I'd like to know what people have to say about this project I'm working on...here's most of chapter one. Appologies, because it's about six pages...

It would be night, soon.

That was all that mattered to the girl, as she raced up the hillside towards her sanctuary. The people in the town below, ignorant to the terrors of the night, didn’t give more than a passing glance as she hurried to the small crevasse in the rocks near the summit of the hill.

They didn’t know what the night did to them. It had been quick, nearly painless, but it had left them all with the curse in their blood. Amaya was the only one that hadn’t been infected with the disease.

She was a small girl, with hair down to the middle of her back and intelligent brown eyes. She was very pale, and had dark circles underneath her eyes. She had to stay awake during the night, and couldn’t sleep much during the day. She had to work during the day, because her father, the blacksmith, wasn’t making enough money to support two people.

She wore men’s clothes, she couldn’t run in a kimono, or her day clothes, with any ease. Mobility was a necessity at night, when they came out.

The sun is setting.

The Buso would be out soon. They would smell her, and come and get her. Make her one of them.

Those that were too far along had retreated down the well, already becoming pale, dead things, looking like one-eyed men that had never seen the light of sun.

Amaya dove into the crevasse, just as the sun set. But, as the last ray of sunlight fell across the land, she noticed a silhouette above her.

Glancing up, she was shocked to see a young man, not much older than her. He was dressed in a black gi, and had a long katana resting on his right shoulder. His midnight black hair hung down to mid-back. He looked like a samurai, to her. Not the real samurai, but the kind you hear about in stories…the kind that could slay demons with one stroke of their shining sword…

“So that’s the infected area…” he muttered. Sighing, he raised his left hand, as if in prayer. He spoke like a pronouncement from on high.

“In the name of the empress of Shinama, the great and eternal goddess who sits upon the Silver Dragon throne…the land will be purged of this unnatural blight.”

Her eyes widened, as she realized what was going on.

“No…” she whimpered.




Chapter I:
Isamu,
Shadow-Killer





Buso are a kind of walking dead. They look like corpses with a single red eye set in their head, Isamu remembered his Sensei telling him, the original lives in some deep place, like a well. It comes out at night, and bites its victims. Humans bitten by a Buso turn into Buso. Animals are slain and usually devoured. During the day, these creatures appear human, but at night, they are Buso. Left unchecked, this plague will spread throughout the world, and devour everything.

He leapt from ledge to ledge as he descended towards the village. Blood sang in his ears, and his eyes burned like twin coals. It was tragic that these people had to die, but for the greater good, they would be sacrificed.

Isamu felt no real remorse when he skidded to a stop, and cleft one of the Buso in half, the ghoulish creature sputtering black blood out of its mouth as it fell. He grinned, his elongated canines glinting in the light of the rising moon.

“It’s a perfect night…don’t you think?” he asked the next walking corpse, which spoke in the guttural, dry tongue of the Buso. His eyes flashed, and he struck its head from its shoulders.

“You simply have no appreciation of the finer things in life…” he said, to the head which glared up at him malignantly.

With a laugh, he gingerly stepped over the detached skull. He was having fun, but he did have work to do.



“I’m being such an idiot…” Amaya growled at herself, as she followed him into the village. He left a trail of dead bodies behind him, all slain by that great sword he carried with him.

She recognized some of the Buso. Yoshi, a boy she had known for as long as she remembered, glared up at her with a single red eye. He had been split into fourths, and still he wasn’t dead yet. He wouldn’t die until morning, when the gift of the sun goddess would turn him back into Yoshi, and he would die a human.

She vomited, and looked down the street. The young man was facing three Buso. He did this…there was the chance they could’ve turned human, again, but he was killing them. Yoshi would die, her father would die, everyone…everyone would die.

Amaya wanted to sob, and began to dry-heave.

“Y…You’re not human…you bastard,” she said, looking at the young man.

He wound up, and struck, slicing through one Buso, and into another.

Squinting, she could see his face, behind the waves of hair that concealed it. She could see the expression on his face.

That bastard was laughing.



“So weak…so weak…you little ghouls are so disappointing,” he said, grinning. Blood was everywhere, but he was still not satisfied. He couldn’t be—the burning feeling inside of him told him that he wasn’t done yet.

He reached for the vial around his neck, and tugged it off the leather thong it was hanging by. The fluid inside was a watery green color—Jade Water blessed by the Empress herself.

Just pour this into a portal to Jigoku or Gakido, and the portal will close. It is death to all things of the shadow…even Akuma-Sama fears it, Sensei’s mouth twisted in distaste at the name…however, now is not the time to deal with him.

