The Way of Death

by James Von Ohlen

  “Well,” Reiji began. “Let’s find some food that isn’t poisoned.”

  The pair moved slowly, apparently not entirely convinced that everyone else in the warehouse was dead and the men who’d carried out the deed moved on into the desert. Into the kitchen, where stasis units preserved a sizable amount of food. Enough to feed the pair of them for several weeks if they stayed here.

  Clearly that was not an option. Even if Reiji didn’t have a man to hunt down and kill, quite a few Cent-Sec soldiers were en route to their position. Likely no more than a day or two away. And they wouldn’t hesitate to crucify the unlikely duo of hunter and simpleton if Reiji and the boy remained upon the arrival of the soldiers.

  The boy ran to one of the units and pulled the door open. He tore the lid off a pitcher of water and poured it over his face and into his mouth in great gulps. When it was empty, he threw it on the floor before grabbing a handful of something that looked like chocolate pudding and shoved it into his mouth. He smacked his lips loudly as he happily devoured whatever it was. This should keep him busy for a while, Reiji thought as he watched.

  Hunger gripped his stomach as well, and he was tempted to join the boy in the messy feeding, but he had something far more important to tend to. Just water for now, he thought as he reached for a bottle. If his memory served him right, which was unlikely in his condition, the installation’s medical bay would be just a few doors down.

  “Boy,” Reiji began. The boy stopped with another handful of pudding inches away from his mouth and looked to Reiji. “I might call for you in a minute or two if I need your help. Shouting ‘boy’ is going to get old after a while.” The boy stared back at him silently. Reiji thought the implied question was obvious. Apparently not. “What’s your name?” He finally asked.

  The simpleton sucked on his teeth for a moment as though savoring whatever was in his mouth, then exaggerated the movement like he was trying to dislodge peanut butter stuck to the roof of his mouth. His eyes never left Reiji while he worked at it.

  Reiji gave up waiting for an answer and turned to leave. “Tod,” the boy almost shouted and his voice filled the room. Tod the ‘Tard, Reiji thought. That would be easy to remember.

  “Alright, Tod. My name is Reiji. If I need you, I’ll call for you. In the meantime, stay in here and drink some more water before you choke.” The boy nodded energetically as he repeated Reiji’s name, not quite getting it right.

  “Rage. Rage.” He repeated to himself and almost slipped as he ran to a sink and turned it on with the hand now covered in pudding, smearing it all over the brassware and making a further mess. Reiji’s initial reaction was to go and slap him for making a mess. Then he relaxed as he realized there was no reason to worry about it. They’d be gone soon enough.

  Reiji left the kitchen behind him, limping as he walked and still using the broadsword as a cane. Who had it belonged to? A face formed in his mind and then blurred with another and yet another until there would be no identifying the man. Rationally it didn’t matter, but on some level he thought the dead man might like to be remembered for donating his blade. A blade that might very well be the one to avenge his murder.

  Irrelevant though, he thought.

  Now, what should be done with Tod the ‘Tard? Reiji pondered the question as he walked along. If he left the boy here, he would be taken by Cent-Sec. And they wouldn’t hesitate to torture him for as long as they thought was necessary to get an explanation of what happened here. And in that explanation, his own name might come up. In which case he would be as good as dead as well. It would just be a matter of time until Cent-Sec caught him and he disappeared into one of their torture chambers.

  Not only would it end badly for Reiji, that was no way to pay the boy back for saving his life. There was no doubt that he’d done some shitty things in his life, and he had no problem with that. But leaving the boy behind to face a bad end would be beneath even him.

  If he took the boy with him, Tod would likely just slow him down. Get him caught or get him killed in a tight situation. That really left only one option as far as he was concerned.

  Reiji would pay the boy back for saving his life. And he would do so with a quick and painless death. Somewhere out in the desert, away from this place. He could see it in his mind’s eye. He would have the boy eat something tasty, perhaps more of the pudding and give him a little booze to calm him down. Have him kneel and look into the setting sun as Reiji acted as Kaishakunin to him. A single clean blow would take his head.

