The Blood of Naipon: The Samurai

by SakuyaGoddess

After a long time of searching, Chiasa Miller has finally found the land of her ancestors. However, she is about to learn that the end of one search is merely the beginning of another. To overcome the obstacles she is to face, Chiasa does everything in her power to be like her beloved samurai ancestor. But, will she suffer in Naipon as Natasha Fatale suffered in Pottsylvania?

79

The Blood of Naipon

The Samurai

SakuyaGoddess

Note to Reader

The Blood of Naipon is my fanfiction sequel to Jessica Amanda Salmonson's Tomoe Gozen saga. It concerns what happened in Naipon eight hundred years after the wars waged by the character Tomoe Gozen's husband, Lord Kiso Yoshinake. However, my novel is also an allegory of Rocky and Bullwinkle. The story of my protagonist, Chiasa Miller, is based on the backstory of Natasha Fatale. By writing Natasha's backstory, I have shown my proof that Hayao Miyazaki's 1997 film, Princess Mononoke, may be a prequel to Rocky and Bullwinkle.

To help you understand my novel, I will describe three of its characters. I have mentioned that Chiasa represents Natasha; they are both young, orphaned women who use the stories of their ancestors to search for their families. Chiasa was raised in the United States, but she is a descendant of the Naiponese Tomoe Gozen. As for Natasha, she belongs to the bloodline of Princess Mononoke's antagonist, Lady Eboshi. Natahsa did not make this discovery until she had been raised in Romania for the first nineteen years of her life. Both she and Chiasa embark on journeys that take them to lands they could only have dreamed of. They face many hardships, but they find people who care for them and show them the way.

The Blood of Naipon also concerns Lord Isamu Inaba, a Naiponese daimyo who seeks to overthrow his shogun and unite the clans of their country. Isamu represents Fearless Leader, the main antagonist of Rocky and Bullwinkle. Both men are scar-faced tyrants who yearn for power and immortality, and both are willing to attain them in whatever way possible. They are also supported by subordinate men who carry their bidding; Boris Badenov spies for Fearless Leader, and Hisoka Ishikawa is a vassal of Isamu. Like his Rocky and Bullwinkle counterpart, Hisoka has fully sworn himself to his master. The vassal spies in outside lands such as the United States, prioritizing Isamu's needs above his own.

Because this novel is based on many stories, I hope it will appeal to a variety of readers. I have embraced the heroism of Salmonson's heroine Tomoe, and I have brought the inner strength of Natasha Fatale to life. Even if my works were to not be praised until I am gone, it would be more than an accomplishment for me. As an author, I hope my works will live on in the hearts, minds, and spirits of curious individuals. The success of a story is determined not by the skills of its author, but by the praise of its readers.

Until we meet again,

SakuyaGoddess

Chapter 13

She could not tell what time it was, nor where she was. She thought she could feel her adoptive mother waking her as she had many years ago. The young woman was accustomed to the alarm clock on her cell phone, but that was not what had awakened her. By this point, her scheduled bedtimes had almost made the right time to awaken her natural time. She rarely overslept, having been used to school and other events.

The sheets wrapped around her were quite comfortable. They were like the ones she had known throughout her life. As an individual with autism, she needed similar-feeling sheets to relax as she slept. Therefore, the sheets she had taken to Jonathan University resembled those in Richardson in every detail. Of course, the ground was harder than what she knew.

The ground. She quickly sat up, remembering that none of her beds had hard surfaces. Feeling unusual, she realized she was dressed in a pair of pajamas she had never worn. They resembled those worn by the Edo Period's bushi class. In fact, the bedroom was very much like an Edo bedroom. Chiasa stood from the bed, which she noticed was a futon, and rushed towards the sliding window. She opened it to see people in kimonos walking the paved streets of an Edo town. It was not until then that she remembered all that had happened.

"I'm in Naipon," she said to herself.

For a moment, the young woman did not know what to feel. She was surprised to have been taken to the fantasy world so quickly. There was the joy of being in the land of her ancestors. There was also the nervousness every human feels when they are taken to a strange place. Juggling these feelings, Chiasa searched the room for her clothes. What she had worn on the previous night was nowhere to be found, but there were gray hakama, a white kosode, tabi, a hair-tie, her omamori, and her hairpin. Wanting to blend in with her surroundings, Chiasa dressed herself in the garments she found. She tucked the omamori into the kosode, tied her hair into a topknot, and inserted the hairpin into the bun she had formed.

Chiasa did not hesitate to walk down the steps in the building, for there was an emptiness in her stomach. She was relieved to find other customers sitting at a table for their morning meals. However, she was surprised to realize her faithful guide was nowhere to be found. She asked other customers and the innkeeper if they had seen him, but none of them answered "yes." While she kept her disappointment concealed as she ate her breakfast and drank her tea, she was growing anxious. Hisoka had gotten her this far, and she could not imagine what she could do without a guide in a strange country.

"Young miss, are you alright?" the innkeeper asked her.

Chiasa gasped, "Of course. I was merely thinking of my bill."

"If you are concerned," the innkeeper smiled, "you should not be. It has been paid for, and your companion is waiting for you."

"My companion?" Chiasa asked in confusion.

The innkeeper was laughing, "I see you were more tired than it seemed. He carried you to your room last night, and you were out. Something big must have happened."

Something "big" had happened. The innkeeper did not know of it, nor did Chiasa wish to tell him. He was already a busy man. Hoping to retain her polite manner, she thanked him and dressed herself for the outside. She was now wearing snow boots, for it was winter in Naipon as well as America. She was suspicious of the straw garments, being used to winter coats, gloves, and scarves from American clothing stores. Nevertheless, she walked outside as though everything had been expected. She would have to accept Naiponese customs, and wearing straw winter clothes was among them.

"Chiasa are you there?" a voice sounded.

She found a samurai in black approaching her. A cloth was covering his nose and mouth, and a jingasa cast a shadow upon the rest of his face, but she knew him to be Hisoka. When he was finally close to her, she could not help but smile.

"It is a miracle you are safe," she nodded. "I hope you did not find much trouble in the night."

"Only the woman named Ai," the samurai replied. "She grabbed me as I ran after her, but her grip was too weak. We may see her again, but it is not likely."

"I understand," Chiasa replied. "Now that we have arrived in your homeland, where must we go?"

Hisoka's current tone resembled his grinning tone, being only more sincere, "Today is the day I present you to my master. To assure him you are not leading me to conspire against him, I must let him see your face." He then walked forward, saying, "Come with me. We shall speak more of this on the road ahead."

Chiasa obeyed him, imagining all the possible things that may have been awaiting her. Would Lord Isamu Inaba be a good man or wicked? What of his other vassals? Would the journey be far? Many more questions crossed her mind before Hisoka stopped her. He removed her hat from her head, pulled the hairpin from her bun, and placed it into her hand.

"Keep this hidden," he whispered. "You are not a princess."

She was confused at first, but her knowledge of Japan quickly came to her. The landscape in Naipon was indeed like Edo Japan's, and Edo clothing styles were determined by social class. At a moment she was sure no one could see her, she nestled the hairpin into the bow of her omamori. She was relieved to feel the omamori fall back into its place as she and her guide departed from the town. That was when she realized their journey would be on foot.

Journeys by foot were another custom Chiasa needed to accept. There were no automobiles in Naipon, for the nation had not industrialized like its counterpart on Earth. There were horses and carriages, but no one could promise if she would ride them. Chiasa was not known for complaints, but many were sounding in her mind. She had been troubled by blisters on her feet in the past, and they were far from pleasant. Still, journeys on foot were what Tomoe Gozen experienced in her adventures. Chiasa decided she could be like her ancestor if Tomoe had not been troubled by the lack of industrialization.

At many points, Chiasa almost forgot about the potential of weary feet. She followed her guide across winding roads, passing many mountains, forests, and fields. It was not uncommon for Chiasa to imagine she had stepped into one of the stories she had written, or into one of her novels about Tomoe. There were times when she and Hisoka passed other travelers, who were often peasants or merchants. She looked at them out of curiosity, but her glances were brief.

It was a cloudless day, which helped her to maintain her euphoria. Since the snow had fallen through the night, white outlines were hugging almost everything she could see. She felt as though she were walking within an ukiyo-e painting, and that she was a part of it. She was. Naipon, not America, was the land of her heritage. She was not yet home, but she was there.

Hisoka did not speak much on their journey. He would describe sights and their histories, but such moments were distant from one another. Whenever Chiasa asked him a question, his answer would be brief and emotionless. After two attempts, Chiasa knew to stay silent herself. She did not speak against her guide's silence, remembering moments at which she did not wish to speak. However, the condition began to burden her as the journey progressed. She wanted information, and silence was what kept it hidden. Silence was becoming her enemy.

Should she speak to her guide for a third time? She retained her concern for his privacy, but the temptation was only growing. There were a thousand questions she wished to ask him, and many more seemed to await. She tried to focus on other topics, but they were becoming irrelevant to the situation at hand. Her aching feet were part of the wordless journey, the scenery would be described only on occasion, and Hisoka's thoughts concerning the weather remained unknown. Chiasa was not surprised to find herself opening her mouth, but she closed it when Hisoka opened his.

"You should not expect to be troubled by my master," he said. "Ever since he became daimyo to the shogun, he has been praised for his kindness and generosity."

"He has?" Chiasa asked excitedly. "What has he done?"

Hisoka seemed to be smiling again, "Among the warriors who serve him are women he purchased from okiyas and brothels. Their weapons are often made by the sick, who are bathed, fed, and clothed by his command. I myself owe him a debt I can never repay."

Chiasa tried to blend into the atmosphere again, "Is it the debt all samurai owe to their masters?"

"No, brave traveler," Hisoka laughed. He was quick to compose himself, "I am an orphan much like yourself. My father raised me by himself until a demon took his life. Lord Isamu found me by myself, and he promised me a place where I would belong. He did not adopt me as his son, but he raised me almost as though he had. I ate nicer food, wore nicer fabrics, and trained under the best of tutors. I did not live with the shogun as a prince, but I traveled with my master as a warrior."

"What you speak of is wonderful," Chiasa smiled. "You are a fortunate man."

Hisoka nodded, "I am confident Lord Isamu will show you the compassion he shows to all who serve him. Perhaps he may know the whereabouts of your true parents."

Chiasa's spirit grew restless. She was on the correct path, and a kind castle lord was awaiting her. She had yet to fully know him, but she would in time.

"If your lord were to know of my parents," Chiasa continued, "how would I know?"

"He would tell you personally," Hisoka replied, "but such a moment may not be soon. Unfortunately, our clan is currently at war."

"At war?" Chiasa gasped. "What has happened?"

Hisoka sighed, "What I have to say is long, for it consists of stories your novels do not tell. Are you able to listen?"

"Of course," Chiasa answered, showing the patience of an intellectual university student. She still could not see the face of her guide, but it seemed relieved underneath its shadow and cloth.

"If you are wise and patient," Hisoka said, "what I have to say will make sense to you."

"I am sure it will," Chiasa nodded. "You have my complete permission to tell what there is to tell."

Taking comfort in the young woman's words, Hisoka did what had been requested of him, "It is true that this dimension is very much like that in which I found you. There is a Naipon in every dimension that was, is, and shall be, for it is the offspring of the gods. However, there are far more similarities between this world and that of the Millers. Their peoples are similar, their cultures are similar, and their peoples are similar. Even the shining goddess Amaterasu wonders how this is so.

"Some in this Naipon know of what has become of the Naipon the Millers knew. It industrialized, following the examples of other countries. The leaders of that Naipon had been pressured to allow this, but those of this Naipon never knew their concerns. This Naipon was safe, as were its people. The old ways continued, evolving with little influence from beyond our islands.

"Traditionalism and isolationism remained ideal for quite some time, but we knew of what was happening to the outside. Countries were forming tools our people could never have dreamed of, and the buildings beyond Naipon nearly rivaled those in Heaven. As we grew hungrier for knowledge, reports of the first nuclear weapons were spread. They were quickly followed by news of a foreign war in which nuclear weapons were being used. Our gods tried to comfort us, warning us not to resemble the 'foreign devils,' but some were not comforted by their word. Among them was Eiichi Chu, a daimyo known for his power and his influence.

"Lord Eiichi had received many reports of foreign lands. Of how they were home to towers of steel that touched Heaven. Of how the metal carriages beyond Naipon could outrun ghosts. Such stories made Lord Eiichi desperate to protect his people and make them as strong and healthy as the peoples beyond his country. He traded with an outside nation, and he encouraged his people to burn coal and forge metal. They were permitted to keep their silk robes and paper buildings, but his province was changing. Its productivity and its progress led other daimyo to copy Lord Eiichi, and the shogun Akimitsu Tifune was quick to follow.

"Some have argued Eiichi's efforts allowed the Naiponese to forget themselves. Even with some of their traditions remaining intact, they were becoming more like the 'foreign devils' they feared. Some Naiponese could see this, and they resisted all attempts to 'modernize.' Among them was Ryuusei, the younger brother of Shogun Akimitsu. Lord Ryuusei was popular among the traditionalists, whose passions varied among them. Some simply resisted change, while others attacked what represented progress. It was not long before this beautiful country was on the verge of chaos."

Chiasa was growing tense. She had heard of many conflicts in her history courses, regardless as to whether they were taught at Richardson Junior High, Richardson Senior High, or Jonathan University. She was quite fond of history, but stories of conflicts often made her tense. To her, conflicts were the result of the inability for humans to negotiate. She believed in the natural goodness of humanity, being unable to imagine why some would favor war instead of peace. Out of all her dreams, only that of finding her family was ambitious. She did not need to attack an entire nation or even an ethnic group to find them. She listened to Hisoka more carefully, anxious as to what would happen in his story.

"Civil unrest devastated our people by itself," he explained, "but it was accompanied by another tragedy. The foreign nation with which we traded became a belligerent in the great nuclear war. As its ally, we could not find alternatives to fighting by its side. Naiponese warriors with katanas and guns were sent across the continents, and Lord Eiichi's ten-year-old son became a soldier himself. Lord Ryuusei fervently spoke against the war, but Lord Akimitsu disregarded his warnings. The conflict between the two brothers resembled that in our homeland, and the already hostile Naiponese turned on one another in active conflict. It was not long before our nation was pillaged by a foreign war and its own civil war.

"Both sides of the Naiponese Civil War wrote romantic tales of heroes and martyrs. There was Hayami Gozen, who was filled with arrows as she beheaded a traditionalist daimyo in battle. The traditionalists praised my cousin Haruhiro Ishikawa for destroying the troops of the modernist Lord Yuusuke despite being outnumbered. And then, there was Prince Hayate, the young son of Lord Eiichi. Prince Hayate's many victories in the foreign war led his father to send him to massacre traditionalist rebels. All of these tales may create a glorious image of the war, but its end could never be described as such.

"Only a few months had passed since Lord Akimitsu's declaration of civil war. The many battles our people had seen had led them to believe it would end within a fleeting time. That prediction did come true, but not by their expectations. On a fateful day, Heaven and all its wonders could be seen by every human in this world. A celestial voice could be heard from everywhere, shouting, Since you have fought like cats and dogs, you will be cats and dogs! It was not until the voice sounded when the modernist Naiponese and the foreign belligerents were overcome by great physical pain. Great fright spread as they grew fur, tails, claws, sharper teeth, and longer ears. The modernist Naiponese and their allies had become anthropomorphic cats, and the foreigners they had fought were now anthropomorphic dogs.

"The transformations frightened all warriors from their battles, regardless of their plans or alignment. Those who had supported Lord Ryuusei or had opposed the wars altogether remained human, but the damage was done. Even with the immediate end of both wars, conflict had not been eliminated. The Naiponese humans now opposed their feline companions, claiming only humans can inherit this country. The shogun, his wife, and their son were now cats who greatly disgusted the human Lord Ryuusei and his human wife. To ensure a second civil war would not emerge between the Naiponese, the Thousands of Myriads created a Naipon to the east of this one. All the cats moved to the second Naipon, naming it Nippon."

As Hisoka described the end of the Naiponese Civil War, Chiasa could not help but harbor a thousand thoughts. It seemed as though Hisoka's story had come to an end, but he had barely spoken of what she wanted to know. If the war were over, why could Mina Province not find peace? Trying to remain calm, Chiasa reminded herself to continue to listen.

"We are still at hostilities with the Nipponese," Hisoka continued. "There is no declared conflict between us, but we do not trust one another. No Nipponese may walk upon our souls without facing certain death, for that is how Naiponese in Nippon are treated. However, the Nipponese are merely the least of my master's concerns. He worries not about them, but of Lord Ryuusei."

"Your current shogun?" Chiasa asked in confusion. "But did your master not fight by his side in the Naiponese Civil War?"

Hisoka nodded, "They were indeed allies, but they were never friends. My master claims the rightful ruler of Naipon is not Shogun Ryuusei Tifune, but Emperor Akiyoshi Takahashi."

Chiasa's blood was almost completely still. She recalled the war Kiso Yoshinake had waged against his shogun, which involved Tomoe Gozen's struggle to make the Mikado the one true leader of Naipon. Their efforts were unsuccessful, and the Mikado was now a figurehead. Hisoka told her these things, but she almost did not need to listen. That need did not come until the samurai in black spoke of Naipon's current condition.

"The defeat of Kiso Yoshinake quelled almost all resistance to the power of shoguns, but there was some that remained. It was especially strong amongst the ancestors of Lord Isamu, who were known for their fervent loyalty to the Mikado. They had praised Tomoe and the Knight of Kiso throughout the wars, and the defeats of both leaders merely enraged them. They told Tomoe's story as that of a martyr, but the Knight of Kiso did not receive such praise. He had wanted to be the shogun himself, and his arrogance had cost him his mind."

Enthusiastic for Tomoe's story, Chiasa could remember every detail of how Lord Kiso fell. He and Tomoe were two of the five avengers of Okio, the smith of their katanas. After the deaths of Okio's killers, however, Tomoe witnessed her husband slay the other avengers to ensure they would not report his deeds to the shogun. Since the murderers had already slaughtered Okio's family, the vengeful ghost cursed the blades Tomoe and Lord Kiso carried. Tomoe was wise enough to retire her blade before it was too late, but Lord Kiso had other intentions. He was too proud to release his blade, allowing Okio's anger to make him fight with rage instead of wisdom.

Reflecting on the ill fate of the Knight of Kiso, Chiasa wondered if she would witness similar events. Naipon was an enchanted nation, and it was not uncommon for human warriors to face demons and ghosts. And in the stories of the country, the wise and patient were victorious while the prideful and arrogant fell. Only time could tell if Chiasa's heart would be evaluated. She was skilled at remaining true to herself, but would Naipon's offerings tempt her?

The young woman was quick to listen to what Hisoka had to say, "Of course, there was no plan of armed conflict against the shogun. The war waged by the Knight of Kiso had been devastating, and the shogun's forces were too strong to face. The ancestors of my master decided they would wait for their serpent's egg to hatch before unleashing its offspring upon Kamakura. That moment came with the Naiponese Civil War, waged eight hundred and forty years after Lord Kiso's fall. This nation's population was decimated by deaths in the war, and the transformations and fleeing of the Nipponese further shrank it. Many of the dead and the Nipponese had been loyal to the shogunate, and their presence no longer has an effect on this land. For Lord Isamu, the war was a blessing and a curse.

"One can only admire how clever my master has been in the current Inaba Wars. The power of the shogunate had indeed been weakened, but it remains a formidable foe. Therefore, he conspired with five daimyo who share his beliefs. He and each of his allies waged war upon daimyo loyal to Lord Ryuusei, igniting conflicts that belonged to a larger plan. What the daimyo loyal to the shogunate did not know was that the forces of my master and his allies had survived the Naiponese Civil War. They had organized themselves for their smaller conflicts for some time, allowing their enemies to rest in their cradles of power.

"Even now, despite their varying plans, Lord Isamu and his allies fight as one. You have not seen much of the Inaba Wars since your arrival in Naipon, but we are walking in a place they have not touched: Inaba Valley. The first Inaba to come to power declared this valley to be sacred, believing the spirits of the earth and sky come here to rest themselves. This place is not free of conflict, but such an event is greatly discouraged. The locals do not wish to anger the spirits, for their wrath is dangerous."

"Do not worry, Hisoka," Chiasa smiled humbly. "I will do what I can to be a gracious guest of your master and this valley."

"I know you will be as such," Hisoka replied in his smiling tone. "You always have been."

He suddenly stopped, attracting the attention of Tomoe's descendant. She was afraid something was wrong, but he revealed a castle was not too far away. It was a large, gorgeous building resembling Japanese castles in travel brochures. Its white walls were almost a second snow, gently topped with mighty gray roofs. Its stone pavilion could be seen as a stone island upon the lake beneath the magnificent structure. Not too far from it was a waterfall frozen in ice and time. The humble but radiant waterfall was a natural beauty, complimenting the strength of the human residence that was its neighbor. Both sights were a spectacle to the young, awed Chiasa.

"That waterfall is known as the Tears of the Moon," Hisoka said to her. "Some say it fell from the eyes of Tsukiyomi when Amaterasu left him. Others claim it came from Princess Kaguya as she returned to her home in the sky. But all know it came from the moon, for it is radiant on cloudless nights. Not even the cold of winter can vanquish its majesty."

As her guide spoke, Chiasa thought she could see a figure standing near the Tears of the Moon. She could identify the figure as a man, for the waterfall was not far away. It was a temptation to watch the man, but Chiasa did not have difficulties resisting it. She was a polite courteous woman, and she knew the task at hand. If she were to be the respectable hero of her story, she would have to function as such. And yet, she could not stop herself from taking a final glance at the still man.

Chapter 14

He did not know how much time had passed. He could not know. He knew the light, but he had not been watching the sky. His servant had watched the sky, but the boy had not been ordered to speak of it. It was merely him and the falls. Him, his mind, and the falls.

It was not yet time for dusk. The sky was blue even in reflections, and the light had yet to turn to gold. Nearing his fiftieth year, he knew the world. It had been a long time since the ways of nature were strange to him. His teachers had fulfilled their duties, as had his father. And in their absence, he had trained himself.

Knowing it was still winter, Isamu had dressed himself in the warmest of outdoor clothes. He was proud of them, as he was with all his garments. However, he felt as though they were greatly complemented by his scar. No one knew how he had gotten it, and he did not intend to tell the tale. It was not a handsome scar, but it was his. He had earned it, and he would wear it to his death.

It was true the scar felt better in the warmer months. In this cold season known as "December" by many of the foreigners, cold and ice were beginning to work their horrific wonders. Isamu knew of all that had happened; the crops had been harvested, the clouds had come, and the snow had fallen. None of these events troubled him, but his scar was its own tale. He was tempted to cover it, but temptation was weak. He would not hide his sign of courage and strength.

The daimyo was thinking of his scar on his walk, but he was distracted by the majestic Tears of the Moon. It was not the mightiest of Naiponese waterfalls, but it was a special spectacle. Its true beauty could be found only in Inaba Valley, the place that was its home. Its waters were often a proud blue in the warmer months, but their blue was now white. It was not the sorry white of death, nor the shining white of Heaven. It was the third white unique to the valley. Isamu could not help but view the white as his own, but it truly belonged to the whole valley.

