Note: A special thanks goes to White Alchemist Taya for letting me know that the original upload of this chapter did not work. I apologize for the delay in fixing it. Life and all that comes with it have kept me pretty busy. But, without farther ado, here is Chapter 23!
Chapter 23: Enemy Territory
The path that led to the village was narrow and wound through the wooded foothills alongside the stream. She was four days into the journey and heading deep into the enemy's territory. She kept herself vigilant. Every sound, every movement, every scent warranted her attention. At every small curve in the worn path, she was prepared for a fully armed patrol to burst from the shadowy trees, and her hand rested on the hilt of her katana should it be needed.
The lady samurai tensed as a shrill pierce the still forest. Her eyes darted back and forth as her ears strained to locate the source. To the east? The north? Across the brook, her eyes caught a subtle movement high in a tree. A bird. Just a bird. She exhaled slowly, releasing the hilt of her katana. Unconsciously, she ran her fingers through her clean yet scentless hair.
His scent was gone.
The thought flashed through her mind unbidden and not for the first time since she had parted ways with the daiyōkai. She tried to push it aside as she continued walking, but it refused to be ignored.
His scent... the young woman's eyes narrowed.
After traveling with Sesshoumaru for so long, his scent had clung to her, and if Ura was a yōkai with a sensitive sense of smell, he would instantly notice. She had no choice but to wash in the frigid mountain stream, scrubbing her hair and skin until no trace of Sesshoumaru remained. Even her clothing had not be spared the vicious scouring.
Only after the scent was gone did she realize how accustom she had grown to the wild, earthy fragrance. It was like the forest air before a rain, lingering wherever he had been. A constant reminder of his overwhelming presence. For the briefest moment, she closed her eyes, but she could no longer sense him. Was he too far away? No, the annoying kodama must have erected a barrier to hide their presence. They were out there somewhere, watching and waiting.
Whatever the reason, the absence of his aura weighed heavily on her mind.
Focus! A warrior who entered battle with a clouded mind rarely survived. Breathe deeply and clear the mind. Focus on the task at hand and how to get close enough to Ura to discover his true identity. Having so blatantly refused his previous offer, the yōkai would be suspicious no matter how she presented herself, and she had yet to find a course of action that was not fated to fail immediately.
An impossible mission. No, the daiyōkai would not send her on an impossible mission. There had to be a way to succeed.
Use your feminine wiles... Her hand tightened into a fist as Katsutoshi's words floated through her mind.
That had not been the first time such a thing had been said. Her father's daimyo once suggested that Tora be taught the ways of a kunoichi, and she remembered her father's reluctance. By that time, she was fourteen years old and had already proven herself as a warrior in a ferocious battle against an enemy warlord's army. In spite of his unwillingness, he could not go against his master's command, and Tora was sent to her first lesson with a skilled kunoichi in the lord's service.
Her first lesson was her last.
Tora was not suited to the deceitful tricks and methods of seduction used by the female ninjas. There was nothing feminine about her. She was more comfortable with a katana in hand than a fan or tea kettle. While she had a certain grace, it was not enough. Years of intense training allowed for no soft, alluring curves, and the confident manner by which she carried herself was not demure or charming. The lesson was a failure and never mentioned again.
No one looked upon her as woman.
It would be impossible for someone like her to seduce Ura, and the mere thought of getting close to the merciless murderer was enough to make her skin crawl. No, she would have to infiltrate his inner circle in a different way. As she walked, her mind filled with possible scenarios, but each one ended disagreeably. There had to be some way to avoid Ura's suspicions!
No, not avoid. Perhaps she could use his suspicions?
Her father had once told her of a famous daimyo who recruited his enemies as his vassals, for it was far easier to control an enemy kept close at hand than to defeat an enemy left to stir up trouble in the countryside. A plan began to form in the lady samurai's mind.
As the sun began to sink in the western sky, casting longer shadows in the darkening forest, the path branched on to a wide road packed hard from steady usage. The smell of polished armor and sweat lingered faintly in the air. A large number of soldiers had passed no more than two days ago, heading away from the mountains. Tora had little doubt their destination was to war or plunder one of the southern lands. She had once seen the devastation left behind by Ura Kotuku's soldiers. A village burned to the ground and a nearby field was covered in the mutilated corpses of the inhabitants. The old, the young, men, women. The soldiers had killed indiscriminately and without mercy.
The village was not that far up the road, and the stench reached her nose even before it came into sight. The odor of too many people living in a single area, and it was far stronger than anything she remembered. No, no. As with all her senses, her nose was far more sensitive.
