Author Topic: What He Sees at the Tip of His Sword  (Read 4535 times)

Offline Tom the Mighty

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What He Sees at the Tip of His Sword
« on: August 02, 2009, 04 PM »

Thanks to QP Diana for original translation.   Edited by me but still kinda wonky

The young man drew his sword.

    The sharp blade reflected the bright sunlight and the blue color of the sky and the sea. It wasn't bad, but wasn't so fine as to make the blade an extremely noteworthy sword.

    The blade was such a thing. (fix this)

    The young man only stared at the hilt of the sword and its peculiar decorations.

    Memories passed through his mind. --- Were it not for this sword...

    Suddenly, the young man swung the sword back as if he would throw it away into the sea ---

    "You’re gonna throw that away? Such a waste." A voice came from close beside the man.


    The young man turned to meet the source of the voice. His long blond hair swayed in the sea breeze.
 He was at the shore near the village of Kulsida. The village has nothing characteristics except that it laid by the sea. In the small harbor, there were several small-unmanned boats and a solitary angler.

    "Do you have something against your sword?" The angler said, watching his fishing line and the bobber that was floating on the sea.

    He was a peculiar man: He wore a shirt, a jacket, a pair of trousers, and a pair of boots --- so ordinary things. His black hair was long, and his face was as beautiful as a gorgeous woman. The young man couldn’t determine his age no matter how hard he looked at him.

    If someone said that this man was as young as the young man who stood next to him, still holding his sword in hand, nobody would debate it. If another man said that this angler was much elder than the young man, still nobody would say "No".

    He had a cigarette in his mouth, and it seemed stylish, but his fishing rod was too cheap for that air.

    The young man was embarrassed for a while and said, "You haven't lit your cigarette..."

    "I quit smoking not too long ago. My wife and children dislike it." His tone was much rougher than his looks.

    "You have a wife and kids? ... Are you even old enough to have a family?"

    "My age isn't your business. But back to the matter at hand. Will you throw it away? Your sword, I mean?"

    "It's not your business, either," the young man said. "Uh-- Let me tell you that if you hope that I’ll give this sword to you, forget about it. I won't."

    "No, I won't hope for that. ... I know that it's not my business. I don't care what will happen to you and your sword. I don't care if someone else takes it and will kills a bunch of people. I don't care if you will save people by that sword.  Not my business."

    "So... What are you trying to say?"

    "Well... When I was a younger man, I was once a mercenary much like yourself. In those days, I had a policy; to call a man 'second class' when he doesn't care about his sword. And call a man 'less than third class' when he has a hard on for his sword. Simply put, you piqued my interest and I decided to meddle."

    The young man said nothing.

    "Don't mind me. Just throw away your sword as you see fit if you hate it that much. And throw away what’s eating you along with it, too."

    The young man stood still without a word, until finally, he sheathed his weapon and said. "Mister, may I have your name?"

    "Don't call me 'Mister'. Haven't you’ve got any manners? When you ask for someone's name, give your name first."

    "My name is --- Gourry. Gourry Gabriev."

    "Good honest boy. Here is my advice too you. When you give your name first, not everyone will give his name in return. This is the way of the world."

    "... What?" Gourry shrugged his shoulders and turned around, knowing that the man had just made a fool of him.

 The sound of waves crashing upon the shore sounded and then . . . nothing.

      ::: It’s surprising for this village to have two travelers at one time as it was merely a small fishing village a long ways from the main roads.  Some, solitary folk, travel here; but almost all of them just come and go without a word.

      Today, despite the sheer lack of reason to do so, two travelers came and they actually stayed. One is the unidentified man who travels alone. I don't care about him. But, I'm interested in another.

      He seems to be a mercenary. I wonder what will they do to him?
      If they fail in their scheme, I am sure that at least some of them will be killed.
      If so, still I can at least get some entertainment out of it.
      Hmmm... I want the travelers to do their best.
      Even just thinking about it gets me excited. :::

    "What?" He muttered and stopped. The wind whipped at his black hair.

    The village lay between the hills and the shore, the sun was setting behind the hills. On the beach there was the man alone admiring the colors of twilight. He was on his way to the inn, giving up on the fruitless fishing. Probably feeling that someone was watching him he looked to the direction a small dark shack in the evening sun.

