Chapter Thirty-One (Part 2)

Day Thirteen

The day of the coronation was exactly as it sounded. It was a ceremony – for official benefit – to show the world the new Emperor of Yomi. With the passing of the twelve trials, Mitsuhide was accepted by the realm of Yomi as its new Emperor and avatar, the mobile and humanoid embodiment of Yomi's will and essence. The coronation ceremony was a ceremony to announce it as such to Yomi's inhabitants and beyond. It was not necessary in making it clear who the new ruler was, for Yomi had chosen and the bond had been made.

However, it was tradition, and tradition was powerful.

Mitsuhide sat upon the throne at the far end of the great hall, raised upon a platform. Vast paintings of his demonic kin loomed across the rear walls, watching over the shoulder of whoever may sit upon such a powerful seat, and remind those who came before such an entity, that the Emperor saw and knew all.

The thinly sliced bamboo screen which would have normally been lowered in front of him to prevent others from seeing the Emperor – but allowed him to still see out – was raised, to show his subjects and servants who and what he was. This ceremony was for the benefit of others, not for Mitsuhide himself. It was the one and only time he would officially be seen, so that his allies – and enemies if they lurked – may see him and accept as witnesses the title he now possessed.

No enemy had attacked during the cleansing. No traitor had stabbed Mitsuhide in the back. If there were a time to have done it, it was during the cleansing, for the cleansing was the time during which Yomi slowly bonded with the Heir, testing him to see if he were worthy of becoming its avatar and mouthpiece. Its will.

With the cleansing passed and completed, even if a challenger killed Mitsuhide – as impossible as it was – before his ascension, Yomi could not accept another as its champion for at least another five hundred years.

Therefore it was unusual that the highly expected attack from the Taira-Oda, never came.

It did not lessen the guard. It was made only tighter, for there was still a chance someone could attack him during the ascension trial. Despite Mitsuhide's power as he was, he was not yet the true Emperor until the ascension trial was complete. He was not God of Yomi until his spirit ascended and fused with Yomi's Heart.

While the many powerful families, casts of demon, spirit, foreign deities, Gods of neighbouring realms, paid tribute or pledged loyalty, half of Mitsuhide's attention calculated the constant threat of attack. The chances of such an ambush continued to rise, but the confusion of why it had not happened during the cleansing was a bother to both him and his family.

His crimson eyes were hard and glistened its unnerving glow, his back straight, his posture strong and as unwavering as a mountain. He watched as his family accepted the tributes and oaths in his name, feeling neither dread upon his birthright, but nor did he feel joy. Mitsuhide felt acceptance, and a hard, but cruel relish at the challenge of what lay before him to be the ruling God of this unforgiving, and twistedly beautiful realm.

The ceremony was long, but time meant little in Yomi. Ame-no-Koyane announced him, and the Abbot anointed and accepted him. Tributes were given, oaths were sworn, recognition was stated. All flowed one after the other, as the passage of time may pass, like the flow of the river, of which the creatures and beings of the spiritual realm were a part of its dance and knew the steps.

Food and drink followed, accompanied by performance after performance which lasted well into the fourteenth day.

Mitsuhide watched and listened to all. He watched the performances, appreciating the operas and the dancers. He listened to his guests as they cackled and communicated amongst themselves. He saw a glimpse of himself through their eyes.

He was a benevolent man, a patient one with a balanced mind. Unusual, compared to some past rulers of Yomi in history. But a power lay beneath, one which was glimpsed by observing his cleansing. Regardless of his benevolence, his temper had been witnessed before, if briefly. And it made them curious and wary. What form of Emperor would Mitsuhide become in the decades and centuries to come?

A large part of him knew what he wanted from the inhabitants of Yomi, and that was respect, of which he had for now in its initial stages, but had not been tested, as all such things must be with time.

A smaller, but equally powerful part of him wondered and worried however. Would Aki tremble as she bowed, like those in the hall had done today? Would she flee in fear, or look upon him in disgust?

She rarely saw his true form, and the most recent time had caught her by surprise. Despite Mitsuhide's doubts, he saw her gaze of awe, of wonder and admiration. Not fear or disgust. And even then, she had been able to accept it and put it aside, and look on him as a normal man again.

Mitsuhide accepted his birthright without hesitation. It was who he was, and who he always will be. He was of imperial blood, immortal. The world was his oyster.

But there was only one thing he wanted.

Aki's bright and kind smile. He never wanted to see her look at him in fear. He never wanted his presence to intimidate and frighten her, to tower over her as he did to his subjects this day.

