crane wings on windows 001
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Side Note. Just to break away from my Saito/Chizuru fan-fiction I decided to make this Kazama/Chizuru one because I love how they interact sometimes even more than the others do. I just love how Kazama has a way of getting under Chizuru’s skin which we rarely see her behave to anybody; and yet she has this compassion to not hate him anyways.
I don’t own the characters; they are all copyrighted under their respective owners. Everything else (plot/random OC’s/story-line) is copyrighted to me; unless otherwise stated.
Like in my other story(ies) I don’t use honorifics due to the fact I don’t want to mix them all up (and pretend I know what I’m talking about because I don’t). For basic setting the scene, this fan-fiction takes place as if Chizuru wasn’t a oni of a well-known family. Also, this fan-fiction is set as if the Shinsengumi do not exist as the main parts of this fan-fiction are in or around Kazama’s ‘castle’. I do not know where he lives; or if it is a ‘grand place’ but assuming he is a royal oni he likes people to know it. So yeah…just, run with my imagination on this one okay.
And I seriously don't know if Kazama loves cranes. :/ I just made that up because it was an interesting spin on his personality.
Keep comments clean/not nasty. These are here for your enjoyment. If you do not enjoy-do not comment. Simple♥
The pitter-patter of rain was the only thing Kazama could hear besides the rumbles of thunder far in the distance. His sight spanned farther than humans could ever dream but still he was unsatisfied. His body healed itself without the aid of fancy tricks or medicine, but still he hoped, no longed, for something more. Something better than he had ever thought could be possible. His scarlet eyes pierced the canopy of trees his roofed balcony stood beside. Spring was almost over and the trees were lushes pigments of green since the rainy season had come. He could see the glistening of the rain droplets hit each leaf and then drop down to the group below.
He lifted his head from his fist and pulled his top half up more so his elbow rested on the plush pillows beneath him in a comfortable way; he was tired of this lax life. Nothing happened that was worth notice. Humans fought over petty things; such as grain, land and other people. He didn’t wish for such folly things but rather to see his blood-line become etched into the sands of time as one of the strongest. Pure-blooded oni were few in this day and age, even less so were female. He was a picky person when it came to suitors who traveled far to try to mate with him. The women who did come to him were ugly at best or half-blooded at worst.
An oni such as him could only mate with someone who was the highest in stature and whose blood only flowed with the oni’s blood. Half-breeds did nothing for him; except annoy him with their lies. Did they think he did not know who was a pureblood and who was not? Did they think him that much a fool? Surely, they jested to humor him.
His brows furrowed down; he was not a fool. He found their jests at him humorless and ill advised. Many of the half bloods did not see the light of day after stepping forth into his keep. He easily slaughtered them for pleasure. The others were lucky to become slaves of his keep or workers of his fields. He only kept the few who seemed able to work; those who failed him were killed upon the ground they toiled over day after day after day. His mouth twisted at the thought. They worked and worked and worked, he thought it fitting for them to die on the soil they turned and the fields they plowed. He was doing them a favor after all.
Lazily he allowed his eyes to traverse the skies and the birds that flew lazily in the grimness of the clouds. He allowed his gaze to fall upon a man who sat bowing by his side. As if he understood his master’s gaze, he pulled a long thin smoking pipe adorned with a crane to Kazama. He lifted his right hand and plucked the pipe from his hands looking it over. He glanced back at the man who gulped and looked down.
Grinning Kazama closed his eyes while lifting the pipe to his mouth.
“Leave me.”
The man did not need to be told twice to do so; he bowed deeper so his nose touched the ground and then walked backwards until he left through two large wooden doors with cranes adorned on their faces. His oni symbol was not a crane, but for some reason the birds brought him peace. They gave him such pleasure that he often would visit their nesting spots to watch them. No one laughed at this habit mainly because no one knew of it, and even if he or she did, were too afraid to say anything.