  It would be an honorable death. A warrior’s death. The boy wouldn’t suffer and even the dusty assholes in the training hall would see the honor in it. The matter decided, Reiji picked up his pace a little. In short order he found himself pushing open a sheet metal door marked MED BAY.

  It took only a moment to find what he was looking for. A medical scanner and a stack of first aid kits with built in stasis fields beckoned to him. Each about the size of man’s chest and just as deep. Reiji picked up the scanner and turned it on before following the prompts on its tiny screen. In a few seconds he had a diagnosis of his own injuries and what would be required to deal with them.

  The lingering effects of some poison, still active in his body, but no longer in a lethal dose due to the nanobots injected into his system by Tod. Massive internal injuries that were in the process of being repaired. Broken bones. No less than a dozen. Fingers and toes, ribs, and one in his forearm that was beginning to throb with dull pain. A missing tooth. He ran his tongue over the squishy gap in his teeth. The taste of blood and dull pain greeted him. At least it was far enough back in his mouth that it wouldn’t be immediately visible to others.

  On top of the other injuries, there was a significant loss of blood that would need to be replaced. Okay, he thought, now to do something about those things.

  He placed the sword on a nearby countertop and greedily tore the nearest first aid kit open. What could they hold that required a stasis field to preserve? The answer he received brought a rare smile to his lips.

  A large injection device with a fresh supply of universal artificial blood for starters. And a series of pre-loaded nanobot syringes. Color coded as well as being surface coded like the syringes in his own med kit. The scanner indicated that he needed to use a purple syringe and a green syringe. He took one of each and carefully pressed the injection point into the skin of his left forearm before pressing the injection activation button. The spot burned for a second and then the sensation faded.

  Placebo effect, perhaps, Reiji acknowledged, as he put the second syringe down and the room seemed to begin spinning at a significantly slower rate. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as he sat in a folding metal chair next to the countertop stacked with the kits.

  The others were color coded as well, indicating to him that they likely held different equipment to be used in different situations. He strapped the artificial blood injection device to his left forearm and made sure it was in place, pressing the activation button and turning his attention back to the first aid kits.

  Each bore a symbol that seemed familiar, but that he couldn’t readily identify. Underneath the symbol, a cluster of stars perhaps, stood the letters CCG. Coalition Colonies Government, the words came to his mind unbidden. This was old tech. From before the world was left behind.

  He opened a red kit and found old fashioned written instructions on a piece of paper. As he lifted them, something fell from the packet of papers and landed in his lap. He looked down to see a data plug. That would certainly be a lot faster than reading through the instructions, Reiji thought as he lifted the data plug to his neural interface implant behind his right ear.

  The data plug snapped into place and his eyes began fluttering as the data dump commenced. A few seconds later he pulled it away from the interface port and placed it back in the kit. The red coded kit was for severe trauma such as loss of limbs. Something like that could definitely come in handy in the future. He made a mental note to take as man
y of them as possible when he left this place.

  The other shades of kit each represented specific needs for a combat medic. The general kit had a wide array of useful tools, and each other carried things like surgical kits, chemical warfare kits, biological warfare kits, and more types of severe trauma treatments. Two were labeled as Combat Drugs, with no further explanation of what that might mean.

  The final kit Reiji opened was unique among the collection and when he found the data plug for it the gears began turning in his mind. When he’d first seen the retard, he’d noted the scars on the side of the boy’s head. His condition appeared to be the result of some type of severe head-trauma, and not a genetic condition as Reiji had initially thought.

  That was a difficult thing to correct with the tech available on Lexington. The few places that could still produce medical nanobots focused mainly on repairing tissue damage, defeating poisons, and stopping blood loss. None still made medical nanobots for the repair of damaged brain tissue. It seemed like something that would still be in demand, especially in the years since the world had been left behind. There would be good money there. If they could still make these things, they would.