    Curious, he went up to the shack and pushed aside the straw curtain with his fishing rod. Inside he saw that there was nothing but junk through the inky darkness.

    The black-haired man lost interest, and turned around to walk to the village.


    The smell of the fish filled the dining room on the ground floor of the inn. It was time for dinner, but there was only one guest. Even one guest was an unnatural occurrence in this inn.  Even the people of the village rarely ate here as the several dishes of fresh fish and bowls of stew that could keep several days that were on the menu were what the villagers ate in their own homes more often than not.

    No, this inn was managed by someone who had the largest house in town and ran the place as more as a hobby than for actual earnings.

    The evening sun shone through the opened door and the windows, revealing the seedy air in the dining room.

    Gourry was the only guest.  He was waiting for his meal that he had ordered a while before. He couldn't press the waitress for his dinner, since she was also the hostess and the cook. There was only one employee in this establishment.

    "You look bored. Not much to do here, right?" The voice came from Gourry's side and he knew that was the man whom he met earlier at the harbor. Yes, Gourry was quite bored.

    "...Oh, it's you...," Gourry said without turning back, hand cupping chin.

    The black-haired man sat on the other side of the table,  the unlit cigarette ever presently hanging from his lips.

    He glanced at Gourry and then at his sword resting against the table.

    "... You haven't thrown the sword away."

    "Leave it be. Why are you sitting there, anyways? This whole place is empty."

    "Ah, don’t say it like that. The more the merrier, right?”

    “Oh, I get it. You may act the loner tough guy but you’re actually a lonely guy, aren’t you?”

"Yes, I can be." The black-haired man ignored Gourry's jab, saying with a bitter smile, "I was used to being alone for the longest time. But now, I have my own family, and I'm used to being in my noisy house. I started forcing reasons to travel alone after these long years of hard work. I left my family behind, and found that I enjoyed living the laid back life. But, lately I’ve been bored out of my mind. But at the same time I just can't stand the thought of going home so soon after roaming here and there. But today, I found you, who seemed to be very interesting."

    "Am I just a diversion to you then?"

    "Maybe. It's rare for a man to display his troubled mind so clearly. I became a little too curious and had to talk to you."

    "It’s not that rare for a guy to have problems."

    "You’re right about that." The black-haired man said, and he leaned forward over the table toward Gourry. "But, as I am a man, I’ll give you some more advice; If you fall in love with a girl, don’t display your troubled mind to her.”

    "What?" Gourry turned pale and waved his hand. "I... I didn’t fall in love with you!"

    "What are you talking about you Idiot!? I didn't say that!" The man turned away boiling with rage.

    "... But, that’s how I expected your train of thought to..."

    "You expected my train of thought to go like that? How you can get to the result where you fall in love with me? I only wanted to say that there is no problem for you to have a trouble, but, it isn't such a great idea to display it every waking moment!"

    "... Oh, I see... Why didn't you say it like that before?"

    "I told you! Are you a certified idiot?!”

    "Certified idiot?  And in the end you have the gall to..." Gourry swallowed his words and watched at the inn’s door.

    Three men entered, all eyes on Gourry and the black-haired man.

    "You are traveling fighter, aren't you?" an old man with gray hair and gray beard greeted the swordsman, his eyes meeting Gourry’s.
"Yes, I am..."

"Well... We would very much like talk with you for a while. May we join you in dinner and speak?"

    Gourry seemed to consider the offer for a second, and said. "Hmm . . . I can listen to you . . . but I can't promise to accept whatever it is you’re offering."
    "Thank you very much," the old man bowed from his waist to Gourry, and then he went to the kitchen.  After a brief talk with the hostess, he came back.

    "Sorry to make you wait. We will pay for everyone’s meal." The old man sat at the same table with Gourry and the black-haired man. Other two men stood and flanked the old man.

    "And? What’s this all about?"

    "Yes . . . I am the village mayor, Kyle Bunitz," the old man begun to talk. "Regardless, I don't know where to even start . . ."

    As Kyle spoke  the hostess brought Gourry and the black-haired man’s suppers. It was a dish of salad, a bowl of soup, a loaf of bread, and a dish of a boiled fish. Typical fishing village fair.

    "Please eat. You can listen my story as you dine. Please."

