Wednesday, May 4, 2005

Independence Day: A New Beginning
*episode 1*

There is a dead village in a wooded highland. It is surrounded by a stockade; sturdy and built to last. No one has lived there for months, but the village has not been overrun. Demons, who have begun to push into the area surrounding the village, still fear to come near its high walls. There are rumors of spirits, the shades of the warriors who lived there, still walking the village perimeter. It has even been said that the greatest of the killers have risen from the grave; that they wander the earth, but come home to punish any who dare trespass. The young and reckless demons go as far as to stand upon the mesa on which the village stands and call the words that their mothers taught them to fear, “Demon Slayers.” It is a night when even monsters do not walk the land. Great clouds billow over head. Strong winds build to a howl. Every creature that has a hole is secure within it. Also, those who believe have spread the word that the hunter’s spirit has come home. No one is near enough to the village of the demon slayers to notice the thin smoke rising from a house within it. Also, no one is about to see a lone figure walking toward the wall. Sango nurses a small fire. The walls of the old house are well built, but she will need warmth for the coming storm. She has spent the day repairing her weapons, visiting her friends and family, and fighting the slow degeneration of the village caused by time. She and Kirara have both eaten from the strange foods her strange friend brought from a strange world. Kirara is curled up by the fire; she looks asleep, but Sango knows better. The wind picks up and the house groans. Sango finally stops procrastinating and calls to mind the incident for which she required solitude. Several days before, in battle with Naraku, she had been completely absorbed by the task of slaying countless demons. She had just lashed out with her Hiraikotsan, and was being pulled by its momentum. As she spun, she collided with Miroku, her friend the monk with self-control issues. They found themselves pressed against each other in a very intimate manner. Naturally, in battle one must find oneself situations which would have drastically different implications out of combat. While this excuses the situation, it has no bearing on her reaction to it. She forces herself to admit that when her flesh pressed against his she felt excitement. When they collided, the monk’s hand found its way to a privet area of her anatomy. More disturbing then the fact that this added to her excitement is that, without conscious action, her own hand went around his waist and pulled him closer to her. She has a list a mile long of why she should not, can not, and must not feel attracted to the Miroku. She knows his style, he loves them and he leaves them. She knows that any respect she has gained in his eyes would dissolve in an instant if he suspected. She knows that, although he rarely follows them, he has taken a monk’s vows, and as his friend she must not tempt him. She knows that he is an arrogant, egocentric, womanizer. But, she also knows that she has never felt anything like what she felt there, on the battlefield. She knows that, most of the time, he is a kind, courageous, loyal friend. To say that she has mixed feelings would be an understatement. She is suddenly pulled from her pondering by a twitch of Kirara’s ear. Kirara has been with Sango since she was a baby. The cat was her first teacher, in life and in combat. Sango knows that that small twitch means that Kirara has heard something. Sango grabs her weapon as Kirara gets to her feet and cocks her head. Suddenly, Kirara grows and walks out of the house and heads toward the wall, followed by Sango. There is one opening in the wall, and the two approach it. Standing in the portal is a beautiful woman in a fine silk kimono. There are feathers in her hair; her eyes are crimson. She caries an ornate silk fan, limply by her side. “Kagura.” the demon slayer says. Kagura answers, “I hoped to find you here.” Kagura walks toward Sango. “Give me your hand.” she says. Sango looks on her with suspicion. After a glance at Kirara, Sango extends the hand not holding the Hiraikotsan. Kagura takes the hand and gently presses it to her breast. “Do you feel it?” she asks. “Feel what?” Sango asks. “My heart,” Kagura says, “I’m free.”
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