their hands. An army of ragtag fighters pulled together by their employer rushed at the young adult. The sound of metal clanging sounded everywhere, blood gushed from everyone and then in an instant it became quiet again. The thud of the bodies hitting the cold wooden floor, their blood spreading in intricate patterns on the panels, was the only noise left. Grinning, the teen ran their tongue along the blade, tasting the coppery blood.

    Then they turned to face an ornately framed door with a big, now broken, lock swinging from a handle. The door swung open with little resistance, making only the faintest creaking. One shadow was moving in the corner of the dark room. The adolescent gripped the sword hard, readying for an attack. The shadow laughed softly and the hand loosened from the hilt. “Are you trying to kill me Akira?” The shadow called, moving forward, a sheathed sword swinging from their hip. “You killed them all, I hope. You did kill them Akira, right?” The shadow questioned, stepping into a patch of light cast by the moon flowing through the open windows.

    The shadow was a man in his mid twenties, although you would never realize it by his appearance. He had long black hair that was kept up in a ponytail. It swayed with even the slightest motion he made. Large black eyes were placed almost perfectly on his face, almost always giving an expression of happiness. His clothing was that of a peasant’s, but they were clean, except for one large splatter of blood on the leg of his hakama. The adolescent smiled at the man and trotted towards him.

    They both stared at a growing red stain on the floor and the lifeless shell it came from. “He put up a fight Sensei?” the teen asked, bright eyes looking up admirably at the older man. The man, this kid’s sensei, sighed and pulled his hand through the long hair flowing down his back.

    “No. He tried to run for it, dumb oaf. I cannot believe a man like this was close to a warlord. He would squeal like a pig if anyone raised a hand to him.” The sensei complained, kicking the now bloodless victim. Akira smiled sadly at the sensei before speaking.

    “Excuse my pressing, Sensei...but we need to leave now. A silent alarm was most likely pressed sometime during the commotion. We need to take our riches and go.” The man nodded, his ponytail bobbing slightly.

    “I know Akira, I know.” He waved his hand in front of his face, showing he felt no rush. “I have everything we need.” He pointed to a small bag on a desk near the center of the room, the bag was bulging as the contents inside pushed against its insides. Akira sighed impatiently, walked to the table, and hefted the bag over a shoulder.

    A whistling noise came from beyond the window and Akira turned to raise an eyebrow at the older man. The police had arrived, late as usual, but unlike normal circumstances, the two killers were still at the scene. Akira walked back towards the hallway littered with henchmen and found a window not being watched by the police. “Typical.” Akira sighed and turned, making sure the sensei was following. They crashed through the window, making a small racket and ran into the woods.

    Once at a stream they both stopped, slightly sweaty but nowhere near exhausted. A beam of light shot through the trees onto Akira, making features easily visible. Akira was young, mid teens at latest. Short black hair framed a scratched up face, bursting with energy. It would be simple to mistake Akira for a girl at first glance, but if you really looked you could tell Akira was male. True, his hair was long enough to be that of a servant girl’s and he was also very petite...but the way he held himself, the fierceness in his eyes ,and of course, the absence of a womanly shape.

    Akira’s sensei stretched and flopped onto the ground, pulling a bottle of sake out his side pack. ”Akira! Want some drinks?” He waved the bottle in the air above him.

    The teen shook his head and sat down beside his teacher. “No thanks Sensei. Sake doesn’t do much for me in any way. But feel free to get yourself so drunk you won’t be able to stand tomorrow. Maki-san will love it.” Akira smiled, knowing the older man would now have no choice but to stay somewhat sober. The man grumbled and poured himself a drink.

    “Maki’s probably gotten herself drunk with worry. She doesn’t seem to understand we’re fine. We did this, well I did this way before we met her.” Akira stared into the running water before replying.

    “You can’t blame Maki-san. She’s doing well...not just for a woman, but for anyone. Most people wouldn’t take the fact that we’re murderers so easily.” He shifted his weight and pulled his knees up to his chin. “She took it almost as well as Kenta-san...And we both know Kenta-san is pretty messed up.” Akira turned his head and grinned at his sensei. The older man chuckled and took another sip of his liquor.

