Malice in Wonderland

An Honest Mistake Chapter 2

2-26-07


“Sound Effects and Over Dramatics”



Lithely, the lone figure enters the darkened room. The only minimal source of light coming from lit candles lining the long corridor. Creating shadows that paint and stain, twisting across the room like spilled ink or in Genma’s opinion; spilled blood.


Shoulder length honey-blonde hair stained crimson. Much like his armor and his body from the many wounds and gashes he received in return for each blow, each strike of the sword or senbon needles he dealt to his former friend and lover.Striping off the heavy armor, he proceeds to slather on the healing salve with a smell somewhere in between sweet cherry blossoms and bitter sake.


Hissing through clenched teeth at the stinging pain, Genma finishes the set task of salving his wounds. Stiffly, he begins to bandage all of his upper torso and left arm being sure to not aggravate the wounds more than he needs to.Allowing his eyes to slide shut he thinks back to the fight that brought him to his trashed and scattered state.

Focusing on the memory of clashing swords, metal against metal and the look of shock upon Nero’s face when the mask he wore fell to the ground in broken pieces revealing Genma's face underneath. Their bitter voices and angry words spin 'round his mind like a taunting nursery rhyme. “I should have known you’d be a damn traitor Genma!” Nero allowed the words glide off his tongue like honey.

He also remembers the sloppy and barely dodged swings from Nero’s sword as he aimed for Genma’s throat or any other vital area; barely missing by a few precious inches.

Opening his eyes again and blinking back tears he can’t stop the fight from playing inside his head or the words from taunting him like some sick and twisted mantra stuck on terminal repeat. Angrily he throws his pouch of senbon needles to the floor. Genma, clenches his eyes shut, he can't make the memories stop.

He can't forget the look of shock and blatant anger that shadowed Nero’s face as he threw two well aimed, if hastily thrown senbon needles into Nero's wrist's.Or the resounding bang and clatter as their swords hit the ground. Their breathing hard, panting for breath, as they stood sizing each other up, inspecting the damage they inflicted upon the other.

Genma can't stop thinking about the way Nero appeared in front of him so quick that he didn't even have a chance to scrabble back or throw a senbon needle into Nero’s throat. He cringes at remembering the sharp pain of Nero's piercing hits knocking him down if only for momentary.

His blurred vision,and how he was just alert enough to see the smug look of triumph that crossed Nero’s face as he leaned over to whisper un-known words into Genma’s ear.

Genma remembers. Just the way he can't stop his memory from playing visions of how he stabbed four senbon needles into Nero’s chest. Genma also remembers Nero being the stubborn bastard he always was. Just couldn't stay down, and couldn't walk away either." Genma thinks ruefully, reflecting on the memory of.

The echo of their swords clashing and the movements they made again and again to dodge any and all attacks made by the other. If not to kill, then, certainly to leave more than a mark on flesh, a mark on memory not to be forgotten. "Another scar on my soul is of no difference to me either way. Genma thinks bitterly throwing the jar of healing salve against the door frame.

"Such a bitter pill to swallow, to know I faught the one I'll never kill". Genma voices out loud to no one, sinking to his knees. As his memories continue to overwhelm him. Of being stabbed just above his left shoulder and the slow sadistic way the blade was pulled out as it slid from his skin.

Nero's mocking words only served to add insult to injury in Genma's mind. “Genma, Genma you are such a disappointment to me. You don’t think that I still care do you? Let alone still love you."

Words that made Genma's temper flare and before he could think he pulled a kunai from the pouch on his upper left thigh. And Slashed a large cut across Nero's face, drawing blood. Smiling smugly at Nero and voiced his own mocking words “No, no I don’t suppose that you would, not that you could care, Nero.” He remembers the way he instictivly knew he struck a nerve.

Sobs wrack his body harder now, so hard it almost hurts, his breathing coming in rough short gasps. More memories of how he wouldn't thrust his pride down while he thought what to say. More searing memories of Nero flash behind hazel eyes.

Of Nero's blind rage, and how he easily dodged hasty and forseeable maneuvers on Nero's part. The swiftly landed punches and stabs to Nero's chest with the kunai in his hand. How he didn't stop even as the blood raced down his arm and he knew that he should have.

But he couldn't, he wouldn't. All because of his need to prove that the past is just that...the past and any love or past ties weren't enough to make him spare Nero's life.

Curled into a ball and staring at nothing as more tears silently roll down his cheeks; he remembers the most painful memory of all; Nero barely able to rise to his knees. His venomous words as he eyed Nero who was just barely risen up on his knees. “Nero, know that I could kill you and I should. But I won’t, not yet. You could prove to be useful to me.”

Him standing up and before he walks away from Nero completely turning around and throwing two kunai just shy of piercing Nero's thighs, into the ground in front of him and laughing cruelly. How he left Nero defeated and on the brink of either exhaustion or bleeding to death.

Pushing himself up off the floor and rising to his feet, as he pulls on his bloody armor again, he can't think about Nero anymore. Genma doesn't want to think about Nero anymore. As he grabs the list of names marked for death and walks out of the room.

He doesn't think and he doesn't feel, Genma doesn't care..."Get down and stay awake. Smile. He has to remind himself that he isn't a man, he's just a ninja gone mercenary, and he's just another paid sacrafice." A thought I'm best to remember.He thinks with empty resignation.