How many times had he seen the waterfall? He had been taken to it many times as a child, and the visits did not die with his youth. His adulthood ceremony had taken place after a visit, as had his coronation. He was an adventurous man, but to gaze at the Tears of the Moon was an adventure in itself. It was here where he had seen what had changed his life forever.

"Lord Isamu Inaba!"

A guard approached him, retaining his regal posture. Isamu did not expect such a moment, but he answered with the regality of a daimyo.

"Your retainer Hisoka Ishikawa has returned," the guard said. "He brings with him an American woman named Chiasa Miller."

"An American?" Isamu gasped.

The daimyo had trusted his samurai to explore the lands beyond theirs and bring him whatever information may be of use. All foreigners were dangerous, possessing the potential to intercept information. Now, the samurai was bringing a foreigner to his country. The action by itself was unacceptable, and it had been done without permission from his master. Had Hisoka forsaken him?

"Hisoka claims the woman could be of use to us," the guard answered.

Isamu's demeanor was calm, but flames of fury were burning within. If the samurai had indeed forsaken him, it would have been his final act of defiance.

"Let my retainer enter," Isamu replied, "but the woman is not to accompany him. She is to be watched at all times."

"Where shall we keep her, my lord?" the guard asked.

After a moment of silence, a part of Isamu's calmness was gone. It was replaced by a more suspicious tone, "I trust you to find a proper place for the lovely foreigner. As I meet with my retainer in my throne room, however, she must remain intact."

"What are you doing, Chiasa?" Hisoka asked her. "Can you not see it is winter?"

"I understand," she nodded, "but I cannot have your master see me with poorly styled hair.

Chiasa untied her bun shortly after removing her hat. Her wavy black hair flowed down her back and neck, resembling the main of a well-cared-for horse. She knew she was on a quest, but some of her old habits remained. She was fortunate her hair was not tangled.

"Please, Chiasa," Hisoka sighed, "simply place your hair into a low ponytail. That is the style of many Naiponese women."

The young woman was tempted to protest, but she remembered she would be a guest at Inaba Castle. After all, she had never minded wearing ponytails. They were convenient in the warmer months when her neck did not need heat from her hair. However, she believed ponytails were a beautiful simple style as well. They were also more practical for tasks in which loose hair was waved. She recalled Tsar Peter I of Russia had made similar remarks about beards.

Chiasa almost returned her hat to its position on her head, but she did not wish to ruin her hair. She had already styled it, fearing the consequences of styling it again. A silent sigh of relief escaped from her as she and her guide approached the castle gate. They were permitted to pass, for Hisoka served the residing castle lord. Chiasa expected glances of wonder from the guards, but few came. She was indeed a stranger, but she resembled the residents of the valley.

As she and Hisoka crossed the wooden bridge to the castle, Chiasa felt as though she had stepped into one of her novels. Whether it was her own or one of Tomoe Gozen, Naipon was not like the world she knew. She imagined herself in a samurai movie, stepping forward towards her fantastic opportunity. Hisoka would be by her side, and Lord Isamu would welcome them both. It was almost a sharp vision before her shining hazel eyes.

"Stop!" a guard shouted.

It was not long before Chiasa and her guide were surrounded by armored men. This treatment of one who served Lord Isamu surprised the young woman, but she knew she had yet to fully know her condition.

One guard addressed Hisoka, "Lord Isamu has ordered us not to permit the woman to accompany you. She is to be watched at all times in a proper place."

A proper place? Chiasa's thoughts sounded.

After barely knowing of Lord Isamu, something wrong could already be sensed. She could only imagine the full orders for the guards.

"Please, Souta," Hisoka said to the guard, "I can assure you Chiasa Miller means no harm to us, our master, or this valley. You must permit her to come with me."

"I am not permitted to disobey our lord," Souta snapped. He then calmed his tone, "We have been ordered not to harm the maiden in whatever manner. These times of war have been turbulent, and no stranger may come here without distrust, but our daimyo remains benevolent."

Hisoka sighed after a short pause, "I understand. You may do as you must."

Chiasa was worried. Out of all the Naiponese she had seen that day, she knew only Hisoka. She had to fight all her thoughts as they parted ways. And yet, he could see the worry in her eyes. It was he, and not she, who looked back. He went as far as to ask himself, What have I done?

Some things told him his companion from America was not in danger. He could not hear her struggle, nor was the sound of rushing armor present. Little time passed before he was on his knees in the throne room, awaiting the appearance of his master. And without delay, the aging but proud daimyo was positioned before him.

"It pleases me to see you have returned safely," Lord Isamu said to him. "Did you face much trouble on your journey?"

"The dungeon?" Chiasa gasped.

"Do not worry, young Chiasa," Souta said. "Our lord has ordered us not to harm you."

"Please, sir," Chiasa almost begged, "I mean you no harm. What can I do?"

"You are to remain in your cell until further notice," Souta responded in a more direct tone.

The door to a cell was opened, and Chiasa was thrown inside. She kept her line of sight away from the eyes of the guards, for she did not wish for her expressions to be mocked. More panic was rushing through her, but it was mixed with a desire for freedom. However, her panic became more prominent as the cell door was closed. All she had now was herself, her omamori, and her hairpin.

If Lord Isamu is kind, she thought, why have I already been imprisoned?

She could imagine a thousand answers, many of them marked with rage. She cursed under her breath, making sure she did not attract attention. And yet, many more questions were coming to her: Had Hisoka spoken the truth about his master? Had other guests met similar if not the same fate as hers? What would become of her? Who could she truly trust?

In her moment of shock, Tomoe's descendant could do nothing more than vent. Her thoughts were rushing like a typhoon, and only by draining her mind could she become more able to think clearly. She was cursing the famed daimyo. Cursing his guards. Cursing her guide. She had cursed so much and so many throughout her life, for venting was a faithful friend. Some had criticized her for practicing such a strategy, but their words were of little worth for her. Her strategy was hers, and no one could say otherwise.

When she was finally calm, the young woman reflected on her situation again. As she was aware, she had arrived at Inaba Castle without notice. Perhaps Lord Isamu had not expected any strange company. As a child, she had at times been frightened by unexpected visitors at the Miller household. None of the visitors were horrible, but she would have known how to properly greet them if Albert or Kayoko had spoken of their arrivals. As an unexpected stranger at the castle, she may have surprised its lord as unexpected visitors had surprised her.

Surprise visits can indeed be frightening, and in the case of Chiasa, hers was accompanied by a second factor: war. Hisoka had spoken of the Inaba Wars, which had been ignited by Lord Isamu and his allies. Even for those who start it, however, war is a turbulent time. Individuals are taken from everything they know never to see it again. Those who never find Izanami in or outside of the battlefield can never see the world as they once had. Leaders seldom see what their subjects see, but they are seldom free from fear or hate. And the Inaba Wars had been ignited shortly after the Naiponese Civil War and a global nuclear war, each of which had been devastating on their own. Even in the peaceful Inaba Valley, news of war could be spread.

It is true that trust is harder to find in times of war than that of peace. Deceit becomes commonplace, inspiring belligerents to manipulate the power of their enemies. Anyone could grasp that power. A child could be lying, a widow could be a spy, and a grandfather could attack at any moment. Those who entered strange lands suffered the worst of it, finding faces that could not tell friend from foe. Lord Isamu may have been distrustful of Chiasa, thinking only of his land and its people.

Chiasa would not be a damsel in distress, but she would not be rash. If she were to see the famed daimyo as he truly was, she would need to place her faith into patience again. The words of Benjiro Yamazaki and Tomoe Gozen were ringing in her ears again. This time, however, they were more comforting. They were windows to a clear path in a world of many possibilities.

"What were you thinking?" Lord Isamu snapped. "You deliberately disobeyed your daimyo, endangering your life for the sake of personal desires."

Hisoka was now begging, "Please, my lord, I swear on every sacred text that I was indeed acting in your interest. Chiasa Miller may be your only opportunity."

"What opportunity do you speak of, little vassal?" the daimyo inquired. "I face samurai who fight for Lord Ryuusei and his loyal daimyo, and I face angry spirits on behalf of the Great Master. How could a frail maiden who knows nothing of her own heritage be of use to me?"

"I still believe she may be the maiden of the prophecy," Hisoka continued. "She…"

"Preposterous!" Isamu barked. "The second Neroyume is destined to vanquish the Great Master and all who serve it."

"That is true," Hisoka said, "but you and the Great Master have spoken of her. You imagined her appreciating our hospitality until she chose to become one of us. Then, the prophecy of the Great Master's fall will never be fulfilled. My fiancée has discussed this with me."

Isamu sighed, "You know she speaks with her tongue and not her mind."

Hisoka could agree, but he merely showed it with a slight nod, "Now that you know who Chiasa truly is, you must find a proper position for her. She could lead your armies. Create battle strategies. Perhaps she could assassinate Lord Ryuusei when Kamakura is taken."

"Do not craft so many plans, samurai," Isamu said in a direct tone. "We do not know much of what the young woman is capable of."

"She could prove herself, then," Hisoka replied. "You could give her a test, and if she passes, she will have proven herself worthy of any position of your selection."

"A test," Isamu repeated.

To the aging daimyo, such an idea was preposterous. A test would take time, removing his energy from all that was to be accomplished. He knew that well, as did the retainer in his presence. And then, a new vision was in the daimyo's mind. He was frozen, nearly feeling a small wind blow upon his face.

"You suggest I find the true worth of the woman for myself, do you not?" he asked.

Hisoka's hopeful answer was calm, "Only if that is your desire, my lord."

The once fiery daimyo was now as patient as a lamp's flame, "There is one thing she can do."

The air was cold, and Chiasa was stiff. The coldness should not have surprised her, for she knew of winter's presence. And yet, there was a strangeness to the air around her. It may have been the lack of heating, or perhaps her own thoughts. She was often vulnerable to the tricks stress plays on the mind. Even with her efforts to control herself, her stiffness remained. Or the temperature could have fallen again.

She did not know how much time had passed. The evening had seemed far away when she was outside, but much could have changed. Her cell phone was gone, and there were no clocks or watches. Even her personal laptop computer and its trustworthy clock were beyond her reach. It was another adjustment she had to make.

She had been lost in her thoughts for a while, wondering if much time had passed. Sometimes, the passing images in her mind made time itself run with them. Such occurrences had been frequent when she was younger, whether she was daydreaming or thinking. She could see Tomoe Gozen fighting her way through Hell after being struck by Huan's lightning. It was followed by an image of the great samurai having her head smashed by Keiko, who was the Dragon Queen in human form. And then, she thought she could hear someone speaking to her from the real world, Granddaughter, where are you going?

Chiasa could not sense Tomoe. And yet, her voice was an unmistakable sound. Was she dreaming?

"I am in your native land, honored grandmother," she shivered. "What do you want from me?"

Silence. Chiasa awaited something she could not name, but her waiting was in vain. Her mind started to wander again, leaving her to tread through her confusion.

I am a sign from your family.

So distant, and yet so clear.

Those were the first lyrics to "My Return," a song from Lady Eboshi. It was the song Eboshi sang during her first and last encounters with Natasha Ivanovna.

"Natasha Ivanovna!" Chiasa gasped. She then whispered to herself, "Why did I not think of it sooner?"

I have seen you on your journey,

And your suffering has always been clear.

What in the names of the Thousands of Myriads is going on? Chiasa's thoughts roared.

It had not been since the previous August when she had thought of Lady Eboshi. It was true her quest for her family resembled Natasha Ivanovna's, but such a comparison had not yet become prominent. After all, Chiasa was somewhat different from Natasha Ivanovna. She did not consider herself to be a charmer, nor did she have faith in her confidence. And yet, Lady Eboshi consisted of scenes in which Natasha Ivanovna was vulnerable. They were especially prevalent when she was close to finding her family, only to be thwarted by Felix Ulrich.

Before Chiasa could recall the rest of "My Return," she heard a click from her cell door. It was opened, revealing Souta and another armored samurai.

"Lord Isamu says you are to stay in your cell for no longer," Souta said. "He now requests you accompany him at his evening meal."

"Of course," Chiasa nodded. "Do as you must."

Souta did not show hostility in his voice, "You have greatly calmed, young American, and we thank you for it. I am sure you will find the lord's company to be delightful."

"I will assure you of it," Chiasa smiled humbly.

The other samurai then said, "We will take you to the women's dressing room, where you will dress yourself in more appropriate attire."

"I thank you for your consideration," Chiasa replied.

She followed the two samurai, being careful not to let herself get too far behind them. She could only imagine what was to come, but she could not help but wonder what would appear in the women's dressing room. While she was not what some refer to as a "girly girl," she was fond of the styles and patterns of kimonos. The kimono was a prominent symbol of Japanese culture, having evolved with the country's events and expectations. Therefore, it bore the same significance for the Naiponese. Even as the dingy surrounding of the dungeon were replaced by lighter colors and paper-and-wood walls, images of kimonos were dancing in her mind. There were times when she recalled watching Natasha Ivanovna dress in various kimonos throughout her career as a party girl in New York City.

When at last she was at the door to the dressing room, the guards positioned themselves behind her. They did not speak of the reason behind their decision, but Chiasa understood it well; it was considered improper for a man to see the naked body of a woman to whom he was not married. Honored by the modesty of the guards, she proceeded into the room and closed the door behind herself. However, her eyes widened at the sight of various women being dressed. She was of the same gender as the women, but such a factor did not reduce her shock. She was a modest woman, and she did not like to violate the privacy of others. And yet, she noticed the other women were being dressed in the same room.

"Good evening, ladies," Chiasa said to them, bowing with respect. "I am Chiasa Miller of Richardson, a guest of Lord Isamu Inaba. Where may I find a suitable outfit for tonight's evening meal?"

The women being dressed were shocked to see her. Two of them gasped, a third grew tense, and three more simply lost their breath.

"Please, ladies," Chiasa almost begged, "I mean you no harm. I am permitted to spend my time in my palace this evening."

That was when one of the many attendants in the room approached her. She bowed and said, "Please, forgive us, young miss. We were not expecting a guest tonight. However, if the great Lord Isamu demands your presence, you shall attend the meal. Did you say it is an outfit you are seeking?"

Chiasa nodded, "Please forgive me, but I am unfamiliar with the customs of this land. May I ask what kind of outfit would be suitable?"

The attendant smiled, "You seem to be taller than the concubines of Isamu, but I am sure I can find a robe that will suit your figure."

Chiasa was taller than the concubines, whom she identified as the women who were being dressed. Albert Miller had been taller than many she knew, standing at six feet and six inches, but he was not her real father. And yet, Chiasa was taller than the average Japanese woman. Her height was five feet and seven inches, and the average height of Japanese women was five feet and two inches. She was embarrassed at being so different from the concubines, but she was relieved to know the attendant did not seem to mind. In fact, Chiasa had always enjoyed being a taller woman. She believed such a feature made her look older, making her feel more mature.

The attendant led her to another door. As she opened it, Chiasa could not help but gaze at what had been standing behind it. It was as though Lord Isamu had journeyed into Heaven, caught the best of rainbows, and brought them to Earth for his wives. Kimonos of diverse colors were standing proudly, waiting to be complimented by the flesh of lovely women. It was almost as though Chiasa were in a story. There are many tales of poor women who are brought into wealthy lives, being introduced to money and fine clothes. Chiasa had never been poor, but her nicest American dresses were rags compared to the kimonos standing before her.

"I know which of these will suit you best," the attendant nodded, "for I have dressed concubines of Lord Isamu many times."

They passed rows of kimonos, each one a beauty of its own. There was a pink kimono with cherry blossoms and sparrows, and an orange kimono was marked with silver leaves. There were shades of blue and red, and even a few black. The descendant of Tomoe Gozen was tempted to stand still and gaze at them at her own pace, but she knew the evening meal was timed. And it was the attendant who knew which kimono would be the best for her.

When they finally stopped, the attendant grabbed a hanging robe that was a beauty among the beauties. It was dark purple, a color affordable only for the wealthy. It was marked with cranes in flight, taking the appearance of a living painting. Chiasa found herself growing completely still.

"Do not worry, young miss," the attendant said. "I will help you dress."

Chiasa was grateful, but knowing how to dress was among the least of her concerns. She thought she could hear Tomoe speaking to her again, Granddaughter, where are you going?

Chapter 15

There was excitement in the air that night. Servants were hurrying with seats, vassals were gathering outside the palace, and cooks were making sure to prepare the best of dishes. It was not a special occasion, but it was a rare event. Even Hisoka, who had anticipated such an event, could feel excitement running through his veins. On that very night, Naiponese men of power would meet an American.

Isamu and his vassals knew quite well that there was such a place as "America." Rumors of its existence had spread through Naipon like wildfire, enchanting some while baffling others. There were also individuals who had journeyed to America, witnessing the wonders of the stories for themselves. However, there had never been an official report of an American exploring Naipon. The guest of honor would almost be a spectacle, proving the impossible was possible.

The vassals visiting Isamu that night was lucky to have been in Inaba Valley when they were. There were a variety of reasons as to why they had come; some were returning from military campaigns, some were seeking advice, some were negotiating, and some were simply stopping on their travels. Since the arrival of the American had been announced on such short notice, word could not be sent to all Isamu's vassals and allies in time. It was still a time of war, and events needed to be swift. The vassals had learned it long ago.

Remembering his master's method of swiftness as though it were a mantra, Hisoka was quick to prepare himself. He removed his traveling clothes from his flesh and washed himself, wanting to seem like an ideal Naiponese to the American. He also neatened his hair into a topknot suitable for a vassal. Then, there was the handsome turquoise kimono he wore only at dedicated events. He was quite pleased with his final appearance, knowing any stranger who happened to see him would claim he was of royal blood.

"What troubles you so much, handsome?" a voice sneered. "It is merely an American you plan to see."

Hisoka turned to see Katsu smirking at him.

That damned woman, he growled in his mind. Why does she not know her place? How dare she!

Of course, he was too polite to say such words to her. Instead, his reply was something calmer, "I am merely following the orders of our master. If he says I am to see an American, I am to see an American."

Katsu was now laughing, "You must be careful, beloved. She knows how to turn a civilized man into meat."

Hisoka was silent. Even after keeping Katsu with him for so many years, he could hardly handle her. He was almost relieved women were prohibited from attending dedicated events with figures of power. The American would be an exception because she was the American.

"If you are concerned about my safety," Hisoka said to his partner, "do not be. I have been trained in the ways of the samurai since I was a small boy. You should know that."

She did know it. Such a remark was enough to silence her, providing Hisoka with more relief.

"I will be back at the soonest moment," he continued. "If you are to encounter trouble, remember what I have taught you."

"What you have taught me," Katsu repeated. "Do you know how to specifically deal with Americans?"

Instead of answering his partner, Hisoka departed from the room. Many thoughts were in Katsu's mind as left, but it was not until he was gone when she spoke to them aloud, "I know you are going astray, little Hisoka. However, that shall not be for long."

The mummers of numerous men were growing stronger. Chiasa did not need her sensitive ears to sense them, but she could not choose such a condition. Voices of various pitches and tones were sounding, forming a special cacophony. It was as though they were coming from a chattering audience that was awaiting a performance. That was their origin.

There was something about the coming event that was troubling Chiasa. It was not shyness; she had performed in choir concerts and public speaking competitions without a trace of fright. Was it because she was not performing? No, she decided. She had managed crowds of guests well even as a child. What was it, then?

As Chiasa's thoughts started wandering again, she tried to calm herself. She thought of the tales of Tomoe Gozen and Natasha Ivanovna, reminding herself to be brave like the two heroines. And yet, there was something she could sense that they could not. She then tried imagining happier moments, such as the time she watched mallards attack a churro vendor in San Antonio. Not enough. What was she missing? That was when the clothes on her flesh caught her eye.

Once again, she was mesmerized by the cranes on the silk. They were flying somewhere. She could only imagine where. It was not long before she was recalling what her adoptive mother had told her about the crane. She had said they represent longevity and good fortune, things that are of aid to many. The thought of good qualities being embodied by such a beautiful bird was enough to enchant the descendant of Tomoe.

Wisdom, courage, and Princess Lightning, a voice sounded.

Who had spoken. Was it Tomoe? The attendant? Had it been Chiasa herself, with her tongue or with her thoughts? Perhaps it had been the cranes. She looked at them again, feeling their beauty and power. They were courageous birds, journeying to lands beyond their own. Their courage could rival that of hawks, or even eagles.

Wisdom, courage, and Princess Lightning.

Chiasa's mind was wandering again. She was recalling the beginning of The Disfavored Hero, in which Tomoe Gozen was folding origami alongside Toshima Shigeno. She could see the samurai folding a sheet of paper into a crane, pledging to give her courage to Shigeno Valley. And she did. Of course, how could she have known what was approaching her? How could anyone have known?

She is like me, Chiasa thought. She did not know what was approaching, but she faced it regardless. It is now my task to do the same.

That was when another voice sounded in her mind, Be mindful of your wishes, little girl.

The room was growing cold. It was a winter's night, but the cold was not natural. Chiasa felt as though a presence was accompanying hers. She looked around, but not a figure could be seen.

"Who are you?" she asked. "What do you want?"

I thought you would know by now, the voice sounded again. But it seems as though you are not as clever as I once thought.

Despite the cold, Chiasa could feel a warmth on her chest. It was the omamori, warming as it had many times before.

Come with me, said the voice. I am a much better guide than Lord Isamu. I know so much he does not.

The cold was growing stronger, as was the warmth of the omamori. Something was warning Chiasa not to trust the voice, but she was drowning in a sea of confusion. Who kept the voice? What was preventing her from obeying? What was about to become of the omamori?

"Chiasa Miller of Richardson," a more natural voice addressed her.

The unnatural cold and warmth were gone. Chiasa turned to see the attendant facing her.

"Yes, miss?" she asked.

The attendant smiled, "The men are ready to see you. Be sure to appear as confident in their presence. However, your confidence must be shown through the grace of a lady."

Gender roles, Chiasa groaned in her mind. One of the few things about Japanese culture I just can't stand.

Such a thought had come to her when she was studying Tomoe Gozen's story. In old Japan and in Naipon, a woman was expected to obey her father in childhood, her husband in adulthood, and her son in old age. Chiasa was not accustomed to such policies, for her adoptive mother had been a progressive woman. And after spending nineteen years in the United States, she was used to policies promoting gender equity. Gender roles were now another element of Naiponese culture to which she had to adjust. However, she did sense some hope. Tomoe Gozen was a hero, and Toshima Shigeno had ruled over her father's estate without marrying.

It was not long before the attendant was leading Chiasa down the hallway. She was mindful of the attendant's pace, but she did not want to ruin the lovely crane kimono. Perhaps there were some benefits to being graceful after all. Chiasa could recall all the times she had prepared herself for choir concerts and public speeches. She had been dignified in elegant clothing at those events, and the same was happening in the palace of Lord Isamu. That was when another thought crossed her mind, Be yourself.

Of course. Be respectful of the customs but remain true to the mission. Was there not a reason she had come to Naipon at all? Sincerity was even part of the Bushido Code. If Chiasa were to be like a samurai, was she not expected to follow all its virtues? What more could she do to please her ancestor?

After some walking and much thinking, the attendant turned towards the door. Chiasa followed her example, feeling the flow of excitement. At the moment the door was opened, the flowing became monstrous flooding. Various men were gazing at her, having awaited her for quite some time. Like a bride walking down the aisle, Chiasa gently stepped onto the floor of the room at which she had arrived. The crane kimono trailed behind her as though it were a river.

