At the End of It by S'revan

At the End of It

The end is nigh, and he wants out. 500 words.

He knew that the end was coming. No fool he, unlike so many others who let wishful thinking trick them into believing that the conflict they all thrived on would last forever. He could see the few humans with great enough ambition and clear enough thinking, and he could tell that this era was coming to a close. There would be a new bakufu soon, and not even he could stand up to the weapons brought by the barbarians. One on one, he would win easily, endlessly. But even twenty on one, out of his range, and armed with their muskets...

It would be submit or die. Or run away. Each unacceptable, but there were no other options.

Or were there?

To submit to a human overlord was impossible. To die at the hands of anyone less than he was equally so. To throw away his honor and run away would be to earn whatever otherwise unworthy death he could imagine. And to commit seppuku without a reason would be just another kind of running away. It was not to be thought of.

If only there was someone with better rank and skill than he!

It was, after all, time to die, but he could not think of a reasonable way to do it.

And then he thought of her.

True, she was common, not even fully trained to be a shrine maiden, but she could channel the gods better than most full priestesses. And if you looked at it from a slightly different angle, then it would not be she that killed him, but the powers that worked through her. There was his someone with better rank and skill. It would take some doing, but--

No.

That was the wrong approach.

Eventually, he simply went to her, and said, "This era will soon be over."

"How did you know?" she asked, surprised, and he was mildly impressed that she knew too.

"I can tell."

She watched him warily.

"I have a request."

"Of me?" There was a definite squeak.

"Yes. I will not belong in the time that is to come, and only you can give me what I seek."

"What do you want?" She was looking softly at him now, and he felt distant regret for what might have been.

"Death."

"I really don't like to kill," she said.

"I'm not asking you to kill me," he answered. "I am asking that you serve as the focus for your gods to kill me."

"Um. But I can't control--"

"Of course not. Ask."

"Alright." She closed her eyes and focused within herself, then opened them, determined. "I need to--" She reached for his shoulders. "Could you--"

He stooped.

"Thank you." She did not glow, but there was a presence above and behind her, reaching through her. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, and she put her hands on his heart and her mouth on his crescent.

There was a warmth, and he was gone.