07 – War Games

By Chronic Guardian

Written for Twelve Shots of Summer: Nine Tales, Week 7 – Three Legends, Rank Promotion

Tokyo was a mess. The firebombings had taken a toll on the infrastructure and, worse, the population. At least two of the Daimyos participating in this season of The Reaping could not recall a time since the Bakumatsu that the Underground had been so flooded.

It was a shame, really. At least during the Bakumatsu they wouldn't be recruiting so many civilians.

Yoshiya Kiryu looked around at the haggard bunch still standing that constituted the Black Stallion Legion. His former manservant, Koumatsu, had grimly hung on to his existence. For Koumatsu, the pride of serving the Kiryu family had not allowed him to do anything less, although the past few days had tested that determination. His use of the Riverspawn had deformed half his body into a haggard parody of himself, but made combat much simpler in return.

They hadn't acted that way in London, Yoshiya reflected. Of course, they also didn't call them Riverspawn, there. Just Dregs. Raw energy, either way. Soul that had lost its refinement and form and turned instead to devouring dissonance. Whatever you called it, it wasn't to be trifled with.

The next member of their squad was a failed samurai left over from the Sengoku Jidai. Gunji Onigawa, killed during a strategic retreat and forever tainted by the action. He wasn't much good for more than war, but he made valiant pretense at poetry and chivalry. He had almost died protecting their youngest squadmate before she had been consumed by Riverspawn. He was a fool, but an admirable one. Someday, Yoshiya hoped he got the valiant ending he so fervently hoped for.

A pair of siblings came next, brother and sister. Recent recruits like Yoshiya and Koumatsu, and only surviving due to the others efforts. Yoshiya still resented them for abandoning maneuvers earlier in the week to save their own skins. A grandmother followed, clinging to the hope that she could escape the UG and see her grandson come back from the war, or at least die with distinction. Beyond her was a former Geisha from the Meiji Restoration—a veteran like Onigawa—then a loyal housewife, and a courier boy. With most fighting age men away in the war effort, new male recruits around Yoshiya's age were rare.

There had been others, once upon a time. Two weeks ago, now. The Reaping traditionally ran for a full moon cycle before coming to rest, according to Onigawa. It was not unprecedented for cycles to shift, of course, but that was the usual run of it. With barely two weeks under their belts and both the Jade Peacock and Red Howler for competition, Yoshiya had a feeling his squad was either going to be rolled into another unit or wiped out entirely.

Frankly, he preferred the run of it he'd had in London's White Castle district where it was a little more of a free-for-all from the start.

"Attention, maggots!"

And then there was their general, their Daimyo. Yoshiya felt a slow smile spread over his face as he half-heartedly drew himself straight and watched the rest of the squad attempt to do so. Only Onigawa and Komatsu made it look halfway decent. Their leader, Saiyama, had not come from some far distant era. According to Onigawa, he was a soldier from the Great War. Nominally a nationalist but more forthrightly a warrior.

Saiyama lived for the fight.

"Today, we are attacking the Howler base," the Daimyo said, launching into his briefing without preamble. He had wild, matted hair in desperate need of grooming, if not a shave. It stuck out at strange angles like the wings of an eagle bearing down on its prey and hooded his wild eyes. "Main targets will include food supplies, water rations, and the nearby Riverspawn reservoir. Not too much. We want a decent distraction while we do our work, but we'll earn our marks from the Shogun for valor in direct combat. Should we win by deception alone, Lord Koukyuu would be well within his rights to eradicate us himself. Do not shy from the fight! Embrace it!"

The commands were met with an obligatory cheer and reactionary grimaces from the assembled troop. Onigawa held up half the outcry himself, being the only one truly born into the warrior's ethic. The rest were dutiful, disciplined, and doing much better than Yoshiya would have expected two weeks back. However, they still were not suited to games of war.

"Kiryu!" Saiyama barked, pacing in front of the group but keeping his eyes on Yoshiya. His right hand rested on a coiled whip hanging at his belt. It wasn't often that Saiyama brought it out—he much preferred the feeling of flesh and bone making curt exchange with his knuckles—but it wasn't entirely out of the question for general discipline. "Something wrong with your throat?" the general went on, "Miss your morning tea? I didn't hear you."