One vassal looked at another and said, "It seems as though we have a shining jewel in our midst."

"What you speak of is true," the second vassal nodded. "We were told we would have the pleasure of meeting an American, but never the beauty of them."

Chiasa could feel herself blushing. She was an independent, practical woman, but there was a certain happiness she found whenever her appearance was complimented. She could now feel her long hair highlighting her figure, flowing down her back like a waterfall. Princess Kaguya would have been jealous. On this night, the descendant of Tomoe was now the spectacle of the room. She did not intend to put on a performance, but she felt as though the men were expecting otherwise.

She looked to see one figure seated prominently among the others. He was dressed in orange, a special color for happiness and love. Chiasa viewed it as a good sign accompanying the smile on his face. It was not long before she realized he was an aging man. His gray hair was smooth and neatly combed, but it was still gray hair. There were also many wrinkles on his face, proclaiming the approaching of his end. It was not these features that uneased Chiasa, but the image she could not have imagined.

She knew the daimyo's clan was at war, but she had not expected him to be war-torn himself. Of course, the only battle scar visible to her was the scar on his face. Flowing from his eyebrow to his jawbone, it seemed to tell the story of a horrible battle. The scar was nearly a demon, snarling with disgust in spite of the daimyo's smile and robe. Chiasa would have been frozen if not for her memories of manners. She bowed before the daimyo, hoping not to allow her shock to be prevalent.

"Welcome to Inaba Valley, young Chiasa Miller," he addressed. "You may rise and sit with me."

Chiasa noticed an unoccupied tatami mat had been positioned at his side. Realizing it was hers, she did not have difficulties knowing what to do.

"I thank you, my lord," she said. "It is an honor to be in your presence."

"Such manners," a third vassal laughed. "It seems the Americans are polite after all."

Ignoring the comment, Chiasa followed the instructions of the daimyo. His scar had not ceased to frighten her, but she was calmer than she had been.

Felix Ulrich had a facial scar of his own, she reminded herself. If Natasha Ivanovna could speak with him, I could speak with Lord Isamu.

She smiled at Isamu, but she was careful not to seem flirtatious. If he were to know her, she would need to remain true to herself. However, she felt a small wave of heat when she found him gazing at her.

"So, my vassals speak with sincere tongues," he said to her. "It has been some time since I have seen a woman with such beauty."

"I thank you my lord," Chiasa nodded humbly.

She did see a fondness in his eyes, but it was something different. A longing as present, as though to remind her of another time.

"My vassal Hisoka Ishikawa has told me a great deal about you," Isamu continued. "He says you are a woman of many talents. That the blade you wield could rival those of gods. That your knowledge of books and sacred text makes all scholars and monks seem ignorant of their work. That you are a spectacle among spectacles."

"Please, my lord," Chiasa blushed, "what he says is of little importance. I am merely a young scholar in search of the truth."

Isamu's eyebrows were slightly rising, "The truth? Do you not see you are speaking with the truth? I am the living image of the Inaba Wars."

"Indeed, you are," Chiasa nodded, "but there is something else for which I am searching. I have come to find the surviving family of Tomoe Gozen of Heida."

Many of the vassals gasped. Some were mummering amongst one another, and some were forming fists at their sides. Isamu himself bore the stillness of a mountain. Chiasa looked at Hisoka, but all she could find were his nervous eyes.

"Please, my lord," she slightly gasped, "I do not wish to burden you. I am an orphan in search of my true home. It was not until the previous summer when I realized I carried the blood of Tomoe Gozen. Shortly after this discovery, my adoptive parents mysteriously passed away. All I want is a family who can care for me and show me the way."

"A family," Isamu repeated.

Chiasa nodded, "Are unmarried women not expected to obey their fathers? I have no father nor mother. Without a family, how can I identify my soul?"

Pangs were fighting her for speaking in favor of Naiponese customs. And yet, there were no alternatives. Receiving the daimyo's help meant presenting herself as a good Naiponese. Chiasa convinced herself she had done what was best, but things were telling her otherwise. Isamu was growing pale, and his stillness was stiffening.

"My lord," Hisoka said to him, "Some say the maiden Chiasa is as good of a singer as she is a warrior and a scholar. Perhaps, she could sing for us as we await the meal."

Sing? Chiasa's thoughts snapped. Are you crazy?

She remembered Haruki, her good friend from America. There had been more than one occasion on which he wanted her to sing. Now, someone else was asking her the very question. What good would singing do? Had she not come for the truth? She had sung at choral concerts, but she was not an entertainer like the ones in Naipon. Did Hisoka wish for her to make a fool of herself?

"You sing, young Chiasa?" Isamu asked her.

Doing what she could to conceal her irritation, Chiasa spoke with sincerity once more, "For many years, I have been taught by excellent vocal tutors, my lord. They have complimented me for my strong voice and my memories of various pitches."

"You wish for the young woman to sing, my lord?" a vassal smiled amusingly. "If you wanted a singing maiden, we could have easily visited geishas at a teahouse."

"My choices are my choices, Kaito," Isamu said to him sternly. "If it is the American from whom I request a song, it is the American who shall sing."

"As you wish, my lord," Chiasa addressed him. "I should warn you, however, that I am not familiar with the songs of this land."

Isamu's smile returned, "Do not worry, young maiden. I would be thrilled to listen to what your people refer to as "music." Now, stand before us and let us listen."

There were a variety of songs Chiasa knew. She thought of them as she stood and moved herself to the open space in the room. Of course, there were songs she feared would not be understood by the Naiponese. Differing cultural values were not her only obstacle, for American songs are greatly different from Naiponese songs. There were some Japanese folk songs she knew, but she did not find them to be as attractive as American songs. That was when she heard a voice, Be yourself.

Myself? she asked herself. What else can I do?

She had spoken of her desire, but the daimyo had yet to answer her. Had she failed to appeal to him? Was a song all that was needed to change his mind? She looked at Hisoka, whose nervous face remained. Perhaps only by singing could the truth of the daimyo's decision and her family could all be revealed.

Grasping her courage, Chiasa recalled a song that had been a part of her for many years. It was "Where Can I Go Now?," which was another song from Lady Eboshi. It was the song Natasha Ivanovna sang to Felix to convince him to reveal the whereabouts of her family. Of course, Chiasa understood she had to modify the song to make it appropriate for her situation. She was confident that neither the daimyo nor his vassals had ever heard of a woman known as "Lady Eboshi" or a country called "Pottsylvania." And yet, what had not been seen in Natasha Ivanovna was clear once more. It was as though she were sitting among the Naiponese men, watching the descendant of Tomoe as she had watched her. With so much flowing through her head, and while clearing all of it away, Chiasa opened her mouth and let the song speak for her,

You see me here before you,

Innocent and frail.

They say there is nothing much to me.

But you have not seen me wandering

Through a dangerous trail.

And the dangers will never let me be.

I am Chiasa Miller,

A woman from Richardson.

Or at least, that is who they say I am.

The truth is no one knows me.

I am a ghost to what they see,

Even as I do all the things I can.

The song had merely begun, but some men were already paying attention. This excited her, which was necessary for the faster lyrics.

As my nineteenth year approached me.

I was given a horrible shock.

Everything I had been taught was a lie.

My family was not my family,

Nor was my home my home.

For a moment, all I could do was cry.

But then, a phantom came to me.

She was a sign for me.

She revealed she was my ancestor Tomoe.

Her tongue was not a lying tongue,

For to lie is a terrible sin.

She said I must become worthy of the day.

I return to my homeland,

My people, and my fate.

They all await me as I speak.

Of my duty to Tomoe,

The one who led me here.

But where can I go now to feel complete?

Chiasa recalled what happened in the musical: Felix questioned Natasha Ivanovna, claiming Eboshi's appearance had been an illusion. Neither Isamu nor his vassals were behaving as Felix had, but some of the men seemed to have their doubts. All that comforted Chiasa was that she had yet to finish the song.

I have left my false home in Richardson

For something more sincere.

It was my first quest as a samurai.

I came to Sapphire City

And its Jonathan University.

I could no longer be afraid to try.

I took some friends to a cemetery

Where promises seemed to await.

We conjured the spirit, hoping for a sign.

But we received an interruption

From the horrible hordes of fate.

And, I was expelled, labeled for committing a crime.

I still search for my homeland,

My people, and my fate.

Each of them still awaits me as I speak.

And my duty to Tomoe

Has nearly been fulfilled.

But where can I go now to feel complete?

I have seen the horrors of battles,

And the terror of the street.

I now understand what it is like to be alone.

Your trusted vassal, Hisoka Ishikawa

Has brought me to this place.

Only he has cared for me, even my flesh and bone.

Chiasa knew those lyrics were not the whole truth. Benjiro, Haruki, and Ai had cared for her, as had her adoptive parents. And yet, she had not modified them. Perhaps it was the shortness of time. Or, it may have been the sad beauty of Natasha Ivanovna's story, in which only the Pottsylvanian spy Boris Dmitrievich Badenov cared for her. The awe calmed Chiasa, helping her to sing the approaching calm lyrics.

Now, in Inaba Valley,

I search for my next clue

To the one true place to which I belong.

Hisoka says only you, Lord Isamu,

Can change my wrongs to rights

And restore peace and invulnerable calm.

Can you help me, Lord Isamu?

Can you change the course of fate

So that I may finally find the place?

That I can call my homeland?

Where those belonging there

Will love me and show me the way?

Where can I go now?

Am I in vain, or does hope remain?

Please, tell me where I can go now to find the way.

Chiasa stood proudly as though she were a true performer. She was exhausted, for she had sung her heart out while confessing her feelings. All the men in the room were still as if to wait for more music. Chiasa was tempted to gaze at all of them, but she was quick to bring her eyes to Lord Isamu. And she wished she had not.

The great daimyo was on the verge of crying. He was clutching his chest as though he were expecting to have a stroke. His eyes could be seen, but they were not looking in a direction that could be found. His gray hair seemed lighter than before, and his scar might as well have been softened. Chiasa began to worry she had killed him.

"You have heard all there is for me to say," she said as she bowed to him. "I have spoken from my heart, which has never deceived another."

Before Isamu could speak, the servant arrived with various dishes. The vassals were excited to eat, but the daimyo merely nodded at the servants. Chiasa could not help but wonder what was flowing through his mind. Had she appealed to him? Could he understand the song? Was it the correct song?

Chiasa grew calmer as she filled her stomach, but her worries remained. On many occasions, she would glance at the daimyo sitting by her side. He may have been looking where others could not. She could not translate his thoughts, for they were not a visible force. However, her curiosity remained even when the meal was gone.

"Chiasa," he said to her, "await me by the entrance to the palace. Only there can I show what there is to be shown."

She obeyed the daimyo, feeling a sudden spark of excitement.

Could it be? she asked herself. Have I appealed to him after all?

Shortly after she departed from the room, however, her arms were grabbed by two guards. They forced her forward as though she had been convicted of a serious crime.

"What is this?" she gasped.

"Silence!" a guard snapped. "We are under orders from Lord Isamu Inaba!"

Chiasa was growing stiff. She could not remember committing an offense, nor had Isamu spoken of such an event. However, none of her memories were of aid to her. She was carried through the gate and beyond the palace, having been given nothing with which she could fight the cold. It was not long before she was tied up and placed inside of a cold, dry sack.

"What shall we do with her?" one guard asked. "Lord Isamu said to dispose of her, but his order was vague."

"Throw her into the river," his partner sighed. "It is clear he wants her dead."

Chiasa tried to struggle, but the guards tightened their grasps. At one moment, she thought she had freed herself, but there was no ground beneath her feet. There was only water.

Chapter 16

So much happens at the moment of death. And yet, so little happens. Everything fades in a single moment. A whole life appears before one's eyes only to disappear forever. After so many years of waiting, the moment comes at a moment that could never have been suspected. A thousand thoughts can be seen, but one thing remains clear: death.

Out of everything Chiasa could have imagined, only death was clear. She knew the moment was coming, and the restraints and sack assured her she was right. Her struggles were in vain, for the rope merely tightened. She was bobbing down the river like a fallen fruit, but the water entering the sack was making her heavier. The heat within was rising, forming a space separate from that of the winter outside. Time was running out for the descendant of Tomoe, but she had not surrendered.

What was it that kept her fighting? Could she not realize the jaws of death were opening? It may have been the samurai spirit within her, giving her the strength and courage to fight until her last breath. It may have been her own wish, making her fear what would happen if she were never to find her family. Tomoe may have been responsible for the endurance of her descendant. Whatever it was, the struggle had yet to cease. Chiasa knew that well, and she was determined to keep it as such.

After an extended period of struggling, Chiasa realized her methods were not effective. She would still be drowned, and she would remain tied in the process. She tried to calm herself, remembering calm minds are clearer than rushed minds. She hated taking deep breaths to calm herself, but she took one on account of her desperate situation. She could hear her adoptive mother reminding her of the "effectiveness" of breathing.

A part of her was telling her that even a calmed mind could not save her. The water in the bag was already up to her breasts, and it was chilling her from within the scorching bag. She could have easily given in to the voice and stilled herself. It was not an arduous task, nor was it tedious. There was only what was stopping her from surrendering.

As her rushed thoughts grew thinner, she realized she could move more freely in the water. It had flowed into the ropes, slightly loosening her flesh. Growing determined while remaining humble, she slowly moved her arms. She could feel them moving faster, filling her veins with hope. At the moment she held her breath to keep from drowning, her hands were untying the rope. Carefully but confidently, she removed the restraints and kicked at the opening of the sack. She could then feel herself floating out of the sack and into the unforgiving river.

Thinking quickly, the descendant of Tomoe swam to the surface, releasing her breath. She shed her crane kimono, for it was slowing her body. Shortly afterward, she moved her eyes in many directions. If an object from which she could climb to solid ground were in her presence, she could find it. She was sure of it, but not a single object appeared. Even after she calmed her mind again, her search was fruitless.

For a moment, surrender seemed to be a practical option. Even as Chiasa fought to continue her search, the voice in her mind was growing stronger. Perhaps surrender would mean mercy. She fought the idea of such an act, but it would not silence itself. It was as though it were a physical opponent awaiting the appearance of her weakness. At one point, she shouted at herself to annihilate the thought.

"I must survive!" she snapped. "After coming this far, it's too soon to die!"

That was when she heard another voice, "Mother, come quickly! Someone fell in!"

Chiasa gasped. Someone could see her? Could they be trusted? The latter seemed irrelevant to her. If she were to save herself, it would have to be at the soonest opportunity. This thought crossed her mind as she found two figures with a lantern. They were kneeling towards the river, lowering a branch towards its waters. No one was needed to instruct Chiasa to grab it.

She thought she could feel the branch drifting from her hands, but the water holding her seemed to be falling. She tightened her grasp, anticipating a quick return to safety. However, her curious mind led her to take a quick glance at her rescuers. Their lantern was not enough to light their faces, but she could see one of the figures was nearly half the height of the other. The smaller figure may have looked worried, for Chiasa could barely see its widening eyes.

"Who is this, Mother?" it asked.

The taller figure, whom Chiasa assumed was the mother, was not hesitant to give its reply, "Pay no mind to that yet, Homura. She remains in desperate need."

Chi … a … sa … chi … a … sa …

Who was it? Could it have been Tomoe Gozen? Lord Isamu? Boris Dmitrievich? She began to scold herself for believing a fictional character was speaking, but it may have been so. Nothing was impossible.

A ray of golden light was shining upon Chiasa, warming her flesh. Her eyes opened quickly, but her body was stiffer. Something was telling her she was home, and that nothing was to be feared. However, she was quick to remember she was still in Naipon. It was her home, but the ones she sought had yet to show themselves.

She had to stretch her arms as she rose from the futon. It had been so long since she had escaped from the river of death, but the feeling of bobbing remained. Her eyes widened when she looked to her side, for she could see her katana, omamori, and hairpin lying on the floor. She did not hesitate to place her omamori around her neck. She held onto it, remembering the omamori is a lucky charm.

Chiasa tried to remember all that had happened to her since her arrival in Naipon. She had met the vassal, Hisoka Ishikawa. He had taken her to the palace of Lord Isamu Inaba. She had tried to appeal to Lord Isamu only to be thrown into a river. Her quest was beginning, but it had yet to end. No one could tell her whether she had pleased Tomoe.

As the young woman searched her thoughts, she could hear the sound of murmuring. It was a melody recited through all sorts of tones, yet it was not music. There was something to it music always lacked, or there was something it lacked that had always been a part of music. It sounded repeatedly, Namu myoho renge kyo. Namu myoho renge kyo.

"Homage to the Lotus Sutra." Chiasa knew that chant well. It was central to Buddhists who believed only the Lotus Sutra was the word of spiritual truth. She had chanted it when visiting a temple in Pineville, Illinois. The reason behind her visit was to explore Buddhism, a faith often as central to Japanese beliefs as Shinto. Her devout Shinto adoptive mother and Presbyterian adoptive father had been hesitant, but they could not purge the brave Chiasa of her curiosity. In the end, however, they were happy to have let their adoptive daughter go on her adventure. The staff of the temple was welcoming, and the visitors were friendly. Memories of the visit flooded Chiasa's mind as she listened to the chanting, making her feel as though she were back in Illinois.

A part of her was urging her to join the chanting worshippers. She was not prone to homesickness, but nostalgia was known to greet her from time to time. She found a kimono by her bed, which was a lovely shade of yellow. She was careful as she dressed herself, but she did not wish to miss the chanting. Once she was dressed, she covered her feet with the tabi that had been standing next to the robe. She then opened the door only to see a small girl dressed in green. The girl bowed to her and said, "Good morning, young lady. Did you enjoy your rest?"

"I did," Chiasa nodded, wanting to be polite. "Who may you be?"

The girl was now smiling widely, "My name is Homura Nakamura, daughter of High Priest Nittatsu Nakamura. He is excited to speak with you."

"I thank your family for their hospitality," Chiasa said. "I am Chiasa Miller of Richardson, and I do not wish to be a burden."

"Guests never burden us!" Homura laughed. "Come with me. Your morning meal is almost ready."

Chiasa wanted to join the chanting, but she could now feel the pang in her stomach. She knew she could not work well while hungry, and the Buddha had learned starvation does not grant oneself enlightenment. After all, she had always enjoyed placing a good meal into her stomach. Even simple foods such as the chocolate muffins from the cafe at Jonathan University were enough to please her. She thought she could smell a calm, warm aroma as she followed the little girl. It was nearly enough to make her drool.

Homura sat Chiasa at a low table, at which she had to kneel. Such a practice was not unusual for Chiasa, who had followed it with Kayoko Miller and her relatives. Warm tea was served to her, reminding her of the snow days she had as an elementary school student. She was careful not to burn her tongue, but the rich tea filled her with a strange, beautiful energy as she drank it. It was not long before a woman in a black kimono was approaching her, carrying a tray of food. She placed the tray upon the table and bowed to the guest. Being polite, Chiasa showed her a bow in return.

"Good morning, young miss," the woman said to her. "I am Makaira Nakamura, wife of High Priest Nittatsu Nakamura. I welcome you to the Temple of the Shining River."

"Thank you very much," Chiasa smiled humbly. "I am honored by the hospitality your family has shown me."

"You are welcome," Makaira said, "but please eat. You must build up your strength."

There was no meat in the morning meal, but such a condition did not aggravate Chiasa. She knew Buddhists refrain from the consumption of animals, showing compassion to all life. She did enjoy having meat in her meals, but she was respectful of her hosts. Thankfully, the rice porridge and vegetables were enough to satisfy her appetite. The descendant of Tomoe ate to her content, but she minded her table manners, knowing Makaira was by her side.

"Eat as much as you need," Makaira said with the affection of a parent. "Overindulgence is dangerous, but underindulgence is also harmful."

Chiasa blushed, "I thank you for your concern."

She was not known for overeating, even with her adventurous appetite. Such a condition helped her to recognize when she had eaten enough for the morning. When she was finally satisfied, she requested chanting the Lotus Sutra with the worshippers. Makaira gladly escorted her into the hall, where a bald monk in a white robe was leading the morning recitation. Chiasa had not memorized the sutra, but it was not difficult for her to find her place in the printed copy given to her by Makaira.

As the recitation progressed, Chiasa could not help but grow awed by what was happening. She looked around the worship hall, where a stranger could have easily mistaken the sutra for an otherworldly melody. Being familiar with the clothing styles of Edo Period classes, it was not difficult for her to realize worshippers of various classes were chanting. There were also many women, whom other sects of Buddhism usually shunned for superstitions of impurity and the Blood Pool Hell. And now, a Naiponese from America was chanting with them. It was a repetition of what had happened in Pineville.

At one point, Chiasa saw an older man in a white robe walking past her. He gleaned at her, wearing a soothing smile on his face. Because of her polite nature, she did not hesitate to return the smile. Something told her the man was High Priest Nittatsu Nakamura, but only he could confirm such a status. She then saw Makaira and Homura following him, making her more confident he was Nittatsu. The three were then standing among the worshippers, chanting while wearing beads on their hands.

Chiasa was lucky to have grown excited when she did. It was not long before the chant ended, and the worshippers were wishing for the end of all suffering. As they departed, she approached the man and presented a great bow to him.

"Good morning, good sir," she said. "I am Chiasa Miller of Richardson, and I hope this service has been of great use to you."

"It has been," he smiled, returning the bow, "for I am High Priest Nittatsu Nakamura. I hope my wife and daughter have been of excellent service."

"They have been," Chiasa nodded, "and I thank all of you for your hospitality."

Nittatsu did not show pride in his speech, but an honored tone was prevalent, "It is our duty as Buddhists to show respect to all living things. Even to travelers we find bobbing down the Shining River."

"Please," Chiasa blushed, "I did not mean to trouble you." Her tone then grew more remorseful, "What happened on the previous night was not my bidding. All I wanted was to know the truth about my family."

"Your family?" Nittatsu asked.

It was not difficult for Chiasa to tell her story to her three hosts. She was an honest, eloquent woman, and her hunger for answers was growing. There were some parts at which the priest at his family seemed confused, and some even aroused a few laughs from little Homura. However, they listened with the curiosity of a student listening to a teacher. Chiasa had expected them to listen, for as Buddhists, they believed in showing respect to all living things. And yet, there was a part of her that was honored by their kindness.

The end of her story was followed by a moment of silence. Nittatsu placed his hand onto his head, and Makaira watched him with intensity. As for Homura, she looked at Chiasa with speechless brown eyes. The child's eyes were all that was needed to remind Chiasa of her condition: she was not like the Americans, but she was a stranger in Naipon. Her hazel eyes could not have made it clearer.

Before Chiasa's thoughts could wander, Nittatsu addressed her in a direct tone, "Your quest is among the most difficult, young Chiasa. The very sight of your face is more than enough to kill you."

"What?" Chiasa gasped.

She recalled Lord Isamu ordering her death, but she had yet to know the reason behind it.

"It is important to respect all life," Nittatsu sighed, "but the daimyo Isamu Inaba does not believe in such a principle. He has always wanted you dead, and what you have told me shows he believes he has won."

"What did he win?" Chiasa enquired. "I was not challenging him."

Makaira was now begging her husband, "Please, Nittatsu, she must not know too much. Her connection to Tomoe Gozen has already been revealed. Must she know more?"

"Dearest," Nittatsu said calmly, "We shall do what we can. For now, our task is to keep this woman alive."