The journal pages and its bellflower rested against his chest behind his imperial robes, a small comfort, as if it were Aki's hand herself.

Mitsuhide may have sat there, a being of incredible lineage and power. These Gods, demons and deities looked upon him with reverence.

But he would not be sitting here if not for the woman he had come to love more than life itself. It was Aki who freed him from a watery grave. It was Aki who saved him from his father's fate. It was Aki who brought him out of the Valley of Wails.

She would never even consider it, but in truth, Aki was greater and of far more importance to Mitsuhide than all of the realms and world combined. She was his life, his very reason for existence, and he was hers, as if they were tied together by string, bound beyond time and space, for space had shifted and brought her to the land of Japan, and time had warped, to bring her into his life when he needed her most.

String. So fine, and yet so powerful. So binding.

He had to protect it, no matter what.

x

Day Fourteen

"Why are you looking at me like that? Is there something on your mind, Osamu-sama?" Kenji asked with a tilt of his head.

He sat opposite me at his own desk, with reams of ledgers and requests to be signed. I sat at my own, surrounded by commands to be issued and disciplinaries to be authorised.

I had found myself staring at him, feeling a deep, yet inexplicable sadness, as if I was not going to see him again for much longer. My ink brush had been lowered back down, and the work I had to do, no longer seemed important. Kenji had been with me since the beginning, and despite his growing years, he remained active in our lives and played an enormous role in everything that had happened over the years. I was reminded through a subtle, but powerful urge, to reflect and recap my memories with him.

Yet I did not know why.

"Osamu-sama?"

I inhaled deeply, and let it out softly. Somehow, it felt like a final breath.

"We have been through a lot together, haven't we?" I said fondly.

Kenji paused, looking at me strangely. "What has brought this nostalgia on?" He mused.

I sighed and shook my head. "I don't know. I just felt like reflecting."

Kenji chuckled and returned back to his work. "I have known you for many years now, Osamu-sama, but your mind still surprises and puzzles me sometimes."

I laughed once in return. "Keeps things interesting, I guess."

"It certainly does," Kenji agreed. "I think Nou-hime feels that the most. I imagine she will look forward to seeing you again in a few weeks."

The last time I saw her was when she gave me a box of sweets to help me feel better during my recovery. They had all been there to help me through my recovery. But I had not been able to fully thank them for it.

Now, more than ever, a guilt weighed on my mind, with an urge to make my thanks now before time ran out.

But why do I feel like my time is running out? I thought to myself. The feeling of apprehension from the day Mitsuhide and the others left, has now grown into a full-blown sense of foreboding.

My breath caught in my throat.

"Akito-san," I suddenly said, pulling his attention again.

"Yes, Osamu-sama?"

I put my brush back down after only having just picked it back up. The words came out before I could think of them. "You have been a constant, steady presence ever since I came here, and you have defended me through every battle I have fought. I want to say thank you, for everything you have done for me."

Kenji's eyes widened and he blinked. It took him a second before he cleared his throat and looked down with a humble smile. "I have merely served as expected. And I am glad to have seen you grow in character and presence. But Osamu-sama, why do you say such a thing? Are you feeling unwell?"

I looked away, frowning. "I don't know," I said again, a mumble, to myself. "For some reason, I feel like I will be leaving."

But I don't know why, and I won't know, because I cannot See.

"Do not think such thoughts, Osamu-sama. It does not do well to dwell on such distant possibilities. Perhaps it is loneliness you feel. The castle is vast and quiet without its primary Lords and Lady within. The sense of intimidation you feel from your responsibilities can cloud and mar your emotion and judgement," Kenji suggested wisely. "I can assure you, that you have done an excellent job of maintaining order and balance while they have been away. And if it comforts you, they will be back very soon now."

My mouth had gone dry, and I swallowed. "You are right, Akito-san. Stress can do strange things to the mind. If you say I am doing a good job, then I will take your word for it," I said, cracking a smile. "Though I have to admit, I am dearly looking forward to the Akechi's return."

Kenji chuckled. "Do not take this the wrong way, Osamu-sama, but so am I."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "What is that supposed to mean? Are you implying I am a poor leader?"

His eyes bulged and his face paled a little. "No! No of course not, my Lady. Merely that I would feel more comfortable with the Lords' return compared to having faith in my own abilities to defend you. Against human foes, all shall fall by my blade before they reach you. But against other kinds . . ."

He trailed off, but I understood what he meant. Guilt tugged at me for inadvertently forcing Kenji to recall what he considered was his failure at the last battle on the Mino-Owari border.

