a/n: I wrote this story when I was about 18. If there are any similarities to this story and Last Samurai, THIS IS UNINTENTIONAL. This story was written before Last Samurai was even considered. I only bring this up because someone decided they were going to break into my room and read my stories.

She sugested this one be put up, but some tweakage; this is the tweakage.

Prologue:

The armies where ready. 5000 men to each side. . .and one woman.

My clan, the Matsudaira, was about to fight the Utakami clan. Years ago, when I was a child, someone from my clan wronged someone from that clan. I'm not sure what was done, but I knew it had something to do with dishonoring the word of a samurai.

I tied my waist-length black hair into a tail and looped it around my neck, giving me the appearance of wearing a fur wrap. It was chilly, so no one could question me. Over it, I tied a rag to cushion my head from my antler pronged helmet.

Utakami. . .at that time, I didn't care about the name, just that they where my enemies and I had to destroy them.

They had a castle to their back, a beautiful castle that would become my home for nearly a year.

I was the only female on the battlefield that could actually fight. Being the general's daughter and one hell of a fighter put me there.

"Otoo-san, when are they coming?" I was 24, but still a child in the minds of many due to height and appearance. . .

"Patience, 'Yuki-chan. They will come." Papa patted my shoulder. "Don't let yourself get captured, child. They do terrible things to women. . .If you have a choice between death and dishonor. . ."

"I will choose death, Otoo-san. No man will have me." I set my jaw. None will. . .

"They're coming; put on your helmet. Say nothing. If they knew that my emerald was out here, they would use it against me."

The leader of the Utakami clan rode up, flanked by his advisors. He was a middle aged man with a tiger's eye patch over his right eye and a long scar running down his right cheek ending at his jawline.

"Give up, Matsudaira Gendo; we already control this land and its people."

"Never. I would just as assume put this past behind us and bring peace—"

"Peace will NEVER exist, not as long your clan still exists!" The leader spat. He turned around. "I will see you on the battlefield." He and the advisor rode off.

I was itching for a fight. "Well, at least something happened. . ."

Father chuckled, then frowned. "Good luck child; may Daibutsu protect you."

I bowed as best I could from seated on the horse, then wheeled her around to my position.

My infantry company was to flank the Utakami clan and drive them towards the river, away from the castle. We waited for Father's signal—a hand wave.

It would be a while, so we waited. By my father's instructions, I was to keep my helmet on at all times, but the damn thing was so HOT! However, I am samurai; my discipline was stronger than my instincts.

We watched the battle from where we were. Father and Shichihiro, my brother and his heir, watched from the hilltop with the cavalry; they would move out when we did.

Right now, we were winning the battle; most of the enemy army was destroyed.

Finally we got the signal. "Move out!" I commanded. Then, I heeled the horse's flanks and she trotted forward.

We moved forwards and I relished the look on the enemy commander's face as 200 infantry troops rushed them.

Suddenly, I heard a pained cry behind me. I turned to see one of the soldiers falling with an arrow in his back. My eyes widened. "It's a trap!!" I turned to look at my father for help, but he was fighting off cavalry from behind him as well.

We had been betrayed! I turned around. "Don't just stand there—find them!"

They found us. Arrows shot out from all directions, but I quickly found the main concentration of them. The largest volume was coming from behind us. I gathered a few that had survived the initial attack and we ran, or in my case, rode to the ten archers that were firing on us.

The leader archer drew his bow back and aimed at me. In my fury and despair, I paid no attention. He let one fly and I dodged it. Another came at me and I ducked that one as well.

Sometimes, it's good to be short. . .

We were about thirty feet from them now. This time, two archers aimed at me. The lead archer let the arrow fly and I leaned left to avoid it.

I didn't see the other arrow until it pierced my armor just above my left breast. It knocked me off the horse, which continued galloping, frightened beyond all reason.

I regained consciousness apparently seconds later; the archers had run past me and were chasing down my infantry squad. I rose to my feet and drew my katana. "I'm not dead yet!" I noted, surprisingly, my helmet remained on my head, though the strap was broken.

The leader turned and fixed muddy brown eyes on me. "But you will be, child. . ."

At first, I thought I knew about me, Matsudaira Miyuki, but I was wrong. The man pointed at me—"Get him!"—and four swordsmen rushed me.

I drew my wakizashi at the last minute to parry a thrust from one and slashed another swordsman's throat. The one I parried slashed back around, leaving his side open to attack. I stabbed the katana through him.

I knew I was losing strength. Every movement I made seemed to send spikes of pain through my chest. It was getting harder to breathe, as well.

I backed up as the fourth man and the leader charged me. The leader feinted and fell back while the other man kicked me in the chest. Breathing hard, I fell against—a stone wall? I must have been closer to the castle then I realized.

He shoved the katana forward into my stomach and I let out a pained cry. The man's eyes widened and I rammed my katana through his chest. It didn't kill him right away and I ran the wakizashi across his neck. He died knowing my secret.

The leader's eyes widened --he knew, too-- as well and he ran at me. The other swordsman's body blocking his attack, he came at me from my left. I blocked, but only barely, with the wakizashi; the dead man's body fell off the katana and away.

The leader feinted a high slash to my head and I brought up the wakizashi to block. Instead of hitting my head, he brought the blade across my wrist, opening it. I dropped the wakizashi and the man brought his katana across my chest and ended by putting the edge against my throat.

I closed my eyes and waited for the ray of fire that would signal the end of my life. It never came.

Instead, I heard: "Let him alone."

The katana pulled away and I opened my eyes halfway. I saw a large man standing over me. He was about two meters tall, with long black hair pulled back into a tail and the beginnings of a beard. He wore armor that had reddish tints to it—blood?

Medium brown eyes, hardened by battle, scanned my form, seated against the stone wall, bleeding and possibly dying. The man knelt in front of me and put his hand under my chin, forcing my half-closed eyes to look into his face. "So young. . .when will Matsudaira learn to not send children into battle?"

He began to take off my mask and helmet. "Rest easy, child; we're going to fix you up and send you back home in the spring. I do not allow the killing of—a GIRL?!?"

What a sight I must have looked: hair disheveled, bleeding from the mouth and nose. . . ". . .that's WOMAN. . ." I couldn't finish; it was getting harder to breathe.

"So he now sends his women into battle?!" The man sat back, utterly astonished.

What was so funny was the look on his face: ten of his men had been taken down by a woman...What was also funny was the fact that no one noticed my right hand moving towards my tanto.

They also didn't notice me unsheathing it, but they did notice me putting it to my chest. Right about then, I passed out, collapsing forward into the dirt.