By Kakita Kaori, June 2000

Moonlit snowfields...
Here the bloodied samurai
Cast their noble lives
-- Kikaku

These events took place during the during the Race to Volturnum global storyline tournament. This was simultaneous to the release of Soul of the Empire. Thanks to Koto and Yurimaru, who gave me permission to use their characters for this story. Note: This story is quite long.

Prologue:

Dearest Sister,
We have made a deal among the swordsmen. Those of us who make it home will bring the letters back of those who do not. Since I fully expect to be home before the end of summer, I look forward to the day when I can give you these letters in person. Still, the Fortunes have their own will, and if I should fall, I want you to know that I fell with honor, fighting for Lord Kuwanan, and all of the Empire. Therefore, read these letters, and take comfort. My spirit will always be with you.

Koto watched the Wall far in the distance, and the lands of the Crane never seemed so far away. The sky was ominous and dark ahead of them, as though they were marching into a storm. The gaily-colored banners of the clans seemed brave and defiant, but they moved restlessly as the men bearing them stirred. "So, this is the Shadowlands," he thought. The ground he walked on had been scorched black by generations of fighting. He re-read his letter carefully. Properly brave, confident, suitably samurai-like. At least his words, should they return to his family, would sound like the words of the samurai he wished to be. His bad reputation at the Academy had left his image somewhat more tarnished than he wished it to be when he faced the Gates of Jigoku. The right letter, however. . . It certainly sounded like the letter of a courageous and noble samurai. It did not sound afraid.

Who knows. It might even end up being true.

Day 1: The Crab

Dearest Sister,
We have been marching for one day. There have been no attacks yet. . . only scouts, just a few goblins and the like. They fall swiftly enough before my blade. The Crab have taken the leadership, here, among the clans, for they know these lands. Soon we will travel beyond the reach of their patrols, but until then, they guide us well. I can see why they have become hard men, driven by their constant struggles, but they retain a nobility here in the face of danger that is to be admired. If honor is willingness to give ones life for the safety of the Empire, they are truly honorable men.

Koto looked slowly up from the blob of spittle that lay in the dust near his boot.

"Get up," the Crab samurai snarled. "Where do you think we are? A geisha house? You can write your whore's love-poems from Jigoku, and if you don't get moving, I'll send you there myself so you can give her my regards."

Koto looked slowly up to face the huge, angry Hida. His hand dropped slightly, but his wrist was caught by the hand of the man next to him. "No. Don't."

Koto gritted his teeth, slowly standing. Next to him, the man who had caught his hand also got to his feet. The Hida laughed broadly. "I see you'll live another day, then. Perhaps in two more days, you'll come to me mewling and begging me to end your life as swiftly as I could now."

The Hida stalked off. Koto spoke through gritted teeth. "How many oni do you think he can kill?"

The man he was with, Yurimaru, shook his head. "Maybe five."

Koto glared after him. "Is five oni worth it?"

"He could get six."

Koto rolled up the letter he was writing and tucked it beneath his do. "For six, I can live with the shame."

Day 2: Toturi's Army

Dearest Sister,
At the head of our army marches the Imperial Guard. There are so many of them. With men from all over Rokugan, their numbers have swelled. I remember our father telling me of the days when members of all the clans would compete for the honor of being amongst their number. To look at the eyes of those who lead us, that glow of pride still drives the hearts of the men of this new Legion. We are honored to follow them.

Koto re-read his letter, and put it away. Up ahead of him, the Imperial sigil of the Emerald Champion marked the shoulders of a thousand samurai, a well disciplined army marching side by side. But, mixed with the sign of the highest office in the land, there hung the mark of shame. The sign of the Wolf.

The second day had stretched on, and still there was no attack from the Shadowlands. But already the Imperials had taken charge, waving the Wolf banner. Koto felt a surge of anger. "What right?" he grumbled to himself. "What right do they have to order our daimyo's around, taking charge from the Crab, who know this place better than any of us? They're just…."