"Cheers, commander," Yoshiya said with a sardonic smile. "I'll work on that."

Saiyama scowled and let his hand fly. Yoshiya didn't flinch. He took the blow with only raised eyebrows and a reddened cheek to show for it. "Careful," he said evenly. "I would hate to lose concentration in the middle of the mission because I've been slapped senseless."

Their commander snorted and lifted his hand again. Yoshiya saw it coming, of course. He knew Saiyama didn't understand power games, much less how to play them. The man was an everlasting well of phlogistic temperament searching for an outlet. His reputation as "Saiyama the Sadist" had been well established throughout the UG long before this cycle. Trying to reason with him wasn't the point.

Yoshiya took the second blow, rubbed his jaw, and surreptitiously scanned the reaction from the gathered squad. He had to bow his head to hide the smile. Their eyes poured disgust on their commander. And while the veteran had made it clear he couldn't care less what they thought of him, that was because he assumed his authority was absolute. His military temperament had blinded him to the possibility that anyone might break social rank given enough stress.

To his credit, he would be right under normal circumstances. However, given their desperate straights, there was a chance that Yoshiya could convince them otherwise. And if Yoshiya could usurp Saiyama, he would then become the new legion commander.

"Have a care, sir," Koumastu spoke up, his usual even tone distorted by Riverspawn. Saiyama whirled on him, eager for a new target, but the manservant simply looked toward the horizon. "We still have a mission to carry out."

Saiyama agreed, then hit Koumatsu anyway for insubordination.

Yoshiya could feel his chances rising by the minute.

-o-0-o-

The leader of the Red Howler Legion was a former monk purportedly killed by Tokugawa Ieyasu himself. Yoshiya doubted the claim, but acknowledged the man had presence. He stood like a polished statue, frowning down on the Stallions caught in the middle of his camp. Despite his average height, his calm, unshakeable demeanor stopped the sibling pair in their tracks.

Yoshiya only smiled.

Behind the monk, a tall man with mixed western features and short, blond hair narrowed his eyes at the intruders. "Master Hokuma?"

The monk's lips curled in a sneer, disrupting his immaculate expression with ugly contempt. "Dissuade them, Tanaka."

Not even worth your own time… Yoshiya reflected as he set about channeling Riverspawn to block off the lackey's advance. But that was the way of it with these generals: they had survived for decades or even centuries growing weary of their war. While Saiyama still found a fresh thrill in dirtying his hands, the others seemed to grow weary of their hollow existence.

Still, they served faithfully enough. Or at least inspired loyalty in their underlings if the current one was anything to go by. Finding his barricades being downgraded to inconveniences, Yoshiya decided it was time to abandon ship.

True to form, the sibling duo had already abandoned him by the time he turned around. Yoshiya sighed and gathered a flow of Riverspawn around his feet to carry him out of harm's reach just as the blond man threw his first punch. The displaced air of the blow still brushed his cheek, but nothing solid connected. Yoshiya was just about to try his luck with a taunt when the flow currently beneath his feet rerouted and sent him sprawling head over heels.

"Don't try games with the Riverspawn," the man rumbled, striding closer with an unreadable expression Yoshiya could only approximate as determination. "They won't reliably listen to any but the firmest hearts."

"Thank you for the advice," Yoshiya grunted. It wasn't always that he could get an opponent talking. As he slipped one foot under himself, then the other, he wondered if this was the other's idea of intimidation. "If I may offer some of my own—"

Gathering the Riverspawn in his right hand, Yoshiya flipped open his notebook and scribbled out two characters. Between him and the blond Howler, the paved road rippled and knotted like a rope rising in the soil before rolling in waves against the attacker.

Yoshiya smirked at his baffled opponent as he finished straightening up. "You don't win games when you don't bother playing them."

Stamping a few more symbols into his notebook, Yoshiya sent chunks of the ground rocketing up to pelt down again like meteors. The Howler valiantly fended off the assault, but halted his advance. Watching the display for a moment, Yoshiya if things would have been different if he had been sorted into the Howlers instead of the Stallions. Even Koumatsu, driven by duty deeper than death, would be hard pressed to match the man furiously pummeling rocks out of the air.

