A Campfire Story: The Sword of Sorrow

[bulmabriefs144]

(I wanna do something different. I'm personally only an average writer due to my tendency to wander in what I write, so I'd rather do it this way. You ever played this game in camping trips? Someone starts a story, someone else finishes the next sentence. Only we're doing chapters. So if you comment, I expect a chapter)

(Just a note, this isn't really a specific fanfic of any anime or anything, just a sort of fanfic of the general magical girl story)

Prologue

There is a legend from ancient times, about a sword that cuts, which is often called Muramasa, the Demon Blade. Likewise, there is a similar legend, of Masamune. It is said that the Masamune blade and a Muramasa blade being put into a river strewn with lotus leaves. The leaves swirled around the Masamune blade untouched, but the Muramasa blade would cut them. Legends, however, tend to only be half right... Some say the true legend is that both were the same sword, that it was the wielder who made it a divine or demonic sword. Some speak of a sword they like to call "The Sword of Sorrow." They call it this because it is both bringer of sorrow and death, and because sorrow is usually concerned with pain of those lost, it is a sword of mercy which can heal and recall life. But which is its true form, a sword that does not cut, or a sword which does not cut? And where might be found a truly worthy wielder?

Chapter 1

My name is Anideshi. I'm a normal college student, living at home instead of campus. Okay, maybe I'm not that normal. After all, my parents are always talking about some dream they had about me. I couldn't make much sense of it, but apparently in the dream I had powers to heal and over the elements, I was some kind of druid. Well, that was their term, not mine, we didn't really ever study what a druid is in my school. They mentioned in this dream I was fighting some great battle, and I needed a sword to do it. Somehow, whenever they mentioned a sword, it struck a small chord of familiarity. But I'd never seen the sword they were describing in any museum. They said it was a simple katana with no sheath, and a silver chain attached to the end of the hilt with a broken heart piece of steel looped inside the chain. If I was meant to wield such a sword, I'd probably bang my eye with the chain every time I swung the sword. I dismissed the whole thing as nonsense.

My name is Anideshi. It's Japanese, and I think it means "brother" and "older student." Well, I am a senior in classes, but I'm nobody's brother. I have no siblings. And I'm a girl. Well, I suppose it's somewhat appropriate, I do act like a tomboy. And I don't think I own a single scrap of frilly underwear. But then I get another earful, about how when I was to be born a fortuneteller came and read reincarnation cycles. My last was apparently a male. But they said it had less to do with this, and more to do with some strange destiny that name had. I'm starting to think my parents are insane.

My parents don't exactly look like the normal type, either. My father is fairly down-to-earth personality wise, but he's Japanese. Worse, rather than the conventional short cropped hairstyle the modern Japanese tend towards, he looks like he was from the set of Condor Hero, with long flowing black wires of hair. I get my black eyes from my dad, as my mom's are an intense color of emerald. My mom's hair is light blue, and you'd say she dyed it, but my black hair has very strong bluish tone itself. If my dad could be considered the more normal one, well... my mom isn't. She has a serious green thumb, and tends to talk quite a bit to cats. And chickens. And just about anything. And they appear to listen. You'd expect such a name coming from my mom, but it was actually my dad who agreed to give me it.

I take a quick shower, shaving my legs and moisturizing my face. I don't bother with makeup or perfume, I've always been a fan of having natural beauty, even if it doesn't measure up to the other girls in the class. Still, I'm very far from being ugly, even with no makeup at all. I change into our school uniform- a red starchy blouse with a green plaid skirt and long white stockings - and walk out the door. The school started the policy of uniforms not because they were religious, or particularly into student unity, but because it was the most effective way to get the students to wear something. Our area has the best of all worlds, kinda like Seattle or Tokyo. Our city is a few miles from the eastern coast, and I sometimes go to the beach there, but I can just as easily go hiking or camping for there is a national forest to the west, a long-dormant volcano to the south, and a giant waterfall to the north, flowing from a pretty great mountain range. Needless to say, although our town being a coastal town is well connected to the rest of the world, there are many remote areas nearby where people practice nudism. So our college supplied uniforms for the students to make sure everyone, particularly the locals would stay dressed.

I ease into the driver's seat of my car, smoothing my skirt in the process, and flip the ignition. It fails twice before finally turning over, and moves off to a slow start. I'm sure today will be like any other.