"Please," Chiasa begged, "what is happening? How can we solve it?"

Nittatsu resumed his direct tone, "As of now, Chiasa, you are dead. Lord Isamu has succeeded in ridding his land of the American devil who dared to step upon it. You are an illusion living only in the hearts and minds of those who know your story." He then calmed himself, "This is what they are to believe."

Chiasa was tempted to ask him more questions, but she stopped herself. It was becoming clear that she was not wanted in Mina Province. In fact, she was not wanted in any part of Naipon. She could search for the truth at any place, and she could speak with anyone, but none would show her the hospitality shown by the Nakamuras. She had begun her hero's journey only to watch it fade. Of course, that was what she believed for a brief moment.

"Great priest," she addressed Nittatsu, "is there perhaps a way I could search for the truth as someone safe?"

"Someone safe," Nittatsu repeated. "No stranger in Naipon is safe. The Inaba Wars are stealing everyone from everything. The Temple of the Shining River has been blessed, but even blessings are ever-changing."

Chiasa was now growing excited, "You say everything is ever-changing. If I am to become one with this world, I myself must be ever-changing. I could assume an identity of which no one would be suspicious, and I could learn as someone who is permitted to learn."

"How will you be successful?" Makaira gasped.

Nittatsu was upset that his wife had spoken for him, but he did not show it, "You remain a stranger to this land, Chiasa. If you are not familiar with it as Chiasa, you will not be as familiar with it as someone else."

"Do not worry, great priest," Chiasa nodded. "I have studied the ways of the Naiponese since childhood. They were learned through my mother and her family, whose customs resemble yours. I have also learned from the tale of Tomoe Gozen, which is often told to the Americans. This world is merely a stage that has been prepared for my performance."

"I sense some truth in what you say," Nittatsu replied. "The world is like a stage, and it is set by the past as it was and ever shall be. However, the path you seek remains filled with dangers."

"Husband," Makaira said to him, "The descendant of Tomoe has some protection. She has an Inaba blade with which she can fight, and the omamori she wears is quite lucky. As for the hairpin, she will learn of its purpose when the time comes."

"She will survive!" Homura beamed with excitement. "If she can free herself from restraints in the Shining River, surely, she can defend herself from armed enemies. If you can believe in me, father, why can you not believe in her?"

All eyes were on Nittatsu, who was slowly growing stiff. The brown eyes of his wife were desperate, and those of their daughter were anxious. And yet, it was the hazel eyes of Chiasa that struck him most. Only once before had he seen such eyes. They were nearly speaking to him. Speaking of another world. Another dream. Another truth.

"Are you sure the path you seek is the path you desire?" he asked the stranger from America.

"Yes," she nodded. "I am as sure as the rising sun and the changing moon."

"Then, you are ready," Nittatsu said.

Hope was rising from within Chiasa, but there was something more. It may have been the thrill of a new adventure, or perhaps the relief of knowing she could search for her answers. Whatever it was, it was arming her with an energy that could be praised by any warrior. She bowed before the Nittatsu, "I accept your permission, great priest."

"Though, you must remember one thing," he added. "Not too long ago, the Temple of the Shining River recovered another warrior who had been banished by Lord Isamu. She had a wounded leg, and she claimed she was on a mission from her ancestor. We kept her safe for the night, but she was gone the following morning. We never saw her again."

Another warrior? A mission from another ancestor? Perhaps Chiasa was not familiar with all the tales of Naipon. She asked the head priest, "Who was this warrior of whom you speak?"

The priest sighed in shame, "I cannot identify her to you. If I were to reveal her, great devastation would fall upon this temple. She is now on her journey, and you must prepare for yours, brave Kaiyo."

"Kaiyo?" Chiasa asked in confusion.

Nittatsu nodded, "As long as you must cover yourself, that will be your name. It means 'forgiveness,' which will be of use to you."

Chiasa did what she could to keep all her other questions within her mind. She did not want to burden the patient priest, nor did she wish to waste the day. Malaria escorted her to a closet, revealing the outfit of a ronin was kept within it. Woven on the back of the loose was a butterfly, representing a family crest.

"This crest is that of the Ikeda," Makaira explained, "who were eliminated by the Shogun in the wars of Kyoto. Because of their sacrifice for the Knight of Kiso, the Inaba praise them as martyrs. If Lord Isamu sees their crest on your clothing, he shall not harm you. Therefore, you will be Kaiyo Ikeda, the last of the surviving branch of the Ikeda. You will be told not a single branch survived, but you will tell the world otherwise."

"I thank you for your concern," Chiasa smiled graciously.

As the descendant of Tomoe dressed herself, her mind went on another journey. Nothing could stop her from imagining what was happening in Naipon. Why was she wanted dead? Who was the warrior with the bad leg? What would happen in the Inaba Wars. She knew better than to ask such questions, but they had yet to cease to exist. Only the truth could appease them now.

When Chiasa was finally dressed in her new outfit and winter clothes, Nittatsu gave her a final instruction, "When you journey beyond this temple, Kaiyo Ikeda, you are to follow the Shining River in the direction in which you were floating. Only with the shoreline can you find what is to come."

Chiasa gave her thanks and her goodbyes, and Kaiyo departed from the temple. She was tempted to look back and gaze at it, but something instructed her otherwise. All that mattered now was the Shining River. The very river that nearly took her life. The river that was her life.

Chapter 17

My name is Kaiyo Ikeda. I am the last of the noble Ikeda, who fought by the side of Lord Kiso Yoshinake. My only wish is to finish what they have started.

Chiasa was impressed by what she had imagined. After years of studying stories such as The Disfavored Hero and Lady Eboshi, she had some knowledge of heroic introductions. And yet, there was something missing from hers.

My name is Kaiyo Ikeda, the last of the Ikeda. Eight hundred years ago, they fought for the Mikado. And now, I assume that tradition.

Too informal. It was very much like the heroic introductions given in children's movies. If she were to be taken seriously, she would need to function as such.

My name is Kaiyo Ikeda. My family is known for its service to the Rising Sun General, Lord Kiso Yoshinake.

Too boastful. Was there not a proper way in which she could introduce herself? What mistake was she making? If she could give public speeches, why could she not speak like a samurai? After all, she had spoken with a daimyo. It may have been the outcome of their meeting that was troubling her. The subconscious works in mysterious ways.

"Perhaps," she said to herself, "I will know what to say when the time comes for me to say it."

By this point, she had been walking along the Shining River for almost the whole day. She had taken occasional stops to rest or feed herself, but much of her journey was walking. It was almost like the walk she had taken with Hisoka on the previous day. There were no battles, no demons, and no clues. But was Naipon not supposed to be a world of wonder? Her journey was still beginning, but it had yet to happen. Even with the long walking sequences in The Disfavored Hero, it was more than confusing.

Before too long, the sky was darkening. It was not the clouds of a god nor the shadow of a beast, but the setting of the sun. The clouds were covering it, for it was winter, but such a condition could not trick Chiasa. She was used to the weather of Illinois, where cloudy days were more common in the colder months. However, the lack of shelter was enough to concern her. Even with her willingness to live like a samurai, she had hoped she could sleep on a futon and not the snow. With her autism, she was quite sensitive to stronger temperatures.

The young woman rubbed her arms, remembering what one of her classmates had said about friction. She told herself she was hot, and that the cold could never bother her. She was determined to calm herself for the night, but her efforts were in vain. The deaths of Yuki-onna and Shin-yuki-onna had done nothing to weaken the cold of winter. All that kept her moving forward was the thought of being a true samurai.

"Wisdom, courage, and Princess Lightning," she mutely chanted. "Wisdom, courage, and Princess Lightning."

In the midst of her chanting, she realized she was nearing the end of the river. The growing darkness had done nothing to hide the stub of trees that marked it. She sighed in disappointment, knowing that travel by darkness is a dangerous act. However, she did not hesitate to prepare herself to sleep in the cold. She would have to. Of course, that is what she believed before she heard an unusual sound.

Clicks and clacks were coming and going, forming a faint but audible cacophony. The water showed a faint light that could not have come from the moon nor stars. There were even smells of street food growing fainter as they floated through the air. Chiasa looked to her side, discovering a town with many lights. She sighed with relief, knowing that perhaps she would sleep in a futon after all. The Nakamuras had provided her with some money, and she had promised herself that she would spend it carefully.

It was by pure luck she found a bridge standing before her. She nearly ran as she crossed it, feeling the excitement and energy unique to her autism. Nevertheless, she was careful not to rush past others who were crossing it. Similar actions had occurred accidentally at Jonathan University, leading some students to yell and curse at her. And yet, she allowed herself to rush a little to release her energy. It was a force she could never control.

Where she was, she did not know. All she knew was that it was a town by a river. It was also a larger town, consisting of numerous attractions such as restaurants, theaters, temples, shrines, and inns. The town was close to resembling a smaller, Japanese version of Chicago, filling Chiasa with a strange but loveable joy. She was not a woman who shopped for amusement but sightseeing often calmed and excited her. Still, she decided her search for an inn was her highest priority.

Chiasa was thankful she could read in Japanese, for not a single sign had been written in English. Therefore, it was not long before she found an inn with a reasonable lodging price. Before she could approach its doors, however, she thought she could hear a familiar voice, "Right this way, Goro. Just a little longer."

She turned around, finding a familiar face passing her. The face belonged to a young man wearing his hair in an Edo Period topknot. His face seemed used to laughing, and his eyes were beaming like fireworks. Even his walking was happy, reminding her of children she had seen at American amusement parks. He was too familiar for her to miss. Mutely, she said a single name to herself, "Haruki Yoshida."

As she watched her old friend, she was quick to notice a larger man was accompanying him. This man, Chiasa decided, must have been Goro. He also seemed used to laughing, but his right cheek was marked with a long scar. The scar was not nearly as large or gruesome as that of Lord Isamu, but it was still a scar. Nevertheless, Goro was walking as though nothing in the world had touched him.

What on Earth is Haruki doing here? Chiasa inquired herself from within. He could not have followed me into Naipon. I never invited him!

As welcoming as the inn seemed, she could not help but follow her friend and his. The crowds were large, and he would have been lost had she not moved in his direction. Perhaps he was a lost stranger as she was. She was now having visions of herself and Haruki traveling together in Naipon, helping one another to survive. She decided such adventures would be fun, for she believed Haruki to be a fun man. If only she knew the reason behind his sudden appearance.

After some time walking, she found the two men walking into a bar. She did not want to seem nosy around them, but she had never wanted to drink. Physicians and teachers had provided her with too many warnings about the effects of drinking.

I'll just stand in the corner of the bar, she thought. If I grow uncomfortable, I can always wait outside.

That was when another unusual sight passed her: four women entering an alley. Japanese and Naiponese customs looked down upon women who traveled in the absence of men. Chiasa had prepared herself for scorn, but she could not have imagined what would await a group of menless women. They did not seem to be geishas, nor did they give implications of being of noble birth. As much as she wanted to see her friend, she did not want something suspicious to cause trouble in the town.

She walked towards the entrance of the alley, being careful not to let herself be seen by the four women. At that moment, she was thankful for her sensitive hearing. She heard a female voice saying, "The decisive moment is now upon us. Tonight, we shall take back what is ours."

"You mean what is yours. Only you have owned it."

"Whatever. Tonight is the night it shall be reclaimed."

"But stealing from a vassal of the Shogun? Is that not punishable by death?"

"The Shogun is our enemy. Such an act should not surprise him."

"So, you say he shall be attending the performance at the Azumi Teahouse, where Kazane will be performing."

"Precisely. I am ever thankful that the vassal Osamu is helpless against lovely women, despite the meaning of his name."

"Kazane has always been an excellent distraction. And we shall steal Osamu's battle plans while she entertains him, shall we not?"

"Indeed. We will need to pose as housekeepers so as not to arouse suspicions."

"You are ever wise, Chizue. That is why we are thankful you are our leader."

"Thank you. And now, we must hurry as though King Emma is at our heels."

Chiasa was quick to turn from the alley. By the speech of the women, she knew their departure was approaching. As they passed her, failing to notice her, she remembered all they had said.

Vassal of the Shogun? she thought. Is Lord Isamu not an enemy of the Shogun?

Lord Isamu. The very man Hisoka had said would be of assistance to her. The very thought of him was troubling her, but her thoughts were traveling somewhere else. Perhaps the daimyo truly was a kind man. She recalled that even the kindest of hearts can seem cold to strangers, especially in turbulent times. Perhaps the daimyo's trust was all she needed to appeal to him. And what better way was there to earn it than to help him in his greatest time of need? The four women may have been civilians who favored him, wanting to sabotage his enemies. Who could say they were not samurai in disguise?

The Azumi Teahouse, her thoughts said. If I can find that, I can find Osamu.

At the moment her mind had been made up, however, the four women were nowhere to be found. She could not even remember what they looked like, for she had seen them for only a brief time. Thankfully, the bar in which Haruki and Goro had entered was not too far away. She decided the bartender could give her directions. And if he could not, she would ask Haruki or Goro if they were still there.

Before she could have said so, she found the sign marked Ichiriki Bar. She did not have to enter it to know some of its patrons were drunk; she could hear out-of-tune singing from a short distance. And yet, the singing did not resemble a Japanese folk song. The lyrics and the rhythm were strangely familiar, but Chiasa had not learned them from Kayoko nor her relatives. It was not long before the descendant of Tomoe found herself silently singing along. The song was "Come With Me" from Lady Eboshi.

"Come With Me" was the song Boris Dmitrievich sang to Natasha Ivanovna after they were arrested for throwing stones at Girl Scouts. It was what he used to convince her she could find her family by coming with him to Pottsylvania. The lyrics could not have been clearer,

I know a man in Pottsylvania.

A proud one, strong and true.

He never backs down from the task at hand,

For his heart is brave and pure.

I know this man in Pottsylvania

Could be of service to you.

If you spoke of your wish with him,

He would answer. I am sure.

How did Lady Eboshi become popular in Naipon? Chiasa asked herself. Broadway musicals have never been performed here.

As curious as she was, she knew studying Lady Eboshi was not her priority. She could hear her adoptive parents reminding her. They were prone to give such reminders, even though she had never needed them. Still, she could not help but look around as she entered the Ichiriki Bar. There, on one of the tables, was a sober Haruki Yoshida singing "Come With Me" as though he were Boris Dmitrievich Badenov. Aside from him being much taller than Boris Dmitrievich, his emotions were very much those of the character. At times, he was leaning forward as though Natasha Ivanovna were standing with him. Drunken patrons, including the large, scar-faced Goro, were more than happy to sing along to the Broadway hit.

Resisting the temptation to pretend to be Natasha Ivanovna, Chiasa quickly approached the bartender. He was smiling at the singing patrons, knowing they were enjoying their pleasures while they could. In fact, as Chiasa approached him, it was not long before he told her, "Why ruin the pleasures of others? In these times of war, pleasures only come so often."

"You are quite wise," Chiasa nodded. "Do you perhaps know how I can get to the Azumi Teahouse?"

"Another pleasure!" the bartender beamed. "The tea and food there are excellent, as are the performances of the geishas. The distance between that establishment and this one is not too long. All you must do is turn to your left from the entrance, walk straight towards the Sakamoto Inn. Then, take another left and walk towards the teahouse."

"Thank you very much," Chiasa smiled as she bowed.

The bartender chuckled, returning the bow, "That is why I serve the public, miss."

Chiasa was quick to be on her way, but she did take one last glance at the dancing Haruki. The bartender had been honest when speaking of the young man's earthly pleasure. She was almost envious of him, for it seemed as though there was nothing in need of his concern. She knew such a condition may not have been true, but the sight of every pleasure brings joy into the hearts of those who find it. When she was close to the door, however, she could hear Haruki shouting, "Natasha! Don't go out there! Natasha!"

The descendant of Tomoe turned around, knowing it was not normal for someone to shout. She ran towards Haruki and asked him, "Is everything alright?"

Haruki was now imitating a begging tone, "Please, Natasha, do not sacrifice yourself. There's so much more in the world you have yet to see."

Chiasa silently sighed. Her friend wanted her to play with him, but time was saying otherwise. As herself, she said, "I am deeply sorry, Haruki. I would love to play with you, but I am too busy at the moment. Perhaps we could play some other time."

Now, Haruki was not pretending, "But, Chia…"

"My name is Kaiyo Ikeda!" she snapped. She then calmed herself, "I am sorry to have snapped at you, but so much is happening at the moment. We can discuss matters some other time."

She knew Haruki was confused, but she did not take the time to look at him. She quickly returned to the door, hearing a drunk patron saying, "Haruki, my boy, your friend is one of a kind. You have your own little Natasha."

His voice was followed by that of Haruki, "Do not burden yourself, Goro. She is still a fish out of the water."

What have you done? Chiasa's thoughts moaned. He's your friend. How could you be so inconsiderate?

As much as she wanted to answer, she pushed her thoughts aside. If the Azumi Teahouse truly were her priority, she would need to regard it as such. She was thankful the bartender's directions remained fresh in her mind. The Sakamoto Inn was standing proudly, awaiting the arrival of the young woman. It was not long before it was standing on her right side and not her front. She then saw the Azumi Teahouse, which was not as proud as the Sakamoto Inn, but quite graceful. Another woman approaching it was wearing a bright red kimono that complimented the powder on her neck.

A geisha, Chiasa thought. Perhaps it is Kazane.

Perhaps she was. One of the four women from the alley had spoken of the vassal Osamu having a weakness for women. If that were true, he would be helpless against the presence of the geisha, regardless as to whether she was Kazane. Of course, Chiasa would be doing something quite helpful for the four women. She herself would find Osamu before any of them would begin their search. She would find the battle plans he kept. The plans may have possessed some importance to Lord Isamu, making them too precious to destroy. She would simply hide them in her clothes and deliver them to the daimyo. She would have delivered them to the women, but her memories of their faces remained faint.

"Pardon me, young miss," a voice from behind her sounded. "May I ask about your business in this part of town?"

Chiasa turned around to see a well-dressed young man. Two other men, whom she assumed were his attendants, stood by his sides. She immediately took off her hat and bowed to him, "I was merely going to the Azumi Teahouse, sir. I was hoping to relax away from my home, and this teahouse is known for its hospitality."

The well-dressed man was now laughing, "A young woman on her own in public at night? What would your husband think of this?"

"I have no husband, sir," Chiasa answered. "I have no father, no brother, no husband, and no son."

"None at all?" the man gasped. "How horrible! If only there was some way in which I could help you."

"Please, noble Osamu," one of the attendants said nervously, "this woman should not be of your concern. She is merely a town girl, and you have many wives."

"Silence!" Osamu snapped. "Do any of them need to know of this? Every now and then, a man must ease himself and enjoy his life while he is alive."

Chiasa was growing tense. She could only imagine what the Shogun's vassal had in store for him. Even with her desire to serve Lord Isamu, doubts were already creeping towards her. Nevertheless, she remembered that a samurai is always obedient towards a master. If flirting with a vassal meant taking his battle plans, she decided, so be it.

"You flatter me, kind sir," she said to him. "I hate to be inquisitive, but I must ask for your own destination."

"It is the Azumi Teahouse!" Osamu laughed again. "Everyone knows the prettiest geishas come to the Azumi. If the geishas are filthy hags, it is not the Azumi."

Chiasa was now laughing. As strict as her manners were, she had always enjoyed the occasional joke. Such a skill had helped her in conversations with classmates and her adoptive father.

"By the way, miss," Osamu addressed her, "if you truly were on your own tonight, I would recommend visiting the teahouse with me instead. The Shogun would agree that I am wonderful company."

"You are not lying, good sir," Chiasa smiled. "I would be more than honored to be by your side."

The two attendants now seemed frightened. They did not need to place their feelings into words, for they were exchanging glances and clenching their fists.

"Master," one of them gulped, "are you sure we can trust this woman? We did not know her until tonight."

"Relax, young attendant," Osamu said in a reassuring tone. "I know a trustworthy woman when I see them, and this one is more than trustworthy." Suddenly, he was blushing at her, "I beg your pardon again, miss, but it seems as though I have forgotten to ask you for your name."

Chiasa was sure to sound humble as she answered him, "It is Kaiyo Ikeda, good sir."

"Ikeda!?" the other attendant gasped. "Master, she is not trustworthy! The Ikeda were slaughtered centuries ago!"

"You will be slaughtered if you question my wisdom!" Osamu snapped. "It is true the Ikeda clan is no more, but that does not make her a criminal. She is of a family who bears the name by chance."

Chiasa was giggling. She had not wanted to giggle, but she knew it would make the Shogun's vassal more interested in her. And she was right. The two had a pleasant conversation, discussing matters such as tea, dance, and music. As they spoke, a remark from Albert Miller fluttered from within Chiasa's mind, "Men will be attracted to you. You're pretty, kind, and smart."

Many Naiponese men are not fond of intelligent women, but that condition was irrelevant to her situation. Osamu had been stunned with her at first sight, and that was more than enough. And it was her politeness that was keeping him at her side. Chiasa knew her adoptive father had been complimenting her, but he could not have imagined the extent of his remark. In fact, she could not have imagined it.

Throughout her journey, the descendant of Tomoe had thought of herself as a warrior and not a femme fatale. Her weapon was a katana, and her quest was for the truth. But, had Natasha Ivanovna not needed to charm others into helping her? Perhaps Lady Eboshi was more relevant to Chiasa's quest than she had imagined. As she reflected on this thought, she realized her situation was almost exactly like that of Natasha Ivanovna. Lord Isamu might as well have been Felix Ulrich. Chiasa remembered Felix had turned Natasha Ivanovna away, just as Isamu had denied her.

No! She thought. I'm not like Natasha Ivanovna! I'm not like her at all!

She hoped that was so. In Lady Eboshi, Felix's denial of her convinced Natasha Ivanovna that she had to serve him to win his favor. Her choice led her to spy for the Pottsylvanians, seducing men and bombing infrastructures. Then again, how were Chiasa's activities different? She was tricking a man, and she was spying for a leader. Was she to be another Natasha Ivanovna? Such a question, she decided, was irrelevant. As long as she did what was to be done, all would be well.

Chapter 18

For Kazane, it was another usual night. After five years, such nights no longer surprised her. Her actions were almost robotic. She drank tea. She spoke with men. She danced. She poured sake. There was a strange melody to it, which could never be recorded by human minds.

She might as well have been a ghost. The way she moved was so delicate, flowing like the soft wind of summer. Her red kimono almost seemed to float. She often aroused a laugh or two, delighting the men who can come to enjoy themselves. And yet, there was one man who would have yet to notice her. She was puzzled, knowing he had a weakness for lovely women. Of course, there was a woman sitting by his side.

The woman was not one she had seen before. She wore the clothes of a ronin, but her family crest could not be found on her kosode. The well-dressed man was wrapping his arm around her as though she were his lover. She was smiling at him, nodding, and giving the shortest of replies.

You filthy wretch, Kazane thought. I see you wish to outwit me, but I do not suppose you know what I know. She addressed the geisha who was with her, "My dear Fumichiyo, I see these guests are in desperate need of entertainment. Shall we not perform for them?"

Fumichiyo was grinning, "I suppose I could play my shamisen while you dance. Then again, these men have so many favorites."

The well-dressed man with the female ronin beamed, "'Supple Bamboo!' Play 'Supple Bamboo!'"

