CHAPTER 9: Loyalty's Battle
All of Japan had been on yellow alert since September, when news of the Dynasty's attack on America had reached the ears of the government. Security had been tightened everywhere, and people had been told what to watch out for, should the Dynasty attack there. It had sparked a lot of false alarms, especially when the weather turned nasty, but false alarms were better than perhaps being taken by surprise.
Yasuo Toshitada was not affected by these new security measures, living far from the main cities. Even as crowded as Japan had come, there were still areas of the wild, and Yasuo was fortunate enough to own a bit of land outside the city of Toyama itself, the city where the Dynasty attacks had taken place one hunderd years ago. But he did make sure to keep up on all latest news from the cities, wanting to know in advance of any Dynasty activity.
He kept in contact with his young friends in America, who had become a new generation of Ronin. It was strange to see the Ronin again, warriors that for Yasuo had been only legend. He remembered when his ancestor had come to him in his dreams, had told him he was to gather the Ronin to rise up against the Dynasty once more. And, he was told later, Yasuo himself might be called into battle as well.
The idea frightened Yasuo; any warrior who did not fear battle was a fool. But he would gladly fight the Dynasty a hundred times over if it was necessary. He possessed the armor of Loyalty, armor once borne by one of Talpa's warlords, and had learned to fight since childhood. It was one of his earliest memories, being taken to meet his sensei, barely able to contain his excitement. He had been so eager he'd almost forgotten to bow, which would have been a grave insult to the honored teacher.
And now...
The weather in Japan had been overcast, keeping both government and populace nervous and tense. But Yasuo knew perhaps better than any of them what to look for, and he had not become nervous until the skies had turned green.
Tokyo had first noticed the green tinge, normally a sign of very bad weather. But no storms had raged, nor come in from the bay. That almost certainly meant that the Dynasty had come to Japan...but for some reason was not attacking the cities. The skies above Tokyo had cleared after a few days, leaving everyone waiting for the other shoe to fall.
Several big cities in Japan reported greenish skies and quick-moving clouds, but neither hide nor hair was seen of the Dynasty, and Yasuo began to wonder what they were doing. They did not think to attack, and Yasuo could not help remembering the tales the Ronin had told, of how before they even knew they were Ronin, the warlords had sought them out, hoping to destroy them before they were a threat. But what could they be looking for in Japan? Surely they did not think more Ronin yet existed!
When Toyama's skies clouded over one day in March, Yasuo decided that he would go into the city to investigate. Retreating into his house, he made his way into the basement to retrieve the armor orb that called Loyalty's sub-armor. Stowing this safely in his pocket, Yasuo went outside, peering nervously at the sky. It was darker than ever, and it was only noon; the skies should have been bright with afternoon sunlight. Glancing once around the fields that surrounded his home, Yasuo ducked into his small automobile, sliding into the driver's seat and placing the key-chip into the ignition. Cold lanced into his chest when he turned the key-chip and the engine did not even try to turn over. In all the previous days, no one had ever reported power failures of any kind.
Sudden instinct made Yasuo retreat from his car, leaving the key-chip behind, grasping the power orb in his pocket and holding it tightly in his hand. A quick moment of concentration, and Yasuo's slim body was covered in Mediterranean blue subgear, and he was ready to call his full armor at any time. He suddenly knew that what the Dynasty was looking for was him. The Ronin had warned him it might happen, and he was ready for it.
The attack was sudden and vicious. Three of them came from the woods, three warlords in full battle armor, Talpa's highest ranking warriors. Yasuo leapt back away from them, calling out for his own armor, feeling the reassuring weight of Loyalty settling on his subgear before he landed lightly on the hard-packed earth. As the three warlords squared off to face him, Yasuo from his back his weapon; it was a ninja weapon called a kusari kama, a bladed weight on the end of a chain, fastened to the handle of a wicked scythe.
"So," snarled one of the warlords, the one known as Sekhmet. "You are familiar with the Cruelty armor!"
Yasuo narrowed his eyes, peering at his enemies from behind a red mask. "You know as well as I that this armor no longer aligns with Cruelty! It is now Loyalty!"
"Perhaps now," said Kale, the second of the warlords. "But it will soon be reminded of its true self!"
"Once you're out master's prisoner in the Nether Realm," added Sekhmet. "He's extended you an invitation to his palace!"
'So that's it,' thought Yasuo, fear clenching in his stomach. 'They want the armor.' He tensed as the three of them raised their weapons in unison, as if obeying a silent command, and attacked.
The fear left Yasuo in a wash of adrenaline and the calm calculation of years of battle training, his hands working almost on their own to wield his weapon, parrying a thrust from Kale's nodachi, knocking aside a lunge from Sekhmet's katana. When the third warlord, Dais, hurled the scythe blades of his weapon, Yasuo rolled away from the white strands of web that shot from the blades, seeking to bind him where he stood.