  Which told Reiji that they couldn’t make them anymore. And now he held a med kit with no less than five syringes preloaded with nanobots specifically for repairing damaged brain tissue. Literally a small fortune in the palm of his hand. He might hate himself later for what he was about to do, but as he saw it, he owed the boy a great deal. This was at least one small way to begin paying him back.

  And if it worked? Who knew?

  Reiji stood, noting that the world had stopped trembling and there was no pain as he rose. His head still felt funny and his arms were weak, but he began to suspect that he might survive the night.

  “Tod.” Reiji’s voice carried through the warehouse. If there had been anyone hidden somewhere in there that didn’t already know that Reiji was there, that situation was now remedied. A second later the boy’s footsteps sounded, moving quickly from the kitchen to the med bay.

  “Yeah!” The boy shouted the word, not as a question, but a statement. Reiji blinked once, and held his eyes closed for a moment, pushing down the urge to slap Tod. “I’m here Rage!” Forced serenity once more and Reiji took a deep breath.

  Reiji stepped forward and ran the medical scanner over the side of the boy’s head, hovering over the large scar. Up close he could see that it wasn’t surgical. It was the result of something nearly crushing his skull. The bone was twisted and warped out of shape beneath the scarred skin. Out in the middle of nowhere with his family at the farmhouse, it was a near miracle that he’d survived.

  The scanner confirmed what Reiji suspected. Extensive brain damage and loss of neural mass. He shifted the scanner down, over the rest of the boy’s body. A smattering of internal injuries and burns. Likely suffered when his home had burned down around him. A gift from Gavin.

  “Roll up your sleeve and put your left hand on the table, palm facing up.” Reiji mimicked the action he wanted Tod to perform and the boy did his best to carry it out. The end result was good enough. Scars crisscrossed the boy’s forearm, the same Reiji had seen before. They looked as if restrictive chains or manacles had bitten into the boy’s flesh repeatedly over the years. He had been restrained against his will and fought against his bonds, to the near ruin of his own flesh. Reiji reached down and grabbed the boy’s wrist, so he wouldn’t move and cause the injection to miss and be wasted.

  Reiji grabbed the first syringe and noticed that the boy was carrying a large knife from the kitchen on his belt. “Throw that to the other side of the room,” he said as he nodded at the knife. No need to get stabbed because the boy was spooked by an injection. Tod removed it from his belt and tossed it away.

  With the blade safely out of reach, Reiji lined up the syringes and delivered them in a quick succession. Each time the syringe touched his arm the boy wailed in pain, but held still.

  Reiji put the last back on the table, and released Tod’s wrist. The boy jerked his hand away from Reiji, staring at him as if he were the devil incarnate, but said nothing.

  Reiji wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting to happen, but on a rational level he knew that any effect the meds had would take time to manifest. On the scale of hours to weeks. Time would tell.

  Satisfied that he had done his duty to the boy, Reiji considered that he would still have to put him down if Tod slowed him or compromised his plans. If that time came, when the time came, he would give the boy the warrior’s death that he had envisioned earlier.

  But in the meantime there was still work to be done.

  “FINALLY your life has gained meaning.” The old man spoke and bowed his head slightly with the shadow of a smile flirting with the edges of his mouth. That single simple gesture was the greatest sign of respect Reiji could remember receiving from this grandfather. He also found it infuriating that the old fuck thought this was all somehow funny.

  “Or will you squander this opportunity to save what little remains of your honor and turn back to your life of petty crime, lived without purpose? Will you spend the rest of your days among the filthy masses?” A voice spoke from the distance, but Reiji couldn’t see who had said it. Doesn’t matter anyway, he thought. These assholes all look the same.

  “Revenge can be a thing of great honor. If you go about it the right way. Look to the example of the simpleton who has saved your life. He was facing sure death, greatly outnumbered, and facing superior warriors with superior arms, yet still he came to kill and to die.” Another of the grandfathers spoke.

