The Disgraced Blossom- A Hakuouki Fan Fiction

18

Song: Sakura - Japanese type beat

Haruka perched upright atop the animal  with her hands bound at the front of the saddle as they rocked back and forth by the rhythm. Hajime had taken hold of the horse's rein although her mind was elsewhere. Alerted of the surrounding; clip-clopping of horse's hooves on the dirt ground, the clink of weapons, yet, quietness loomed over the dreary ambience.

Spine straight, eyes focus forward at the distance Haruka caught the blur of blue coats guessing that all of them finally reached their destination. The moment they cleared from the road she was taken aback; the entire village nowhere to be found. One by one, everybody descended from their horses while Haruka hopped down as well just as Hajime untied the ropes. The slight stinging on her abraded wrists never deters her view from the morbid scenery.

A picture Haruka was accustomed from the past wreckage; they were ronins no mercy shown to another breathing soul while blood splattered on the dirt. She neither felt remorse or guilt instead the girl figured this might be an attack from another bunch of rogue beings.

Jade-green slanted eyes surveying the outcome deep in her heart Haruka had an inkling she was curious to see if that person was also part of the dead bodies. Back at the prison, she had no other choice to spat the word "friend" out to the officer. Voices carried above the early morning sky as the rest proceeded to work by digging graves whereas a section of divided men observed the perimeter for bodies.

"Amitabha."

Haruka shifted her calculating gaze at the monk willing to pray for the buried victims. She was standing still, a flurry of activities surrounding her witnessing the scenario from the casual eyes of an onlooker. The gangster drifted a little to pause at a site; a small mound.

"The first body all of us caught laying unmovable," a voice came from behind.

Haruka stiffened from lashing out since she hated anyone sneaking up playing the role of a mute. Both arms crossed over her chest her heart never twinged in sympathy, death occurs to anyone. She played the role of a Grim Reaper to many others one day, it may as well be her turn until then, she would fight to the last.

The officer remained by Haruka's side in silence much to her annoyance, his tuff of a hair shifting from the chilling breeze. Blankness covered his steely marine-shade eyes; swords attached on the right side of the man's hip when she recalled he fought using his left hand. Haruka's head was an inched higher than his own due to the wooden shoes she wore or else they of the same height and somehow the dim of light within that gaze matched hers.

"Since you are here might as well help us," Hajime turned his head to pierce her orbs with an unreadable one. "Aid my men by digging graves, we won't stay here for long because the number of bodies is not so high compared to the first night."

For the first time in Haruka's existence, she was led out to help the deceased in the past after the groups pillage nobody bothered to pray for the slain victims, yet, the female slipped out of each sleeve as the material drooped low on her tapered waist. The "click-clack" sound of her slippers are audible as she was given a task whereas another man nod his head when Hajime instructed his order.

By late afternoon, the sun was beating down upon them; sweat-stained bodies worked without hesitation. Food was supplied with less break all of them resumed the job so as to complete the burying. Haruka swiped away at the excess perspiration by her arm from the forehead and not a trace of her. Perhaps, somebody might have had discovered her body at the beginning thus thrusting her under six foot deep.

But which one these mounds covered her slight frame? Haruka wondered.

Why does it even bother her?