Touken Ranbu - Five Senses

The Front Lines

Swords carved flesh, sending blood splattering across the parched earth as the deployed unit waged war in the early hours of the morning. Enemies emerged from the woods, red eyes glowing with demonic energy as they surged forward toward the team of six warriors.

It was a little strange; the men facing off against this army of corrupted swords were technically wielding themselves.

Standing stern and proud, one Tachi in particular held off a Naginata with relative ease.

A Tanto swept in from behind, plunging his blade in to the hilt and then twisting it sideways to carve open his side. Blood spurted, coating the raven-haired boy momentarily before it dissipated with the Yari.

His sharp violet eyes locked on Mikazuki, and in the next instant he was dashing past with his sword brandished tightly.

Lunging forward, Yagen Toushirou took out two Tantou with ease.

Hearing a sound behind him, Mikazuki turned his attention from the smaller boy and found himself staring down a Wakizashi. The enemy was making a beeline for him, causing the so-called old man to chuckle. Stepping forward with his sword raised, he shredded the wakizashi with a single clean stroke and then carried on towards an Ootachi.

It turned its head his way, menacing gaze locked on the Sanjou blade as he raised his massive sword into a defensive position and exhaled a plume of dark mist which was carried away swiftly by a passing breeze.

Stepping forward, he plunged his blade into the Ootachi's heart faster than it could even react. It brought a certain kind of joy - after all, this is what he was made for.

Beautiful though he may be, swords were for battle, not decoration. Coming down off the shelf, slicing, tasting blood and watching it flow along his well-tempered steel...

Exhilarating.

His battle which he had so longed for now stretched out for hours and days, weeks, months...perhaps even years.

To be wielded by a master again... Ah, but it always ended too early. He struck down the last Tantou with a backhanded swipe, not even needing to look to know he had struck true and broken it.

He surveyed the scene with his eyes, noting that he personally had done very little.

While Mikazuki had always wanted to join the fray, he was far more accustomed to standing back and watching the world pass him by. He was not an active participant, even though he wished to be.

Perhaps that was what drew him to the skittish master waiting for him back at the Citadel. She was not a participant in life either - she just stood back and watched as her swords lived for her.

The sortie party was regrouping now, taking note of any damage and how worn down their troops were. His gaze turned skyward, he himself baring not even a scratch on his physique.

He knew Yagen had completely lost his troops, however. He had also seen Yamanbagiri take a cut just under his arm, although he was now concealing it under his cloak. It was a pointless gesture, as the crimson splotches had already begun to stain the white fabric. Signs of heavy bleeding which placed him in need of repairs at once.

Horikawa at the lead seemed to be of a similar mind.

As he watched, the small wakizashi charged in close to Yamanbagiri and yanked his cloak up, tugging his arm away from his side as his big blue eyes appraised the wound. With a look of frustration, he looked up disapprovingly at Yamanbagiri with his hands on his hips.

"How many times do I have to tell you to say something if you're hurt?" His brows were knit, and if not for the fact he was smaller and resembled a young teenaged boy, he almost would have resembled a mother.