"Filthy Ronin." The samurai-ko hissed, looking up ahead at the banners, echoing Koto's thoughts. Her face was weathered and browned, a hardened warrior. Koto could see no mon.

"You do not approve of their leadership?" he asked, curious.

The bushi snarled. "They're nothing but Ronin. Because they followed another ronin in a war, now they think they run the whole Empire. Every clan that marches this road has fought just as much, sacrificed just as much, as them, but they take the glory. Fah!"

Koto looked again at the hanging banners of the Legion of the Wolf, then back at the samurai-ko beside him. "But, are you not a ronin yourself?" he asked, puzzled.

The ronin straightened, and looked Koto in the eyes. "Yes. I know what it is to be a ronin. My name, like theirs, was struck from the records of my clan. But, like them, it was my doing. We become ronin for our failure. We killed our lords, ran from our posts, fell asleep at our duties. We disobeyed our commanders; we were cruel in our actions. We disgraced our families. We stole. We murdered. Our honor failed. This is why we were made ronin."

Koto could say nothing, so the samurai-ko continued. "I have disdain for the ronin, for I know what I am. I know what they are. The stain of dishonor for them all could not be washed away with one deed from the Black Toturi. It takes more than a noble cause for me to claim that I have repaid my debt. I fight for the good of the Empire, but I would not presume to say it was 'enough'. And they claim leadership over all."

The ronin strode forward, throwing a backwards glance over her shoulder to Koto. "I fight. But they do not lead /me/."

Koto stood silently as she stalked away.

Day 3: Yoritomo's Alliance

Dearest Sister,
Today I am ordered to carry a message from Lord Kuwanan to the leader of Lord Yoritomo's forces. It still amazes me, Sister, how one man could unite so many samurai of such diverse clans, and led them together. He led them as one against the forces of the Dark Lord, and, with his own ambitions, as an army to attack the Phoenix lands. Now the minor clans fight as one against the Shadow of these dark lands, and our forces are stronger for it.

Koto scrawled the quick letter and tucked it away again, knowing there would be little chance later in the day for such a luxury. He then entered their ranks, where the green, brown, and yellow banners of the Minor Clans waved brightly against the ashen sky. The samurai around him wore faces of flint, their eyes steel. Koto hurried to the front of the marching column.

"I bring a message from Lord Kuwanan of the Crane, to be given to the leader of the forces of Lord Yoritomo. Where is Lord Yoritomo's commander here, that I might carry it to him?" He kept his voice formal, as was proper for an official messenger.

The Tortoise samurai looked blankly at Koto. "I do not know who you mean, Crane-sama. Who is it you wish to give your message too?"

"Your commander. The person in charge of your troops." Koto's voice colored with a hint of impatience; patience was a lesson that he was still trying to master.

"Kemmei-sama leads us!" the Tortoise said proudly. " He pointed. "He is there, under our banner."

Koto looked at the unassuming banner, midway back in the alliance forces. "Does the Tortoise lead the Alliance, then?" he asked, confused.

"Oh no. Lord Yoritomo leads us."

"Then the leader of the Mantis leads here…."

The Tortoise shook his head. "Ie. Of course not. Kamoto couldn't lead a Tortoise army out of a geisha house."

Koto looked across the pockets of minor clansmen, the banners of many colors clustered loosely about. Some, like the Wasp, ranged far and wide, while the Tortoise clustered tightly together.

"Never mind, Tortoise-san. I will ask another. Thank you."

Day 4: The Phoenix

Dearest Sister,
The attacks have begun, and there is no longer time for rest. I write this before I take my sleep, for a precious hour or so. My paper is lit in the brilliant flashes of light from the Phoenix shugenja. The Isawa watch over us for this moment, the power radiating from them as they beseech the kami for aid, filling the darkness with brilliant light. I can hear their chanting over the screams of the goblins as they are shattered into dust. They are so wise, so focused as they intone their prayers. One would think they were in their libraries, not here, lighting my humble paper with their power. We trust to their wisdom.