"I apologise, Akito-san," I said. "I was teasing using a rhetorical question. I did not intend to offend you. I have no doubt over your ability to defend me. Why do you think I survived all the battles in the years since I took up the sword?"

He looked up to me upon my tones of encouragement, because I meant them. There were so many times I could have been killed in battle. So many near misses. I could defend and deflect over half, but but the other half, had been deflected by Kenji.

"Therefore do not doubt your skills or your honour. I owe you my life," I stated, because it was a fact.

Kenji blinked, and looked down uncomfortably, but there was a hint of gratitude in his expression. "It is very unusual for a retainer's Lord, or Lady, to speak to him with such respect," he almost mumbled. But I heard, and smiled.

"Unlike the others, I was not born as a Lady," I said, holding up a finger while pouring myself some tea with my other hand. "Regardless of the rumours of my origin, I am very normal, I assure you. The equivalent to a normal peasant, though most peasants in my world are generally fairly well-educated, although even that was dependant on money," I then said thoughtfully, relieved to be taking a different turn in the conversation to take me away from my strange sense of foreboding and reflecting. "My mother and father were quite fortunate to have enough money to spend on my sister and I for private tutoring." I paused. "Huh, I guess we were wealthier than I thought. Funny how children always realise how good things actually were when we get older, and by then it's a bit too late." I then looked at Kenji. "Why did you never marry and have children?" I asked gently.

Kenji tilted his head to the side and sighed, deciding to pour himself some tea as well. "Some men can only direct their loyalty in one direction. Some can divide their loyalties amongst various things, but I am afraid that I am a simple man. My loyalty to the Akechi is great, and I did not want to be put into a situation where I would be called to decide between a family I created, and that of the noble family I served. And the Akechi family is no ordinary family."

I understood his words. And especially during such turbulent times, it was far easier to direct one's energies for one thing rather than have them scattered to the four winds. If my family had also been brought to this time, there was no doubt my loyalties to them would be absolute. It still was.

But my loyalties to the Akechi – to Mitsuhide in particular – were also absolute. Both were so strong it was as if two forces pulled on my arms, each pulling in an opposite direction, straining, straining until the joints almost popped from dislocation.

"My Lady?"

I found myself grimacing as I had imagined it, and realised I was holding my breath. I released it.

"I hear you," I said, finding my voice. "I think, I think you made a difficult, but noble choice."

Kenji nodded in thanks. "Noble, but not difficult if one has never taken a fancy to a woman for a bride."

"It could still happen," I suggested.

Kenji chuckled. "I am too old for that."

It was my turn to tilt my head. "How old are you? Even to this day, I still don't know. I have my guesses, but it is often wrong."

"I am forty-nine, Osamu-sama. I am an old man."

I snorted softly. "You and I have a very different understanding of what is considered old."

Kenji laughed. "That is very kind of you, my Lady."

"Still, it could happen," I said. "A man does not have the same body-clock as a woman does."

"I thank you for your compliment in my appearance of age, but I have never been one with a romantic heart. I love my masters and those who fight and work beside me as my brothers and sisters in arms. But never have I desired nor felt the urge of lust." He peered at me. "You must think me odd."

I shook my head with understanding, being unsurprised by his statement. "No, I do not think that. It is more normal than you realise. There is a word for it but I can't remember it at the moment."

Actually, I won't even know its translation into Japanese if I did remember it, I thought, then shook my head and turned my attention back to Kenji.

"You have my respect, and it is reassuring to have someone like you in this castle with me. I feel much safer because of your loyalty."

He bowed his head. "And my loyalty you have, my Lady."

x

Day Fifteen

The ascension was not for any to see. Not even Mitsuhide's uncles. Only his closest female relatives accompanied him, being his mother, Lady Akechi, and his aunt, Omi-no-Kata, for only the female line had the affinity and ability to bend the ethereal powers to their will. Only the females could guard, protect and watch over the ascension.

It was why women were so feared in the mortal realm, for even human women had closer affinity to the greater powers and forces of nature than men. The difference however between the supernatural and the humans, was in the fact that females were worshipped, respected and elevated for their greater connection to the unseen in the supernatural world. Whereas in the human world, the women were shut away, oppressed, and kept lame of mind. An uneducated woman was a weak one, as knowledge was power. Without knowledge, there was no power. There was no threat.

