The Colour Of Death: Cherry

My head spins, as my eyes struggle to keep my vision steady. I rub my head around the bruised area, just to wince from the slight pain. Even while wearing her entire hime yoroi, she facilely glides through the air with her light yet devastating techniques.

Quickly so, I jolt up to my stand, once again holding onto my dropped katana. My grip ruggedizes onto the tsuka, and my wrists keep the entirety of the blade straight upwards.

My eyes look ahead – and to their surprise – my sight is engulfed by the cherry blossom trees’ petals that fall about in the perimeter. The bright and sweet lighting that the sakura trees bring about, set the atmosphere at ease, and bring about the old memories of mother and her sweet touch.

Beyond the light shower of the falling petals, exists the silhouette of another individual who stands opposite to me.

The enemy.

She is the same individual who had struck me while I was off my guard. The mysterious female’s armour resembles that of the Onna-musha , who had went to war a few months ago. It is questionable that she is here, instead of heading out to war with the rest of our country’s female warriors. Not to mention, she is the first I have ever seen wield two katana blades, a naginata  and a few other peripherals.

I ponder, why did she attack me from behind? Has she no honour??

Getting into my oppugning form, preparing to attack, I ask her, “Might you give me your honour, nameless woman?”

She takes a few steps forward, before abruptly discontinuing. Her discreet and oversized menpo barely reveals her facial features. I squint, to take a look at her eyes, but even they are shadowed by her large kabuto under a spot of sunlight breaking through the trees’ shade.

She carelessly draws her blade from her saya, clearly stating that she wishes to get it over and done with. I am fond of the confidence behind her probable skill prowess, but she must give me her name at the very least.

“I am Tanaka Kiyoshi, and I am honoured to—”

“You liar.” Her feminine, yet stern voice echoes through her kabuto.

“How am I a liar? Do you doubt my honour?”

“No. Behold my blade, and you will realize. You will realize how much of a lie you have lived all this time.”

I gasp under my breath, slightly bemused by what she says. The only person who comes to mind, is the girl I had promised myself to permanently forget. All I can remember was her silhouette in the distance, leaving me behind. The memories of her forgotten face brings slight pain, but I remember not of the memory itself.

My eyes pan over to her shimmering blade reflecting the sunlight that lightly caresses its surface. Her wild strawberry-pink coloured katana match well with her naginata and the falling sakura petals.

Wait . . . a strawberry coloured katana? Could it be . . .?

“A-Akari? Is that you? No, it must be you!”

“Have you realized? Have you?!” her voice loudens in rising impatience.

“Erm . . . r-realized what?”

Her shoulders drop in disappointment as she steps back. “You haven’t changed the slightest bit, Jiho .”

“My name is Kiyoshi.”

“Yes, I know – as I said: Jiho.” She says, mockingly.

“Do I not deserve at least the name of Kiyoshi?” I ask, suddenly downcast by her disdained scorn. Even though she speaks the truth about my entire life being a complete lie, she had promised to use the name Kiyoshi, instead of Jiho – my real name.