The chuckling was low, but in the tainted shadows, it seemed tinged with hysteria. Koto pulled his blanket tighter about him, but he could hear the laughter grow to a high-pitched giggle. He heard Yurimaru stir near him. The Kakita dancer's steps were almost silent as he made his way over to the sound.

"Isawa-sama, is something troubling you?" Yurimaru's voice was low, to avoid disturbing others. The laughter stopped.

"I forgot it. . . after all of this, and I forgot it. . . ." The voice was that of a man of middle years. Paper crinkled.

"What did you forget, Isawa-sama? I could help you find it. But you must let these others sleep." Yurimaru was always the steady one.

Despair tainted the other's voice. "No. . . .It's not in my scrollcase. My scroll. . . my precious jade strike, and I forgot it. I had taken it out to study a. . . " the voice hesitated, but then broke into laughter. ". . . A very special scroll. Just in case. And I left it in the library. It is keeping the Asako safe." The Isawa stood. "I suppose I need to go find it."

"Not that way, Isawa-sama. . . you shouldn't leave the camp by yourself. . . "

The laughter faded into the darkness.

Day 5: The Crane

Dearest Sister,
Today our forces took the brunt of the fighting. Thousands and thousands. . . ..their army was as vast as the waves of the ocean. Still, our armies fought with skill, with courage, with grace. The Kenshinzen fight like saints of the blade, and the Daidojis' spears are as swift as the wind. The Doji archers rain down flights of arrows on the enemy, and they fall before them. And in them all, hearts of steel. We will not be broken.

Koto tried to block out the screams, his steel slicing through the air as another goblin was cut in two. "Just a first year. . . incompetent. . . . What else will I write my sister tonight. . . " he thought, trying to block out the horror that surrounded him. The screams went on and on, one man's voice, nearby. Koto's nerves were as tight as bowstrings, and with each new blind, despairing scream of panic, he could feel the urge rising in him to break.

He was over there. . . one of the Doji, sword trailing on the ground and dripping blood. Foam flecked his lips, and his eyes were white with panic, and he kept screaming. The Shadowlands creatures did not touch him, as if the creatures realized the reaction his screams were creating amongst the desperate men they fought, the fear that was growing. Screaming and screaming. . . .

A black-masked man strode past Koto's back, intent. A slice from his katana casually cut down a lesser zombie that had scrambled past the line, eager to cut him down. Daidoji Uji. The commander made his way towards the screaming samurai.

Over the sound of the battle, Koto could hear Uji's words. "Samurai! Do you remember your duty to the Crane?"

The man kept screaming.

Uji's voice was grim as he asked again, "Samurai! Do you remember your duty to the Empire?"

The screams again.

"It is too far to Volturnum to take you there. The healing the Asahina can bring takes more time than we can spare. Do you understand this?"

Koto saw the screamer's face. The muscles of it were knotted beneath the skin; he could see each bead. The man kept screaming.

"You have already died." Uji's voice was grim. He swung his blade quickly, a swift, merciful stroke that removed the samurai's head from his body. Koto could not see the expression behind the mask.

Then the screaming stopped.

Day 6: The Naga

Dearest Sister,
The Naga move through our lines today. There are so many of them; bright green and brown scales glittering in the light of our torches and campfires. They seem like waves on the sea during the month of Shiba, when the slow swells lap the shore in endless cycle. They move as one, and speak little. All act as though they know their place in their celestial pattern and move to fill it completely, as though each knows the others' thoughts. They are completely alien to us, sister. They speak only half of what they know, and act on strange commands that we do not understand, as they once did when they took the body of the great Crab leader, Hida Yakamo. I do not think we will ever truly understand what they desire from us, but we are grateful for their aid now.

