Smoke wafted across the frost encrusted field, the cool breeze carrying the stench of death. Mizuru wrinkled her nose in distaste. The enemy had been corraled, trapped against the raging rapids running down from the mountains. The Lord's army had made short work of the peasant rebels, and now she, the quickest swordswoman in all of the Eastern lands, was forced to do the dirty work of dispatching the wounded and surveying the damage done.

She stepped over a bundle of bodies, hacked apart by the cavalry when a sudden precognition hit her. She ducked without thinking, and an arrow whipped past, narrowly missing her neck. The smoke curled for a brief moment, and she saw her opponent. A young boy, wielding a bow, wearing nought but a ragged robe. His face was determined as he nocked another shaft and took aim. Mizuru charged forward, her hand already grabbing the handle of her katana. The boy let loose the arrow, and the swordswoman sidestepped it, unsheathing her sword in the process.

Too late, the young archer realized his target had closed the gap, and fumbled for his dagger. His fingers curled around the handle as Mizuru leapt and slashed downwards. Her katana carved through the boys upraised arm and sliced through pale skin, opening up the abdomen from breast to pelvis.

The young lad squealed, his big brown eyes looking down in horror as thick loops of intestine slopped onto the frostbitten grass and dirt. Steam rose, along with the heavy metal scent of blood, as dark red ichor splashed across Mizuru's face and bust.

The boy fell to his knees, dropping his bow as his one intact arm tried desperately to hold in his quivering guts. He looked up at his killer, soft lips flecked with blood.

"Y-you...it hurts" he wheezed, sweat beaded along his brow.

"Present your neck, and get it over with", Mizuru barked harshly.
The boy sagged, and bowed his head.
With the graceful motion of her 19 years of experience, the swordswoman lopped the boy's head off, her blade slicing through his slim neck like a hot knife through butter. Blood surged out of the neck stump, along with pale yellow vomit. The headless body fell backwards. She knelt, and picked up the head.

His eyes flickered, his lips parting as he tried to say something.