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Shinju was, so to say, familiar with the way of the sword. However, that in no way had prepared her for the path of war, and that knowledge alone was pressed upon her very clearly as she witnessed the battlefield.
Where poetry spoke of red rivulets and described the dark clouds ahead, the blood and smoke surrounding her were anything but poetic. It was simply death and decay surrounding her, and even that was too philosophical and romantic to truly behold the angst and weariness that came with.
Mere days it had been since she had arrived in this strange era to which her family thanked their fame. An era she had so thoroughly studied she could almost call herself a scholar, though she didn't have the certificates to boast for it. Just a name, and even that was so often contested for she was heavily aware of the liberties and bias that influenced the tales imprinted to her mind. The Sengoku era, the era of the neverending wars between the lords, the constant string of death and glory that followed after each other in short succession.
Mere days it had been when she had been taken in by Chiyome. As expected, nothing escaped the eyes of the infamous kunoichi, and everything in Shinju's gait screamed that she had been well-trained. Though trained as she was, it was nothing that had prepared her for the horrors in the fields. No, Shinju's training was for the mind, body, and soul. A warfare turned into art in the modern ages, not meant to be lethal, not even practical.
A murmur went over the field. A shout that called over the soldiers fighting, an announcement that introduced another part of the era, closing one chapter and opening another;
"Lord Shingen has been shot!"
A death sentence, truly, for Shinju knew one thing for certain; this was the fateful battle in which the Takeda fell, or supposedly fell, for it seemed that much in this era did not meet the details of the history she had studied.
Much time to lament she had not, not that Shinju believed she needed to grief. Her time in this era was too short for any form of attachments, and there was little love from her side for the great names of this particular era to begin with. Still, there was a charge coming at her, a sword glistening through the fire and smoke surrounding them, and in a reflex Shinju pulled out her own as she blocked the attack.
Steady breath, patient mind, focussed eyes, Shinju knew the theory behind a good fight, but there was still a panic rising. The glint of the sword, ringing sharp through the air, the thirst in the face of her aggressor, seeking blood so obviously, the strength in his swing, and the malice that sparked as metal kissed metal. Shinju staggered just a bit as she defended herself, the realisation dawning upon her that she hadn't been prepared at all to meet a real fight. Talent and training wasn't enough. Bloodlust and experience was what she lacked.
Shinju knew that she couldn't continue this fight defending herself forever. It was either strike, or be struck, and she had an eerie feeling that it was likely to be 'struck'.
Logically speaking, Shinju shouldn't have been out in the field, or even engaged. For that she was still considered to be too fresh. Put into context, Shinju had been in hiding, only told to stay back and treat the wounded. So that she was at least of some use. However, the announcement that had reached them had meant enough for the fight tonight. Tonight this side of the camp was to lose and there was nothing Shinju could do about it but pray that she could find a way to escape.
"Your lord is gone, surrender and we shall spare your lives!"
A voice sounded over the battlefield and the female knew that the troops had been pushed far back, or fled. The knowledge that Shingen Takeda was wounded was enough for the first to flee, abandoning vital posts in the hopes of seeing another day.
Breathing heavily Shinju knew what surrendering meant. Despite her lack of experience she knew what it meant to be caught as spoils of war, especially being the gender she was, and it was a fate she refused. And though her arms hurt from the blows, and though she still couldn't find it in herself to strike her aggressor, Shinju continued to block, parry and block as she tried to move herself away into the forest, hoping that soon she would be able to find an opportunity to dart away.
@ShakenVeil
Where poetry spoke of red rivulets and described the dark clouds ahead, the blood and smoke surrounding her were anything but poetic. It was simply death and decay surrounding her, and even that was too philosophical and romantic to truly behold the angst and weariness that came with.
Mere days it had been since she had arrived in this strange era to which her family thanked their fame. An era she had so thoroughly studied she could almost call herself a scholar, though she didn't have the certificates to boast for it. Just a name, and even that was so often contested for she was heavily aware of the liberties and bias that influenced the tales imprinted to her mind. The Sengoku era, the era of the neverending wars between the lords, the constant string of death and glory that followed after each other in short succession.
Mere days it had been when she had been taken in by Chiyome. As expected, nothing escaped the eyes of the infamous kunoichi, and everything in Shinju's gait screamed that she had been well-trained. Though trained as she was, it was nothing that had prepared her for the horrors in the fields. No, Shinju's training was for the mind, body, and soul. A warfare turned into art in the modern ages, not meant to be lethal, not even practical.
A murmur went over the field. A shout that called over the soldiers fighting, an announcement that introduced another part of the era, closing one chapter and opening another;
"Lord Shingen has been shot!"
A death sentence, truly, for Shinju knew one thing for certain; this was the fateful battle in which the Takeda fell, or supposedly fell, for it seemed that much in this era did not meet the details of the history she had studied.
Much time to lament she had not, not that Shinju believed she needed to grief. Her time in this era was too short for any form of attachments, and there was little love from her side for the great names of this particular era to begin with. Still, there was a charge coming at her, a sword glistening through the fire and smoke surrounding them, and in a reflex Shinju pulled out her own as she blocked the attack.
Steady breath, patient mind, focussed eyes, Shinju knew the theory behind a good fight, but there was still a panic rising. The glint of the sword, ringing sharp through the air, the thirst in the face of her aggressor, seeking blood so obviously, the strength in his swing, and the malice that sparked as metal kissed metal. Shinju staggered just a bit as she defended herself, the realisation dawning upon her that she hadn't been prepared at all to meet a real fight. Talent and training wasn't enough. Bloodlust and experience was what she lacked.
Shinju knew that she couldn't continue this fight defending herself forever. It was either strike, or be struck, and she had an eerie feeling that it was likely to be 'struck'.
Logically speaking, Shinju shouldn't have been out in the field, or even engaged. For that she was still considered to be too fresh. Put into context, Shinju had been in hiding, only told to stay back and treat the wounded. So that she was at least of some use. However, the announcement that had reached them had meant enough for the fight tonight. Tonight this side of the camp was to lose and there was nothing Shinju could do about it but pray that she could find a way to escape.
"Your lord is gone, surrender and we shall spare your lives!"
A voice sounded over the battlefield and the female knew that the troops had been pushed far back, or fled. The knowledge that Shingen Takeda was wounded was enough for the first to flee, abandoning vital posts in the hopes of seeing another day.
Breathing heavily Shinju knew what surrendering meant. Despite her lack of experience she knew what it meant to be caught as spoils of war, especially being the gender she was, and it was a fate she refused. And though her arms hurt from the blows, and though she still couldn't find it in herself to strike her aggressor, Shinju continued to block, parry and block as she tried to move herself away into the forest, hoping that soon she would be able to find an opportunity to dart away.
@ShakenVeil
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