#ronins

Keith, Dana, Ashe and Damon

So I played Sekiro yesterday and till now my mind is filled with samurai's and katanas lol.

I couldn't concentrate on my IF so I decided to write a snippet.

Also, if you're a writer or a reader you can use this as a prompt to your story or just write for fun but remember if you use it, just give me credit :)

I am standing beneath the towering bamboo trees, seeking refuge from the scorching sun. Despite the shade, the sun's rays still manage to sneak through, causing me to adjust my sedge hat for the third time. Sweat beads form on my forehead, and I can feel the sun's gaze burning down on me.

As I scan my surroundings, I can't help but feel as though the sun is taunting me, shifting its angle to intensify its fiery glare upon me. My skin feels as though it's on fire, and my throat is parched from the sweltering heat.

My hand instinctively reaches for the gourd hanging from my hip. With a quick flick of my wrist, I bring it to my lips and tilt my head back, allowing the cool, refreshing water to quench my parched throat. It's not the smooth, satisfying taste of sake, but it does the job. I'll have to find a proper bottle of sake once I pass through the next town.

With a deep breath, I take a step forward, my feet sinking into the dirt beneath me. The path ahead is uncertain, but I must remain focused and vigilant. As I walk, the sound of rustling leaves and chirping birds surround me, and I take solace in the peace and tranquility of nature.

As the sun reached its peak, a gust of wind swept through the Valley of Whispers, stirring the tall bamboo stalks into a synchronized dance. Their rustling whispers filled the air, resembling the soft murmur of human voices.

The forest earned its name not from its topography, but from the eerie sounds produced by the bamboo grove every noon. Locals believed that the whispers belonged to the spirits of fallen samurai, haunting the valley in search of peace.

I'm never been a supertitious lot but I can say that the whispers are starting to sound more clear as the minute pass by and if you listen close, you can even pinpoint a voice of a little girl.

But I dismiss the thought and focus on the read ahead, no use getting my imagination the best of me.

The wind begins to subside, but the whispers persist, accompanying me like a loyal ally. Suddenly, a blur of movement catches the corner of my eye. My instincts kick in, and I subtly adjust my hat, affording me a better view. My eyes dart to the source of the disturbance, and there, among the bamboo groves, I spot a shadow darting from cover to cover.

My senses are on high alert, and though my mind tells me that the stalking shadow is merely a trick of the forest, I know better. I have felt this sensation before, the feeling of being hunted like prey. Without hesitation, I raise my hand and grip the tsuba of my sword, ready to draw at a moment's notice.

As a ronin, I have traveled far and wide, never once straying from the teachings of my master. Even in death, his voice echoes in my mind, guiding me with his wisdom.

"Kenji, listen to me," he had said. "I will impart to you three rules that allowed me to live a long life as a samurai. First, remember that the sword is an extension of you, a part of your soul. Train it like a muscle, for if your blade is dull, you will surely die. Second, be calm of mind and hone your senses. In this world, there is no good or bad, only those who seek to kill you. And finally, never doubt your instincts, no matter how ridiculous they may seem."

As I draw my sword with lightning speed, my instincts take over. Three kunai knives come hurtling towards me, but I am ready. With the precision and grace of a master swordsman, I deflect them effortlessly, each strike ringing out like a bell.

As I turn to face my attacker, I catch a glimpse of their black shinobi garb, as dark as the night sky. It's as if they are swallowing up the light from the sun. I can feel my heart racing, but my training keeps me calm.

The figure is adorned with kunai knives strapped to their legs, and polished metal balls are hanging from their belt. But it is the mask they wear that truly sends chills down my spine. It is the mask of a red demon oni, its teeth sharp and pointed like daggers. It is a symbol of death and destruction, a warning to all those who cross their path.

I raise my voice, hoping to provoke the mysterious figure to speak. "So they sent an assassin!" I shout with conviction, my hand firmly grasping the hilt of my sword.

The stranger responds with a swift movement, shifting their sword to their left side and drawing a wakizashi from its scabbard. The small sword is like a little brother to the katana, and I can tell this is a skilled warrior.

But the stranger is not finished yet. With two swords in hand, they slowly raise their free hand to their mask. I hold my breath, knowing that revealing one's identity can be a fatal mistake in the world of assassins.

With a deft movement, the mask is removed, and my heart skips a beat. I am face to face with myself. We share the same nose, the same clean-shaven chin, and even the same eyebrows. The only difference is in their eyes, which seem to glow like red orbs, and their pale, almost lifeless skin.

"I have come to claim your soul, ronin!" the assassin growls, their red eyes glowing menacingly as they brandish their weapons.

My hand tightens around the hilt of my sword as I prepare for the fight of my life. This enemy may look like me, but they are not me. They are an assassin, sent to kill me.

But as I ready myself, I cannot help but feel a twinge of fear. This opponent is unlike any I have faced before. They know my every move, my every thought. How can I defeat them?

I close my eyes and bow my head, calling upon the wisdom of my master. "Guide my sword and offer me your wisdom once more," I pray silently.

With a deep breath, I open my eyes and charge forward, meeting the assassin's attack with a fierce clash of steel. The sound echoes through the forest as we exchange blows, each strike ringing out like a thunderclap.

As we fought, I could hear my master's voice in my mind, guiding me with every step. His teachings echoed in my heart, giving me the strength and skill to hold my own against my doppelganger.

"Kenji, remember that the sword is an extension of you," his voice whispered. "Let it flow like water, and strike with the force of a thunderbolt."

With a swift motion, I raise my sword and take a defensive stance, watching as the assassin approaches. Their movements are quick and precise, their two swords flashing through the air like deadly snakes. I can feel their eyes on me, their gaze burning into my skin like hot coals.

The sounds of our swords clashing echoed through the valley as I stood, face to face with my opponent. I was a ronin, a samurai without a master, and my enemy was a skilled warrior, trained in the art of swordsmanship.

With every clash of our blades, my enemy seemed to know my next move. It was as if they could predict my every thought, every action. But I had one advantage: I was not bound by the strict code of honor that governed the samurai.

As my enemy swung their sword towards me, I deftly parried the attack and raised my own weapon, striking them in the face with the handle. They staggered back, stunned, and I seized the opportunity to strike.

I sliced my sword across their midsection, and black blood spilled forth, sizzling in the bright sunlight. I pushed my blade into their stomach and dragged it across, watching as the blood disappeared in a puff of smoke.

But my victory was short-lived. Behind me, I heard the sound of laughter. "Is that all you've got, ronin?" my enemy taunted, rising to their feet.

ひとり登山部LOG第147弾。

群馬県と福島県にまたがる尾瀬国立公園の要所のひとつ尾瀬沼へ4人登山。 草紅葉が少しずつ始まっていて秋の気配を感じる広大な湿原を歩いてきました。

登山コース： 一ノ瀬休憩所〜三平下〜沼尻〜尾瀬沼ヒュッテ〜一ノ瀬休憩所

Camera: Sony a7s + DJI RONIN-S Lense: Tamron 28-75mm f2.8 Edit: Premiere pro Music: House That's Made of You by Michael Shynes