Yasuo was fifty-five years old, and it showed on his face only; his body was slim but powerful, his agility that of a teenage boy, and his strength that of a man thirty years younger. He wielded the kusari kama with ease, its weight nearly nothing in his strong hands. He fought with the ferocity of a warrior in his prime, lashing out with his blade, flinging the bladed weight at his enemies.
The warlords fought well, but even they were surprised by the older man's skill and strength. Their weapons glanced off of the Loyalty armor, never landing a solid hit, while they themselves had to constantly dodge Yasuo's furious lunges, duck to avoid the lethal spiked ball smashing into their heads and bodies. Metal clanged against metal, the woods ringing with the din of their fight.
Yasuo did not like to fight; his heart lay with peace and kindness, but he knew that to achieve those, it was sometimes necessary to fight. He could tell he had taken his attackers by surprise, but did not let it lull him into putting his guard down, even for a moment. Talpa's generals would not hesitate to attack him from behind, taking advantage of the slightest hesitation. He snarled, reeling from a savage hit from a spiked ball, flung by Dais at his head. Yasuo's helmet was knocked askew, and he ducked behind his car, taking only a second to fling the helmet from his head, having no time to re-settle it properly.
Kale flew at him from above, leaping over Yasuo's car, his booted feet aiming for Yasuo's head. Yasuo ducked down, rolling away and bringing the scythe blade up to block Kale's nodachi, scrambling to his feet as Kale brought the blade back for another attack. Sekhmet ran at Yasuo from his right, with Dais behind him, and he was suddenly surrounded.
Yasuo leapt straight up like a coiled spring, his feet only just clearing two of Sekhmet's blades, his booted foot kicking aside Kale's nodachi. Yasuo landed mere meters away from the warlords, spinning to face them, hurling the bladed weight at Dais's face. Fear was beginning to break through the adrenaline; they were tiring, but so was he, and he was outnumbered by three very skilled opponents. Even with his years of weapons and hand-to-hand training, these warlords had lived for hundreds of years. No mortal could come close to approaching their experience.
Sekhmet lunged, hurling two of his katana at Yasuo's head, his hands moving like lightning to draw two more swords from his arsenal and thrusting them at Yasuo's torso. Yasuo ducked the first attack, only barely parrying his second. Something hit him from behind and he lurched forward, breaking into a quick front roll, dodging Dais's bladed bashigo, a ladder-fan of scythe blades. He was caught on his back when the first strands encircled him, and he slashed at them with his own scythe; moments later his hand was struck hard, the kusari kama flying from Yasuo's grasp to land in the grass out of his reach. He clenched his teeth as the webs from Dais's weapons banded around him, almost too quick to see, binding him fast to the ground.
Yasuo felt his heart beating fast, heard his breath rasping quickly in his chest. He looked up at Dais's arachnid mask, saw the blue eye narrowed in satisfaction. Sekhmet and Dais approached, looking down at their prisoner, and all of them were breathing harder than normal. "You fight well," said Kale, his tone that of respect for a strong adversary. "But you will be presented to our master."
Yasuo narrowed his eyes, swallowing the fear that threatened to spread from his stomach to his throat. "My armor will do him little good alone, warlord."
At this, Kale chuckled, his smile sending a chill down Yasuo's back. "We have only your armor now," he said, "as well as the armor we three bear. The Ronin will be our guests again soon enough. You see, besides you, we have a few other...guests in the Nether Realm. I expect you'll meet them soon. The Ronin have plenty of reason to come right to us."
Yasuo could not reply, seized with worry for his young friends. Who could the Dynasty have as their prisoners that would make them risk Talpa's realm once more to rescue them? Their families? Had they found their loved ones, despite the precautions Yasuo had taken to hide them?
He hissed in pain as Dais reached down and yanked Yasuo to his feet; Yasuo had the leisure to notice the injuries he'd taken in the fight. Nothing major, but they certainly got his attention. "Get the helmet," said Dais, nodding at the ground, and Sekhmet bent down to retrieve it, grabbing also Yasuo's scythe.
"It's strange to see this armor in use again," Sekhmet murmured, looking first at the helmet, and then at Yasuo himself. Yasuo's hair was red, as was his ancestor's, a trait that was common in his family tree. "He could almost be Shuten himself."
"You honor me," said Yasuo, lifting his chin.
Sekhmet only nodded his head slightly, his expression unreadable behind his mask. "Come on," said Kale. "We must get him into the Nether Realm." He grasped Yasuo's arm, above where the webs bound him, and Dais grasped the other. There was a sickening flash of lightning, and a horrible feeling Yasuo had never before experienced. There was blackness for less than a second, barely discernible to his eyes, and the brief image of a huge, red gate. Despite himself, Yasuo felt his skin go cold, and knew he was as white as a sheet. The Nether Realm.