"Water, huumaan. . . ." The lisp of the dying naga was soft as the sweep of the wind down a sandy beach. Koto had to bow low to hear it. He was not a large naga, not like the constrictor, Radagast, that Koto had seen coiling past a whole unit of men. His brown skin and scales had been terribly slashed, clawed at by yet another foul creature of the Shadowlands, and blood stained his flanks red. His face was haggard with pain, and his eyes closed tightly in his struggle to speak. "Water."

Around the tired samurai, hundreds of men lay, dying. But this naga seemed so different, somehow. There were no other naga there. Whether they were fighting at another front, or had forgotten this one, it was hard to tell. The clash of steel on steel rang across the battlefield.

Koto hesitated. There was not much water, and the naga would not live for much longer. He knew he shouldn't waste the precious liquid on the pleas of a dying being.

"I can't. . . .." he tried to say.

The naga looked at him with pain-filled eyes, and said nothing.

Koto understood.

Koto unstoppered his water bottle and held it to the naga's lips. The iaijitsu student could understand pain. Now.

Day 7: The Brotherhood of Shinsei

Dearest Sister,
I am writing to you from my place, here behind our lines. I have been injured in yesterday's fighting…a minor stab to my leg, but here in the Shadowlands, all wounds need to be tended carefully. Now I wait for the attention of the Brotherhood. These gentle healers show such compassion, binding the wounds of every man with care and attention. They pray for the blessings and purity of Shinsei in this dark place. It is terrible here. I am thankful for their presence.

"Over here! Quick!"

"This one has a cut across his belly."

"I think you can save this one."

"This is the Hatimoto of the Ikoma. He needs help!"

"This ashigaru…."

Koto shook his head to clear it, tucking the letters away again. The package had become quite thick with all his writing. Maybe he should get some more paper…." He rubbed his temple, fighting off the dizziness. It was only the leg that was bleeding, so why couldn't he concentrate? He'd just had an ogre backhand him, sending him stumbling into the spear of a fallen comrade. He should be able to focus better than this. There would be no more paper in the Shadowlands.

A face appeared right before his own, sweat cutting channels through the soot that coated the bald pate. Koto blinked slowly at the man. "A monk….my leg…," he tried to explain, but the words were coming out slowly. Confused at his own speech, Koto tried again.

The monk raised a hand to cut him off. He looked down at the leg. "Wait here."

The Monk went then to a body near Koto's feet that lay curled with its back away to the Iaijitsu student. Koto could make out the blurry saffron robes as the monk looked at the samurai's wounds, but could only see the glimmer of gold and silver from the back of the wounded man's armor.

"I demand you heal me at once." The voice was angry, but marked with gruff pain. "My swordarm. It has been crushed, but I am the Hatimoto for the Ikoma, and I must return to them! My rank demands it!"

The monk gave a small bow. "I have such healing, but I examine the wounds of others too. I will attend you very shortly, once I know their condition."

Koto narrowed his eyes as he watched the monk. The monk returned to his side, kneeling by the man lying next to him. The man next to the Kakita student had his arm clutched tightly over the wound on his chest. He was dressed in simple, poor armor, brown and gray, with a broad-brimmed metal hat drooped over his face. The monk bent down to pull the armor from either side of the wound that cut across the samurai's do.

"You are badly wounded," said the monk, looking the edges of flesh to either side of the injury.

"Please," wounded man said, his voice steady but filled with pain. "I'm a fast healer. Just your blessing, and I know I will be able to fight. I swear!"

The monk lifted his head and gazed across the field with tired eyes. "Yes, Samurai-san, you require healing to live. And healing I can provide. But I am sorry. I cannot give to you. I will see if there is another that can heal you, but I will not have the strength left. Be strong. Your kharma in your next life will be great."

Koto closed his eyes, unable to take the dizziness for a moment. He could hear the man beside him and his quiet despair as he released a slow, painful breath. He could hear the monk move once again towards his feet, and the sound of chanting as the monk called for the healing powers of Shinsei to close the Ikoma's wounds. He could hear the commander stand and thank the monk before leaving for his unit.