The three of them made their way through the corridors of the palace and deep beneath it. The deeper they went through the many forks, the older the pathways became, until the paths lost the structured wooden walls and wooden or tatamied floor, and became the natural caves of the Ancient Maze. The lamps that hung along the sides of the walls gave way to glowing mushroom and fungi, thriving in the chill, heavy and damp air of the underground. The natural botanical lights shone with soft and cooling greens and blues, flickering into purples as colours mixed. The air was thick and still, as if not disturbed in centuries. The silence was heavy. Mitsuhide realised he felt like this entire realm was underwater. The air, like the stillness of undisturbed water, swayed with his passage, rippling softly and sleepily, as if a great beast beneath the sea turned in its sleep.

It was a surreal sensation, like walking in a dream, but awake and aware of everything that happened around him. The cold lights reflected against their skin as if their skin were made of a white fish's scales. Their hair rippled like water down a waterfall in the night beneath the moonlight. The silks of their robes swished like the smoke of incense.

The red fire of their eyes was the only warmth in the Maze beneath the palace.

They walked through the caves, following the invisible but ancient path known only to those who needed to know. Some caves were tall and narrow, some were wide and squat, barely above Mitsuhide's head. There were caverns as vast as fields with no end, and ceilings so high that no light could reach the top; halls filled with forests of stone stood between the ground and the ceilings, and spiral staircases where there was no wall on the outer side, only empty expanses of blackness to fall into an abyss with no bottom.

Streams flowed down here from the surface, bringing its emerald glow with it. Though the deeper into the Ancient Maze the three of them went, the colder the light of the many streams they encountered, became. Their path took them in the same direction as the streams, along embankments and over thin and slender bridges, and when the water's light finally turned silver, Mitsuhide and his mother and aunt, reached centre of the Maze.

Their path finished with a final set of winding steps which started narrow, and became wider and wider, until it was as if Mitsuhide and his company walked down a great hill to announce their presence to something equally great, if not greater.

They emerged out into a vast chamber so wide and far that the sides could not be fully seen, even with their far-seeing eyes. But they could see it, because all around them was a night, shining brilliantly with stars above a lake of shimmering silver water. Yet it was not stars they gazed up to, for the chamber was made not of stone, but pure crystal, and the light of the Silver Sea reflected and refracted against the crystals' facets to appear as stars which shone and blinked with life of their own.

The light of the Silver Sea originated from deep within at the centre of the lake, far below the surface. It was said a heart of pure energy pulsed at the core of Yomi, and within the internal sea, this heart lay, its energy zipping through the water in thousands of tiny strands of white lightning.

On the shores of the lake, a shining, female humanoid figure stood. Tall, like a slender pillar of ice which towered far above Mitsuhide in height, swaying white hair that possessed the grace of a willow, and the age of all the Ages of the world. She was as still as the crystal itself, her face as hard as stone, yet eyes as black as the deep darkness of nothing, and draped in a kimono as pale and ethereal as sheets of mist layered on top of the other.

Mitsuhide and his two companions stood at the base of the Great Steps. The two women were old themselves, and great in power in the world of Yomi. But before the shining woman, even Lady Akechi and Miyoshino were young. He felt their reverence, for he felt it too. He also felt their respectful fear and wariness, but the latter was something he did not feel. Mitsuhide felt the same, aching respect, yet not the fear. Instead, he felt a kinship, a silent understand pass beyond the realm of thought and time, shared between he and the shining woman, as entities of equal nature.

Or would be soon, from Mitsuhide's perspective.

Lady Akechi and Miyoshino knelt down onto their knees behind him, and touched their brow to the ground in reverence towards the shining woman. Mitsuhide followed suit, bowing before the Goddess Izanami.

A beat of silence pulsed through his mind.

: Come, young Emperor, her sighing voice sounded in his mind, as quiet as a whisper of wind, as cool as a spring breeze holding onto winter's chill. He did not hear the voice of her command with his ears. It came from everywhere around him, and everywhere within him. It was as soft as the first flakes of snow, yet had the undeniable strength of inevitability, as natural as nature itself.

Mitsuhide raised his head, and found himself knelt before Izanami's feet, his mother and aunt far behind him by the Steps. The Goddess loomed over him, but as a willow and ancient tree might, to watch over the earth it guarded and provided for.

Mitsuhide gazed up at Izanami's face. Her face of stone was expressionless, her eyes too dark to read. But her voice in his mind conveyed all that was lacking in the visible and audible sense. As was the nature of Gods, to leave the material self behind, and evolve to something higher, where all was thought and feeling within the mind, in tune with all that occurred around them.