Isamu strode towards the well, and bit off the top of the vial.

“Well…I’d love to stay and play a bit more…but I think our time here is finished,” he grinned even wider, “Go back to hell, Buso.”

He dropped the vial, and there was a sound behind him, like a death rattle. It was the laughter of a being that had been dead for centuries.

“You think that a vial of water and jade will kill me…boy?” it asked from behind him.

He turned, and saw his enemy.

The Buso was seven feet tall, with skin like leather. Its single eye glared at him with a fierce, red light. It was chewing on the haunch of some animal, maybe a cow, or a bull, when it took a bite, he saw row after row of rotten teeth.

“So…you’re the progenitor of all these other creatures?” Isamu said, “I must say…I’m not impressed.”

The creature stood, dropping the haunch of meat.

“What was that?”

“I said, I’m not impressed. This was a perfectly good village before you turned it into a shit-hole, and I don’t think populating it with one-eyed corpses is an improvement.”

The Buso stared at him for a moment, and then laughed. A death rattle was a good analogy for the sound. Its voice sounded like it came from leathery lungs that had been filled with stagnant water.

“You certainly have guts, boy…I’ll give you that. But you die here.”

It drew back, its ivory claws curling into vicious hooks, meant to rend flesh. One hand shot forward before he could guard, and hit him in the gut, causing him to double over in pain. The other bounced harmlessly off his raised sword.

Blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth, and he coughed, unable to draw in air properly.



Amaya retreated around the corner of a building, trembling in fear.

That boy…he was as good as dead. He was a murderer, but she couldn’t ignore the sound of his agony. He couldn’t give it proper voice, but she could hear the pitiful sound of his death.

She pulled out her belt knife.

Sighing, she turned the corner, and ran towards the Buso.

The creature shuddered, as the knife glanced off its spine, and buried in between two ribs.

It turned, and backhanded her across the face.

“Impudent little whore…” it growled, “your time will come…after I kill this boy…”

“Be…better think again,” the boy wheezed, coughing blood out of his mouth. The tendons in his arm corded, and he raised his sword, the point still on the ground.

“What…how can you move?” the Buso asked. It reached over, and hooked its fingers into Isamu’s chest.

Isamu drew back, and struck, a bloody grin covering his face.



Amaya woke up as the sun goddess’ gift shone down upon the land for the first moment of the new day. She was being carried somewhere, but she didn’t know who was carrying her. All she knew was that something sticky and iron-smelling was splattered against her cheek.

“Can you walk?” a voice asked her.

“I…I don’t know,” she said, closing her eyes, “where am I?”

“I’m taking you with me to the capital. Your home is dead.”

Her shoulders tensed, and she felt salty tears begin to well up in her eyes.

“I’m sorry. I had no choice,” Isamu said.

She curled up tighter, trying to curl herself into non-existence. This was too much for her sleep-drugged brain to process.

“How…how did you survive?” she asked.

“I’m not fragile. I just did,” he responded, quietly.

She was silent.

“I hate you,” she said, quietly.

“I…I’m sorry,” he said, equally as quiet.

He walked for a while, and she simply listened to the labored beat of his heart. It was soothing, but sickening at the same time. She wanted to vomit on him. She wanted to claw out his eyes.

She couldn’t, for some reason.

“Who are you?”

“I am Isamu…I work for the empire. Who are you?”

She was quiet, once more.

“Amaya,” she said.

He nodded.

“Well, Amaya, I’m going to have to set you down. I’ve walked about as far as I can walk, for today.”

She opened her eyes, and realized that the iron smell was actually his blood. He reeked of it.

“What the hell happened to you?”

He smiled. There was a dried trail of blood at the corner of his mouth.

“I got killed, but forgot to die. At least, that’s what I think happened…” he set her down, and stumbled to the side of the road, and flopped down onto the ground, closing his eyes.

She blinked.

“F…forgot to die?” she wondered, aloud. Then, her eyes hardened.

Frowning, she glared at him. No matter how much her compassionate nature encouraged her to be nice to him, she couldn’t ignore the fact that this man…this boy…was a murderer.

She sat down across the road from him, and watched him. She would've run away, had she thought it would do any good.

He didn’t have to do that, right? It’s not like they couldn’t have been made human again.

She was willing to bet that green water he had thrown into the well was enough to have cured. It was, wasn’t it? If that was Jade Water…it should’ve been able to counteract any curse.

He didn’t have to do it. Yoshi would still be alive…so would Father.