He could feel the bandage being wrapped around his leg, and the touch of the monk on his forehead. "Your leg is bound. Your head will clear with sleep."

He looked up to see the small man walk away slowly. Then Koto lay back, closed his eyes, and caught a few moments of sleep next to the body of the dead man.

Day 8: The Unicorn

Dearest Sister,
My wounds were more serious than I thought, but I am recovered for the most part, and I am about to return to the lines. The fighting has swept us forward, and me along with it. At our forefront, tying our lines together with their swift steeds and great courage, ride the Unicorn. I saw her today, Sister. They rumor that the Lady Shinjo herself, returned from all the centuries of darkness, rides with them, and I saw her. She shines with divine power, her eyes filled with radiant stars. Her beauty is the beauty of the open plains, where the grass bends at the wind's touch. She truly is the daughter of heaven, like our own sweet Doji. How the Unicorn must rejoice to see her once more! They ride with her glory burning in their hearts, filled with joy at her presence among them. Dear Sister, I am Kakita. We fight and die for the mere memory of our Lady's smile. How fortunate for the Unicorn that the wishes of their hearts could so be made manifest.

Restless hooves and the snort of a horse's breath stirred the evening twilight. Koto drew himself up to attention as the Unicorns drew near. Around him, the sleeping wounded, which he guarded for this night's troubled rest. Tomorrow he would be returning to the fighting.

The horsemen ignored him as they spoke, a short distance away. "Iruko? Is that you?" The rider's voice was weary.

"Hai. Hajioki?" The other rider was equally tired. Her horse tossed its head.

"Hai. I'm glad to see you alive. What has the witch got you doing?"

Koto's eyes narrowed at the term, but he kept his silence. The other rider gestured. "Quiet. . . she'll hear you. And you know what she'll do then."

"Do? How can she hear me? She's off with the traitor, Kamoko, a million miles from here."

"She can hear anything. She can see into your heart. She can skin you alive with her eyes. Don't bring her wrath upon us, I beg of you." Koto could hear the fear in the rider's voice.

The other snorted. "She barely knows cavalry tactics. She has squandered the lives of her people. She killed my brother, and my sister's son, with no reason. . . just had them dragged from their beds, and cut down in the street. I don't care who she thinks she is. . . a kami, an oni, or Hitomi's big white backside. I swore to serve my daimyo, Yokatsu. Guess who else she's trying to kill? And you don't think she takes the time to explain her mad actions to us common soldiers, now?"

The other rider gave a horrified gasp, and Koto bit his lip in anger. 'Patience. . . patience. . . ' he thought fiercely to himself.

The speaker looked around from his high mount, and crouched a little lower, to speak in a softer voice, "If she kills me now for my blasphemy, I don't care. It's a better death than joining the Dark Moto's numbers, which is what she's led us out here to do."

"Don't say that, Hajioki. Please. I've known you from childhood. She wouldn't lead us to our deaths without telling us why. She is our Kami. She. . . She'll kill us too if she knew you were saying that."

Hajioki raised his hand. "I'm sorry. I just came to find you to say goodbye. All of the Kami can burn in the flames beyond, for all I care, but I care about you."

Koto could hold his tongue no more, and stepped forward from his guard post. "Take your sacrilege and your tainted fortune elsewhere. There are wounded men here. They must sleep in order to heal and fight tomorrow. Leave them in peace!" he snapped at them.

Hajioki turned and shot Koto a bitter, angry glare before pulling his horse's rein hard. "Come, Iruko. Let's go. . . before our duties separate us again."

The slimmer, female rider looked at Hajioki for a moment, seeming torn, and then replied, "Goodnight, Hajioki."

She quietly turned her horse and trotted back the direction from which she came. Hajioki lowered his head -- Koto could see his shadow against the sunset -- and slowly rode away.