His thoughts flickered to Aki briefly, recalling the one moment where she had done something similar, by becoming an entity of thought, one which touched Mitsuhide's own mind first and spoke, before he could touch hers.

He stood, and the Goddess saw into him, holding him as if she braced both her hands on either side of his arms, immobilising him as a parent might to hold their child in place as they assessed them. Yet she did not touch him. Merely her gaze held him. It was a gaze which stripped Mitsuhide down, layer by layer, to ensure that every part of his mind, body and spirit, was purified by the trials prior. It was a gaze of judgement, though gentle and unbiased. She judged his actions, his worth, his character, and all those which were associated.

Izanami's stare lingered on Aki for a moment longer than the rest, before moving on without revealing what impression crossed her mind.

The Goddess did not so much as straighten than she floated back, but more in the sense her presence lessened, content with what she judged and saw. In no way did her height lesson, for she still loomed like a spindly giant shard of fluid sheets of ice. But in her view of Mitsuhide, she judged him to be worthy, an equal-in-waiting, and ready for the final task.

Her black stare turned to the Sea's centre.

: Yomi's Heart awaits. Merge, and become one with the realm. Preside beneath, within, and over Yomi as its ruling God, she breathed. But be warned. Once the merge begins, you cannot stop until it is complete. Your mother and aunt will protect you. But should they fail and your ascension is interrupted, you will die.

Mitsuhide stood at the edge of the Silver Sea. He sensed his mother and aunt rise from where they knelt and move in opposite directions to the edges of the shore. They knew their roles, and the stakes involved.

He trusted them to fulfil their roles, as surely as Mitsuhide trusted himself to complete his. He did not nod, but the resolve was clear in his mind.

Izanami floated several paces away from him, signalling the way to the Heart was open to him, and him alone. Therefore he began his journey in, stepping into the electric waters of the Silver Sea and feeling its cold tingle wash over his feet, up his legs, past his knees, his hips and up to his chest.

As he waded, his hair expanded outwards again, extending as his external body where each strand snaked along the Sea bed over the sand of pure crystal. It became a web, providing the webbed ground required for his hair to stick to like the legs of a spider. He saw through the strands, the vibrations creating in image of the underground Sea in his mind. These were his eyes, for his own vision disappeared. Closer strands of his hair created a cocoon around his head, trapping a bubble of air sufficient enough for him to be able to submerge beneath the surface and sink down into the depths.

Sound was very different beneath the waves of ripples across the Sea's surface. It hummed with energy, with life and with spirit. Some were deep, some where shrill and high. Yet none were sharp, for the nature of the underwater world subdued it all, engulfing Mitsuhide within an internal lull of weightlessness that was only found in sleep.

The Sea was deep, its pressure building against his cocoon, though it did not hinder his body. His extended body of hair stretched out, reaching with delicate tendrils towards the Heart of energy which pulsed at the Sea's core. The energy was strong, alive, snapping and crackling as a spherical star taller than him.

Mitsuhide did not pause as he approached the raw power of Yomi. It pushed against him in erratic pulses, and within those pulses and zips of pure energy, Mitsuhide felt the essence of Yomi within it. It was sharp, it was hard and fast. It was the freezing storm of winter, the furious roar of an inferno. It was unforgiving and harsh, as sudden and abrupt as the lightning it was.

However, it was also fair, unbiased. There was beauty within it, capable of gentleness, as soft as the rumble of thunder from many leagues away.

Yomi's Heart was an essence of juxtaposition. Misunderstood by so many. Yomi was not hell, any more than Takamagahara was Heaven. Yomi was harshest of all the three realms, but it was balanced. And wherein there was balance, there far greater beauty and strength over all.

Mitsuhide let his cocoon brush away, and he opened his arms as if in greeting and welcome within the deep waters of lightning. He opened his bright red eyes in the water, and the blinding crackling light of the Heart greeted him. Instead of swimming into the Heart, the Heart came to him, engulfing him within the sphere of its raw power.

It entered him, coursing through his veins where it flowed with his blood. It seeped through the pores of his skin, surged through his muscles, strengthened and become one with his organs, shone through his mouth and eyes, and streamed along the webs of his hair across the entire Sea.

The binding of the ascension began.

x

Day Seventeen

There were mountains all around, mountains covered in thick snow, and the snow still fell silently, undisturbed by the wind as the flakes fluttered down from the heavy sky of pale grey.

I was walking up steps carved into the mountainside, unable to remember why I was climbing the steps, but knowing that I had to. This was a path in my journey which I had to take. I Saw all that was going to come before me as I climbed the steps. Yet I could not remember what lay behind me.

