The Sorrow of the Soul

[sion]

Again I have no idea as to whether this belongs in this genre but i couldnt think where else to put it.

It is based on a story that a friend of mine is writing. Her story is based on the characters from the game Samurai Warriors as well as some of our own characters.
I came up with this after she said what would happen at the end of the story.
I dont usuallywrite in this style but for this I think it works quite well.
I have done very little editing and changing this is basically how it came from my head.

[sion]

Inzari Hitari stood on the balcony, a lone figure of sadness. She was dressed for the funeral procession, wearing a long gown. It was dark purple, so dark it was almost black. It was intricately patterned with beads and embroidery. She wore a cape also dark purple, it hung low brushing the ground. On it was her clan’s – long dead but now avenged – symbol. Her long black hair, usually tied back was hanging freely down her back. The only things about her that reflected the moonlight was her skin, pale and delicate like porcelain, and the two pendants that hung round her neck. They were identical, one half of each pendant was a blood red Ruby, the other half was a shining Amethyst.
In her arms was a baby boy wrapped in an ornate shawl. She looked down at him and was caught by his stare, his eyes just like his mothers. A single tear ran down her cheek like a liquid diamond.
‘Your father was a hero, his name known throughout the land. He gave me a home and my gratitude is eternal. Your mother’s name too was known, not just for being his wife. She was my best friend. Not by blood but she was my sister. My joy with her was endless. Now they are gone and my sorrow is will never diminish.
Musashi Miyamoto, Reiaka Ishii.’
She reached up, deftly holding the boy with one hand, pulling one of the pendants from round her neck. The pendant swung slightly on its chain. On the back an R was inscribed.
‘This was Reiaka’s. They were made for us to show our unwavering friendship. This one is now yours.
Never will you know them, never will you feel their love. But I will raise you in their ‘stead. You will never know them but I will tell you stories of them, sharing my every memory of them, so you will have something. I will take care of this castle and these lands until you are able to Lord over them.’
She fell silent, hearing bootsteps behind her.
“Lady Hitari, the procession is about to begin, you are needed.’ She turned to the speaker.
He was wearing his battle armour as ever. It had been polished and it shone in the moonlight, lighting up the balcony.
‘Thank you Lord Sanada.’
He extended his arm and she took it. As she walked her face was composed. Her features giving nothing away. Only her eyes revealed her sadness. They were pale blue portals to the eternal sorrow in her soul.