It was not long before other men were making the same request. Kazane and Fumichiyo merely smiled before putting on their performance. Kazane had five years of experience in the subject, and she could only imagine how long the real geisha who was with her had been working. It must have been a long time, for note a single sound from the shamisen was out of tune. As for Kazane's dancing, it may have been the wind itself. Every pose was flawless, and every movement was in time, but none of it seemed forced. There was indeed a supple bamboo stalk, and it was red and powdered.

Many of the men were mesmerized by the moving piece of art, but not the well-dressed man. In fact, it was not long before he and the ronin were departing from the room. All Kazane could do to keep from storming out was to continue her dance. Nevertheless, her cheeks were burning beneath her makeup, radiating her stunned state. How could a dusty ronin be more attractive than a shining geisha? Were the Thousands of Myriads playing a trick on her?

"You truly are a blessing from Heaven, my Kaiyo," Osamu sighed in tranquility. "If only I had met you sooner."

"How could a sooner meeting have been possible?" Chiasa asked him. "No one told me of your arrival."

"And, what a night this is," Osamu smiled. "The moon may not be full tonight, but it still makes wonderful company in this tea house garden. Much better company than those burdensome attendants of mine."

Chiasa was relieved by the absence of the attendants. It was likely they did not know where she nor the vassal were, for they had not been told of their departure. Unease was rising from within her, and the waning gibbous above did nothing to calm her. All that brought her comfort was her awareness of what was happening. The vassal was unsuspicious of her, and that was what she wanted.

"My Kaiyo," he addressed her, "Do you ever wonder how the war between the Shogun and the Mikado will end?"

Chiasa gave another charming smile, "It will end with the mightiest man winning. In this case, it will be the Shogun."

Osamu's own smile vanished from his tightening body, "I fear that may not happen. The Shogun and his allies lost battle after battle, no thanks to the Inaba. They fight like demons, and their allies are spread throughout the country."

"Just have faith, dearest one," Chiasa chuckled. "The Shogun has not lost the war until he has declared it such."

Osamu was aroused by the phrase "dearest one." He could now hide his anxiety, "I know we have barely met, but there is a great favor I have to ask of you."

"Of course, my dear," Chiasa replied.

The vassal was aroused again, "There are some notes that are important to the Shogun, and he trusted me to look after them. To ensure they would never fall into the wrong hands, I hid them in my kimono. However, you are the most trustworthy woman I have laid my eyes upon."

"What may these notes be?" Chiasa asked.

Osamu laughed again, "Only some of the most essential battle plans the Shogun has ever developed. I will need them back before I depart for my home tonight, but it would not be wrong to give you the pleasure of holding them."

Chiasa formed a convincing gasp, "Why me? Am I not a mere woman?"

"That is the reason why I trust you," Osamu smiled reassuringly. "What could a woman do with battle plans? Fan herself? Swaddle an infant?"

Again, the vassal was laughing. It was not long before Chiasa was laughing with him, convincing him he was in the right.

"You truly are a wise and noble vassal," she said to him. "For a brief blink of an eye, may the battle plans be safe within my gentle grasp."

The vassal reached into his sleeve, moving his hand carefully as though he were handling knives. When it could be seen again, it was holding a handsome scroll. Only a breath passed before the scroll was in Chiasa's own hand. She felt as though she were holding a lightning bolt, for it gave her a sense of great power. Of course, she had no intention of returning it to the vassal. This thought crossed her mind as he fell to the ground, losing consciousness.

Behind the fallen Osamu was a figure in dark clothing. Chiasa knew the figure was a ninja, for only its two brown eyes were exposed. Suddenly, it was taking the scroll from Chiasa's hand. She gasped, but she knew better than to speak. She unsheathed her katana, displaying a threatening position.

"You should not need to fear me," the ninja said in a female voice. "If you value your life, you will let me go in peace."

"If you value your life," Chiasa replied, "you will give me the scroll and disappear."

The ninja leapt into the air. Chiasa made a slicing motion with her blade, but it was too late. She looked all around the garden, but the ninja could not be found. However, it was not long before Chiasa felt something grabbing her leg. She looked down to see an enraged Osamu position on his belly.

"I thought I could trust you, little snake," he snarled. "Because you are a woman, I thought you would know your place."

"I have no place," Chiasa said in a neutral tone.

The vassal tried to pull her towards him, but she quickly freed her leg. She could easily remember the "tickle fights" that were waged between her and her adoptive father when she was five years old. Recalling that Albert liked to sit up to grab and tickle her, she moved backwards and disappeared. However, she snuck upon the snarling vassal from behind, slicing off his left leg. When he tried to stand himself upward, she sliced him in half.

For a moment, the descendant of Tomoe was surprised by her own actions. Osamu was not the first to die by her blade, but never before had she killed a human. The blood upon the snow could not have been clearer.

"What have you done!?" a voice barked.

Chiasa followed it to the corner, where she could see the ninja standing upon the rooftop. She immediately asked the ninja, "How much have you seen?"

"Do you not realize what you have done?" the ninja barked in a softer tone.

"State your business," Chiasa said assertively, "and all shall be clear."

"I have no business," the ninja growled. "The only business in this garden is yours, and you will forfeit it when the Shogun's executioner finds you."

It was true. Chiasa had taken the life of one who served the Shogun, and such an offense was punishable by death. She had remained a stranger to Naipon, but she was now a criminal.

Chiasa was now speaking like the Tomoe she had seen in the film version of The Disfavored Hero, "If your task is to kill me, I would recommend you begin. If there is another matter, state it while you can."

Suddenly the ninja was still. She was speaking softly to herself, but Chiasa could hear her, "The Inaba."

"What of the Inaba?" Chiasa snapped. "What business do you have with them?"

The ninja was gone. As Chiasa searched for her, she could hear running footsteps approaching her. The paper doors to the Azumi Teahouse were opening, and six men with katanas were coming closer. Chiasa cursed in her mind, remembering vassals are often accompanied by entourages. She posed herself again, assessing her situation.

The odds are not in my favor, she realized. What I need is distraction.

She looked at her blade, noticing the faint light upon it. This led her to look at the waning gibbous that was still sailing across the sky.

The moon may not be full tonight, Osamu had said, but it still makes wonderful company in this tea house garden.

"Stop!" she cried.

The six men stopped themselves, nearly tripping. Confusion was upon their faces, but it was shown with fury.

"Do you not see the faint, shining moon above us?" Chiasa asked them.

"Why does the moon concern you?" one of the men replied in a direct tone. "Has it not wronged the sun?"

"That may be true," Chiasa nodded, "but the sun is not here. That is why the moon is terribly sad. I see him crying now."

"What kind of woman are you who gazes at gods?" another man barked.

Chiasa said nothing. She walked backwards, having already looked around the garden. It seemed as though she were giving the men an advantage. They were approaching her, some of them reaching for the handles of their blades.

"Look at the moon, gentlemen," she smiled calmly, remembering The Golden Naginata.

A third man was now speaking, "The moon should not concern you tonight, young miss. It will not be full for quite a while."

"Look at it," Chiasa nodded. "A gibbous moon is still the moon, just as a scarred man remains a man."

"You speak of Isamu!" a fourth man yelled, resuming his running. "All who serve him are dead, little wretch!"

Chiasa picked up stones from the garden. She did not hesitate to throw them, hoping their blows would be of use to her. The man who was running was struck in the forehead, and two more found stones in their eyes. Chiasa then came to the men who were missed. To her surprise, one of them was struck by a shuriken. He fell to the ground, revealing the weapon had been poisoned. The five remaining men were now charging at her, but they stopped when they found two more women with katanas.

"It is not fair to take advantage of the weak," one of the women said. "As the entourage of a vassal, you should know this."

Chiasa was annoyed at having been called "weak," but she pushed the feeling aside. Her heart grew excited as she realized the women were on her side.

"I see you have a new sister," one of the men laughed. "She must be the brat of the litter."

"The only brat will be you if you do not shut up!" the other woman barked, running towards the man.

The other two women bore a slight look of disappointment, but it did not last. They were now fighting by Chiasa's side, facing five men with blades of their own. The excitement within Chiasa was rising, but she was careful not to let it drown her. And yet, there was a certain thrill she had found only in stories until that night. The battle was almost like a dance, with each movement seeming planned. At some moments, Chiasa had to use nearly all her energy to keep from smiling. She did not like to cause trouble, but was she not fond of samurai such as Tomoe Gozen?

When at last the five men had fallen, the older of the two women glared at Chiasa. Her voice did not show her friendliness, "What are you doing girl?"

Chiasa was shivering, "I was walking in the garden when … I was attacked."

"Attacked," the older woman repeated.

"Chizue, we must depart!" the younger woman interrupted her. "There may be reinforcements."

Chizue, the older woman, released a brief sigh, "Is the strange woman to come with us?"

"The Buddha would approve of it," the younger woman answered desperately. "Must we not show compassion to all living things?"

Chizue did not seem impressed. Her cold glare intimidated the younger woman, forcing her to seem tougher.

"What I meant to say," she said in a bolder tone, "is that the young woman does not have a choice. Unless she comes with us, she will be left alone."

Both women looked at Tomoe's descendant. She could not fully assess her situation, but she understood it was becoming more desperate. Aside from Haruki and the Nakamuras, she did not know who in Naipon she could trust. And if she could find the four she knew, she did not know where to look. Her reply to the two women was brief, "I shall go wherever you go."

"Follow me, then," Chizue nodded.

The three women hurried out of the Azumi Teahouse, being sure to enter the crowds of the town. The crowds were smaller, for the night was passing, but a few remained roaming in the streets. The younger of Chiasa's guides stopped Chizue, whispering something into her ear. When the whispering had ceased, the younger guide was now leading the group. Chiasa could not imagine where they were going, but she knew better than to ask questions.

It was not long before the three women were joined by two more. One of them seemed familiar to Chiasa, but she remained silent. They then approached a row of horse stables, which placed a smile upon the face of the younger guide.

"Is this not stealing?" one of the new women asked. "If these horses are found by their owners…"

"Silence!" the younger guide snapped. "I chose this place!"

There were more than enough horses for the five women. Each of them selected their steeds and led them out of the stables, making sure no one else could see them. While Chiasa was not sure if she could properly ride a horse, she could recall moments she had done so as a child. Of course, the younger guide did help her climb upon the steed she had chosen.

"You should be safe with us," the guide said to her. "If you need me, know my name is Sayaka."

"Sayaka!" Chizue snapped.

Sayaka was quick to silence herself, hanging her head in shame. Chiasa could only imagine what was happening. Of course, such a thought did not distract her from the task at hand. She and her companions signaled for the horses to run, and they were on their way.

You are a coward, little one. A fool and a coward.

Isamu rose from his bed, feeling as though he were on fire. He could not understand what was happening, for it was deep in winter. And yet, the sound of flames was gently stroking his ear.

A fool and a coward. A fool and a coward.

No one was with him, but the voice sounded close. He had heard it more than once in his life. The heat in his room was rising, making him feel as though he had been placed upon a hibachi. He was quick to dress himself and grab his katana, knowing his situation was not normal. He then rushed out of his room, searching for something strange.

The sound of kicking flames was now accompanied by that of laughter. Isamu expected the laughter to belong to the voice, but it was sounded in various tones. Any of them could have called him a fool and a coward.

"What do you want?" he yelled.

You have failed me, worthless mortal. Like one you know, your eyes have deceived you.

The voice remained clear, but its owner had yet to be found. The flames were also missing, despite the rising heat. In a storm of reckless fury, the daimyo opened the front door to his palace on his own. He was yelling like a mindless beast, feeling the heat of his flesh accompany that of the air. However, his energy was lost at the moment the door was opened. He could not see Inaba Valley, but a sea of flames. Standing before him was a crucified woman with eyes he knew well.

"What are you doing here?" she desperately demanded of him. "Do you not honor me?"

"Please, milady," Isamu begged, "this is not what I have envisioned."

"What are you doing?" the woman repeated herself. "So much has been lost, and all that remains will be gone."

"Silence!" the daimyo barked. "I am Lord Isamu Inaba of Mina Province, and I will not be given orders!"

He unsheathed his katana, preparing to end the woman's suffering. And yet, he could not bring himself to deliver the blow.

"To take your life would be to take mine," he muttered.

His blade fell from his hand, turning into water. Tears were now flowing from the woman's hazel eyes. He came to remove her restraints, but it was not long before she herself was water.

I have guessed correctly, insignificant mortal. If only I had known.

The water became a river, rushing beneath the flames. As the daimyo gazed upon it, he was pulled into its unforgiving current. Only did he wake up did he find himself in his safe, unchanged bedroom. He reached underneath his pillow, taking the omamori of Akinori. His eyes widened at the sight of it.

I am a fool! he gasped in his mind.

The daimyo was furious again. He opened the omamori and removed the paper from within. The paper was torn to shreds, which were cast into the snow outside.

Chapter 19

Why have I returned to you?

How could it have come to this?

Who was I to come so far

Believing I would be in bliss?

Chiasa was in a cemetery. She knew she was in Naipon, but the cemetery resembled the one in Sapphire City. Why was it, then, that she was in the purple kimono she had worn at Inaba Castle?

The snowflakes could not be more true

Whenever they return to me.

Yet, there is an emptiness inside,

And I know how it came to be.

She was not singing, nor was there another living human. Only the Thousands of Myriads could have told her why she could hear "Snowflakes" from Lady Eboshi. The young woman was tempted to speak, but somehow, she knew it not to be wise. The gray, snowy sky above her seemed to bend in agreement, telling her to proceed. Even with the absence of marked paths, she knew where she was to go.

It was my dream.

My foolish, childlike dream.

Just when I thought it seemed

To hold the very key

To my world.

To my perfect, beautiful world.

Was I really so foolish?

Could I not see the signs?

As Chiasa stopped herself, she found a figure kneeling at a tombstone. The figure was dressed in the black trench coat, pants, and hat of Boris Dmitrievich Badenov, but Chiasa knew it was Haruki Yoshida. She read the tombstone, seeing it had been marked for Tomoe Gozen of Heida. It was not long before the young woman was approaching her friend. Of course, she did not know why it was Tomoe for whom he was mourning.

When she was finally close to him, Tomoe's descendant opened her mouth, "Good afternoon, Haruki. How are you?"

The face that looked at her did not belong to Haruki, nor was it Boris Dmitrievich. It was the lifeless face of Osamu. Chiasa gasped, finding herself taking steps backwards. More snowflakes fell, but they marked the now white ground with slight spots of crimson. The song of Natasha Ivanovna Filatova ceased, making way for countless screams. Chiasa tried to stop herself in her place, but it was not long before she fell off a cliff and into a sea of flames. She could see the figure of Lord Isamu in the fire, wearing two scars instead of one.

"Stop!" she screamed.

She rose upwards, realizing the frightening images had been part of a mere dream. No one needed to tell her she was in a stable, for she could feel straw beneath her body. In the stable were six horses, each of them munching constantly. There was also the sound of light snoring, which came from a woman who was sleeping beside her. One glance of the woman revealed it was neither Chizue nor Sayaka. Chiasa prepared to stand, but the woman opened her eyes and sat upward.

"You are awake?" she yawned. "How long has this been so?"

"Not very long," Chiasa said. "May I ask where we are?"

The woman's tone retained some sleepiness, "A farmer named Yoshikazu Maru has put us up. We will need to leave soon, but something holds us back."

"What is it?" Chiasa asked.

The woman silently hung her head. Chiasa was not calmed by the action, knowing it could only signify something bad. Hoping to lighten the mood, she tried introducing herself, "My name is…"

"We know you well, Kaiyo," the woman interrupted. "I fear more than enough humans know you now. As for myself, you may refer to me as Masako."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Masako," Chiasa smiled in a friendly manner.

More silence. Masako stood on her feet and departed from the stable, leaving Chiasa to wonder what was happening. She waited for a brief moment. The munching of the horses became a rhythm in the air. Even as someone who did not take deep breaths to calm herself, Chiasa grew accustomed to the large creatures. One disrupted the melody by neighing, but Chiasa merely laughed. If there was one place in Naipon in which she belonged, she decided, it was the stable.

Chiasa would have spent much of the morning relaxing in the stable, but curiosity got the better of her. Her previous dream had been quite horrible, but she was grateful for it. She quietly stepped through the nearby door, making sure no one could sense her. Muttering could be heard from within the farmhouse, and Chiasa could decipher a few words. There were mentions of her false identity, Osamu, and the Inaba Wars. One of the voices could be recognized as that of Haruki, filling her with excitement. To her surprise, he was standing in the doorway when its barrier was removed.

"Oh, you're awake!" he gasped. "Good morning, then."

"Good morning, Haruki," Chiasa said as they bowed. "Have I slept for too long?"

Haruki chuckled, "Do not be so concerned about that. The day is young, and I know you're not the kind of person who would oversleep."

"Thank you," Chiasa blushed.

Once she had approached her friend, he placed a bowl of rice and egg into her hands.

"Eat this," he said. "I know it's not much, but it's from a farming family."

"I understand," Chiasa nodded, happy to have food again.

The meagre but warm breakfast calmed her, nearly making her forget the murder she had committed. Sometimes, it seems as though a meal is what it takes to lift a spirit. All humans eat, and all are grateful for it. The breakfast also reminded Chiasa of the meals her adoptive mother used to prepare for her. She could almost taste a teriyaki shrimp rice bowl. She would sometimes giggle, remembering the happier times she had spent in Illinois.

When the rice and egg were finally gone, Chiasa returned the bowl and chopsticks to Haruki. She thanked him for the meal, and he accepted her thanks. Shortly afterward, she took the time to ask him, "What is happening inside the house?"

Haruki's happy demeanor disappeared, "There is nothing you can do now. It would be best if you did not attend."

Chiasa silenced herself, knowing better than to provoke him. And yet, curiosity was still eating at her from the inside.

"It would be best if you waited for us," he said. "It should not take long."

"Thank you very much," Chiasa replied. "Take your time."

There was a moment before Haruki closed the farmhouse door in front of him. He looked at Chiasa, saying a thousand things with his eyes. She returned his gaze, wondering what could be seen within his mind. Once the door was closed, she did not hesitate to approach it. She stood in front of it, making sure not to seem as though she were spying on the people inside.

"The young woman is an abomination!" Chizue's voice barked. "To take her would be to take the Tide Jewels, and I am not ready to become the next Tamatori."

"Please, Chizue," Haruki's voice begged, "I can assure you it will not come to that. My friend knows how to defend herself. She has fought like a demon every time I have seen her in battle."

"That may be true," Chizue's voice sighed, "but a demon remains a demon."

"The maiden Kaiyo may be a stranger to us," Sayaka's voice sounded, "but I trust her. When I saw her at the Azumi Teahouse, she did not seem to be dangerous."

"How can you say that?" another woman's voice snapped. "She killed three men in one night."

Sayaka's voice now bore a more desperate tone, "Please, Fuyuko, you must understand. All of you must understand. If she had refrained from fighting, her life would have been lost. After all…"

A moment of silence crept in, leaving Chiasa to wonder what had started it. She wanted to hear more of the conversation, but a part of her did not approve. No one could reveal how the women would behave. Would they show hospitality like that of the Nakamuras, or would they share Isamu's desire to kill her? Perhaps they supported the Shogun, awaiting the right moment to have her taken to him as a criminal. As much as Chiasa wanted to know, she was quick to remember all waiting had brought her so far. The growing warmth of her omamori made it clear.

The descendant of Tomoe rushed into the stable, retrieving all her belongings. Knowing she had already consumed her breakfast, she decided the proper time for her departure had come. She was quick to leave the farm, but she did not resort to running; running would have made her seem suspicious. It was not long before she realized her travel bag was heavier. After some time, she walked to the side of the road and checked its contents. She nearly drooled realizing there was now more food.

More food. As much as she loved edible items, not much time passed before her heart sank. Food would fill her stomach, but it would never satisfy her hunger for the truth. Nearly despairing, she looked to the east. There was no sun, but it was there.

Great Amaterasu, she thought, please help me on this journey. I thought Naipon would be a place of wonder and beauty, but it seems as though I have only found danger and mistrust. Please, give me the strength to carry on in your domain and find the beauty I know is there.

She then prayed to the samurai whose story she cherished, Respected grandmother, I am doing all I can. I remember all the traditions of your homeland, and I've been the best warrior I could be, but nothing's working. I understand if you have other plans, but I need you more than ever.

After a short while of waiting, the descendant of Tomoe Gozen was on her way once again.

"No, my lord!" Katsu screamed. "I am not a criminal! I have honor!"

Two guards held her to the ground, awaiting a reply from the aging daimyo. Neither of them expected him to be generous, for a scowl was sitting upon his face. His signature scar made it more prominent.

"When I sent you to the castle of Lord Matsumoto," Isamu said firmly, "I ordered you to retrieve the omamori of the samurai Akinori. Why is it that what you brought me was a fake? Have you learned nothing from the story of the princess Kaguya?"

"My lord," Katsu begged, "I swear that the omamori kept by Matsumoto matched your description.

Isamu's tone resembled a grumble, but it grew louder as he spoke, "When I sent you to retrieve the omamori, I explained it was a red charm with white commas…"

"Which I delivered to you," Katsu interrupted. "You should be praising me…"

"Silence!" Isamu barked. "Your master speaks!"

There was indeed silence, but Katsu was not its sole source. The guards might as well have been statues, unable to be moved even by the wind. All knew Isamu was a man to be feared, even with his generosity. With silence infesting the room, however, he took the time to calm himself. He could see the fear in the young samurai's eyes. She knew her life was not hers, as did he.

"Young samurai," he said in a calmer tone, "I realize you have made a terrible error. The white marks on the omamori delivered to me do indeed resemble commas, but they form the shape of the crane."

"I ask for nothing more than forgiveness," Katsu sighed, bowing before her master.

Realizing she had calmed herself, Isamu continued speaking, "Because you have been a loyal samurai, and because you and Hisoka Ishikawa are to be married, I will give you a final chance to fulfill your mission. You are to search the land of Naipon, stopping at nothing until you find the omamori of Akinori."

Katsu smiled in relief, "Many thanks, my lord. I can assure you I will be successful."

"You must be sure of it," Isamu suddenly scowled, "for if you return to me empty-handed again, you will be put to death."

All heat left Katsu. Her hands tried to grab the floor as though she were a wild monkey. She then bowed to her master and said, "Your humble samurai is ever faithful, my lord."

Isamu nodded in approval, "You have my leave to go, then. To ensure Hisoka does not grow suspicious of the whereabouts of his bride-to-be, I shall tell him of your mission."

"Of course," Katsu said, "but what has happened to him? This is the second day of his absence, yet he was never reported to be on a mission."

"Things are as they are," Isamu calmly answered. "He is on his way, and you shall be on yours."

Katsu departed from the throne room a moment later, thinking of a thousand things at once. She looked to the west, imagining what was to become of her and her fiancé.

The time has come, child. There is much for you.

I understand, Katsu thought. Whatever happens, my obedience shall be unwavering. Another thought then crossed her mind, Vengeance shall be mine at any cost.

Chapter 20

Chiasa was surprised to see the snow falling. All had been still for a moment, but it had come regardless. It could easily be found, for the cloudy sky was growing darker. And it was winter, the season of snowflakes and icy wind. Still, the descendant of Tomoe could not have imagined witnessing such an event. Even while knowing the plans of the Thousands of Myriads often differed from hers, she was nothing more than stunned.