That path was black. A void.

To the Gates of Kunlun Mountain, I thought, watching my padded paws climb, knowing my destination.

I wore the form of a white tiger, striped in black, though my form was young, that of a cub despite my human body being that of a woman.

The climb was long, it was tiring, and when I reached the end of the steps, I lay down, resting my head to catch my breath. The coolness of the snow was comforting through the layers of fur, fur which was partially spiritual, as it misted along the edges.

My spiritual form, I realise, was the tiger I wore. I knew it in the dream as well as I knew my eyes. The ability to change between human and tiger spirit was as natural as breathing. And I wondered why I never knew that before, why I would never remember it in the waking world.

I raised my head once the cold had recovered my energy, and found that the steps came to an end, leading out to an open plateau. Light shimmered along the horizon, as if a line of shining light had been drawn between the horizon's edge, and the blizzard which howled.

I could feel where I needed to go. It was somewhere above blizzard, in the sky where the line of light beamed. Yet I could not reach it. I had no wings to fly above the storm, nor strong enough spiritual body to brave the winds. My fur was not thick enough to block out the subzero temperatures.

Something blocked my path, an event which had not yet happened, but was required to happen in the Heavenly Book of Fate to open the way.

A form emerged from the howl of the blizzard, materialising as if it was the blizzard itself, which took the form of a giant white tiger. It was vast, a titan in size and bearing, the plateau a platform for such a creature to stand on to make its mark on the world.

Piercing blue eyes stared from its face, eyes which saw all through the weaves of time and the folds of space. They were eyes which had watched the world for many Ages, and had long since left the realm of the material.

As I gazed upon its form, its name came to me, with a knowing in that I already knew this titan from the future.

Baihu, the White Tiger. The Western God of the Yellow Emperor.

Those all-seeing eyes, looked down upon me, and saw me amongst all the chaos and vastness of the world. It did not wish to see the world, for it was too old to worry about mortal affairs. But its great awareness, found something of interest in the expanse of space.

Its azure eyes focused on me, and it spoke in my mind.

: It is time, Hai Ting, his voice both rumbled and purred. Your Sight shall guide you, but not without cost. The Way is now open.

Baihu's form disintegrated, becoming one with the blizzard. It swirled in the air, glittered with glowing blue, and swept towards me. It rushed over my form, swirled around my body, in through my breath, and lingered in my eyes.

The chilly green chill of the Sight passed over my vision, turning the world to emerald glass.

It was a green film which translated across into my reality as I sat up, eyes open.

Oh, my thoughts sighed with a grim acceptance of resignation. My body moved before my awareness caught up. My hand reached beneath my futon, and brought my ninjato out, sliding the blade from its sheath with a sharp and stark hiss of defiance.

Blade met blade, deflecting an attack from the folds of night. Though my normal vision could not see them, my Sight could, as shadows with a red aura of bloodlust and killing intent. There were three of them.

It was an ambush in the night.

After the first strike was deflected, I rolled back instantly, kicking up my quilt to hide myself for a moment and confuse the enemy by creating a temporary barrier. The quilt served its purpose as a second ninja ripped through it with its blade, but missed me and I rolled backwards into the solid wall.

"Always keep something against your back. Whether it be a wall, a tree, or another ally. Never leave your back exposed." It was one of Makoto's earliest lessons.

I deflected another strike from the third ninja, one which was so fast even my Sight nearly had trouble following. It was a strike which sent an aching numbness up my arm to my brain. It only took me a moment to realise these assassins were not human.

"Guards!" I cried. It was a cry which split the air, cracking the serene quiet of the night like a sudden clap of thunder. "Akito! Makoto! Up!"

I ducked under another slash and brought my ninjato up from my twist, striking where the Sight showed me was vulnerable. The third ninja was equally quick, and the strike which should have decapitated his arm, instead became a slash from the axilla and up the anterior shoulder.

Droplets of hot blood sprayed on my face and the third ninja leapt back, the first one taking his place. This one struck out, too fast to dodge, therefore I blocked, using my left hand to hold the wrist of my right as reinforcement.

The strike did not break my wrist, but it was enough to jar the ninjato from my grasp and knock me to the side with a stagger.

The second ninja brought out a rope and flung it like a whip in my direction. I Saw its trajectory, and used my momentum from my stumble to twist around its snaking form, where it clacked again the tatami floor. It was the only sound amongst the silent scuffle, and I leapt up as it swept again but this time beneath my feet.

My wakazashi rested on the other side of the room next to my katana.