Turning around, Yoshiya left before the man could ruin the admiration with the reality of their current allegiances.

-o-0-o-

According to reports published at five o'clock, the raid did what it was supposed to. The Howlers were left licking their wounds and the end of day evaluations listed a nice boosting for the Stallions, pulling them ahead for the time being.

At five-oh-five, the Jade Peacock Legion got a head start on tomorrow's report.

"Ambush! Treachery! Maggots!" Siayama screamed, cracking his whip through the camp. "Stand your ground! Rally to me and fight!"

Yoshiya, only just now emerging from his makeshift quarters on a grocery roof, took a moment to assess the situation. They were camped out in Dogenzaka neighborhood and it sounded like their enemies were coming in from the low side of the slope. However, as Onigawa had repeatedly told them, an attack from the highground was where the real danger of the situation lay. Assuming the Peacocks had any long standing competence, they must have realized the same.

Saiyama, on the other hand, either did not realize this advantage or simply did not care. In his bloodlust and assumed total command of the Black Stallion Legion, he was jumping headlong into the jaws of the trap and leaving the rest of the Stallions to ward off whatever attacks came from behind.

...It would be a rather profitable shame for Yoshiya to challenge those assumptions.

"Master Kiryu," Koumatsu grunted, coming to his side. "What do you see?"

Watching the flow of uphill movement the next block over, Yoshiya smiled. "An opportunity," he pronounced. "Let's keep Saiyama's eyes forward. Give him enough support that he isn't checking backwards."

Koumatsu shifted a look toward their rear guard and slowly nodded. "Are we cutting loose, sir?"

"Quite the opposite," Yoshiya chuckled, moving forward. "We're digging in to take what's ours."

Swooping in to make sure the tide of battle kept towards the obvious distraction, Yoshiya decided the best way to fulfill his orders was sending debris towards unseen and absent opponents in the side alleys. Whatever difficulties this would make for future escape was strictly collateral.

By the time they caught up with Saiyama, he had discovered the noisy approach was a ruse and was taking it out on the perpetrators: two civilian women. One in practical Western dress with a mechanics coveralls and the other in more traditional working woman's kimono. The traditionalist managed to deflect Saiyama's whip assault, batting the stinging tip aside with a gust of wind, but immediately stumbled off balance as her feet became engulfed in churning earth.

"Cowards!" Saiyama spat, cracking his whip at the coveralls woman. She had long, auburn tinged hair splayed out in a mane behind her. "Fools! You issue a challenge and answer me like this? I am the wrath of the nation, the fist of the emperor! Onigawa!" he called over his shoulder to his lieutenant of choice. "Hold off the others. I will punish these two myself!"

"Strategy!" was all Onigawa managed to answer as he thundered past with the rest of the Stallions.

Apparently, they had grasped their positional disadvantage a little more thoroughly than their commander and were scrambling to take a meaningful stand. "Yoshiya! Koumatsu!" Onigawa called frantically, waving his arms to the sides of the avenue without bothering to actually locate the duo in the darkness, "Higher ground! Higher ground!"

"As you wish," Yoshiya murmured, breaking out his notebook and flicking in the necessary characters. On either side of the street, walls cracked and caved to create makeshift ramps to the roofs. The stampeding Stallions took the hint and immediately diverted to either side and dug in to make their stand.

Leaving Yoshiya and Koumatsu alone with Saiyama in the street.

"Damned cowards!" Saiyama repeated, waving his whip over his head. "Only the brave will be resurrected! The Composer does not deal in underhanded victory! You will be—!"

He would have gone on, had the coveralls Peacock woman not taken the opportunity to throw a brick at his head. Even with only a glancing blow, the projectile sent him staggering. "Be a dear and pipe down, would you?" she growled, making swooping motions on her notebook paper. While Yoshiya had to write his commands to properly manifest psyches, it seemed this woman had a more visual aesthetic to her conjuring.

Either that, or a very enthusiastic bent towards calligraphy.