Why was the snow so surprising now? Was Illinois not known for such weather? Chiasa's mind returned to the past. To that time when Naipon was merely a beautiful dream. Images of the past were now growing clearer, almost as though she had returned to her own childhood. Five-year-old Chiasa was investigating rabbit tracks, eight-year-old Chiasa was enjoying hot chocolate on a sleigh ride, and twelve-year-old Chiasa was climbing a small hill, pretending to be the ancestor eighteen-year-old Chiasa had identified to be hers.

The now nineteen-year-old Chiasa was fond of the memories she could see, but she was quick to wake herself up.

"What are you thinking?" she snapped to herself. "You're here for a reason!"

That was when a strange feeling rose from within her. She touched her abdomen as though she were pregnant, nearly allowing her mind to wander again. Images of her bag were now running through her mind, leading her to anticipate the rich taste of pickled fish. Of course, she would have to find a suitable area in which it could be eaten. She did not know if a town was nearby, and such a location was now dangerous. No one could kindly tell her how townspeople treated those who kill vassals of the Shogun.

Hungry but patient, the young woman continued down the winding road. It might as well have been a serpent, twisting and turning around the thickest of obstacles. Images of the past appeared now and then, but Chiasa imagined them for only so long. She knew the greatest of samurai bore focused minds, and she was determined to live at their level. Knowing that, she allowed her hunger to seep into her memory. It remained within her flesh, but she was hesitant to become tormented. At some moments, she would whisper, Namu myoho renge kyo. Namu myoho renge kyo.

"Homage to the Lotus Sutra." Even with her secular mind, Chiasa could not help but revel in the chant. She then thought of the Nakamuras, who had been so good to her. She could only imagine how they would react when realizing the vassal Osamu had been slain by Kaiyo Ikeda. Even with Nichiren Shoshu's policy of forgiving criminals, no human is immune to horror.

Please, she begged in her mind. What else could I have done? Naipon has nothing more than danger. Nothing…

Another face was watching her. It was not a common figure, nor was it supernatural. Chiasa knew she had seen the face many times. It was a part of her, breathing life into nearly everything she knew. How could she forget it?

From her mouth came a single muted word, "Benjiro…"

She was feeling foolish. She and Benjiro had been friends for quite some time, yet only now had she thought of him while in Naipon. It was almost as though he had disappeared from everything. Everything that was known, and everything that was to be known. Those soft, brown eyes that had seen so much of her life might as well have been an illusion.

"What have I done, Benjiro?" she asked, looking into the distance.

Only then did she reflect on their last encounter in America. She was suddenly drowning in a sea of shame, feeling as though she had greatly wronged him. His disapproval of conjuring Tomoe Gozen, his claim she was an ignorant brat, and his awkward silence at Betty's Diner were repeated in the young woman's mind. They were eating at her from within, resembling mindless parasites. Her stress was nearly enough to make her fall upon the whitening ground. And, with her shame came a new emotion: guilt.

Was Benjiro not her friend? If he was, why did she not say kind words to him before they parted? Of course, Hisoka had come to her on short notice, and she had not anticipated a journey through Naipon. Only those thoughts could comfort her, reminding her there was some hope. She did not know what she had to hope for, but a desire had been sparked.

"Pardon me, miss," a voice said. "Is something wrong?"

Chiasa turned to see a young man and a young woman standing before her. She was quick to bow, remembering Japanese customs of respect.

"Do forgive me," she gasped. "I was greatly mesmerized by the falling snow."

"Have no fear," the man said, bowing alongside the woman. "The snow falls for all."

"It does?" Chiasa asked. "I do not understand."

Despite the snowflakes that were falling upon him, the man was smiling warmly, "This is the land of the humans, where pleasure and pain are perfectly balanced. All humans receive what they do not want, and many never find what it is they want. Our paths differ, but their conditions are the same."

To Chiasa, the man sounded quite philosophical. He did not wear the robes of a monk or priest, but he may have been mistaken for one if he had been. The woman at his side was smiling at him, her kindly beauty complimenting that of the snow. Perhaps they could be trusted, even in a land of danger. If the loss of a friend was burdening her, Chiasa thought, the addition of two friends may be her salvation.

"You speak with great wisdom, sir," Chiasa said to the man. "What may I call you?"

"I am Yohei Kamichi," he answered, "and I have come with my wife, Asuka. We are on a pilgrimage to the Temple of the Swift Moon."

"I wish you a safe journey," Chiasa nodded, "and I hope your visit brings great joy into your lives."

Yohei was now smiling excitedly, "Those are our hopes. We hope to appeal to our patron saint so he may help us to spawn a strong, healthy son. Asuka wanted his, and as her husband, and I am to accompany her." His tone then grew more concerned, "Who is coming with you, miss?"

Chiasa sighed with regret, "I have no one. I have never had anyone, and I will never have anyone. I am merely a shadow."

"That is not true," Yohei replied. "Humans have names, which shadows can never attain. I am quite curious as to what yours might be."

Chiasa was tempted to call herself Kaiyo, but she silenced herself before she could speak. Kaiyo Ikeda was now a criminal, and these two pilgrims had the power to report on her. Her mournful answer to them was, "I am Yuki, for I am one with the snow."

"Yuki," the man dreamily repeated. "A lovely name for a lovely woman." He then resumed his earthlier tone, "Because you have no one, Yuki, would it be much trouble for you to accompany us? Darkness is upon us, and the cold that enchants can also kill."

"I suppose," Chiasa replied, growing nervous and sad. She trusted her answer, for she had nowhere else to go. And yet, she was pained as much as she was relieved.

The journey was not a long one, and Tomoe's descendant was quite relieved. Yohei had been right about the night and the cold. He could sense it, as could his wife. When at last they found the temple, Chiasa was grateful enough to share her food with them. Like her, they had not eaten, and the food they had packed was meager. She was proud of herself, remembering the Buddhist laws of compassion.

The satisfaction from the meal and the company of the pilgrims should have been enough to lift Chiasa's spirits. Here she was with kind people in a cruel world. Had Tomoe Gozen not endured similar situations? What was the hospitality of Izanami? Or Oshina? And what of Bundori-sama? Had Chiasa not wanted to be the equal of her ancestor?

What was troubling her was another unanticipated event. She thought she could hear the name of her friend, Benjiro Yamazaki. It had been spoken by a voice belonging to another familiar face. And then, there was a second voice, less familiar, but just as identifiable. Chiasa excused herself from the pilgrims, and they were too kind to keep her from going.

"Our paths are different, kind Yuki," Yohei said to her. "You have all the time in your life to settle what must be settled."

Chiasa thanked the pilgrims for their understanding, and she was on her way. The voices were coming from within the temple, but they did not seem to be reciting chants or prayers. Careful not to seem sacrilegious, she stepped into the temple as though she were a worshipper. Its wooden Buddha sat before her, serving as a calm, humble host. The gaze upon its face was welcoming, but that was not what was leading her to approach it. The voices she could hear were coming from behind its back. As she knelt in a position of prayer, she listened carefully to the mysterious attractions,

"I am telling you for the last time, Benjiro, you will never be safe in Naipon. This may be your home, but things have changed. You've gotta understand that."

"I realize your speech remains stained with American colloquialism. Nevertheless, I am still needed in this land."

"For once, great one, Haruki speaks with wisdom. All in this land want you dead, especially Lord Isamu."

"I will face the Lord of Mina when the time comes. For now, my duty is to the one called Chiasa."

"You mean Kaiyo. She has to have a false identity now."

"She can no longer be Kaiyo. Kaiyo is the known slayer of the vassal Osamu."

"Regardless as to what she is called, I fear she has chosen the wrong path. If she is to fulfill her destiny, her mind must be clear."

"What can we do? I know I have said this once before, but she is like the younger Tomoe Gozen."

"What do you mean? She's wiser, calmer, and friendlier."

"True, but she is young. The young are quite stupid compared to the old."

"Peace, Goro. Our current task is to find Chiasa Miller. And then…"

SLASH! The three voices were silenced, as were Chiasa's thoughts. A scream quickly entered the room, preceding the pounding of footsteps.

"Yuki!" Asuka shouted, stopping at her side. "Come quickly! My husband has fallen!"

Chiasa quickly stood up and ran, feeling her mind resume its many voices. Much energy was flowing through her, but she froze at the moment she saw Yohei's body lying face-down on the snow-covered ground. Chiasa felt slightly sickened, realizing the body had been sliced in half. She did not need to look at Asuka to know her grief.

"How did this happen?" she asked the widow.

Asuka sobbed, "How can I know? There was not a single sound, nor a single shadow. Yohei and I were waiting contently. He was smiling the moment before…"

"Look!" Chiasa gasped.

The two women looked to the west, both petrified by what was standing before them. It was a normal town with normal fields, yet something was terribly wrong: there was not a single sound. There were no chattering crowds, no shouting children, no barking dogs. Not even the song of a bird was there to greet them. Still, there were countless figures scattered on the ground.

"Asuka," Chiasa said sternly, "stay at the temple. You will be safer here."

"What about you?" Asuka shivered. "Is it not dangerous?"

After a slight moment, Chiasa sighed, "I fear I may have more knowledge of these things. Your place is with your husband. He must find his path to what is to come."

Asuka wanted to protest, but she knew her place as a Naiponese woman. She knelt at her husband's corpse, allowing the American-raised Naiponese to proceed on her way. Chiasa was quick to approach the town, knowing whatever had happened may have been lurking nearby. Still, she was careful not to attract attention. If it were a physical force, there was the possibility of it outnumbering her. Remembering all there was to remember, Chiasa moved with the courage and dignity of a samurai. And yet, at the entrance to the town, she could not help but gasp, "What the heck!?"

The place was littered with corpses. Not as many would have been visible without the outlines given by the snow, but it did not have an influence. Chiasa was careful not to touch them, knowing the potential of disease. Nevertheless, it was nearly impossible to walk without trampling on cold flesh. So many things could have been said, but only one fled the lips of the woman, "So many bodies, but no blood?"

No blood. It was a time of war, but there was no evidence of an attack. There was also no bile, no boils, no broken bones. The bodies were simply lying. Something was not right, Chiasa thought, but what it was remained a mystery.

"You!" a voice coughed.

Chiasa turned around, searching with her ears. She waited for a moment, but there was nothing. However, she turned back around only to hear the voice again.

"Come here!" it wheezed. "Now!"

"What do you want?" Chiasa shouted, weighed by confusion and alarm.

"Hurry!" the voice cried again. "I am in the storehouse!"

Chiasa was frantic. She wanted to be the hero, but her fear of failure was eating at her again. It pained her as she ran in search of the storehouse that had been identified. If not for her careful mind, her fear would have blinded her from it. She then opened the door, finding an old man lying on the building's floor. It was clear he was not a corpse, for he was crawling towards her.

"What has happened to this town?" she asked him with urgency.

The old man coughed again before he could speak, "You come at late notice, samurai."

Chiasa knew she was not an official samurai, but she was wise enough to hold her tongue. She was a stranger to the old man, who had the power to report Kaiyo the murderer. She said to him, "I do not understand what you mean by 'late notice.'"

"This was once a prosperous town," the old man continued. "I have lived in this town from the moment I opened my eyes. And then … and then …"

"And then, what?" Chiasa asked again.

"It was a terrible flood!" the old man screamed. "Its creator wanted us to be an example! Be warned, samurai! What crosses the winds and drowns life in fire is not human! It is neither male nor female! You cannot see ruins nor blood because the flood was magic! It…"

His face fell. Chiasa tried to lift him, but she realized his flesh was cold. Not a single beat came from his chest, or a breath from his nose. He was simply gone. The "samurai" walked backwards without a word to say.

"Not human," she repeated the old man's words. "Neither male nor female. What…"

BOOM! Thunder was roaring, despite the falling snow. Chiasa was surprised by the strangeness of the weather, but she pushed her shock aside. As a magical nation, Naipon was prone to anything. She looked at the sky, finding many angry faces. They were not her memories shining before her, but the true faces of beings.

Chiasa Miller of Richardson, a voice sounded.

Hiding her fear from her voice, the unofficial samurai shouted, "Name yourself!"

An evil laugh filled the air, You spend your entire life studying all there is to know, yet you know so little. How could I have expected better of you?

"I have no time for tricks!" Chiasa snapped. "What do you want from me?"

Everything is proceeding as planned, samurai. You are foolish, but you are not a coward. I will see you on your knees.

"Do you not see I have no master?" Chiasa replied. "If you are as powerful as you say, surely you know of me."

There was more laughter, I see everything. I see what you cannot. I see your own death.

The thunder was silenced, but Chiasa's mind remained in motion. She was looking all around, awaiting a living figure. There was silence, but she knew not to be reassured.

"Yuki!" a voice cried.

Chiasa found Asuka struggling in the arms of a female ronin. The ronin was tying the widow's hands behind her back, showing no remorse on her face. Alarmed, the descendant of Tomoe ran towards the women at the temple. Of course, she ran until she could see the hazel eyes of the ronin. They were widening, revealing something was not right. She shouted, "Chiasa, get down!"

Chiasa was quick to follow her order. She could sense the swinging of blades as she fell upon the snow-covered ground. When she turned around, she found two smaller figures flying above her. Familiar with the tale of her ancestor, she knew them to be tengu. They swung their blades again, but she deflected them with hers. It was not before she was standing on her feet again.

"Tengu devils," she said, "if it is you who has brought trouble to this place, I suggest you depart at once."

"Trouble?" a tengu sneered. "It's you who are trouble, spawn of Heida. Your ancestor made a promise only to break it within a fleeting time."

Chiasa knew what he was referring to. In The Golden Naginata, a tengu had proclaimed Tomoe to be the Protector of Demon Children after she spared his nephews. He then sent her to save a half-bakemono child from becoming a living ghost, but he returned to his body only to die. Tomoe's descendant wanted to reflect upon the tale and negotiate with the two tengu, but she knew it was not an option. Placing the thought aside, she prepared her sword for an attacking blow.

"Your efforts are in vain, little one," the other tengu taunted her. "You are only one mortal, after all."

Thanks to the falling snow, Chiasa could see many more tengu flying towards her. Knowing tengu are skilled at swordplay, she was quick to block their blows and deliver hers. It was not long before the ronin was fighting by her side.

"Save your energy," the ronin said to her. "The sword is not the only weapon of the tengu."

Save my energy? Chiasa thought. How can I? They're all coming at us at once.

The descendant of Tomoe was determined to defend herself from the tengu, but she was just as desperate to act like a proper samurai. She looked around as she thought, wondering what else would come her way. Would there be more tengu or was something else awaiting her. That was when she recalled a ring of blue fire. It was then clear that tengu are wielders of flames as well as blades. Only, there were no flames to be seen.

Granddaughter, where are you going?

What in the name of the Thousands of Myriads was this? Surely, that was not Lady Eboshi who had spoken. That conqueror was inspiring, but she was merely a character from a musical. And yet, Chiasa had somehow heard one of Eboshi's lines floating through the air.

Granddaughter, where are you going?

Even with the ronin and the tengu around her, Chiasa was tempted to shout for the speaker. Not a single figure besides those she had seen could be found. As the unofficial samurai assessed her situation, she realized something else was terribly wrong: the voice could not have been Eboshi's. China was proud of the work of Sakura Yamamoto, the actress who had played Eboshi, but the voice that had sounded was not Yamamoto's. Still, the descendant of Tomoe knew she had heard the voice somewhere in time.

Granddaughter, where are you going?

Tomoe Gozen! Chiasa gasped in her mind.

Tomoe Gozen of Heida. The Disfavored Hero. The last avenger of Okio. The Thousand Shrine Warrior. She was near.

Here I am, respected grandmother, Chiasa's thoughts answered. What is it you want from me?

When your blade is blue, Tomoe's voice sounded, speak of the truth. And the truth is the fate of the iris blossom. It is withered, yet it blooms. And more grow.

Chiasa could not have been more confused. She had not expected an iris blossom to be relevant to the battle, nor could she imagine tengu caring about one. Before she could fully analyze such a thought, she heard the ronin grunting. She was lying at Chiasa's feet, searching for her blade. Armed tengu flew towards the ronin, but Chiasa blocked their blows. As she fought, she could not help but search for a blueness on the metal rod that was hers. The ronin took the time to retrieve her own weapon and return to her feet.

The women were prepared to kill. They had been fighting for a while now, yet not a single tengu had fallen. Nevertheless, a samurai's duty was to fight. The women were samurai in spirit, and they would prove themselves as such. They gazed at all the tengu, who were now flying in place. The opportunity was lurking. They could sense it.

"What shall we do with these two?" a tengu laughed. "Shall we play with them some more, or is it time?"

"It is time, little brother," another tengu said. "Someone is awaiting them."

The tengu flew upwards, forming a circle. Neither Chiasa nor the ronin could understand what was happening, for the tengu were now farther away from their opponents. The snowflakes were slowing, but their natural ceasing was far from calming. No one was needed to warn the women something was coming. If only they could see it.

SWOOSH! The women could not see what had happened. All they knew was that a ring of blue fire was now surrounding them. Their bodies were calm, but their minds were running in many directions. It was not long before the flames came closer, limiting their ground.

"Jump!" the tengu laughed maniacally. "Jump for us, little dogs! Jump!"

The ronin was a volcano, filling with rage and awaiting the proper moment to erupt. Chiasa, however, knew more than she did. Her eyes widened at the sight of her katana, which was now reflecting the fire. She shouted, "I know of the iris blossom! It is withered, yet it blooms!"

The tengu did not seem to hear her. They were still flying, shrinking the fire ring while taunting their two opponents.

Chiasa was quick to shout again, "I know of the iris blossom! It is withered, yet it blooms, and more grow!"

SWOOM! Neither of the women could believe what they could see, but the flames were gone. The tengu came to the ground, standing at lower positions than the humans they had been fighting. One of them looked at Chiasa and asked her, "Why is it you speak of an iris blossom?"

Wise enough not to speak of Tomoe, Chiasa answered, "It is nothing more than the truth, brave tengu. I have no reason to lie to you."

A moment of silence followed. Some tengu were chattering amongst one another, but there was no mainstream conversation. Once the chartering had ceased, the eyes of all the tengu were on Chiasa. One of them said, "Go forward, samurai, but tread lightly. The Great Master never rests."

All the tengu flew into the horizon, leaving Chiasa and the ronin to reflect on what they had seen. The ronin, however, was not hesitant to ask her, "What is it you know of iris blossoms?"

Before Chiasa could answer, she could hear someone shouting, "Yuki! Yuki!"

A frightened Asuka Kamichi was running towards the woman. For a moment, Chiasa thought she had not realized the danger was gone. She prepared herself to calm the widow, but the ronin was too quick. Chiasa found Asuka's severed head rolling on the snow, staining it red. The descendant of Tomoe was now frightened, but she was quick to notice more figures were running towards them.

"Prepare yourself for battle," the ronin ordered Chiasa. "We have more company."

Chiasa did as she was told, but she grew more nervous as the figures got closer. They were not demons, nor were they warriors. They were monks, running with concerned looks on their faces. Their movements seemed orderly, but all their order was lost the moment they found Asuka's body. They froze in place, then they looked at Chiasa and the ronin.

"Noble monks," the ronin said to them, "a battle has been fought valiantly in this place. However, every gain in this world comes with a loss. Because this honorable woman and I are victorious, we are to take your lives."

Chiasa expected the monks to protest, but they solemnly sank to their knees. The young woman was now feeling many things, wondering how to show them.

"Chiasa," the ronin said to her, "I ask that you rid these monks of their suffering."

Chiasa gasped, "Why are we doing this? They have done nothing wrong?"

After a fleeting moment, the ronin sighed, "Sometimes, sacrifices must be made for the greater good. If we are to remain honorable warriors, no one must know they have looked upon the face of a murderer. We cannot determine if these monks will report us."

"Please, honorable ronin," Chiasa begged, "do not make me kill them. I have never fought them, nor have I known them."

Another pause. The descendant of Tomoe could only imagine what the ronin was thinking. Would she kill her? Would she make her watch the deaths of the monks before hers? Would the monks fight back? Chiasa tried to calm herself, but her efforts were in vain. That was when she heard the ronin speak again, "I see you are not acquainted with the ways of the samurai. I shall kill the monks in your place, but you are to watch me."

Chiasa followed the order, not wanting to know what disobedience would bring her. As each head fell, a pang rose from within her heart. Even as she reminded herself to be bold like a samurai, she could hardly watch what was happening. She could not tell if the ronin was in the right, nor could she discuss the topic with anyone. She was simply a prisoner of fate. And her next order from the ronin assured her she was such, "Go to the town of Yamaguchi, and sleep at the cheapest inn. You will find your sign in the morning."

The unofficial samurai could do nothing more than bow and say, "Thank you very much."

Chapter 21

Blood, death, chaos. It was all Chiasa could imagine. The snow-covered landscape was indeed lovely, as was the town in which she arrived, but none of it mattered to her. The white hills might as well have been red, and the people she found might as well have been holding their heads on their necks. Even her own hands may have been stained with blood.

Blood, death, chaos. She paid the innkeeper a proper amount, but his gratitude did nothing to ease her. Even with her soberness, the interior seemed to be tilting. She wished there were a railing with the stairs she climbed. Her room was not too far away, but it seemed as such.

Blood, death, chaos.

"Why?" she asked herself aloud.

She was thankful she had closed the door behind herself. It was late, and she could not afford to know what would happen if someone learned of her last battle. Like many other times, a thousand thoughts were flying through her mind, realized she was finally alone. She had been alone on the road, but in a safe, secluded area, she was truly alone. Gratefulness for such an area was among her thoughts.

"If I were in the ronin's place," Chiasa asked herself, "would I have killed Asuka and the monks? Could I have killed them?"

That was right. Asuka had fallen before the monks. Asuka, the widow who had been so kind to her. The dutiful, loving wife who reflected all the kindness from her husband's heart.

Poor Asuka, Chiasa thought. Poor Yohei, for that matter. Wherever they may be, may they be safe and content.

She then recalled what the ronin had said, Sometimes, sacrifices must be made for the greater good.

Sacrifices. Was the ronin not reluctant to make them? What had been running through her mind before the blows were struck? Was there nothing there? Of course, Chiasa could not answer these questions. She had not heard about the ronin on a previous occasion, nor was she there to speak with her.

War is a dark and mysterious thing. When you're trying to stay alive, it's impossible to stay human.

Chiasa was kneeling straightly, but she almost fell on her face. Those were the words of Albert Miller, whose death was so distant yet so near. At least, she felt as though the pain he felt was within her. She had not been with him in his final moment, but she could imagine his train derailing into the lake between Chicago and Richardson. There was another thought bringing her discomfort, but her subconscious deemed it irrelevant. All she could hear now were the words of her father.

Those famous words had been spoken to her when she was seventeen years old. It had been on the day she and her parents visited the National World War II Museum in New Orleans. They were taking a break from their adventure, enjoying their lunch at a restaurant styled like a 1940s American diner. Chiasa had yet to forget the wonderful feeling of sinking her teeth into the warm, savory patty melt she had ordered. Her father was telling her stories of his father, John, who had served in Germany during the war. She was fond of the tales of John's heroism, but she was saddened to realize his experience had left him scared for the rest of his life. Among the scariest of his accounts were the instances in which he killed without fully assessing his situations.