More sound came as activity stirred in the castle. The flicker of lamplight glowed behind the screens. Shouts of confusion rose from around the castle.

I leapt and ducked beneath the whipping rope, and twisted and danced between the other two ninja, avoiding direct combat as much as possible. I had regained much of my former agility and strength. But there were limitations, and this was undeniable. My left wrist had never healed properly. Without modern day surgery, it was impossible to ensure the multiple fracture break could heal in line. Instead of a straight forearm, there was a slight crook, one which constantly ached.

My lungs too, although healed, had left a scar. My breaths were no longer as deep, and such deep, strained and quick breathing caused a fire to burn within my chest.

Therefore while my agility and skills had returned from dedicated training, I could not maintain my stamina for as long as I used to. Already my wrist ached and throbbed from blocking the strike which disarmed me.

My shoulder hit the far wall at the same time I heard someone arrive at the screen with a lamp. I Saw the one of the ninja turn his attention to the screen and strike down the person on the other side as the screen opened. I Saw what I had to do to save his life.

I reached for my wakazashi, spinning to avoid another blade which caught my hair instead of my face. Strands of long black hair floated through the air, slow, as if time itself drew to a crawl.

"Osamu-sama!" Kenji shouted as he drew open the screen.

My wakazashi sung as it was drawn, and left my hand simultaneously.

The wakazashi struck the ninja in his side, forcing him to stumble and his strike went wide, missing Kenji completely. Kenji caught on fast, dropped the lamp in the doorway and with both hands, slashed at the stumbling ninja with his katana.

The ninja was fast, despite the injury, pulling the wakazashi out from his side and deflected Kenji's katana with his ninjato.

The first ninja leapt towards me, faster than a human eye could follow. His weapon was sheathed, and instead, he held a black cloth in his hand. The cloth itself bore a strange aura, and it wafted, as if it had a scent to it which was visible to my Sight only.

The ninja rushed up towards me, the second ninja close behind, rope in hand, and an inkling of a thought crossed my mind.

Was this an assassination? Or a kidnap?

The split second future Showed me how to dance the next few steps, and I followed its tune. I could not fight back, not without a weapon. I could only direct the strikes away, using their momentum against them, following their flow of energy to stay in tune with their deadly dance of supernatural death.

But there was only so long I could maintain it.

My attention flashed to Kenji. He fought hard, almost as well as the Oni in the room. But he too, could not keep up as the ninja's blade cut his cheek and arm. The ninja darted behind, and cut behind the knee, forcing Kenji down.

Two more guards, led by Makoto, joined the fight and leapt in to engage the two ninja who tried to catch me.

"Assassins! Assassins in the castle! To arms! Protect Osamu-sama!" The soldiers roared. And in that moment amongst all the shouting, I turned, grabbed the lamp, and threw it at the ninja over Kenji.

The lamp burst, spilling oil over the ninja, who shrieked and reared as he erupted in flames. I dashed over to Kenji in that moment of respite and grabbed his arm, hauling him to his feet and picking up my fallen wakazashi at the same time.

"Go, Osamu!" Makoto bellowed. "Go! NOW!"

"Come on, Akito!" I gasped, dragging him back as he limped. He grunted in pain, gripping the back of his knee, and I wondered with dread if a ligament had been slashed. Kenji would not be able to stand if so.

He took just one step, hissed in pain, and his leg gave way, dropping him down onto his knees again, confirming my fears. Blood pooled on the tatami from where he knelt. Behind, the burning ninja crashed into the screens, setting the paper alight and the fire began to crackle and roar as it spread, filling the room with smoke and raging orange light.

"Akito! You must stand!"

"No!" His voice was sharp, and pushed me away. "Go, I cannot stand. I will defend you here, but you must go!"

I stared at him. "I will not leave you! You are my retainer."

"And that is exactly why you must leave!" He shouted. "They are here for you. You must escape, hide, until the Akechi return. We are expendable. You are not."

My hands clenched into fists and I bit my lower lip as I felt tears and smoke sting my eyes. I could See what was going to happen. It was what had to happen, and I felt a snarl of frustration rip through my teeth.

"Allow me to fulfil my duty. Let me leave with my honour," he said hoarsely as he used his katana as a lever to stand.

It was a request that – as his Lord – I was bound to allow him to fulfil. It was the hardest choice I ever had to accept.

To the side, the two Oni ninja cut down the two guards on either side of Makoto as another two joined in to defend the kendo master. Those additional two, also fell.