  “Eventually he would have simply forced his way in among you and been cut down. There would be no shame in that, for at least his life would have been lost in the pursuit of honor,” another voice chimed in. “No matter if his foes were many, there would be fulfillment in simply standing them off and being determined to cut them down, regardless of the outcome.”

  So now I should throw my life away like the retard was doing. Great advice, Reiji said to himself. His own thoughts gave him pause as he saw the arrow passing by Gavin’s neck in great detail. The boy was sure to meet his end on that path, sooner rather later. Perhaps the boy hadn’t been throwing it away after all.

  “Bah,” yet another voice joined in. The grandfathers were unusually vocal today. But then it wasn’t often, or ever before for that matter, that Reiji’s presence brought such news to them. The last of their line poisoned and cut down in a cowardly act of betrayal. Left for dead in the sun-blasted wastes and his matched blades taken from his would-be corpse in an act of petty thievery.

  But he had survived. He yet drew breath and could wield a blade. The honor of the Ikeda clan could still be salvaged. Reiji, ronin, mercenary, and murderer in their eyes, could still salvage his own personal honor as well. All present agreed that the only way to do so would be to hunt down and attempt to kill the man known as Gavin. No matter how long it took or where he might flee to. And the sooner, the better.

  Some pointed out that Reiji might die in the course of his quest for vengeance. In doing so his own personal honor would be assured. That did not require his victory, only his attempt. What nobler end was there than to die while righting a wrong? They had asked the question several times. Each time Reiji had answered to himself.

  Not dying at all.

  As much as he struggled to agree with the philosophy behind their decision, Reiji enthusiastically embraced the conclusion. He’d made the decision himself as soon as he realized what had happened. He failed to see how any man with a spine and functioning balls could fail to reach the same conclusion as well.

  Reiji endured the speeches and oaths delivered by the ancestors in the training hall, sitting stone-faced and stoic with his head bowed in a faux showing of respect. He was here for a reason after all. And that was to train. He’d listen to them recite the dictionary if that made them happy. When they were happy, they shared their secrets with him.

  Eventually the a
ncestors quieted down and queued up to train with the last of their line. Old men restored to their prime and armed with superb blades. A good match for Reiji in his everyday training. But things were about to change significantly.

  “No,” he began. “With armor.” A few of the grandfathers shrugged their shoulders and their forms changed into the towering monsters of steel and muscle he had fought in the past. Clad in Kozane armor, the traditional protection worn long ago by the warriors of Old Earth known as Samurai, the old men advanced on him. Three in total, as he would no doubt have to fight many men in the near future.

  “And,” Reiji added. “I will have my own.” His form shifted as well, growing taller and wider. Strength flooding into his limbs as his flesh became steel. The program responded to his thoughts and knowledge accordingly, shifting the reality of the training hall to his needs.

  The matched blades he had trained with almost every day since adolescence were gone. Reflecting their absence in the real world. Replaced with a large broadsword. Reiji had heard one grandfather call it a Claymore. Functional and lethal, but not anywhere near as beautiful or elegant as the missing blades. That seemed to the common consensus in the training hall. An ugly thing of steel, but it would still serve to put a man down if the need arose.

  And despite the superficial similarities between the huge blade and the pair he was used to, both being bladed weapons, specifically swords, there was as distinct an art to the use of the monstrous sword as there was to the use of Reiji’s matched blades. And since the Claymore was what he had at his disposal, it was what he would train with.

  The floor shook beneath the advance of the armored beasts and the sound of steel clashing rang throughout the hall. This would be no short session, ended with the first fall.

  Reiji graciously accepted the instruction provided by the ancestors in the use of the great blade he now carried. Learning how best to strike down his foes and not get himself killed. Dozens of times the battle was fought. Each time Reiji was slain, but each time he got a little better with the odd weapon.