    “Kenta is really out there. Not that we see him much anymore...” A soft cracking noise came from the other side of the stream and both samurai jumped up simultaniously, both with a hand on the hilt of their swords. They watched the figure of a person come stumbling through the foliage until they could make out the features. “Maki! Don’t do that, you were nearly killed by Akira!” The sensei yelled, in a voice just above a whisper. Akira sheepishly put the katana he had just yanked from its sheath back into place.

    A beautiful woman in a rich and colorful kimono smiled towards both men and rushed towards the stream. Akira’s eyes widened as the woman stumbled across the rocks. He jumped across the water, picked up the woman gently, and was back on the other side of the stream in about a second. He lightly put her down on the ground, making sure her feet were in a good position. The woman patted Akira on the head and turned to the older man, staring at him lovingly.

    She had long brown hair that was kept in a loose, but beautifully intricate, bun on the top of her head. Her face held two perfect eyes, both a darker black then that of the men. Her kimono was more open at the top than normal, showing the start of her cleavage. She spoke in a proud voice, soft but demanding.

    “Ren-sama, you were gone longer than usual...I was hoping you weren’t killed.” She saw his sake bottle and whisked it off the ground along with the cup he was still holding. She glared at him for a moment before turning to face Akira, her face eerily pleasant. “Thank you Akira-kun, I really didn’t want to get wet. How many has he had so far?” She questioned, shaking the bottle lightly in her hand.

    Akira shook his head and smiled at Maki. “Only one cup...other than what is left in that cup. May I ask why you risked ruining your beautiful kimono to come out here for?” He gently grabbed hold of one of her sleeves, checking for snares and such.

    Ren slumped over Maki, playing with a loose strand of hair. “She came to see me, Akira. She already said so. Are your ears not working correctly today?” Ignoring him Maki sighed and stoked the side of Ren’s face.

    “I need to take a bath now. I got all sweaty coming out to find you two!” She huffed, crossing her arms in fake anger. Ren grinned at her and kissed her softly on the lips.

    “You look beautiful sweaty, but I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I suppose I can wait a bit longer.” Akira turned away quickly, a slight blush forming on his cheeks. Ren and Maki were always like this after a job was done, but it was still embarrassing to be around the lovey-dovey couple.

    Maki pulled herself away from Ren and giggled, seeing Akira’s discomfort. She tapped her lover’s shoulder and pointed toward the teen. Ren’s eyes widened in glee and he had to cover his mouth with his hand to stop from bursting out into laughter. Maki’s eyes narrowed and she slapped the back of Ren’s head, his ponytail drifting into his neck. He shrugged, rubbing his head and yawned.

    “I suppose I’ll go back to the base with Maki. You coming Akira?” He asked, helping Maki over a small stream. Akira shook his head, short head falling in front of his face.

    “Not right now Sensei, I think I’m going to practice for a while.” Hearing this Ren and Maki’s faces tightened with concern.

    “Akiraaaa-kun!,” Maki whined “Come back with us and I’ll give you a massage if you want.” She added a soft, seductive purr to the end of her sentence. Ren looked glumly at the ground, wondering why he wasn’t getting offered a massage. Maki saw his expression and laughed, her body quivering. She grabbed Ren’s arm, pulling him through the cold, pebble-ridden water.

    Akira smiled and waved as the two adults ran through the wooded area towards the small shack Ren had found years ago. Turning his back to them, Akira unsheathed his red stained sword. Drifting around in a circle, almost dancing, he moved the katana through the air. A leaf fell from a tree, pulled into a spin by the wind. Akira closed his eyes and froze, all his muscles tightening. Once the leaf was at eye level Akira widened his eyes and moved his arm and his sword in one definite motion. The leaf burst into millions of tiny pieces and Akira grinned happily. “I finally got it right!” He dropped his sword into the stream and began washing the dried blood off. Once the metal shone brightly without even the slightest taint of crimson, he stood and walked towards the shack. Behind him a tree fell.