    "Are you sure?" Gourry and the black-haired man took their forks, and the village mayor continued on with his story.

    "Well . . . What can I say. .? To tell you the truth, this village has had some troubles these days..."

    "Hmmm?" Gourry replied, munching on some seaweed salad.

   The black-haired man chewed on his bread, watching at the village mayor without a word.

    "This village lays between the hills and the shore. Some folks go out for the sea to do fishing, and some others go to the hills to hunt. That is how we live."

    "Hmm." Gourry was going to stick the boiled fish with his fork.

    "Wait. Sorry for interrupting." The black-haired man said, stopping both Gourry's action and the village mayor's tongue.

    The man's tone wasn't strong, but he was obviously serious. He turned to Gourry and said. "Yet some more advice. Don't eat the fish: It’s poisoned."

    "... What?"

    The mayor and his men turned pale.

    "Are . . . Are you joking?" The mayor said, but the black-haired man displayed a cynical smile.

    "The timing was just plain awful serving us dinner so soon after talking to the waitress. Plus I noticed the perculiar smell of this boiled fish has.  This is the smell of Borgi sea snake venom, right? Oh, and when I warned Gourry, you turned pale. What more evidence do you need? But if you insist that the fish isn't poisoned, will you try some with us?"

    "Damn it!" One of village mayor's men shouted and rushed for the table --- for Gourry's sword.

    But, Gourry was quicker and he smacked the back of the attacking man's head with the sheath of his sword as he stood up from his seat.

    "Gu?!" The mayor’s henchman fell to the floor in a heap.

    "What is the meaning of this?" Gourry asked the mayor, but the old man said with a deeply troubled look on his face.

    "Forgive us . . . It is for our village . . ."

    "Fools! I won't forgive you!" Shouted the Black-haired man. With a crash the black-haired man hit his side of the table, making the other end hit the old mayor square in the jaw.

    "The men in this inn are in cahoots with the village mayor! Get out!" The black-haired man said to Gourry.

    "Al... Alright!"

    Gourry and the black-haired man ran out of the inn . . . and they stopped without a word.  Outside there were men of the village. All were armed with knives, clubs, or  battle picks.

    "Well, well, looks like the whole village is in on it!” the black-haired man gave a surprising cry. "What will we do? Feel like using your sword?"

    "No, not really," Gourry had his sword in his hand, unsheathed. "What is this about? Will you explain?"

    But the villagers came one step closer, making the circle of people smaller.

    "Do you know what are you doing?" The black-haired man shouted this time. "When you show your will to kill someone, it is the same thing to declare that you accept being killed by your target. Do you know what it feels like to get hit with a sword?"

    The man looked around the villagers. "At first, you think you are only hit by a rod. But when you see your blood everywhere and then your arm or leg on the ground. The extreme pain sets in. No. It's more than pain. It is just like a pair of burning sticks doing a tap dance on your stump and soon shock goes to the top of your head. More than likely, if you get no help, you’ll die. Or, if you don’t die, you'll suffer from both the pain and fever. --- Now, who will taste that kind of pain first?"

    The villagers wavered at that.

    The black-haired man had only a fishing rod and a bit of baggage, but Gourry had a sword in his hand.

    The surrounding men knew well they wouldn’t be a match for a professional fighter. They might be ready for some casualties, but no one wished to be the casualty.

    "Well? Any volunteers? Alright, we will choose the first one. Come on, Gourry. You shall go..." the black-haired man looked around and pointed at the one direction of the street. "This way!"

    The surrounding circle of that direction broke apart.


    With the cry of the black-haired man, the two men dashed. Not expecting the sudden move, the villagers stepped back even more.  Gourry and the black-haired man broke through their way and ran through the deserted street.

    Just the, the village mayor stumbled out from the inn.  He knew what had happened and shouted. "What are you doing? Don't let them go!" But it was too late; The two men disappeared into the night.

    It was impossibly dark on the hill they found themselves on. The dim light of the moon and stars couldn't reach the ground, obscured by the leaves of the trees.

    In the bottom of that darkness, two men hid themselves.

    "Wow, they already begun to sweep the hill. Hard workers." The black-haired man said easily, watching the flames of torches half-visible among the trees coming nearer.

