The Man of Lost Time

by Shroomkin

The Prayer

Prologue: The Prayer

Life is but a fickle thing... It turns, it bleeds, it sparks in the forgotten embers of the flame. Yet it is one of the many gifts the gods gave the mortal men. And dare I say, even the wretched monsters and demons, ghouls of the far west of Edo, the oni of Kyoto, and the lowly kappas of the marshes, all have the same gift of life. And yet, they perish and fall to the flames of war. Villages pillaged and destroyed, bloodlines tarnished, all lead to death and despair. It is for that very reason that death included me as a part of his prize, a mere mortal man born from the once proud, now decimated, Akamine clan. This is my story...

---

My name was Ryoto of the Akamine clan, proud samurai of the current daimyō, Date Orochi. I live to serve my lord and fight for his honor. My comrades are my greatest strength, for they stand proudly by my side. My family is but my heart, specifically my mother and my siblings, for without them, I wouldn't be the man I would be today. My father is my rock, the one who trained me and guided me to the path I lead on today. Without them, there wouldn't be balance in my life. They are my anchor and my sails for a ship I call my own. They are my wings as I glide into battle with my uchigatana, my claws as I pierce the enemy with my yari, and my shell as I return home from battle. It was... peaceful in a way. I acknowledge that there is strife, but going back to a home with food on my bowl and youthful smiles around me made me realize that life is good. Too good.

Like the tree that has withstood a thousand storms, it is still but a tree, and alas, could be cut down by the force of a blade. Once my pride, my dignity, my relief after a long skirmish, now lay in front of me as mere corpses akin to a puppet. The soulless eyes that stare back at me, the house that burns behind them. The screams that echo, the lands that shake, it was all too much. I have failed. I have failed my family, my friends, my people. I have failed my lord. And all that remains are a few of my men, once called my comrades. I live not as a proud samurai who fell in battle, for I have been denied an honorable death. No, I live as a mercenary, a rōnin forced to roam across the land, surviving in the wild once I emptied my pouch of ryō. A tough life is ahead of me, a tough life of regret.

It was then that I encountered other mercenaries, no, bandits. Upon my travels, I was known to slash away my foes, and those that I encounter the most were bandits. Tough times indeed, yet they didn't need to steal from the pregnant, the poor, the ill, and or the weak. It infuriated me. Maybe it was for the glory or the fame, maybe it wasn't, but I did so without mercy, hacking and slashing away my enemies. It was because of such actions that branded me with such bad luck. People both feared and praised me. They mostly hated me, but some wanted me for protection upon learning my deeds in battle. And it is with those deeds that I became a target to certain bandit clans and other mercenaries. Few ever dared, a logical approach.

Yet I, too, found myself in an illogical situation. It was upon my travels that I met her, the love of my life, the pearl amongst the rubble of burning wood. Akane, as she went by, her surname no longer chained to her. She was an outcast, much like myself in a way. She had beautiful red eyes, gleaming in the moonlight, long black hair that reaches her waist with a butterfly pin being the only thing that holds it. Long have I desired a family of my own, and my wish has been granted by the grace of the gods. Yet, I found it illogical in a way, for I had no home to go back to. It was when she offered her own house as sanctuary that I truly fell for her. As time went on, I managed to earn enough ryō to sustain us both. We lived merrily and enjoyed each other's company. It was great news to learn that she was of child and, as decided, we both placed our pasts behind us for the future of our child. Yet all fell into ruin one hazy autumn day.

It was when I left to gather firewood that tragedy had struck. Not long after I left, I heard her screams, the bloodcurdling screams that was accompanied by silence soon after. I heard it once more, the all-too-familiar screams of one who has been struck by a blade. I rushed back home, dropping every log I had to lessen the weight, hoping, praying that she was alright. It was merely a hopeful wish, completely illogical. When I returned, I saw five men in total. Four men holding torches as they burned our house down to the ground, and the fifth man crouching, his hand squeezing the neck of my wife. His blade, deep in her chest as blood oozed out of her limp body. It was just like before. I have failed once more. In my rage, I attacked like a vicious animal, a feral beast that had no humanity. I slashed and sliced, blood dripping from my enemies. I sustained injuries, but I did not care. I was tired, the light was giving out, yet I fought hard. It was only when the last man charged behind my back that I succumb to my injuries. An arrow pierced at my sides, a deep wound on my abdomen, and a few scratches to my body. My blade lay on my side, broken.