Day 9: The Lion

Dearest Sister,
My sword has not faltered for long, and after one day of rest, I have returned to the fight. Our forces are halved or more. We fight back to back with the samurai of our clan's enemies. They are allies in our struggle against this darkness that surrounds us. I have regrouped with some of our forces around Kuwanan's banner, and he has ordered us to hold position alongside the Lion soldiers. It seems like a lifetime ago when my sword met that of Matsu Ijoju on the field of honor. Now I stand as doshi with them. There is no room for my old anger in my heart, for I am strengthened by fighting beside them. The horrors of these lands are very great. But I look into their eyes, and see no fear. They fear nothing, Sister. Not even death.

The Lion samurai tossed his head, letting the golden mane of dyed fur settle around his shoulders restlessly. "They sent me a Crane to fight with? A Crane!"

Koto exhaled slowly, concentrating on the image of the edge of his sword which he held in his mind. Straight, clean, pure. . . flawless. His words, when he spoke, were steady. "It is only until your doshin returns from the healers, I am told, Matsu-sama. My blade is sharp and fast, and it will serve to fight these monsters for the moment."

The Matsu snarled angrily, his fierce expression exaggerated by the mempo that concealed and protected his features. He paced back and forth. Across the battlefield, the Hoard was gathering for a renewed assault. The Lion looked Koto up and down.

Koto opened his eyes and assumed his stance, relaxing his knees and arms to prepare for the charge. The Lion looked over his stance and nodded. "Very well. If I must for a day, I shall. Crane, listen to me."

Koto grunted softly, "Hai?"

"If you die, I will claim your head. This is what I wish you to do." The Lion drew his sword and assumed his own stance, watching the creatures in the distance. "If I fall, and it seems a creature will claw my body in a unseemly way, you will first kill it, and then remove my head, but not all the way. You will leave a section of skin here. . . " he gestured at his neck. "I will not have my head removed like a criminal. There is a catch beneath my helmet here," the samurai pointed to the back of his armor. "This will release my helmet so you can make a clean cut. If you do not make a clean cut, I will have my revenge."

Koto paused, eyebrows furrowed at the long instructions. "Hai, Matsu-sama."

The Lion lowered his arm again. "My final haiku is in my left sleeve. You will carry it to my family. It has my mother's name on it. Give instructions to others to make sure they do so if you should fall. Do not desecrate it with Crane blood."

Koto's sword tip did not waver, but only because it was taking much of Koto's attention to keep it from doing so. "Hai, Matsu-sama."

The Matsu wiped the palm of sword hand off on his leg. "If it looks like the Shadow is going to claim me, it is your duty to kill me instantly. Strike me down, with the stroke I discussed. Better that than to risk dishonor to my clan."

Koto's fingers curled around his hilt. "Hai, Matsu-sama." He risked one last look at the Matsu, whose face was pale. Beads of sweat were trickling down the Lion's face, mostly hidden by the mempo. In the black eyes, something familiar, and yet very strange for a Matsu.

The Shadowlands legions grew closer. Men around them were gathering up spears and preparing bows. But the Lion continued, his voice less steady, but with every attempt at confidence. ". . . And if it sounds as though, when I am wounded, I will make a noise or cry out, you should strike me down also. I will not have my name shamed that way. . ."

The black hoards descended like a wave, but Koto thought he could hear the Lion giving out some other instruction that was drowned out in the screaming and clash of steel on steel.

In the Lion's eyes, Koto had seen fear.

Day 10: The Scorpion

Dearest Sister,
The Scorpion have done an amazing thing this day. We draw nearer to Volturnum. Among the beasts that surround us, there have begun to be one or two creatures whose faces have slipped away. Even a goblin with a face as smooth as eggshell can be disturbing, as you watch your blade slide through its body as if it were made of smoke. And through that, it continues to fight you. But crystal will injure these ones, and kill them, and our leaders were concerned that the numbers of such as these will grow as we draw near to this dark city. They were afraid that there would not be enough crystal in the whole army to fight such creatures. But the Scorpion have produced crystal, seemingly from thin air, enough for thousands of men. I look at the glittering yari in my hands, and I wonder how many centuries it must have taken the Scorpion to create such a store, blade by blade. The secrets they have kept. . . The Scorpion sacrifice their honor to live in the shadows, keeping their deeds hidden from the eyes of the Empire, and earn the anger of those who live in the light. And yet, they do it all for the Empire's sake.