She frowned harder.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Isamu said, in a not-quite-commanding, not-quite-asking tone, “I didn’t have a choice in the matter. The only choice I had,” he opened his eyes, which were a striking crimson color, “was whether or not to kill you. I chose not to.”

She looked away from him.

“I know you hate me,” he said, quietly, “but you’d be dead if I weren’t here.”

She gave him a sidelong glare.

“I was gathering supplies to run away.”

He hacked, causing specks of blood to fly from his lips. She could swear that pale skin was encroaching on the crimson mess of the wound in his belly.

“They would’ve gotten you before you ran away. You were too tired,” he paused to cough again, “also…I can’t say I like it, now, but I put them out of their misery. Why walk the earth as one of the living dead when you can die and be judged?”

She glared at him, incapable of making the point she wanted to make.

“They could’ve been changed back!” she insisted.

“No. The bite of a Buso makes you one forever, as far as I know.”

She clenched her fists, and just looked down.

“You…you killed everything I knew,” she said, “I can’t forgive you…no matter what you say.”

He sighed, and explained himself with a species of strained, yet calm, patience.

“I laid them all to rest. They were dead already…a masquerade. I killed the dead, so I didn’t kill,” his face was ashen from blood loss, and the holes in his chest had stopped bleeding, becoming stretches of pale skin with a thin crust of blood.

He closed his eyes, and his breathing evened out, though he was still awake.

Her eyes leaked tears, and she looked away from him. He was right, and she knew it. She could not, however, accept what he said—It would mean she had been living with a false hope for a long time.



The next day, they began walking again. Every now and then Isamu would have to lean against her, as his legs would grow stronger and weaker at times. He had stopped bleeding, but they hadn’t yet found a stream for him to wash off the blood already caked into his skin.

She often stole glances at him. He looked like some sort of savage beast

“I…Isamu?” she asked, timidly, “how are you still alive?”

He looked over at her, his crimson eyes studying her for a moment.

“I am alive because of what I am,” he stated, simply.

“What are you, then?” she pressed.

He laughed, which descended into another coughing fit.

“I’m human. Just a different kind,” he stated, and smiled secretively.

She was quiet for a moment, digesting what he said. That didn’t make sense to her, moreover, she understood that it wasn’t supposed to.

“What do you mean ‘a different kind’?”

He simply continued to smile, and left it at that.



That evening it began to rain, and the two of them took refuge beneath a maple tree. Amaya huddled close to the trunk, crouching down to expose as little of her skin to the rain.

“I feel miserable,” she muttered.

“I’m sorry,” Isamu said. He stood and leaned against the trunk on the other side, and had taken off his blood-soaked haori, holding it out so the rain could begin to soak the blood out. Turning her head, she saw his back.

Beneath the gi, he looked small, almost scrawny, and had scars all over his back. His muscles weren’t more than cords of flesh beneath the skin, not the iron bulk many people associated with the samurai, and warriors in general.

His hair was matted down with blood and rainwater, and stuck to the pale skin of his back. He grabbed the topknot, and pulled it off his back, leaving a faint black trace on the skin.

“Um…Isamu? What’s happening with your hair?”

He grabbed it, and looked at it.

“Looks like the black coloring doesn’t stand up well to rain water,” he noted, then turned to her, “I was born with white hair, red eyes, and white skin. That’s not uncommon in the nobility, but they sure as hell weren’t expecting me to look like that.”

He barked a laugh, then turned to look at her, his crimson eyes seeming less intimidating, at the moment.

“So…you know one of my secrets, it’s time for you to return the favor.”

Taken aback, she returned to her sitting position, and wrapped he arms around her legs.

“I don’t have any,” she said.

“A pity,” he responded, shaking the Haori to take some of the water out of it. He wadded it up, and put it underneath one arm, as he sat down on the other side of the tree.

Wow, that sounds sw33t. I'd like to see more of this for sure!

I'll probably only upload a little bit more here, I think I've already put a bit too much. But I'm going to put it on fictionpress.net, and I'll put up a link when I do that.

So far, it's come out as a weird mix of Hellsing and Samurai X. Hehe. I like that.

Keep it coming! This is primo material, man.

Nice...

Well, as soon as the desktop computer I write on gets back up, I'll get to posting the next part.

I'm not going to introduce the villain for a while, but I'm going to talk about him in the next chapter...let's just say it ain't pretty...hehe.

Tyrrany...Institutionalized Cannibalism...Sacriledge...and the corruption of other people into his way of thinking. Sounds fun, eh?