The Hand that Uplifts:
Hand of Honor
At one time we were brothers. We fought valiantly side by side. We took every challenge and conquered every enemy. All fell before us; all except one. Now, my brother is an agent of evil. He slaughters the innocent to appease his master. And it has become my sworn duty to stop what I have created and restore my brother to the way he was before…
A good deal into the war, the daimyo sent us to answer a plea for help received by a remote village near Takenuma. Apparently the villagers came under a kami attack and could not defend themselves for much longer. Thus we were sent to both train the remaining civilians to defend their homes and assist in the actual defense. Kuronin was always brash, but he constantly assured me that he had the situation under control. I never saw him as a barbarian, but he lacked polish. Finesse was never his style.
As we arrived, the town was in the midst of a battle. With little time to prepare we jumped into the fray. As we cleared a path, Kuronin broke formation and wandered to an outcropping east of the council's office. I raced in pursuit to assist him, but it was too late. A large lesser oni stood over his body. I could tell that he was still breathing, but he had been injured badly. I quickly laid a ward near him and hunched him over my shoulder. I ran with all of my strength as I raced to the camp in an attempt to save my brother's life.
The weapon used had a strange effect on Kuronin. While it did not make any immediate outward bruise, it viciously beat and penetrated the brain. Later the healer told me that had I not been so decisive he would have died. Anytime I hear a story about a shadow blazing a path of destruction in some town or another I think back on that decision. Alas, hindsight truly does have perfect vision.
He had changed since recovering. Before the attack, I saw a bright soul at its peak. Afterwards all I saw was a deteriorating shell who became lost within senile obsessions. Anger grew within him with each passing day. This led to random lashes made against me or the villagers that often ended in conflict. I began to wonder whether there was an imbalance of some sort in him.
When more aid arrived from the daimyo, I found it prudent to leave and attempt to have my brother examined further to be purged of whatever had gripped his mind. Upon hearing of our departure, Kuronin fell into a violent rage. He vowed to stay and revealed what appeared to be the mark of an oni on his arm. Over time the tattooing would grow and slowly consume his whole body until he himself became a minor oni. I refused to accept that he had been taken, and demanded that he stand down and come with me. I then saw just how much the mark had poisoned him.
As he drew his sword, a cloud of smoke seemed to simply ooze from him and dissipate into the night air. Chillingly cold and eerie, he seemed more like a ghost and less like a man. An evil glow replaced the brightness in his eyes, and his armor faded to a dull grey. As he turned I motioned to follow him, but he halted me with the tip of his blade. He warned that following would lead to my slow and painful death. With that he mounted his horse and rode through the swamp. I attempted pursuit but lost sight of him quickly within the mist of Takenuma.
With that I requested every mission that would lead me to the far corners of Kamigawa itself, hoping to one day find Kuronin or someone who could restore him to his former self. Months passed, and no leads came to me. But something told me to continue. I had to keep going. If I could not continue for my own reasons, I would then for my brother.