He dragged the pipe from his mouth to release a thin line of smoke. After a month of teaching himself, he had finally perfected his pipe smoking (he had of course perfected it long ago, but he didn’t chase his fluttering thoughts from his mind). Many oni could do something trivial in minutes by allowing their powers to teach them in an instant, but he preferred to do things with his own hands and own power. He felt more empowered and more of an oni than any, simply because he chose not to take the simple route.
His peace was broken as the crane doors were pushed open again and the same man who had brought him his pipe; scuttled across the floor until he was mere feet from Kazama. He bowed and not hearing anything from Kazama, spoke, “I bring you news. A group of men has traveled here from Edo to bring you a new servant. They believe you would take interest in her.”
A female? Rarely did these groups of men bring him females for his employment unless they were specialized in some skill such as cooking or weaving. He blew another thin line of smoke and lethargically brought his eyes to meet the man beside him.
“Bring her here then.” Dismissing the man from his side, he let him scuttle away just as quickly as he had come. He mulled over the curiousness of this new arrangement. These men he trusted to bring him good and workable servants; oni, human, or both. He preferred oni slaves opposed to human ones as he could keep them in his service longer and showed his stature by how many he had. Humans did not respect the ways of his race and were stupid, un-educated people who couldn’t even stop squabbling long enough to breathe. He focused his thoughts again; most females they brought were oni who they scoured long and hard for; hoping they would become his mate so they could collect a bigger prize. Like everyone in the world, it seemed they desired only money. He took no qualms to this as money did show power, and he loved power.
Even the women he mused over as possible candidates were worked to see if they could handle their keep. He didn’t want a weak woman breeding for him; he wanted a woman who could work hard and be both beautiful and strong. Just as he let his mind wander, the doors creaked open again; allowing three men, his servant, and a petite woman to pass through its barrier.
His only acknowledgment to them was a sharp nod and a long wisp of smoke from his lips while pulling the pipe away. Knowing the procedure the three men pushed the woman in front of him allowing him to see her up-close and unobstructed. Her head was bowed down so he could not see her face, but she wore men’s clothing. He glanced at them wondering why they brought him a woman dressed like a man; surely, this was not a good start for his inspection. Giving them the benefit of the doubt, as they were good slave hunters, he took the end of his pipe not grasped in his hand and placed it under the woman’s chin. He lifted her face with ease, even with her slight struggle, and allowed himself a dark grin. Her face was rounded and she possessed expressive brown eyes and milky white skin. He knew immediately she was an oni; even if she tried to hide it behind all the plain clothing and modest hair cut; though he didn’t think the clothes were all that made her look plain.
Her basic face was plain at best, but there was something ethereal about her anyways. He could see it deep, deep behind her appearance. Something about her made him think twice about having her be sent somewhere else. He watched as her face went from anger to defeat; she easily caved he mused. If her expressions were anything to go off of; her personality was one where she knew when it was futile to fight. Maybe his slave hunters had not failed him after all.
He removed his pipe from her chin, allowing her to go back to slinking her head down, her hair flowing with the fluid motion. Kazama rested his left fist back on his cheek and he waved to the servant, “Give the men their money, then take the woman to the slave’s quarters where she may be instructed and her clothes may be changed.” His eyes glanced back at the girl, “What is your name?”
She spoke but one word, “Chizuru.”
He grinned again, “Thousand cranes? Do not fail me and you may live well.” He motioned for the servant to take her and his guests away so he could be at peace again. He thought lightly over the new servant. If her name meant anything, she would prove to be an interesting keep; if for nothing else than the fact her name ‘thousand cranes’ was to bring good luck. He closed his eyes again allowing the sound rain to be his one and only accompaniment.
-
Finished! Sorry this doesn’t have any real setting movement or major interest other than me trying to write Kazama’s thoughts, but I want to really give Kazama some depth (and not make him just background noise because that’s lame). So expect many long monologues of his thoughts in the future…for some reason I enjoy getting into the heads of bad people who have complexes like Kazama. (: So maybe this will help me write for other people similar to him in the future!