"Come with me, and see the power of the Scorpion!!" The lone bushi's voice roared over the battlefield. The samurai stood over a mound of bodies. He was thin, but his lanky form was concealed behind heavy armor of scarlet and black. His mask, a scarf of black silk, covered his mouth and nose. Koto lifted an exhausted head at a jab in the ribs from Yurimaru, who was standing next to him. The day's fighting had been fierce and deadly, and they had been assaulted on all sides.

He straightened. "Is there another attack?" he asked the Scorpion. He changed the grip on his spear.

"Hai. . . Or at least, there would have been another attack. But I have saved you all while you were resting. See!"

Koto exchanged a glance at Yurimaru. The artisan-trained Kakita shrugged, and went after the Scorpion. Koto followed. The Scorpion led them over a small rise, one that the main forces had been avoiding. Koto seemed to remember a shout going down the line that the ground in that area was treacherous, and would catch you like quicksand if you went near. Still, there was much lost in the fighting. It was hard to tell.

The Scorpion strode forward boldly enough, and so Koto and Yurimaru followed, though more cautiously. "There!" the Scorpion proclaimed, pointing down. "If I had not killed them all, they would have attacked while you rested. I, and I alone, did this! My name is Bayushi Otamu." He turned to Yurimaru. "You will declare that to the Ikoma, correct? And in the records of the Kakita Academy?"

Yurimaru looked down in wonder. At his feet, there was what looked to be a dry stream gully. No water flowed there now, and yet, it was filled with bodies. Skeletons, goblins, and the battered body of an ogre lay in the stream bottom, their faces twisted into the expression of agony.

"How did you do this, Otamu-sama?" Yurimaru asked, amazed. Even Koto was impressed.

"Give out Scorpion secrets?! Never!" Otamu boasted. "It is not for you to know my methods. Only to carry the memory of my deeds forward forever!"

Koto crouched down at the edge of the gully, not daring to go nearer due to the filth of the corrupted flesh. A curved knife. . . .

Otamu drew himself up. "I must report this to Aramoro-sama and my clan. They may find my techniques useful in the battles to come." He turned and headed back towards the camp.

In a soft voice, Koto whispered, "Yurimaru-san. . . the goblin with the curved blade. . . "

Yurimaru nodded once. "I remember. We should say nothing. It's Scorpion business."

Koto stood. "Very well," he said reluctantly. The two made their way back towards the camp.

Day 11: The Dragon

Dearest Sister,
We are reaching the end. I am tired, but the gate is in sight. We only need live long enough to reach it. My cousins are almost all dead. Yurimaru lives, a handful of others, but very few. We have joined Reju-sama. It is strange to follow him. He returned to us, saying Hitomi has no more need for him, and since there are hardly any commanders left, in desperation, we follow. Kuwanan-sama is before us always. With us, there are many of the Ise Zume. They are a strange people. When they die, their bodies burst into light, destroying the shadow around us, buying a little time. They say they have been blessed by Hitomi, that she is the moon. That she has slain Onnatagu and assumed his place in the heavens. I cannot understand. To say the child you grew up with has become a god. . . . Their eyes are filled with fanatical devotion, their actions swayed by the surety of their faith in their new god. I must fight on, knowing that my Thunder has joined my ancestors in honorable death. That we, only humans also, must fight on alone until we join him in Jigoku. They can look up into the sky and know that she is with them always.