    "Well... it's natural for them to be frantic. It would be serious trouble for them once its known that the whole village tried to kill two men."

    "Hey... Can I ask you a question?"

    "What?" The black-haired man turned back, and Gourry gave a question with a serious look.

    "Why have you been carrying your fishing rod on your shoulder since we ran away from the inn?"

    "Nothing strange about it. You can see a man walked around, holding his pillow, when his house is on fire."

    ... Oh, was he in a panic? ... Gourry muttered in his mind.

    "There is nothing to talk about my fishing rod. Now, it's time to talk about what we will do. And? What will you do?"

    "Hey, tell me what you will do to this situation."

    When Gourry said, the black-haired man seemed to be delighted.

    "Let me see... The easiest way is to run away from here, and forget about the happenings in here."

    "It's irresponsible. Why won't you tell the officers in another town...?"

    "Are you kidding? No officers will believe us. If they will believe us and investigate the village, all the villagers will fix up the story and get it straight. The investigation will end in smoke. Well, on the contrary, there is a complicated way."

    "A complicated way?"

    "Yes. To seek out the reason why they tried to kill us and remove the cause."

    "I see. Try that way."

    "Come on... You can say so easily, but I'm not sure if we will be able to do with the situation when we find the reason. Don't you realize that?"

    "We will know if we will be able to do something or not, only when we will find the reason, right? And---" Gourry patted the hilt of his sword. "... In my family, there were troubles over this sword. I ran away from home with this sword, thinking that were not for this sword... But, you told me that I would be able to do something when I had this sword. Now, I want to try to see what I can do when I have this sword in my hands."

    "Hmmm," the black-haired man smiled a little. "Alright. Then, we shall catch some villagers first," he said as he watched the fire of the torches.

    "This way." He said and ran through the woods, not bothering with finding a path.

    Gourry followed him half a step behind.  The two men swiftly ran down the hills without a path and or light.

    For a while later ---

    The two runners soon found four villagers. Each of them had a torch in the left hand and a weapon in the right.  Before he showed himself, the black-haired man threatened them.

    "Do not make a sound or you'll die."

    The four men trembled. The black-haired man appeared from the trees, leaving Gourry behind in the thicket.

    "My friend is near. Don't hope to run away."

    At first four men were cowed by the black-haired man, but ---

    "Don't act so tough when you only have a fishing rod!" One of four said, realizing the thing that the black-haired man had. But the man ignored the villager's remarks.

    "I think this is more useful than that stick you’ve got."

    "What did you say?" He was probably encouraged by the absence of the swordsman --- Gourry. The villager raised his club and dashed for the black-haired man.

    At that instant the fishing rod in the hand of the black-haired man danced in the air with a whirling noise.

    "Ouch!"  The villager dropped his torch and club, covering his face with his hands.

    Other three men did not see what had just happened.

    Only Gourry could see that the end of the fishing rod barely hit the eyes of the villager, enough to hurt, but not with enough force to blind him.

    The black-haired man grabbed the crouching villager by his collar and let him stand up on his feet. "Listen to me. I once was a mercenary. I can choke you, an ordinary man, to death with my bare hands. If you don't want to die, give me answers. Why are you guys trying to kill us?"

    "I... I... We don't want to kill! But if we don't, we'll be killed! There was nothing we can do except to try to kill you!"

    "You'll be killed?" The black-haired man frowned--- Suddenly he jumped back, releasing the villager just as the man exploded, showering the area with blood and chunks of flesh

  Silence ensued for a brief second before the three villagers realized the death of their friend, and they ran away, shouting for help.

    The black-haired man didn't chase them. Instead he stood still, watching the thicket just opposite to the thicket behind where Gourry hid himself.

    "What? What was that?" Gourry said, emerging from the trees.

The black-haired man swung his head and said, "Someone poked his nose into our business from somewhere. Maybe, that was so-called the string puller . . . But, heis gone now."

    Gourry looked all around. He had felt that something had appeared just before the villager had been killed, and he felt the thing disappear only a minute before as well.

    "What was that? The string puller?"  Gourry asked but he found no reply. The black-haired man was thinking without a word.

    Gourry sighed and looked to the direction for which the three villagers had ran away --- back towards the village.