Regardless, he couldn't let her take out Saiyama. Stamping his strategy into his own notebook, he braced himself as the ground rumbled with walls erupting from the pavement. With the antagonism from that front momentarily silenced, he turned his attention back towards the oncoming wave to see how the others were handling the situation.

Onigawa had managed to form some effective ranged emplacements on the roofs and was significantly slowing the advance. The whole squad seemed accounted for, none having slipped off down the alleys he had previously blockaded, and were fervently attending to keeping the Jade Peacocks at bay.

It was perfect.

Glancing sideways, Yoshiya locked eyes with Koumatsu and nodded. The man let out a full throated yell and sent a wave of Riverspawn rushing up towards their attacks. At the exact same moment, the wall between them and the diversionary Peacocks tottered and fell.

Directly towards Saiyama.

The legendary Daimyo almost got out a curse. It wasn't the crumbling wall that stopped him; it was Koumatsu's second strike to his ribs followed by the ground beneath him bunching to one side like a snatched rug. As the wall turned into masher spikes and Spawn bits flowed from his side, Saiyama's fate was assured.

Yoshiya took a deep, steady breath as power flowed into him, then let it out and opened his eyes on what was left of the former leader of the Black Stallion Legion.

Beyond where the wall had stood, the coveralls woman with the auburn hair stared. It was only Yoshiya now. The attack strong enough to mortally wound Saiyama before he finished the job must have pushed Koumatsu over the limit. There were puddles of Riverspawn trickling between the rubble. Yoshiya kept his eyes on the woman.

"Where's your companion?" he called casually, a light smile that belied the fatality of their circumstance coming to his face. He never dealt well with all the heaviness of life. Come to think of it, maybe that was why he had hated Saiyama with all his demands and threats. They had been threats grounded in the reality of the Reaping, yes, but Saiyama used them to crush his subordinates into a shape he saw fit. Without the Daimyo in charge, Yoshiya intended to take a different approach.

The coveralls woman just kept staring at him. He could see now she was wearing glasses, with thin rims they weren't as apparent in the night light. She had a small, frowning mouth, and a face that told of a frame far slimmer than the coveralls let on.

"My commander," she eventually managed. Her voice was far more strained now than it had been when she addressed Saiayama. "Miss Fujimori… is…"

She looked down at her hand and Yoshiya noticed it was dripping with Riverspawn. He let his smile deepen. Fujimori Maiko, Daimyo of the Jade Peacocks, had been leading the diversion herself. A master of cunning and deceit, Yoshiya had heard it said that even the members of her legion didn't know her identity because she acted as a common soldier to shield herself from usurpers. The legendary lady of the plume had taken the greatest risk with her most trusted lieutenant and ended her career separated from her now flagging legion.

"I think it's time for a new regime," he said, approaching slowly. "Neither of us claimed power for nothing. But if we get complacent now, we'll be just like the old fossils we just erased. You don't want to go along with that, do you?"

The woman shook her head, but still didn't say anything. Her eyes seemed distant behind her glasses.

"Well then," Yoshiya swept an arm towards their combined forces, now engaged in a ponderous stand-off. "Why don't we join hands to make a new legend? Write a new code?"

"You mean…?"

"Why stop at one rank promotion?" he said, getting a little more explicit with his treason. "Why not go for the greatest legend of them all?"

"Sendatsu Koukyuu," she murmured with narrowed eyes. "The Composer… You'll need an entirely united front to take him, child. Even if I felt like sticking my neck out to just him, as long as the Howlers are at it—"

"Maybe they can be convinced," he cut in, thinking of the blond go-getter from earlier. "In the meantime, you should call off your troops. We want to have enough leftover that this offensive will actually be worth something. Do we have a deal?"

Her face twisted in what might have been a disgusted look. "I don't know, you make this sound like this is all a game to you, darling. In case you haven't noticed, we're at war."

He smiled back at her. "That's certainly how the current Composer sees it. It's all in your perspective, I guess… So the real question is: who's world do you want to end up living in? Mine or his?"

The woman who now led the Jade Peacocks joined hands with the newly risen leader of the Black Stallions. It answered the question well enough.

-End-