The fire spread, and the flaming ninja staggered towards Kenji and I. I grasped Kenji's shoulder, and looked him straight in the eyes. No words were said, for none needed to be said, as I had already said them, just a few days prior. The realisation was bitter in my mouth. I understood and respected his decision, for it was the true way of the Samurai, and it was a cut to my soul to accept it. He returned the hard stare, and within his dark eyes, was a thanks and chance of redemption, to die with honour, to redeem his failure on the battlefield for having not been able to protect me then.

I let go, and turned way, ducking out of the way as more guards piled into the smoke filled room. They parted around me, seeing the green eyes and shying away, before being pulled into combat with entities equally as strange as me, but not realising they were Oni and I was human.

The castle was waking, filling with shouts and screams of confusion as the fire spread. I clenched my jaw, furious at myself for being forced to flee, furious at these few invaders who had killed so many already. And furious at myself for having drawn the danger regardless, by merely existing.

Fear and fury mingled together. Regardless of the reasons for their being here, the ninjas target was me. I could not fight as well as I used to. I had no other Oni as my ally in the castle this night. Only my Sight helped me stay one step ahead. But its demand was draining, and its strain only grew in strength.

I ran towards Mitsuhide's quarters, hoping that somehow his remnant presence would make the ninja reluctant to follow into such a person's room. In the same way I was reluctant to step on holy ground in sacred places of the mountains and caves, the same should apply to Mitsuhide's very own quarters.

I flung open the screen to his study, and dashed across the tatami, past his desk and cabinets, and to the screens which led out into the garden.

Someone else opened the screen, and I halted, dropping into my stance immediately, bearing my wakazashi. I knew who stepped in before he actually did, and took a step back, my green eyes narrowing.

One ninja prowled in, and blocked off my exit. I did not turn to run, as that future showed he would catch me in an instant. The Sight continued to take its toll, slowing my movements and the pressure built in my head.

"Drop your weapon, my Lady. We are not here to kill you," he said, his voice cold and heartless. It was familiar, though I could not put my finger on why.

I did not lower my weapon. "You surprise me," I replied, my voice tight. "I cannot possibly imagine another reason for you being here."

The ninja stepped closer, and I matched him with a step back.

"Drop your weapon. I will not ask again," he snarled. It dripped like venom.

"If you think I will surrender willingly, you are sorely mistaken," I snapped back.

My head was pounding so much and my eyes were aching.

"If you wish for this entire castle to perish tonight, we are more than willing to oblige, my Lady. Know that their deaths are on your hands."

My nose was running suddenly, and I sniffed, but it did not help. So I wiped it with the back of my left hand without taking my eyes away from the ninja.

Fresh red caught my attention however and my eyes flickered to my hand regardless. A smear of blood coated the back of my hand, and more dripped down onto the tatami. It was salty against my lips.

My nose was bleeding.

I gripped my wakazashi tighter. My hand shook. Was the ache in my head the rising blood pressure? It must have popped the blood vessels in my nose as I pushed the demand for my Sight away. I had to keep it going. While I Saw, I did not See the ninja strike me. But I knew I had seconds. A minute at most. My ears were beginning to ring. And it was not cold enough to draw on the chill to help power my ability. This one fed on me alone.

"Even if you win, the Akechi will not let you get away with this. Mitsuhide-sama in particular," I growled. "They will find you, for invading their castle and killing its residents." The energy I put into my voice, sapped the rest of the energy from my body, and I had to lower my raised arm and I dropped down to one knee, taking a slow breath through my mouth, tasting the metal tang of blood on my tongue as my nose bled heavily down my front and onto the tatami.

The ninja removed his mask, and I knew why his voice was so familiar.

"Oda Nobuhide."

He smiled a cruel smile. "Your Lord may have ascended. We let the event proceed as they planned, without hindrance. Because even the Emperor cannot defeat a Seer. You will be our shield against his wrath, for his wrath will come, as terrible as an earthquake and as violent as a typhoon. He will never be able to touch us, not while we use you against him, for he will not raise a hand to you, his beloved. You are naive, Akechi Osamu, if you think your worth does not warrant a war."

Fury ripped through me so violently as I comprehended the Oda's plan. It was a sickening comprehension, and the fury turned my vision red. A ring of fire burned around my ankle.

The Sight disappeared, replaced by my fury as I stood and swung to attack him, blinded by my terrible hatred.

Oda Nobuhide was quicker however, and he came within my guard before I could swing my blade. He pushed me. That was all it took.

I staggered back, the fatigue making my body clumsy, and I fell.

My head cracked against something hard, and my world plunged into blackness.