    "Those villagers probably think that guy was killed by you. What will you do?"

    "I'll go to the village." With that simple answer, the black-haired man began to walk.

    "Eh... Hey! Wait!" Gourry followed him in haste. "To the village? What will you do there?"

    "I'll think of something."

    "You'll think of . . . something? Like what?"

    "I think that I found out what is going on."


    "Yes. But I won't explain it now. I'm afraid that I’ll look like a fool if it turns out that I’m wrong."

    "What are you talking about?"

    "Never mind about it. But, if I am right, our real enemy isn't an ordinary one. I think that you'd better not to come with me."

    Gourry was irritated. "Come on! I know that you are strong, but I have a little confidence in my skill."

    "A little confidence isn't enough. If you could kill a plasma dragon with a kitchen knife like my elder daughter did, I wouldn't stop you."

    "Are you kidding? There is no one who can kill a plasma dragon with a kitchen knife. But . . . if your elder daughter can use a kitchen knife . . . Then you are really older than what you seem to be!"

    "Don't say 'old'. Anyways, if you want to come, then come. But if I say to run away, you'll run away. Understand?"

    “Uh . . . what are you talking about? I don’t get it.”

    "I don’t care if you get it or not, you’ll run away when I say so."  Talking, the two walked down the hills to the village.

    The wind blew, causing the dancing fires of the torches to cast twisted shadows on the wilderness at the outskirts of the village. There Gourry and the black-haired man confronted dozens of village men.

    A murderous air permeated the night air.

    Breaking through the tense atmosphere, the village mayor stepped forward. "Why did you come back?"

    "Well, I came to see the face of the string puller." The black-haired man said, carrying the fishing rod on his shoulder.

    The previously silent villagers stirred and hushed conversation buzzed.

    "Who told you?" The mayor asked.

    "Nobody. I only guessed so." The black-haired man answered.

    The fire of the torches decorated the deeply trouble look on the face of the old man. "So you understand our circumstances then you can . . . fulfill our hope. Please die for us."

    "It's okay." The black-haired man said easily.

    All the men lost their words, and before Gourry complained, the black-haired man pointed at the village mayor.

    "But, before I go, you’ll go first. It's too lonely to die alone."


    Ignoring the groan of the old man, the black-haired man pointed at the other villager, then at another man, and said.

    "And you'll die after the mayor, and you'll be the next. And the next will be... you... And..."

    "Idiot! Why we would . . ." One villager, who was pointed at, cried, and the black-haired man gave the cynical smile.

    "You can't die for another person, still you demand another person to die for you? Don't think that you can make a fool of me you deranged idiots! I’d rather be the prey of wolves than to die for you."

    "Are you provoking us?" The village mayor was getting irritated, but the black-haired man ignored him.

    "Finally you understand me. Don't mind me. You are deranged, but you are far much better than the creature who threatened you and gave those orders to you. Even if it can't do anything else to hide itself, trembling, behind the shack."

None of the villagers said anything.

    "--- Oh, you knew that I am here ---" A voice came from somewhere near the shack, somewhere away from the villagers. The men with the torches were all frightened.

    "Master Ruzouru . . ." The village mayor named the thing.

    The black-haired man turned to face the direction of the voice. "My younger daughter studies magic. Before she went out for her journey, she told me many things related to sorcery. I heard that your kind feeds off of the fear and hostility of humans. My guess is that you came to this small village, knowing that they had no guardians, and threatened them into killing travelers, right?"

    "... Good imagination..."

    A black shape of a man appeared from the dark shack.

    Shadow of a man? Gourry thought. The shape has a too big head for a man. The body is too slim, and the arms are too long.

    All the villagers took a collective step back.

    Gourry could see the thing under the dim light. It had a big head, easily two times as as large as a human head.  There was no hair, ears, nose, nor mouth. Instead the orb was covered with eyes that were as big as an infant’s fist.

    This thing couldn't be human.

    "No way!" Gourry cried in surprise. "How can it speak without a mouth?"

    "You’re more surprised by its lack of a mouth than the rest of its appearance?" The black-haired man griped. "It’s a demon. Be careful, this is a troublesome enemy."

    "You know that I am a demon, and yet you described me merely as ' troublesome'. Surely, you do not think you are a match for me?"