Everywhere, weapons clashed. Screams, grunts, cries filled the air, and the ground was drenched with blood. Koto had barely the strength to draw his katana from his saya. Pain etched its name in every line of Yurimaru's face as he struggled to keep up with the bushi. They were only a little light, bright spots of white and blue against the endless whispering dark that clawed at them. Koto clung to his spear in desperation. It flashed as the enemy drew nearer.

"We have to fall back," he said, looking at Yurimaru with concern. The artisan had taken an injury to his arm, and had lost much of his grace with the wound.

Yurimaru's voice was hoarse with weariness. "There's no place to fall back to. We have to get through these, and reach our friends on the other side."

Koto looked back. Yurimaru was right. There was only darkness there. They would have to go forward. He glanced around him, and the motley group of samurai gathered there. A Mantis. Four Lion. Two Unicorn. Three Crane. Three Scorpion. Two Scorpion. . . one fell clutching at a torn-out throat even as he watched. He remembered passing Bayushi Otamu's body earlier that morning, felled with a perfect iai-strike. He wondered what had done that. Two Crab. An Ise Zume. "We have to go forward! We're cut off here!" He pointed with his spear, and began to push his way into the enemy's ground."

The chances were slim that they would make it through at all.

"No!" A cry of anger and desperation came from Koto's left. The Ise Zume. Tears streamed down the Dragon's face as he kicked one of the shadows back, following the kick with a chop that broke bone. "Why are they here, Hitomi?! They were supposed to be weakened. You were supposed to give them a name!" Koto could not respond. He was fighting too fiercely to cut through the shadows before him.

The Ise Zume slashed down with a crystal tanto, and then turned his fury on the next opponent. "You promised us. . . . . You promised us that killing the moon, that what we have done, would destroy the shadow. But look at it! It's all around us. And for every one that we cut down, two more take its place. Why have you not named it, Hitomi? Why have you not destroyed it? Why are you letting your people die?"

The darkness, blank faces on the bodies of samurai they once knew, pressed hard against them. Koto heard the grunt as one of the Lion took their last wound on the field of battle. The Ise Zume pressed forward, trembling with rage. "You have abandoned us, Hitomi!"

At that point, a spear took the Dragon through the chest, piercing deep through the half-moon tattoo that covered it. The Dragon burst open with light, and light streamed through the wound, burning the shadow around him. The tattooed man's back arched away in pain at the spear that was driven through him. As he fell backwards, his dark eyes latched onto Koto's own. Blood bubbled from his lips. Koto strained to hear the pain-wracked voice. "This. . . is. . . not enough. . . not for a God."

There was an explosion of light, then shadow.

Epilogue

Dearest Sister,
This is the last letter that I can send to you. Only Yurimaru is left, and I am sending him home to you. He carries our last haiku and letters back to our families. He is too wounded to fight any more. I hope he makes it to the Doji plains alive. . . my spirit will be with him. Sister, there is so much I want to tell you, about the things I have seen, the things I have learned. I think I have found ways to turn aside the anger that has guided my actions for so long. I think I am beginning to understand some of the other clans, in ways that I never did before. But there is one last thing I must do, so the thousand can enter. One last creature to fight, and I must do it alone. There is no one else. Please remember me well. Remember fondly my virtues. Believe that I fall as a brave samurai. That I lived and I died as a true Kenshinzen. They may be little truths. They may have sometimes been lies, in the moments I proved those truths wrong. There were ways that I failed. But I am here, now. I am fighting. Our lives are not made of a single moment, or a single action. They are sums of all of our actions, all our deeds. Clans are made of the sum of all their people, all of their actions, and not by any single one can they be judged. Indeed, no man is wise enough to know how to judge them, in the confusing swirl of so many lives. Better, then, to believe the little truths. They are real. The failures are real. But beyond both is a truth greater than the others: that despite the lies, we act for the good of the Empire. The clans fight on. Despite disillusionment, pride, anger, fear, cruelty, weakness, foolishness. The clans try to do what is right. And bring honor to us all.

Your loving brother,
Kakita Koto
Crane Clan Iaijitsu Student.