Yasuo was forced through the gate, teleporting once again once they were through, brought into a chamber of wooden walls and floor, lit by white candles with dim, blue flames. But he hardly noticed his surroundings. There stood before him a man in armor—though he realized almost immediately that it was not a man who stood before him. A lurid, red mask covered the front of his helm, his iron-gray armor glinting dully in the bluish light. He recognized him from illustrations in books, from the ancient newsclips from the turn of the century. It was Arago.
---
Sekhmet stood with his brothers-in-arms, flanking the prisoner as they presented him to Talpa. Dais and Kale gripped the man's arms, and as Talpa peered on them all, they forced Yasuo Toshitada to kneel before Arago. It wasn't entirely easy, either, for Toshitada did not want to kneel to his enemy. Sekhmet gave him a swift kick to the back of the knee, and bound as he was, Yasuo was not able to keep his balance, falling hard to the wooden floor. As Sekhmet saluted Talpa, he was struck again how much Toshitada looked like Shuten had, and how in the Cruelty armor he could almost be Shuten. A dizzying bout of deja-vu came over him.
"Well done," said Talpa approvingly. "Finally, the Cruelty armor is back in my possession."
"It'll do you no good," snarled Yasuo. "You'll be overthrown as has happened countless times in the past!"
Sekhmet growled at this disrespect to his master, and stepped forward, striking Yasuo alongside the head from behind. Yasuo hissed, but did not cry out as the metal of Sekhmet's gauntlet connected with his head. "Watch your tongue, wretch," he hissed.
"It's all right, Sekhmet," chuckled Talpa, looking amusedly at where Yasuo knelt. "He will find very soon that he is wrong. Take him below to meet his prisonmates. Once he sees them, he may just change his opinion."
For a moment, Sekhmet thought that Toshitada was going to fight, but in the end, he went quietly; certainly he saw the futility of fighting within Talpa's own realm. Still, Sekhmet stayed behind the three of them, in case the man tried anything. The old man was not one to be trifled with; he had proven that quite well.
Yasuo was taken down several flights of narrow stairs, leading into the depths of the dungeons below Talpa's palace. Yasuo was quiet, only looking around him as he was half-dragged down the stairs, perhaps trying to memorize as much of his surrounding s as he could. Sekhmet chuckled slightly. He thinks he will get a chance to escape, he said quietly through the mind link the three of them had formed months ago.
I think he does, agreed Dais. But he will not. I look forward to his reaction on seeing the Ronin.
Do you think he'll recognize them?
Both Dais and Kale looked back briefly at him, and Sekhmet felt himself blush; of course Toshitada would recognize the Ronin. He had studied the legends for years, probably his whole life. Sekhmet shrugged sheepishly.
When the last flight of stairs had been descended, the four men stood before a plain set of iron doors. Sekhmet stepped in front of the others to open them up, standing back to give the others room to bring the prisoner in.
The doors gave on a dreary, dark chamber, lit only by a single torch, mystical blue flames casting unnatural shadows onto the walls. Shackles lined the walls, and five sets of them were occupied, wrapped around the wrists of five teenaged boys. All of them slumped in their bonds, exhausted, having endured by that time weeks of frequent abuse and outright torment.
Yasuo stopped and stared, his eyes wide, his expression that of astonishment. Ryo opened his eyes, roused by the opening of the doors, and his blue eyes widened in disbelief. "Sh-Shuten?" Sekhmet had not been the only one to notice the similarities.
"It can't be," whispered Yasuo, staring at the five boys. One or two of the others had also roused, looking less alert than Ryo, and Rowen asked wearily what was going on.
"You see," said Kale quietly to Yasuo, as he and Dais forcefully led Yasuo over to stand before the Ronin, "We hold the Ronin themselves prisoner. Pure spirits, all five of them, but here in this realm they are solid, they can be contained."
"And hurt," added Sekhmet with an unpleasant smile, drawing one of his katana from his back.
He brought the weapon down in a quick slash across Kento's chest, and the boy let a cry of surprised pain, waking suddenly from his half-conscious state. Blood soaked into his shirt, which was torn and filthy. "Bastard!" Kento spat, his speech half slurred from sleep, but the fury in his wide eyes was bright and strong.
Sekhmet only laughed, speaking still to Yasuo. "Death is only a passageway into another state of being. Spirits can be hurt, just like humans can."
Yasuo seemed unable to speak, as Kale slammed him roughly against the wall, and Dais dissipated the webs binding his arms to his body. The three warlords did not give Yasuo a chance to fight, snapping shackles around his wrists and retreating from the astonished mystic.
"Enjoy," said Kale with a smirk, turning his back on the prisoners and leaving the room. Dais and Sekhmet followed, closing the door behind.