She could easily remember asking her adoptive father, "Is it possible for one to stay alive and human at war?"

The sigh of her adoptive father was clear even in her memory, "Sometimes, to stay alive is to let your instincts emerge from within."

Chiasa could see Albert growing tense. He had been traumatized in Iraq just as his father had been in Germany. She recalled asking him if he was all right. Kayoko tried to stop him from answering, but her efforts were to no effect. The descendant of Tomoe did not know it at the time, but there was a truth Albert knew needed to be told.

The exact words he had said to her were as clear as the memory itself, "I was indeed a medic during the Gulf War, and I did save many lives, but I also took a life."

Seventeen-year-old Chiasa assumed he had failed to save one of his patients. There are times when even the best of doctors can do nothing to turn the course of fate. She prepared herself to discuss this condition, and she was not afraid to do so. Even with her fascination towards stories of the afterlife, she viewed death quite rationally. Therefore, she was almost surprised to see a tear on her adoptive father's face.

Of course, nothing could have prepared her for what he said next, "When I was going through a town, I shot and killed a child."

Nineteen-year-old Chiasa could feel the shock of her seventeen-year-old self. Even as she sat still in the Naiponese inn, it was as though she were drifting in a sea of doubt. She could hear her seventeen-year-old self asking her adoptive father to tell her all that had happened. Kayoko tried again at stopping him, but he assured her all was well. After all, the curiosity of his adopted daughter was a bottomless pit.

After taking a deep breath, Tomoe's nineteen-year-old self recited Albert's story, "During the final months of the war, my adoptive father was stationed in a small town in Iraq. By this point, he was ready to go home. He had not expected to be thrown into a war, and the sights he had seen were too much for him. However, he now thought like a soldier, acting on instinct instead of with great thought. In this particular town, he was walking down the street when a tank stopped next to him."

She silenced herself. Albert was not with her, but his face remained a clear sight. She could hear Kayoko saying, "If you are not comfortable discussing this, you could always stop."

Chiasa knew her adoptive father's reply, "Thank you, Kayoko, but I'd like to finish what I've started."

Knowing this, nineteen-year-old Chiasa continued reciting the story, "When the tank was no longer moving, its doors were opened widely in the blink of an eye. From within it came a small boy who could not have been older than seven years. He was smiling, making a gunslinging motion with his hand. He then laughed and shouted, 'Bang bang!' Without thinking, my adoptive father shot him in the head."

Chiasa could hear her seventeen-year-old self asking, "Why did you do that? Was the boy armed?"

Albert sighed again, "I eventually learned he was not armed, and that the soldier in the tank was just taking him for a ride. The soldier reprimanded me, calling me a heartless savage and damning me to Hell." He then sounded more remorseful, "Perhaps, the soldier was right."

"No!" seventeen-year-old Chiasa gasped. "None of what the soldier said was true. You're not a bad person. If your soul were to be judged after you die, I'm sure that incident would be overlooked."

That was when Albert said, "The point of my story is that in war, it is impossible to stay alive and human. It's true I didn't know what the boy was doing, and I didn't want to find out."

Seventeen-year-old Chiasa grew more solemn, "I'm sorry that happened, Dad. If there's anything you need me to do about it, please let me know."

Sometimes, sacrifices must be made for the greater good.

Damn it! nineteen-year-old Chiasa thought. How could that ronin have been more honest?

Suddenly, a new thought ran across her mind. She thought she had seen the ronin's face somewhere before. Those hazel eyes were not with her, but they were speaking. They were commanding her, wanting something more than what she had. She could not ignore them if she tried.

"Sayaka!" she silently gasped. "That's the woman Sayaka, whom I met last night. The woman with Chizue. They're the ones who saved me from Osamu's warriors."

Of course, that realization did nothing to change the course of Chiasa's thoughts. Now that she had named the mysterious ronin, her nature was even more mysterious.

Is Sayaka like my adoptive father? she asked in her mind. How much war has she seen? Who's to say she didn't kill a child like he did?

Perhaps Sayaka did not want to kill Asuka or the monks after all. It was true Chiasa had only seen her twice, and that she had yet to know her.

"If I ever see her again," she said to herself, "I might get to know her better. Maybe then, I'll fully understand her point of view."

The hopeful young woman tucked herself in for the night, thinking of Sayaka. Thoughts of Tomoe Gozen did cross her mind from time to time, but they were thoughts she had known for some time now. Sayaka was new, and what is new is what excites the mind. Chiasa had always been prone to curiosity, and her knowledge of Sayaka could not have made it clearer. The ronin's hazel eyes remained a prominent sight even as the descendant of Tomoe drifted to sleep.

Wake up, Chiasa. I have wonderful news.

Chiasa's eyes revealed the bright face of a smiling Haruki. She gasped, not expecting such a sight.

"Don't worry, old friend," Haruki laughed. "Just get yourself dressed, have some breakfast, and come with me. I'll explain everything as we go. And remember, wear only what I have packed for you."

He placed a bag at her side, leaving the room without looking back. Chiasa was confused as to what was happening, but she was not hesitant to follow her friend's orders. She opened his bag, discovering a ronin outfit. It was very much like the one she had worn on the previous day, but the image on the kosode was not a crest. It was an iris blossom.

And the truth is the fate of the iris blossom. It is withered, yet it blooms. And more grow.

Chiasa's mind was running like a wild rabbit. As she dressed herself, she could not help but imagine what Tomoe had meant by an iris blossom. Suddenly, she heard the clink of a small object falling upon the floor. She looked down, finding her golden hairpin. Its depiction of an iris nearly drove her wild, speaking as though it were Tomoe herself. Embarrassed, she placed it into her bag and went to the meal table. She was careful not to eat too quickly, but for her, excitement was a worthy opponent.

Beside Chiasa was Haruki, who was eating at a much faster pace. She had always thought of him as funny, and she was happy to see the environment of Naipon had not changed him. Why else would he sing and dance on a table while sober? As she looked around, she identified the large man next to him as Goro. She knew there were plenty of large men in Naipon's dimension and America's, but Goro's scar might as well have been his signature. He too was happy, but he ate slowly.

When at last the food was gone, Chiasa prepared to pay her bills. However, Goro looked at her and said, "You have no obligations, miss. I shall pay your bills as well as mine."

Chiasa was tempted to protest, but Goro's warm smile said otherwise. He managed to pay both bills without losing too much money, filling her with relief.

He must be a wealthy man, she thought. Samurai are not the lowest social class, but they are not the highest either. Maybe, he's of a higher rank.

Haruki and Goro departed from the inn after paying the bills, and Chiasa was quick to follow them. The bright blue sky seemed to greet her, assuring her wonderful things would happen. It was true she did not know what was coming, but good fortune was as possible as bad fortune. After all, she still had yet to know Sayaka and find her family. With more than one thing to hope for, Chiasa decided optimism was far from impractical.

"I see you are continuing to travel on foot, young samurai," Goro said to her. "That is why we brought you a horse."

Chiasa quickly remembered leaving her horse at the farm she escaped to after killing Osamu. She blushed, "Thank you, Goro, but I am not a samurai."

"Not yet," he nodded.

"You can count on Goro, Chiasa," Haruki chuckled. "He's one of the most trustworthy people I know. He believes in me, and now he believes in you as well."

"Thank you," Chiasa blushed again.

They approached the stables, where many horses were awaiting their masters. Haruki and Goro retrieved three, one of which was a bright shade of red.

"This beautiful red creature is yours, noble Chiasa," Goro smiled proudly. "His name is Raski, and he is a special gift from Lord Isamu himself."

"Raski?" Chiasa gasped. "Was that not the name of the white stallion ridden by Tomoe Gozen of Heida?"

"I see you are noble and smart," Goro chuckled. "This Raski was named in honor of him. Isamu prays he is as loyal to you as the Raski of Tomoe was to her."

Chiasa slowly approached her Raski, feeling another rush of excitement. She held out her hand, remembering all her adoptive parents had taught her about handling animals. Raski sniffed it, releasing what sounded like a cross between a grunt and a sneeze. Chiasa was slightly started, but she was quick to recover. She held her hand out again, awaiting Raski's reply.

You can trust me, brave one, she thought. Never in a million years would I imagine hurting you.

Raski returned his snout to her hand, sniffing it again. To Chiasa, excitement and nervousness were becoming one. The horse seemed less frightened than before, but there was a bit of unease in him. Chiasa looked at Haruki and Goro, but their smiles assured her she was not doing anything wrong. She then looked back at Raski, wearing a calm face like those her adoptive mother gave her when she was small. And then, it all came together.

Raski came closer to Chiasa. He licked her face, tickling it with his tongue. As she laughed, astonishment conquered her nervousness.

You, see? her thoughts asked him. I'm not so bad after all, am I?

It was not long before Chiasa climbed onto the creature's back, feeling more like a true samurai. She watched her companions climb onto their horses, showing their pride on their faces.

"Always know this, Chiasa," Goro said to her. "A samurai only has so many true companions. Among the truest is her horse."

"Wait!" Haruki gasped. "We can no longer call her Chiasa. Lord Isamu already calls her by another name, believing Chiasa Miller lies cold in the Shining River."

"That is true," Goro nodded. "I cannot remember what we agreed to call her, but it was the name of that woman from the American play you were talking about."

Haruki laughed, "Lady Eboshi is not a play, my friend. It is a musical. And the name of its lead is Natasha Ivanovna Filatova."

"Ah, yes," Goro agreed. He then returned his gaze to Chiasa, "We are happy to be at your service, Natasha. You may be a stranger in this land, but we know you are honorable."

As much as she was confused, Chiasa could not stop herself from saying, "I give you many thanks, Goro. And I do the same for you, Haruki."

Haruki was on the verge of laughing again, "Whatever you say, 'Natasha.'"

Much of the day was spent on horseback. This condition allowed the pace of travel to be much faster. Chiasa could sense it, feeling the air collide with her figure. She thought she could see the sky smiling, for it was much closer now that she was riding. It was almost impossible for her not to smile back.

Unlike her other days of travel in Naipon, her ride with Haruki and Goro was very much a happy occasion. The two light-hearted men discussed unimportant matters with her, such as incidents at bars or the mischief of animals. Chiasa complimented the tales with her stories from America, such as the ducks in San Antonio and the time she was mistaken for the bride at the wedding of Kayoko's cousin, Emiko. It was easy for her to make the two men laugh, just as it was for them to do so with her. It was as though she had never seen blood, death, or chaos.

There were times when the trio discussed some matters of importance. It turned out Goro was a samurai of Lord Isamu, leading armies for him whenever the need was most. Haruki was a warrior who served him and was admitted being a boundless joy to his comrades. They knew of Chiasa's identity, and they were sympathetic towards her wish to be an orphan. Haruki himself was an orphan, and Goro considered family to be an essential value.

As the day progressed, Chiasa felt as though she belonged with Haruki and Goro. They were not the only Naiponese who had shown her kindness, but they were the most active. Hisoka had taken her to Naipon only to have his master attempt to take her life. The Nakamuras had rescued and sheltered her, but they had urged her to become Kaiyo Ikeda, who had been doomed to be a murderer. Even Sayaka, the courageous hazel-eyed ronin, was suspicious in her willingness to kill innocents. There were also the women Sayaka had been with, who were questioning their own choice of sheltering Chiasa. Haruki and Goro had not questioned anything, nor did they seem to have such an action planned. They had merely given her a new false identity.

A false identity. Even as her conversation with the men grew long, Chiasa could not help but feel surprised towards being referred to as "Natasha." She was as fond of Lady Eboshi as she was of her ancestor, but she found it strange to be compared to its lead. Her thoughts did not distract her from the conversation, but they were prevalent. Even when she thought they had been forgotten, they would return to haunt her.

First, she wondered if she was anything like Natasha Ivanovna Filatova. They were orphans in search of their ancestors, and they had charmed men into giving them what they wanted. Of course, it was not difficult for Chiasa to find differences between herself and Natasha Ivanovna. Boris Dmitrievich was Natasha Ivanovna's one and only, but Chiasa had yet to be in love at all. It was also true that Chiasa's life was nowhere near as tragic as Natasha Ivanovna's. Natasha Ivanovna became hard-hearted as a spy, and she was greatly soured by not being accepted by anyone besides her lover. As for Chiasa, she remained a curious, optimistic woman who could find care in strange places.

Care in strange places? Was that not what Natahsa Ivanovna had received? She had met Boris Dmitrievich when he was in disguise, and by the time she met his true identity, he was already in love with her. The fact that she had met the real Boris Dmitrievich when they were both arrested made their beginning even stranger. Had Chiasa's companions not been stranger? Haruki had been met by chance near an ice cream shop, Hisoka had been met outside of a diner, Sayaka and her companions in an alley, and Goro in a bar. Even the Nakamuras, who were honest about their position as a priestly family, belonged to a rare sect of Buddhism. Was Chiasa in fact the real Natasha Ivanovna?

Stop it! she thought. Natasha Ivanovna's family was revealed, and yours was not.

Having seen Lady Eboshi many times, its twist was not a mystery to Chiasa. Towards the middle of the second act, Boris Dmitrievich realized Natasha Ivanovna was the long-lost daughter of Felix Ulrich. Boris Dmitrievich had witnessed Natasha Ivanovna's birth at an early age, and his only memory of Felix in that moment was him holding his baby. He thought bringing Natasha Ivanovna and Felix back together would result in a joyous reunion, but instead, Felix reprimanded his daughter for searching for a family who never needed her. She never learned of her connection to Pottsylvania's Fearless Leader, for he had no intention of being recognized as a father. And yet, she became his spy and the partner-in-crime of Boris Dmitrievich, changing her name from Natasha Ivanovna Filatova to Natasha Fatale.

Chiasa could find some relief in knowing of the twist. Her family had yet to be found, and no one had reprimanded her for her quest. And, having seen the musical, she decided she knew how to behave if she were reprimanded. She would defend herself, remaining polite while speaking her mind. She could embrace the courage, intelligence, and optimism of Natasha Ivanovna, but she would not have to become a malicious spy.

A spy? Chiasa gasped in her mind. Spies have pseudo identities, and Natasha Ivanovna purposefully changed her real name. Now, I'm being called something else. Does that mean…

"Well, here we are, my companions," Haruki proclaimed, interrupting her thoughts. "Our destination, Ayame Palace, is in clear sight." He then quoted Boris Dmitrievich, clearing his throat before imitating the spy's voice, "And now, Natasha, you are free to begin the rest of your life."

Chiasa gave a slight chuckle, but she was more anxious than amused.

Chapter 22

Never before had Ai been so cautious. She was carrying a full bowl of soup, which meant she had to be careful not to spill it. It was not the first time she had carried such a dish; it was a common meal for her and Benjiro. On this particular day, however, she felt that caution was her priority. She was wise enough not to let the soup go cold, but she could not help but walk at a slower pace than usual. She even kept the bowl close to her, placing it underneath a close watch.

Perhaps Ai's unusual caution was not so unusual. The Inaba Wars were growing more intense by the day. On her travels, she had seen ruined villages and gruesome battlefields, and the number of corpses she found seemed to rival that in Yomi. It was true the Inaba Valley was free from armed struggles, but it was not free from news of such events. The fact that an "offender" named Chiasa Miller had been "put to death" in the valley did nothing to lessen her stress. And then again, the condition of Benjiro would have troubled her if these other events had not.

For a while, Benjiro had not been behaving as his usual self. Since the coming of winter, he had spent much more time in his favorite shrine, living as though it were his home. He was not concerned with offending its owners, for there were none. Still, this condition did nothing to stop Ai from viewing the situation as strange. Whenever she asked him why he was living in the shrine, he dismissed her.

It was true Benjiro's whereabouts were not usual, but they would not have been so troubling for Ai had it not been for his attitude. He had been more dismissive, refusing to discuss matters such as avoiding the Inaba Wars and appeasing the gods. He also turned to drink, emptying at least three bottles of sake every day. His daily drinking would not begin until the late afternoon, but it was always followed by shouting and stamping. The incident at the bar in Sapphire City was merely the beginning of his descent into madness.

When at last Ai was with Benjiro again, she placed the soup at his side. He was lying in his futon, still recovering from the sake he had swallowed on the previous night.

"Good morning, Benjiro," Ai said softly. "I have brought you some warm soup. It should restore your strength."

Benjiro groaned, "Take it back. I do not want soup."

"Please," Ai sighed, "you need to eat something."

"Leave me in peace," Benjiro grunted, "for I am dead to the world."

Ai was close to begging, "At least allow me to feed you. How can one perform miracles if one is starved?"

After a moment, Benjiro sighed in defeat. He opened his mouth, allowing Ai to place a spoonful of soup into it. He swallowed it slowly, but his swallowing was enough to please his companion. She slightly smiled as he ate, wondering if he could be saved. She had many questions, but no one could answer them.

His only hope is the one like Neroyume, she thought. With this one will come the end to all suffering.

Once the soup had completely disappeared, a young woman came running into the room. Ai was quick to exchange bows with her, but Benjiro remained in his futon.

"I see you are back, Sayaka," Ai addressed the woman. "What has happened beyond this shrine."

"The samurai known as Natasha has come at last," Sayaka replied. "She arrives with our allies Haruki and Goro."

"Very good," Ai smiled. "Escort them into the main hall, where I will join you shortly."

"Of course," Sayaka nodded.

She departed from the room like a rabbit running from a wolf. Ai was thankful for that, for she did not feel ready in her heart to leave Benjiro. She placed her hand upon his forehead, feeling him breathing.

Please, my friend, she sobbed within her thoughts, make it through what is to come. I cannot do this on my own.

"Chiasa…" he inhaled. "Chiasa…"

"Save your energy!" Ai gasped. "And you are to call her Natasha!"

Benjiro looked into her eyes, "Even when one is forced to change, one must remain true to oneself."

Ai held his hand for a while, searching for the courage to leave him.

"This is a palace?" Chiasa asked.

"I could not be more honest when saying it is," Haruki smiled brightly. "In Naipon, there is no palace like Ayame Palace."

"I understand," Chiasa nodded, "but the area looks more like a Shinto shrine than a palace."

"That is because it was a shrine," Goro explained. "When it was first built, it was referred to as the Full Moon Shrine. That is because it was believed to be essential to the worship of Tsukiyomi. Of course, it has been abandoned since Hanzo's Rebellion."

"Hanzo's Rebellion?" Chiasa gulped. "What was that?"

Haruki gasped, "You have said too much, Goro! Natasha will learn more about the rebellion as she becomes acquainted with our country."

"Forgive me, my companion," Goro sighed. He then looked at Chiasa and said, "Regardless, the abandonment of the shrine has been of wonderful use to us. We now use it as our hideout, referring to it as a palace to confuse our enemies."

"But of course," Chiasa replied. "All is fair in love and war."

Goro was smiling at her, "Is that some sort of proverb I have never heard?"

"It is a proverb from my dimension," Chiasa chuckled. "It is recited in many forms of American entertainment. Of course, I do not know who wrote it."

"All is well, my companion," Goro nodded. "Our concerns are what will happen in our lovely palace."

Chiasa had more questions, but she knew better than to ask them. She followed her companions on horseback, thinking of nothing but what their adventure would have in store for her. What were to be the feats of Natasha Gozen? Who else would she meet? Would she be successful in her quest, or would she be another tragic hero? She knew only time could tell, but a curious mind is not something that is easily calmed.

Among the questions she had hoped to ask was why the "palace" was known as "Ayame Palace." The ayame was a species of iris, reminding her of what Tomoe had said about the iris blossom.

Ayame! Chiasa gasped in her mind. That might be important for my quest.

She believed that thought was one worth keeping. She had seen the iris on her kosode and hairpin, and the word of the iris blossom had been enough to calm the tengu she had fought. Somehow, there was more to the iris than its aesthetics. Chiasa did not know what it was, but she was prepared to learn. Even after seeing so much in Naipon, she knew there was plenty more to see.

Once she and her companions had finally dismounted from and tied their horses, they truly were on their way. A sense of wonder flooded Chiasa as she passed through the majestic shrine gate. After living with her Shinto adoptive mother for eighteen years, she was used to the appearance and rituals of a typical shrine. And yet, the presence of Ayame Palace was almost enough to make her believe she was dreaming. Shinto shrines were a rarity in Illinois, and there were none in Richardson. Chiasa imagined her ancestor Tomoe, who had been to many shrines throughout her life. Tomoe's descendant could not help but think, Will someone I meet be my Shan On? What about my Bundori-sama?

The three warriors approached a large set of stone stairs. Standing at its top was a woman whose clothes made it clear she was a ronin. Chiasa only needed to see her once to name her.

"I do not mean to sound nosy," she said to her companions, "but that woman looks quite familiar to me? Is her name by chance Sayaka?"

"You have seen her," Haruki nodded. "She has told us much about you."

For Chiasa, relief and anxiousness came from his words. She was happy to know she had guessed correctly, but she could only imagine what Sayaka had said about her. Did she see Chiasa as a coward? Was the descendant of Tomoe weak in Sayaka's eyes? To Chiasa, it must have been so. She had been frightened by the decapitation of Asuka, and she had refused to do the same to the monks who had witnessed it. The stern expression on the ronin's face did nothing to calm her.

Sayaka naturally greeted the three with a bow, "Welcome to Ayame Palace, brave warriors. I hope your journey was safe."

"It could not have been safer, noble Sayaka," Goro said as he and his companions returned the bow. "Our new companion has mastered the art of horseback riding, and she and the horse are now close."

Sayaka then looked at Chiasa, who was becoming tense. A pang of anxiousness attacked her as she was greeted, "Welcome, young one. You are the one they call 'Natasha,' are you not?"

"I am," Chiasa replied. "And, have I not seen you somewhere else?"

"You have been blessed with a bright mind," Sayaka said. "I would like to thank you for helping me face the tengu."

"Thank me?" Chiasa gasped. "I should be thanking you. If not for your warning, they would have slain me."

Sayaka then motioned her and her companions to move forward, "Come with me, samurai. There are matters of importance we must discuss."

The samurai did as they had been ordered, knowing what was expected of individuals of their position. As they walked, Chiasa could not help but gaze at all that stood at what was once the Full Moon Shrine. To her, it might as well have been a palace. The trees were like those found in Japanese luxury gardens, the architecture of the shrine gave a sense of regality, and the fine pavement seemed to welcome her. The fallen snow enhanced the spectacle, outlining it as a place of innocence and newness. The inside of the main building was just as magnificent with its red columns, golden ceiling outline, and well-kept altar. Standing near the altar was a woman in a white kimono, reminding Chiasa of another name.

Ai? she thought. What is she doing here? Was she not in America?

That was when she recalled what Ai had said to her the previous summer, I've been to Naipon myself.

Of course, Chiasa remembered. I came here from America, as has Haruki. Perhaps I should not be so surprised by such appearances.

"Welcome to Ayame Palace, brave warriors," Ai said, kneeling down.

The four warriors kneeled before the woman, showing all the respect of their hearts and minds. Chiasa was somewhat embarrassed, having recognized yet another familiar face. Nevertheless, she proceeded as though she had never before seen the woman. She kept quiet, knowing she was a stranger in the shrine-turned-palace.

"These two bring before you the warrior known as Natasha," Sayaka said to Ai. "You know her as a patron of Isamu Inaba, lord of Mina Province."

A patron? Chiasa could not recall accepting Lord Isamu as her master. She had decided to aid him to find her answers, but such an agreement had never been official. Did the people she was with know details she did not? Only by listening could she know.