    The demon --- Ruzouru moved closer to the man, his legs not moving as if he was floating in midair.  It pointed at the villagers with its thin finger that seemed to be like that of a thin old man.

    "Yes, you are right. Those men are deranged. I told them what to do after I killed several of them. I ordered them to kill ny travelers who would stay in this village, or even more of them would die. I expected that several men would try to resist me, but no one did. Moreover, they took and divied out the money and property of their victims. They are so deranged that they became highway men, using my orders as an excuse."

  All the eyes of Ruzouru twisted in the shape of smile as his words made the villagers angry and embarrassed.  "And that's why I like this village. I won't let this man from outside of the village disturb me. If you want to destroy my place ---"

    "Will you kill me just like you killed the man who I confronted in the hills?"

    "Yes, I will. Now, I shall show you why one should fear a demon!" Ruzouru's eyes widely opened. The black-haired man and Gourry jumped far away.  An instant later, the ground where they had stood exploded.

    No villagers could see what had happened but the black-haired man and Gourry could see the attack for what it was; The demon created a black ball of magical power, disguised in the darkness and when it impacted on something, it exploded.

    The black-haired man ran straight towards the demon.  Ruzouru threw black balls one after another, but the man dodged them all. He reached the Mazoku and ---

    "What can you hope to do?"  the demon laughed. Ignoring the laughter, the man swung his right hand and hit the head of the Mazoku with his fishing rod.

    "---?!" Ruzouru gave a soundless cry and jumped back.

    "No way?!" The cry of the demon was filled with surprise.

    Gourry and the villagers couldn't see what was going on. It was the Mazoku who didn't dodge the blow, and it cried "No way". It seemed like a bad joke.

    ". . . You think that ordinary weapons can't hurt you. And here I hit you with a fishing rod." The black-haired man sneered at the Mazoku. "You want to say that for a pure demon, only spirit attack magic or willpower can work. Yes, I knew all about that.  It means that if a human channels his willpower into the things in his hand just like I did, a fishing rod can do the same amount of damage to a demon as a sword with the same amount of willpower. Anyways, I learned all of that from my daughter."

    "I see . . . But... You can't be powerful enough to kill me with one blow, and you are so talkative . . . there is no way you can deal a death blow . . ."

    "Wow! You got me there!” A sweat drop ran down the cheek of the man.

    "Now, you'll die for insulting me!" Ruzouru created a slew of dark balls and threw them at the man one after another. The black-haired man dodged them, moving fast.

    But. One of the black balls broke apart into many tiny black balls just before it reached to the man.

    "What?"  The man gave a cry and ---


    Many explosions tore at the ground and clouds of thick dust formed.

    Ruzouru watched the place where the black-haired man had been. Did the man die? Even if he didn't die, he was surely injured in the explosion.

    As the demon was thinking, Gourry broke through the cloud of dust from another direction and ran for the Mazoku.  He drew his sword and swung it. But before the blade reached for Ruzouru, the blade flew away from the hilt. Was the nail inside the hilt dropped or broken?
    Does this man think that he can use the same skill as another man? Fool! And you lost the blade.

    In the next instant, Ruzouru's laughter disappeared.

    "Light, come forth!" Gourry shouted. Light appeared from the bladeless hilt. The light created a blade of magical power from the channeled power of owner's will. The blade cut the body of Ruzouru from one shoulder to the waist.

    Giiiiiiiii!!  The cry of the Mazoku was like that of a beast. Ruzouru stood still, his injuries preventing any movement.  But its true body was its head. The head and breast of it flew up to the air, leaving its hips and legs to become the dusts on the ground, in order to go outside of the reach of Gourry's sword.
    But somebody was ready for him.

    "Elmekia Lance!" The voice and the light came through the cloud of dust, and the white light directly hit the head of Ruzouru.

    The Mazoku struggled in the air without a cry. Ruzouru saw a shadow and was of Gourry who had jumped up, having used his swords sheath to get a boost! He swung the sword of white light, each of Ruzouru's eyes reflecting the blade.


    The blow cut apart the demon’s head. The wind blew, bringing the smell of the sea to the wilderness.  Ruzouru became black dust that disappeared before it even hit the ground.
  After the dust had gone, there stood Gourry and the black-haired man who hadn't been injured.