Comments are appreciated.
Side Note. Just to break away from my Saito/Chizuru fan-fiction I decided to make this Kazama/Chizuru one because I love how they interact sometimes even more than the others do. I just love how Kazama has a way of getting under Chizuru’s skin which we rarely see her behave to anybody; and yet she has this compassion to not hate him anyways.
I don’t own the characters; they are all copyrighted under their respective owners. Everything else (plot/random OC’s/story-line) is copyrighted to me; unless otherwise stated.
Like in my other story(ies) I don’t use honorifics due to the fact I don’t want to mix them all up (and pretend I know what I’m talking about because I don’t). For basic setting the scene, this fan-fiction takes place as if Chizuru wasn’t a oni of a well-known family. Also, this fan-fiction is set as if the Shinsengumi do not exist as the main parts of this fan-fiction are in or around Kazama’s ‘castle’. I do not know where he lives; or if it is a ‘grand place’ but assuming he is a royal oni he likes people to know it. So yeah…just, run with my imagination on this one okay.
And I seriously don't know if Kazama loves cranes. :/ I just made that up because it was an interesting spin on his personality.
Keep comments clean/not nasty. These are here for your enjoyment. If you do not enjoy-do not comment. Simple♥
The pitter-patter of rain was the only thing Kazama could hear besides the rumbles of thunder far in the distance. His sight spanned farther than humans could ever dream but still he was unsatisfied. His body healed itself without the aid of fancy tricks or medicine, but still he hoped, no longed, for something more. Something better than he had ever thought could be possible. His scarlet eyes pierced the canopy of trees his roofed balcony stood beside. Spring was almost over and the trees were lushes pigments of green since the rainy season had come. He could see the glistening of the rain droplets hit each leaf and then drop down to the group below.
He lifted his head from his fist and pulled his top half up more so his elbow rested on the plush pillows beneath him in a comfortable way; he was tired of this lax life. Nothing happened that was worth notice. Humans fought over petty things; such as grain, land and other people. He didn’t wish for such folly things but rather to see his blood-line become etched into the sands of time as one of the strongest. Pure-blooded oni were few in this day and age, even less so were female. He was a picky person when it came to suitors who traveled far to try to mate with him. The women who did come to him were ugly at best or half-blooded at worst.
An oni such as him could only mate with someone who was the highest in stature and whose blood only flowed with the oni’s blood. Half-breeds did nothing for him; except annoy him with their lies. Did they think he did not know who was a pureblood and who was not? Did they think him that much a fool? Surely, they jested to humor him.
His brows furrowed down; he was not a fool. He found their jests at him humorless and ill advised. Many of the half bloods did not see the light of day after stepping forth into his keep. He easily slaughtered them for pleasure. The others were lucky to become slaves of his keep or workers of his fields. He only kept the few who seemed able to work; those who failed him were killed upon the ground they toiled over day after day after day. His mouth twisted at the thought. They worked and worked and worked, he thought it fitting for them to die on the soil they turned and the fields they plowed. He was doing them a favor after all.
Lazily he allowed his eyes to traverse the skies and the birds that flew lazily in the grimness of the clouds. He allowed his gaze to fall upon a man who sat bowing by his side. As if he understood his master’s gaze, he pulled a long thin smoking pipe adorned with a crane to Kazama. He lifted his right hand and plucked the pipe from his hands looking it over. He glanced back at the man who gulped and looked down.
Grinning Kazama closed his eyes while lifting the pipe to his mouth.
“Leave me.”
The man did not need to be told twice to do so; he bowed deeper so his nose touched the ground and then walked backwards until he left through two large wooden doors with cranes adorned on their faces. His oni symbol was not a crane, but for some reason the birds brought him peace. They gave him such pleasure that he often would visit their nesting spots to watch them. No one laughed at this habit mainly because no one knew of it, and even if he or she did, were too afraid to say anything.