The man left, clutching at his amputated arm. I lived to see him flop and stumble to the ground, and with some sort of miracle, bury his body to my axe. Another kill to my name, if my name would even be remembered. With the last of my energy, I crawled unto the body of my wife, staring at those lifeless eyes. I couldn't even hold her, even if I wanted to. I didn't even realize that I had tears in my eyes. Whether it was for my wife and our unborn child or from the pain I was enduring, I had no idea. I did not care. I pushed myself off my crawling state and laid down on my back as I stared at the peaceful clouds, simply floating by without a care in the world.

"Finally, oh death, come to me," I said as it was getting darker. But I couldn't accept it, so I cried once more. "Please... gods..." I murmur under my tears, too weak to even scream out my lungs. It was a pathetic sight to behold. "Give me... another chance..."

The distant sounds of thunder kept me intrigued, only for a second as I closed my eyes, maybe for the last time. Then I felt as if I was floating. The pain was disappearing, but it was still there. Perhaps this is how death feels like.

Clip clop, clip clop, the sounds of hooves I hear from my right. Clip clop, clip clop, it was getting louder. I opened my eyes and saw an orange horse, and I smiled. "I never imagined... death's steed to... be so... colorful," I said as I finally passed out. Whatever happened next, I do not know. But I knew I wasn't dead, for I was still breathing, I could sense it. I could sense myself being carried, I could sense myself being brought to a comfortable place, and I felt myself being pricked by a needle. I was alive... Once more, it seems...

It was only after a few hours, or so I assume it to be, that I woke up. This time, I found myself in a room, a window to my side and a few... iron things that made high pitched chirp-like noises. I noticed that my uchigatana was simply leaning on the wall, its sheathe closed. Surprisingly, it wasn't dripping with blood, nor was it broken. It was as if it was in pristine condition. Still, that wasn't what bothered me the most. What bothered me were the horses in front of me, all 6 of them, each with varying colors. Perhaps the yellow one was poisonous.

Still, being alive... It wasn't what I would call a blessing, nor would I call it a curse. What intrigued me the most were the horses. Where exactly am I? I tried to speak, but found not a word to say. I heaved and coughed, slowly and painfully, it took away every bit of energy I had left. And it seemed that the same orange horse was there as well. Perhaps it was a mare. Looking carefully at the horses, they all seemed rather... off, yet the light of humanity was evermore present in their eyes. They were worried. She placed her hoof onto my back as she gently caressed it. And then it spoke. "Are ya alright, sugarcube?" The horse asked, the worry present in her voice.

The horse was definitely a mare, yet what confuses me is that I somehow understood it. Tired of it all, I didn't pay it any mind and simply nodded as I lay back down unto the comfortable bed and drifted once more unto the world of dreams. Perhaps this was the afterlife, and that my mind was wandering into unknown places I have never even dreamed of.

Author's Note:

Shroomkin's Glossary:

Daimyō - Feudal Lords of Japan
Yari - Japanese style of spear
Uchigatana - The official Japanese term for the famous Katana
Rōnin - A samurai without a lord or master
Ryō - Gold currency of the Japanese (no longer used)

Comments

[Vaultboy0000]

This something i liked to read. Someone from a different era transported in Equestria

[Shroomkin]

11471240
I hope you enjoy!

[Vaultboy0000]

11471250
I certainly will! It's hard to find stories like this, especially anthro stories that doesn't involved smut

Got nothing against it. Just rather annoying to see a lot of those

[Shroomkin]

11471256
Thank you very much! I'm glad you like it! 🤗

[Vaultboy0000]

11471263
No problem. Can't to see what you have next. Good luck! ^^

[Late_Night]

now THIS has my intrigue
i shall watch your progress on this story with great interest

[Shroomkin]

11471270
Thank you! I'll do my best to write it!

[Eagle]

This is surprisingly enjoyable. The idea is solid and seems to be executed well so far, you clearly know a fair bit about Japanese history. Scenes are written rather beautifully and competently. Would only say to adjust the spacing a bit so paragraphs don’t clutter, but well done overall

[Shroomkin]

11471831
That's also a problem I'm having, the spacing I will do my best to fix those problems! Thank you for enjoying it!