The thick forest came to an abrupt end, and the setting sun illuminated nearly a dozen tiers had been carved from the mountainside. Years ago, the winding patches of flat land had been used by the villagers as farmland, but Tora's dark eyes only saw bare earth and a forest of ramshackle huts. Soldiers mingled around and even from the distance, she heard the boisterous laughter, shouts, fights, metal on metal, all melted together into a constant rumbling in her ears.
Farther up the mountain side clung the village, surrounded by ancient trees, but the buildings were small and old, many in disrepair. Perched atop a sheer cliff and looming above the village was the old fortified castle that Ura had claimed. The yōkai commanded his army from its impregnable position. With only one narrow and winding road leading to its gate – and said road winded its way through the center of the village and the tiered farmland. The fastest way to the castle would be to follow the road, but an unknown samurai would cause a stir. Passing unnoticed would be difficult, forcing her to keep to the forest and rocky mountainside.
Tora took a deep breath to prepare herself for the task that lay ahead of her. The young woman stepped back into the shadowy forest. She would wait until a few hours after nightfall, when the majority of the soldiers were asleep. There was no turning back now.
The night wind was cold and blew through the trees. The constant rustling in Tora's sensitive ears masked the other nocturnal sounds of the forest and left her ill at ease. Her feet cautiously moved along an old overgrown trail that skirted the village. In some places, it seemed to be carved from the very rock. She paused momentarily, hand resting on the cool stone and dark eyes following the cliff upward. A thin layer of clouds dimmed the light of the full moon, but her sharp eyes could discern the shadow of the castle perched atop the precipice.
She smelt the two men before she heard them. The wind carried the nauseating odor of sweat and sake to her. A patrol? The lady samurai moved to the nearest tree and without hesitating, pulled herself up. Its thick foliage and the long shadows obscured her from view, and she waited silently for the men to pass. Soldiers... No, their posture, their patterned hitatare, and the fine swords at their sides meant that these two men were among Ura's samurai. Without a doubt, both carried a wakizashi or a hidden knife as well.
Two samurai were no match for her, but Tora remained motionless in the tree. If possible, she desired to avoid any premature confrontations. She must assume that the old trail was commonly used by the enemy and thus find a different way to reach the castle unseen. She peered up through the leaves at the cliff. An impossible climb for a human, but she was no human.
When she could no longer hear or smell the humans, the hanyō began the perilous climb up the cliff. Her speed was not of any use now. Tora carefully sought for handholds and footholds in the rocks and small trees protruding from gaps. Her arms and legs strained as she moved upward, fighting both gravity and the wind. Clinging precariously, she paused to rest and regain her breath. Her eyes scanned the mountainside below and the flickering of faint lights illuminated the village and the soldiers encampment. She broadened her senses, searching upwards towards the castle.
A presence.
The yoki was different from any she had sensed before. She could feel it, an ominous feeling that caused the back of her neck to tingle, but it was faint. Not weak, just faint, as if it had been spread out and diluted. Like the moonlight was a faint glow behind the clouds. She could not distinguish the yōkai's strength nor where in the castle he was.
The hanyō narrowed her eyes. With a sigh, she continued to scale the last thirty or so feet, digging her fingers and toes into crevices between rocks. A short time later, she hauled herself over the castle wall. Relief washed over her as her feet touched solid ground, but there was no time to relax. Sheltered from the autumn wind, the scents of the castle inhabitants became crisp and easier to distinguish. Ten. No, twelve guards were slowly milling about the walls. She moved among the shadows, carefully avoiding the humans as she followed the yōkai presence inside the large edifice and along a maze of corridors and rooms.
The dark presence grew stronger with every step and shivers ran down her arms. Her entire body was tense as she peered around a corner, one hand on her katana. A lone guard stood beside a grand door, looking anxious and uncomfortable. Her ears caught no other sounds but the guard's nervous breathing and fast heartbeat yet the magnitude of the yoki emanating from that room was overwhelming.
Dark. Sinister. Terrifying.
The human part of her longed to flee. The daiyōkai's words, spoken months ago while they stood on a riverbed, flashed through her mind. Not all confrontations should be engaged. Learn quickly which to accept and which to avoid... or you will die. All of her senses were screaming that this was a confrontation that was to be avoided at all costs, but her body did not move from the shadows.
This was another test. There was no doubt in her mind that the two daiyōkai were nearby, watching and waiting, and the thought solidified her resolve. She would not fail. She could not fail. She was the daughter of Asakura Sorin and the blood of yōkai flowed through her veins. She drew her katana from its sheath in one fluid motion, steeled herself, and dashed from the corner.
The guard never even saw his attacker, just a glint of silver in the candlelight as the hilt of a katana was brought down against his head. He fell to the ground, armor clattering against the wood floor. The door he had been guarding was kicked open, and the lady samurai stepped through.