He dragged the pipe from his mouth to release a thin line of smoke. After a month of teaching himself, he had finally perfected his pipe smoking (he had of course perfected it long ago, but he didn’t chase his fluttering thoughts from his mind). Many oni could do something trivial in minutes by allowing their powers to teach them in an instant, but he preferred to do things with his own hands and own power. He felt more empowered and more of an oni than any, simply because he chose not to take the simple route.
His peace was broken as the crane doors were pushed open again and the same man who had brought him his pipe; scuttled across the floor until he was mere feet from Kazama. He bowed and not hearing anything from Kazama, spoke, “I bring you news. A group of men has traveled here from Edo to bring you a new servant. They believe you would take interest in her.”
A female? Rarely did these groups of men bring him females for his employment unless they were specialized in some skill such as cooking or weaving. He blew another thin line of smoke and lethargically brought his eyes to meet the man beside him.
“Bring her here then.” Dismissing the man from his side, he let him scuttle away just as quickly as he had come. He mulled over the curiousness of this new arrangement. These men he trusted to bring him good and workable servants; oni, human, or both. He preferred oni slaves opposed to human ones as he could keep them in his service longer and showed his stature by how many he had. Humans did not respect the ways of his race and were stupid, un-educated people who couldn’t even stop squabbling long enough to breathe. He focused his thoughts again; most females they brought were oni who they scoured long and hard for; hoping they would become his mate so they could collect a bigger prize. Like everyone in the world, it seemed they desired only money. He took no qualms to this as money did show power, and he loved power.
Even the women he mused over as possible candidates were worked to see if they could handle their keep. He didn’t want a weak woman breeding for him; he wanted a woman who could work hard and be both beautiful and strong. Just as he let his mind wander, the doors creaked open again; allowing three men, his servant, and a petite woman to pass through its barrier.
His only acknowledgment to them was a sharp nod and a long wisp of smoke from his lips while pulling the pipe away. Knowing the procedure the three men pushed the woman in front of him allowing him to see her up-close and unobstructed. Her head was bowed down so he could not see her face, but she wore men’s clothing. He glanced at them wondering why they brought him a woman dressed like a man; surely, this was not a good start for his inspection. Giving them the benefit of the doubt, as they were good slave hunters, he took the end of his pipe not grasped in his hand and placed it under the woman’s chin. He lifted her face with ease, even with her slight struggle, and allowed himself a dark grin. Her face was rounded and she possessed expressive brown eyes and milky white skin. He knew immediately she was an oni; even if she tried to hide it behind all the plain clothing and modest hair cut; though he didn’t think the clothes were all that made her look plain.
Her basic face was plain at best, but there was something ethereal about her anyways. He could see it deep, deep behind her appearance. Something about her made him think twice about having her be sent somewhere else. He watched as her face went from anger to defeat; she easily caved he mused. If her expressions were anything to go off of; her personality was one where she knew when it was futile to fight. Maybe his slave hunters had not failed him after all.
He removed his pipe from her chin, allowing her to go back to slinking her head down, her hair flowing with the fluid motion. Kazama rested his left fist back on his cheek and he waved to the servant, “Give the men their money, then take the woman to the slave’s quarters where she may be instructed and her clothes may be changed.” His eyes glanced back at the girl, “What is your name?”
She spoke but one word, “Chizuru.”
He grinned again, “Thousand cranes? Do not fail me and you may live well.” He motioned for the servant to take her and his guests away so he could be at peace again. He thought lightly over the new servant. If her name meant anything, she would prove to be an interesting keep; if for nothing else than the fact her name ‘thousand cranes’ was to bring good luck. He closed his eyes again allowing the sound rain to be his one and only accompaniment.
-
Finished! Sorry this doesn’t have any real setting movement or major interest other than me trying to write Kazama’s thoughts, but I want to really give Kazama some depth (and not make him just background noise because that’s lame). So expect many long monologues of his thoughts in the future…for some reason I enjoy getting into the heads of bad people who have complexes like Kazama. (: So maybe this will help me write for other people similar to him in the future!
Comments are appreciated.