    Gourry turned to the man and said, "You can use offensive spells."

    "I learned it from my younger daughter. I planed to use it as my last card, but..."

    The black-haired man stared at Gourry's sword with a bitter smile. "You said that it was a sword with a story, and here I thought it was just some cheap magical sword . . . But that’s the legendary Sword of Light!" He went near Gourry, still with a bitter smile, and patted his shoulder. "If you still plan to throw it away, please give it to me instead."

    "You said that you didn’t hope to take it!"

    "Idiot! I though it was a cheap sword, I wouldn't hope for that. But this is Sword of Light! Give it, give it to me, please! Gimme the sword!"

    "No way!"

    ". . . Was it . . . destroyed?" a voice came from the side of the arguing men.

    The two men saw the village mayor stepped forward from the villagers.  "It was... The demon Ruzouru was destroyed, wasn't it?"

    ". . . Yes, it was . . ." The black haired man nodded, looking displeased. He took out a cigarette and put it in his mouth.

    But, as with before, he didn't light it.

    ". . . Thank you very much. You saved us . . ."

    "Don't be ridiculous," the man said coolly. "I destroyed that Mazoku only because he pissed me off. That's it. I also hate you who kill travelers and have the gall to play at being the victims. I know the demon threatened you and all, but still I can't stand you people! I'll gonna tell all about what’s happened here to the officers in the next town. You will pay for what you did. Understand?"

    ". . . Oh . . . No . . ."

    "Don't say 'No'. When the officers come to this village, don't pretend not to know, don't try to cheat them. Be honest. If you won't, I'll come back and destroy this village." The black-haired man turned around.

    "Let's go, Gourry."

    "Uh? Alright," Gourry grabbed his sheath and thrown blade, and trotted after the man.

    "Hey... there are no more Mazoku. How about we stay and spend the night in this village?"

    "Only a fool would do that. We can't stay here anymore. They would try to kill us, hoping to make sure their secret dies with us."

    "Oh, I see."

    "It would be much better for us to sleep in the woods. But . . . When my wife sees my clothes got stained, she’ll give me an earful."

    "Oh, are you afraid of your wife?"

    "Idiot. I love my wife."

    The moon’s dim light shone on the back of two men as they left the village.

    Epilogue ---

    Four days had passed before Gourry realized that he had never gotten the name of the black-haired man.

    The young man still didn't know if he could do something with his sword.

    He couldn't be sure.  And sometimes, he thought that there was nothing he could do.

    But, even so, he felt that he would be able to do at least a little.
    And on that day he saw her on the trail, running through the woods.  A young girl surrounded by bandits. She was dressed as a sorceress, and she seemed far more confident than frightened.

    There is no need to help, Gourry thought.  But, it isn't bad to try to do something, carrying this sword . .
    Gourry drew his sword and said loudly  "Alright guys. That's enough."

    And the swordsman met with the girl.

Did you bring home the coleslaw you lazy B#&*@!?

Offline Rebmastu

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Re: What He Sees at the Tip of His Sword
« Reply #1 on: August 02, 2009, 05 PM »
Oh man, that was great! I wasn't expecting Gourry's partner in crime (cough) to use an Elmekia Lance - I practically cheered at that point. Very intense.

This is the first face you will see in hell.

Offline Melfra

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Re: What He Sees at the Tip of His Sword
« Reply #2 on: August 02, 2009, 09 PM »
This is why Tom's the coolest bastard on the forum.

Offline Tom the Mighty

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Re: What He Sees at the Tip of His Sword
« Reply #3 on: August 02, 2009, 10 PM »
I agree
Did you bring home the coleslaw you lazy B#&*@!?

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Re: What He Sees at the Tip of His Sword
« Reply #4 on: August 02, 2009, 11 PM »
Shut up Tom, you suck!

Offline Tom the Mighty

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Re: What He Sees at the Tip of His Sword
« Reply #5 on: August 02, 2009, 11 PM »
I don't agree
Did you bring home the coleslaw you lazy B#&*@!?

Offline Otaku100

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Re: What He Sees at the Tip of His Sword
« Reply #6 on: August 15, 2009, 05 PM »
I agree with.......someone.
"I thought it was shoot the kid and keep the parents alive........whoops."


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