The Disgraced Blossom- A Hakuouki Fan Fiction

32

The limp monk tied against a tree rouse awake accompanied by a stiff groan, his eyelids flicker open to stare at the rest of the surrounding dumbfoundedly for a hot second. Darkness shrouded while leaves flutter by the slightest of breeze; he sniffed, inhaling forestry scent and damp earth.

All of a sudden, he witnessed figures obscured in pitch nighttide until they step under the moonlight and his aged frame became rigid in blinding fear as well as, panic settles in. Kimigoku Ara's body trembles visibly meanwhile, his slanted eyes shifted from one stormy profile to another.

Breathing labour; sweat pours out from his pores and the robe soaked by the saltiness. Ara watches as a man dressed in a periwinkle haori stops short in front of his gawking countenance, eyes widen resembling a round saucer.

"It's a great place to hide from us, huh?" the leader drawled menacingly.

"N-no! You got this all wrong!" Ara stammered at the same time shaking his bald head.

"What is it that we got wrong?" he enquires while crossing his arms.

"This is where I live!" the priest exhales in an audible gasp. "I'm harmless!"

"Really?" someone spoke up from his corner.

Ara's startled peepers darted at his side to glance upward; he was situated on the amass of greeneries decorating the muddy terrain, in a cross-legged pose causing his legs to cramped because of the weakened bones. Yet, Ara was transfixed by a pair of jade-green orbs burning down on him.

"Y-yes! Please, I'm telling you the truth!" Ara nodded his head jerkily sensing the jowls moving.

"We saw you standing within the circle of runs alongside your monk friend," someone inserted, auburn-shade hair glinted in the moonlight.

"I can explain," he gulped audibly just as the being leaning against the same tree hunches beside him.

He watched in quiet speculative, those hooded eyes; piercing, peering from a tuft of blond hair framing the rogue's sharp features. Hands hanging loosely in between his thighs to regard Ara in an eerie mannerism.

"Continue," the person responded in a soft voice contradicting his stormy gaze.

"Um," the priest cleared his throat to gather his scattered composure, Ara turns away to stare at the rest of the comrades. "Yukio-san, do not get me wrong but he is a good man. I first met him when I was visiting the temple he does the ritual prayers, we got on well."

"And?" that same man with a ponytail urged him to continue.

"H-he carries the weight of the people living in poverty, Yukio-san is a rather ambitious person but I cannot fault him," Ara sighed, the memories sailing by in his brain. "One day, he chose to share his thoughts with me the man wishes to change the lives of those who come up to him."

"That is not true," the boy beside him interfered.

"How can you say that?!" he felt anger welling up. "A man like yourself, who lives to only kill the innocence-"

He hacked a cough when the other got up in a blur to ram his knee against his chest; Ara experiences chest pain. The monk heaved heavily finally, he peers upward to collide with a pair of flaming orbs. The wooden clog presses in the middle of Ara's ribcage meanwhile, his crew of bandits never utter a single word.

"That fucker has been aiming Ibuzo for a very long time," the blonde-head hissed at each syllabus. "We were hired to guard him for the gathering when all of you decide to surround him like a bunch of cowards motherfuckers."

"Watch your language!" Ara pants in rage.

"Don't yell at me, old man," he lamented while pushing the weight on one leg.

"Ibiza is a fake priest!" he ignores the warning to snapped in a loud vocal. "A man like himself earning a high status rather than, Yukio-san, who cares and is a good priest."

"Judging by your words, he is a stuck up," a baritone voice retorted, Ara glares at the masculine figure. "A man doesn't count the number good he has done."

"All of you are hating on Yukio-san but, can you say the same for yourselves?" he challenged the rest of them.

"A man of wise words, learn from yourself," the male's chilling amethyst gaze locked onto his own.

"Get away from me!" Ara roared at the boy pinning him against the branch.

Before the peeved man could take note, he witnessed a scrunched up feature before a resounding kick rattles him. Splotches of dark liquid drip onto his robe; the throbbing cheek. Wary eyes trails up the length of the oni standing in front of him.

"I told you to lower down your volume when speaking to me," the young lad seethes. "Your precious Yukio is a liar, he manipulated your dumbness to his own gain."

"Haruka, don't be too rough with him," someone cautioned him from the sideline.

"The fuck I won't," Haruka snapped in anger.

"You will never earn a place in Heaven, I pray that your soul burns and never feel the peace-" he condemned earning more hit all over his body.

By the time his abuser was satisfied, he was exhaling loudly when someone walks over to rest a warning hand on his shuddering shoulder. Instead, he shrugs off before Ara receives one last kick on his swollen profile.

"I WILL SHOW YOU HELL ON THIS EARTH!" he shrieked in unadulterated rage. "SCREW YOUR DIPLOMATIC! ALL OF YOU CHOSE TO WALK IN THE SAME PATH AS US WHEN YOU BASTARDS HIRED A BUNCH OF ROGUES!"

The words struck a chord within Ara's soul, Yukio had mentioned the plan to ambush Ibuzo although nobody had a clue that the said person intermingles with dangerous people. Even though, Ara not once but several times, debate internally of Yukio-san's mindset the individual was engulfed in a bleak world. Encircled by the vivid cries of devotees, he began to distance himself eradicating an idea of turning an army of God's men to rebel for the sake of "goodness".

At the same time, he was disturbed by the fact of Ibuzo, a former ronin, being respected within the community of priests as well as regular folks. Yukio became secluded many times, Ara had witnessed idiocy swarming in his eyes. Perhaps, the boy was not in the wrong in this matter.

"You will not find Yukio-"

"Can you tell us about the link between the ghost village, Takayama and this band of men?" the leader cut off his sentence.

"What?" Ara whispered between puffy lips.

"There rumours circulating about the group Yukio had hired to kill Ibuzo," he informed, the man began to pull out the weapon from his side. "Those people are yakuza, they murdered every living soul in that village."

"What do you have to say?" a tall man in cropped white shirt shifted on his feet as if, impatient.

A white streak of dismay envelops Ara realizing he had been blindly caught up in Yukio's insane plan. Tears leaked out of his squeezed eyelids, he sobbed in a choking manner. The guilt of joining in ate up inside Ara because of Yukio, that man had given up his soul to the devil and chose to thread in the path infused by the tortured spirits.

"I... don't know," he emitted a mewling voice. "H-he has gone off the rockers."

The cold blade touches on Ara's wobbly chin he had no choice to look up into the eyes of a warrior. A cold draft blows through the dense forest and the priest bemused of these men would cut him into pieces.

"Tell us everything," the eerie male murmured.

"You won't find him over here," Ara opens up, he had to redeem his sin.

"Then, where is he right now?" the other tightens the grip onto the katana.

"J-just don't hurt me anymore, please," the captive moaned. "I promise to relate whatever I can and will about him but I'm pleading to you, let me go."

"I cannot promise you," the smile on the man's feature causes Ara to shudder in dread.

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