"The one called Natasha is new to this land," Ai nodded. "She may resemble our people, but she bears the name of a foreigner."

"As did Shan On," Sayaka replied, "but was she not of aid to Tomoe Gozen?"

"I suppose," Ai answered. "Still, Natahsa has only been in this nation for so long, and we have already killed her first false identity to save her."

"The world will forget to view Kaiyo Ikeda as a criminal," Sayaka said. "It is true the immediate safety of Natasha is of use to us, but in time, it will become clear that Osamu was the fool. As a vassal to the Shogun, he should not have been wandering in the land of the Shogun's enemy."

Haruki then spoke, "There is something I do not understand, Sayaka. If Inaba Valley is a place that must be free from conflict, why would an ally of the Shogun on its soils be a bad sign?"

Sayaka's answer was drenched in a neutral tone, "Such a condition should be of our smallest concerns, Haruki. What we must discuss at this moment is what is to become of Natasha."

Chiasa was tempted to speak, but something was telling her otherwise. Knowing the value of respect in Japanese culture and Naiponese culture, she chose not to speak until her voice was requested. And yet, she could not help but imagine how she would have responded to the words being exchanged between her companions. She was still a curious woman, and no power in Naipon's dimension nor Japan's could change that condition. That was when Ai spoke to her, "They say you have only one wish, Natasha. What is that?"

Chiasa was growing excited, but she was careful to speak in a humble tone, "With all due respect, noble Ai, my only wish is to learn of what has happened to the family of Tomoe Gozen."

She did not speak of her connection to Tomoe, for she knew it would expose her true identity. Chiasa Miller was a dead woman, and Natasha was to confirm it as such.

"Tomoe Gozen is indeed a figure of truth and legend," Ai replied. "No one knows what happened to her after her sad duel on the Beach of Tears. Did she die? Has she flown away?"

Chiasa spoke of what she knew while keeping the truth concealed, "All I know is that she is now a spirit. I saw her as she saw the swordsmith Okio and the lovers she had failed."

Ai's eyes were widening, making Chiasa hope they would grow still. She turned at Haruki and Goro, noticing they were frozen like the shrine's stone guardians. Even Sayaka seemed bewildered, for her hand was close to the handle of her katana.

"How do you remain unstirred by the sight of a ghost?" Haruki gasped. "Were you not threatened?

Chiasa sighed, "I saw all that there was to be seen. The spirit of Tomoe lives on, and I am to find it where the truth lies."

She could see Ai chattering to herself. While Chiasa could not hear her, she knew silent chattering was never a good sign. Too many times had she seen it practiced by American school teachers who did not understand autism. As her thoughts returned to her memories, she heard someone shouting, "Begone, Great Master! Begone!"

Chiasa knew the voice belonged to Benjiro Yamazaki. After knowing him for fifteen years, it was not difficult for her to identify his voice. She grew desperate to help her friend, feeling a tenseness she had not felt since her expulsion from college. She even went as far to ask Ai, "Do you know of a man who sometimes refers to himself as 'Benjiro Yamazaki'?"

Ai nodded, "He is resting in this palace as we speak, and he is in need of my aid."

"I will accompany you," Chiasa added, "for I am his friend."

Ai seemed prepared to protest, but whatever consideration she had for such an idea was pushed aside. She motioned to Chiasa, "Follow me like King Emma is at your heels."

The two women ran, Chiasa following Ai. As they ran like fearless wolves, Chiasa took more glances at the shrine-turned-palace. She found the halls to be quite lovely, displaying a strange combination of majesty and humbleness. They were walls of paper and wood, but they were adorned with sacred rope. There were also taiko, which she could recognize as one familiar with the ways of the Japanese. The descendant of Tomoe would have been completely distracted by Ayame Palace's interior if not for the sound of running feet behind her. She could only imagine why she was being followed, but she was reminded of her main concern.

When at last Ai stopped in her tracks, she opened a door to a small room. In it was a pale-skinned Benjiro yelling and struggling in a futon.

"Begone, Great Master!" he yelled. "Begone!"

"Great Master?" Chiasa gasped. "Who is that?"

"You will know," Ai snapped. "At this moment, we must rescue this sick man."

Chiasa pitied the struggling man who was her friend, but she did not know how to be of aid to him. She had never dealt with the sick, nor was she familiar with exorcisms. And yet, she could feel her omamori burning on her chest again.

Chi … a … sa … chi … a … sa …

She could not see a hand touching her chest, but she felt as though there were one. Without thinking, she removed the omamori from her neck and placed it around that of Benjiro. As she grew tense, a green glow formed on his chest. She could hear the laughter of an elderly man, which reflected another memory within her mind.

Huan, she thought.

A figure emerged from Benjiro's chest, but it was not the sorcerer Huan. It was a large man with a long beard, breathing heavily as though he were a dragon. Chiasa was greatly frightened, but this was hidden from her voice, "I have read much about you, Goro Maki. Why now do you come to the family of your killer?"

The figure laughed, "'Goro Maki' is long dead, little girl. I am Makine Hei, and it is I who should have killed the unfaithful Tomoe."

"Why then do you possess a man with no connection to her?" Chiasa inquired.

"Because" Makine Hei growled, "he is not worthy of the rank of priest. He has betrayed his kind just as your ancestor betrayed ours. Only by taking your head can I correct what is wrong."

He unsheathed his sword, which was ghostly like his flesh. The sight of it was a warning for Chiasa. A warning that her mortal steel would be helpless against the steel of a spirit. That was when she heard Haruki's voice, "Catch this, Natasha!"

She turned around in time to catch what appeared to be a long pole. By grabbing it, she could identify it as a naginata. When she unsheathed it, however, it was clear the naginata was far from ordinary. A single thought crossed her mind, Welcome back, Princess Lightning.

Makine Hei ran towards her, unsheathing his blade. He would have killed her with a single blow if Princess Lightning had not interfered. After deflecting her opponent's weapon, the descendant of Tomoe positioned herself in the manner of a samurai.

"If you go now in peace," she said, "you shall be spared. Otherwise, you will have to taste the sacred relic of Kiji-san."

Makine Hei remained silent and insistent on slaughtering the young woman. He attacked only to have his blade deflected for a second time. As he lost ground, Chiasa attacked, slicing his katana with her new weapon. She was surprised, knowing naginatas are more lightweight than katanas. Nevertheless, she positioned Inazuma-hime in a position that was sure to make way for a deadly blow. Makine Hei did seem somewhat shocked, but he restored his katana with a wave of his hand.

"Why do you violate the Holy Kirin?" he snarled.

"When one fights," Chiasa answered sternly, "thoughts follow blows."

Chia … a … sa … chi … a … sa …

She felt as though someone was turning her back. The young woman was tempted to look, but her instincts told her otherwise. That was when she thought she could see a figure pointing at Makine Hei. The figure could not be seen, but its motion was different. Chiasa's eyes widened at the sight of her opponent's neck. He ran towards her for a third time, and…

FLASH! Chiasa could see a head with a green glow rolling at her feet. It remained even as the rest of Makine Hei's body disappeared into thin air. She then found herself placing her head at unseen feet she knew were there.

Well done, granddaughter. Once more, you are worthy.

Thank you, honorable grandmother, Chiasa thought. I am honored.

When she knew the figure was gone, she placed her omamori back around her neck. She then touched the forehead of Benjiro, who released a single cough.

"Chiasa," he groaned, "why are you here?"

"You must call me Natasha," she said softly, "and I belong nowhere else."

"That is not true, Natasha," Ai said hurriedly. "If you belong anywhere, it is the Passage. Saddle your steed, for time is not on your side."

"Saddle my steed?" Chiasa gasped. "What is happening?"

"Patience, Chiasa," Ai replied. "All you must now know is that Sayaka will take you to the Passage."

"Come with me, Natasha," Sayaka motioned. "Take your omamori, your katana, and the treasure of the Holy Kirin."

Chapter 23

Were long travels not part of every samurai's journey? Events in one's life cannot be awaited, for life never flows backward. Sometimes, what is wished for is not near the one who wishes. Only by journeying can one make what is far into what is near. The journey of each traveler differs, but they are the same in one characteristic: they are made for a purpose.

The journey of the samurai is particularly arduous, for the samurai is tasked with more than the peasant or the mystic. For the peasant, the main journey taken is that across the field, which is a valuable bearer of life. The mystic's journey is more complex, but it merely flows across terrains unique to the mind. As for the samurai, they must cross land and mind. Every passing day, they wander, serving every will of those whom they call "master." Their minds are also fields, sprouting questions that can never be answered. Only by journeying through Naipon could Chiasa understand.

For the descendant of Tomoe, it was a temptation to remain silent as she rode with Sayaka. She was still doing what she could to embrace the virtues of patience. Even in the midst of excitement and fear, she reminded herself that silence would do her right. Had Tomoe not suffered from impatience on her journeys? Chiasa did not want to have her skull smashed by a madwoman, nor did she wish to help a dark priest get his revenge. Whatever would come her way, she knew she would tame her reckless tongue.

Her reckless tongue? When was it reckless? Never had she imagined speaking in imprudent speech. She had never been prone to such speech, for she was wise as well as intelligent. She was also respectful, knowing of the needs and wants of those to whom she spoke. Knowing all this, she was not hesitant to ask Sayaka, "What is happening at this moment?"

"You will get your wish," Sayaka bluntly answered. "Only by granting it can I make you more cooperative."

"Cooperative?" Chiasa was puzzled. "How have I not been cooperative?"

"Listen to what you have said," Sayaka snapped. "Everywhere you go, you claim you are searching for truth. What more truth do you need? Do you not understand what is becoming of Naipon?"

Chiasa grew somewhat anxious, "I do understand the political condition of this country, but it is not the main reason why I have come. All I want to know is whether I belong to a family."

"A family," Sayaka repeated.

The ronin was now laughing, doing nothing to calm Chiasa. The warrior who had been called Natasha could not imagine what had amused her. She herself had not been amused, nor had she expected to be. Once more, patience would have to be her ally.

After calling herself, Sayaka spoke in a more serious tone, "You are young, Natasha. You always think of what is ahead instead of what is in the moment."

Chiasa wanted to protest, but she composed her thoughts before speaking, "I am sorry if I have offended you, Sayaka, but it is too late for me to change my wish. It has been alive for four months now."

"And that is why you must learn," Sayaka sighed. "Unfortunately, your wish has attracted the attention of wicked beings. The Great Master, it seems, has known you for too long."

"I keep hearing the name 'Great Master,'" Chiasa replied. "Who is this figure, and what does he or she want?"

Sayaka's tone was stern, "The Great Master is the ultimate evil. It is more powerful than any foe Tomoe Gozen has ever faced. You will know when you see it."

"The Great Master is an 'it'?" Chiasa asked.

Sayaka nodded, "The origins of this force remain a mystery, but its presence could not be clearer. It is a force that can pass through the Human Realm and Hell without the interference of death or rebirth. It enslaves the souls of the departed, using them for its own bidding. If you are lost in our struggle, Natasha, your soul may fall prey to it."

The souls of the departed, Chiasa thought. That explains why I had to fight Goro Maki. But then again, I'm only so familiar with this "Great Master."

The descendant of Tomoe then asked her companion, "Can the Great Master summon the living as well as the dead?"

Sayaka seemed to gaze into the distance as she answered, "I only know of some of its powers. How it summoned the tengu remains a mystery."

Suddenly, Chiasa remembered the words of the dying old man from the village of corpses, What crosses the winds and drowns life in fire is not human! It is neither male nor female!

Could he have been talking about the Great Master? she thought.

She imagined the entire incident. After the old man's death came the sound of thunder in a snowstorm. It came with a voice from the sky, which had called her a brave fool who knew little. Chiasa opened her mouth, knowing everything there was to say to Sayaka. However, it seemed as though fate had other ideas. Sayaka turned her horse to the side and made it run, urging Chiasa to do the same. As Chiasa followed the order, an arrow flew past her.

"We meet again, Chiasa Miller," a voice sneered. "It's been much too long."

Chiasa and Sayaka halted their horses. Searching for the owner of the voice, they found a young woman in the kosode and hakama typical of samurai. A katana hung at her left side, and a wakizashi was at her right. A hateful scowl stained her face, almost making a snarling effect. Chiasa did not know what to make of the woman, but Sayaka growled a single name, "Katsu."

"Why, Sayaka," Katsu laughed, "what a pleasant surprise. I am surprised you have not been filled with arrows by now."

"What is it you want, Katsu?" Sayaka snapped.

Katsu laughed again, "Is it not obvious? The woman with which you ride does not belong to this land. Why else would my master want her?"

"Lord Isamu has accepted this woman as his vassal," Sayaka said. "There is no longer a bounty on her head."

"A bounty?" Katsu grinned. "I have heard of Kaiyo Ikeda being a wanted criminal, but that is the least of my concerns. What I really want is the omamori of Akinori."

Chiasa was tense. She would feel some heat on her chest, but she did not touch it. She could only imagine what Katsu had in store for her.

"The omamori is what should be the least of your concerns, little blossom," Sayaka said bluntly. "If it is revenge you want, leave me at once. You may return to me in a more respectful manner."

Katsu was smirking, "It is revenge you want? If that is so, come down from your horse and fight me. Your companion can watch us."

Sayaka's tone was humble when compared to Katsu's, "I shall prepare myself for our long-awaited battle. Preparations shall be swift, but I must go a distance for them."

She looked at Chiasa, wearing urgency on her face. Of course, Chiasa could not read her mind. Without words to which she could listen, Sayaka's desires remained a mystery.

Ride.

The voice was not Sayaka's, nor had Chiasa summoned it. And yet, it was clear in her ears.

Ride.

She summoned Raski, making him run into the distance. The descendant of Tomoe could not imagine what was leading her, but it was there.

Where am I going? she asked herself. Sayak said something about a passage. If only I knew what that meant.

She could hear objects flying through the air. When she looked behind herself, she realized many arrows had been fired. Thinking only with her instincts, she leapt off Raski and crouched towards the ground. Two arrows struck his thighs, but the others missed. It was not long before he was a red spark in the distance.

"Stop!" a voice shouted.

Chiasa found Haruki standing at her side. She did not know how he had come so far without being noticed, but she knew better than to ask him. Instead, her question was, "What is happening?"

"We do not have much time," he answered quickly. "We must get you into the Passage."

"The Passage?" Chiasa asked as she got up. "What is that?"

Haruki remained silent, but Chiasa could understand why. Her life had been threatened, and he had informed her they needed to hurry. Therefore, she did not question him as he led her at a running pace. The snow on the ground did not slow them, for it was not thick. She felt as though she were a true samurai, imaging herself running into battle.

Only after some time did Haruki speak again, "The Passage is a place where time stands still. One could easily spend an enjoyable year within it, for it is also a place of truth and wonder. By stepping into the Passage, you find access to the answers you have been searching for."

"The answers?" Chiasa asked.

She could hear Sayaka in her thoughts, You are young, Natasha. You always think of what is ahead instead of what is in the moment.

Of course! Chiasa gasped within her mind. She's trying to help me find my family.

Chiasa was somewhat comforted by her realization, but her comfort was accompanied by a slight pain. She recalled feeling more confused than relieved by Sayaka's words, which had not been given in a soothing manner. Throughout her childhood, she had made similar mistakes whenever her teachers and adoptive mother spoke to her in instructive tones. She had grown to loathe the "teacher voice," even as she learned to cope with it. She could hear herself groaning as she realized the teacher voice was as prevalent in Naipon as it was in America.

Her opinion of the teacher voice was one of many thoughts that crossed her mind as she ran. Many of her thoughts concerned Tomoe Gozen, whom she would learn more about in the Passage. Because Chiasa had never before been within the Passage, she could only imagine what it possessed. At some points, she saw herself speaking with the real Tomoe as she had that in the previous August. For her, to see her hero and ancestor was greater than all the blessings in her dimension and Tomoe's.

An endless array of possibilities indeed awaited her. If she saw Tomoe, who could say she would not meet her other ancestors? None could tell her how many children had been sired by the son of the Disfavored Hero. In fact, none could tell her how she was connected to Tomoe. Chiasa assumed she could not have come from Tomoe's brother, Imai, for he had committed seppuku as a childless bachelor. He was also Tomoe's only sibling, having killed their mother with his birth. Perhaps Chiasa would find the ancestors of Tomoe, including her father, Nakahara Kento. Of course, Chiasa was not looking forward to seeing him, knowing he had forced his daughter to marry.

Suddenly, Chiasa heard the flight of another arrow. She screamed at Haruki, warning him of what was to come. The descendant of Tomoe had the good fortune of running to her side, but her companion met another fate. Her heart was pained by the sight of an arrow striking his arm, making him lose his balance.

"Just keep running until you find the gift," he said without fear. I will oversee Katsu."

How did he know of Katsu? He may have been watching Chiasa long enough to discover the woman. Whatever the reason, she knew she would know it at the right time. Perhaps it would be revealed in the Passage. Of course, to Chiasa, that question was unimportant compared to the reveal of her family. Patience would have to serve her well after all. She did as she had been told, doing what she could to be the perfect samurai.

At one point, the descendant of Tomoe wondered if she were indeed behaving as a samurai would. Samurai were known not to run from danger, and there she was running. Then again, however, her priority was the Passage, not Katsu. If she were to find the answers she needed, she would need to stay alive. Such a task can be as difficult as winning a battle, and it requires all of one's will.

To ensure doubt would not claim her, Chiasa repeated her own mantra to herself, "You came here for a reason, Natasha Gozen. Now, you must embrace it."

Yes, she was now calling herself "Natasha Gozen." At that moment, she was not concerned as to whether she would become a reflection of the Pottsylvanian spy. What if she did? It no longer made a difference. As long as she found her family, all would be well with her, and she would find a way. She always had.

Granddaughter, where are you going?

Natasha Gozen stopped in her tracks, sensing something at her feet. She looked down, finding a woodblock print of Tomoe Gozen riding into battle. Inazuma-home was unsheathed, reflecting all its glory. The warrior's descendant was overcome with feelings.

How long has it been since I last saw this? she thought.

Memories were flowing through her mind like an untamed ocean. She could see the gruesome fates of her three friends from college. The deaths of her adoptive parents could not have been closer. And now, there were thoughts of the Great Master. Was it, perhaps, responsible for all that had happened? Chiasa had been making her own choices, but was she unconsciously doing the bidding of a higher, darker power?

She then recalled Haruki's instruction, Just keep running until you find the gift.

The gift! Chiasa picked up the woodblock print, feeling the note it came with. She then looked ahead, prepared to face what was to come. Even with all her samurai courage, however, she had not expected what she saw. Her eyes widened at the sight of a small, white cube standing on flat ground. Approaching the ominous object in awe, she felt as though she were in a science fiction film.

"If I do this," she said to herself, "I may forever be changed."

Her words were not untrue. Many of the stories she knew concerned heroes who were destroyed by the truth, however valuable it was. The reveal of having stayed young for three hundred years was enough to make Urashima Taro age himself. The reveal of the grateful crane cost the humble woodcutter his beloved wife. Even Natasha Ivanovna, who never realized Felix Ulrich was her father, was destroyed by his secrecy. And yet, a part of Chiasa was telling her to take a risk. That part was the reason she stepped through the front wall of the cube without looking back.

Chapter 24

Granddaughter, where are you going?

How could Chiasa have answered such a question? Even in a place where all answers were said to lie, there was nothing. She could feel solid ground beneath her feet, but she could not see it. Not a single object appeared as she walked, nor could she find a single face. She was simply lost.

Not knowing of other options, the descendant of Tomoe chose to walk some more. She did not know where she was going or what she would find. These were clear thoughts within her mind, but they no longer concerned her. Samurai were expected to embrace the unknown at all costs. Exploring the passage would make her a true samurai if running from Katsu's arrows did not.

The brave, determined samurai pressed on, wanting nothing more than the truth. She imagined Tomoe Gozen and Natasha Ivanovna Filatova, who had been in similar positions. Sometimes, Chiasa would ask herself what either of them would do in her place. She imagined them walking by her side, speaking with one another. Tomoe would speak of her turbulent turns and failures, and Natasha Ivanovna would reflect on how she had suffered at the hands of so many. Both women were pitiful, but to Chiasa, they were to be admired. And with that, her thoughts would show them speaking to her.

My flesh and blood remain honorable, Tomoe would say. You have come so far, and still you journey.

Chiasa imagined her reply being, I thank you, honorable grandmother. Even when all hope seems lost, I shall uphold your legacy.

Tomoe had spoken as a figure with more authority, but Natasha Ivanovna treated Chiasa as an equal, I know you have suffered so much, but that should not stop you. You must focus on what is to come.

I understand, Natasha Ivanovna, Chiasa replied, happy to see the woman's younger, more determined self. It should no longer be difficult, for I am where I need to be.

Suddenly, Chiasa felt Natasha Ivanovna grabbing her hand. Chiasa searched for her ancestor, but she was nowhere to be found. Before she could speak, Natasha Ivanovna turned her back around. What had been a part of Chiasa's imagination was now grounded in reality. Chiasa prepared herself to gasp, but Natasha Ivanovna gently shushed her and stroked her face. Chiasa tried to calm herself, even though she knew her autism made her sensitive to touch.

"Do not be afraid," Natasha Ivanovna said calmly. "What you are experiencing is typical of one on a long journey."

"How would you know?" Chiasa shivered. "You have barely begun yours."

The intention of Tomoe's descendant had not been to act out of rudeness. She was speaking with the nineteen-year-old Natasha Ivanovna, who had yet to know the cruelty of America, or the loneliness found in Pottsylvania. Chiasa was sure she had guessed correctly, but the expression worn by Natasha Ivanovna was saying otherwise. Lady Eboshi's descendant was on the verge of tears, clutching both of Chiasa's shoulders. She hugged the Naiponese woman tightly, seeming reluctant to let go.

"Please," Natasha Ivanovna sniffled, "be careful out there. What you see may not be as it seems."

A thousand thoughts were running through Chiasa's mind, making her say what she thought she would never say, "I know the answers you have been searching for, Natasha Ivanovna! I know your father! I have seen him! He…"

"You must remember who you are," Natasha Ivanovna interrupted her.

Before Chiasa could speak again, she felt herself falling. Natasha Ivanovna was looking at her from above with extended arms.

She pushed me! Chiasa thought. Why would she do that? Have I not been kind to her?

That was not the only reason the descendant of Tomoe was confused. Natasha Ivanovna's face was drenched in disparity, and a few tears had escaped from her eyes. She reminded Chiasa of the desperate wives and mothers in the samurai stories she knew. Such characters were known to send their loved ones away to save their lives and allow them to fulfill their destinies. Chiasa knew she was in danger, but the danger she knew was nowhere to be found. Was there something Natahsa Ivanovna sensed that she could not?

SPLASH! China was sinking into water. Only then could she see again, but she did not want to celebrate the turn of events. Her vision was blurry, for her eyes were submerged. She swam quickly, knowing she was losing air. It did not take long for her to reach the surface, but not all was right with her.

Even when she could see again, the Passage was dark. Of course, that was because the sky above her was drenched in the night. The moon was full, and the stars were shining like gems. They provided Chiasa with some light, helping her to find the shoreline. She swam towards it, remembering much of what she had learned from swimming lessons. When at last her hands were on solid ground, she felt relieved.

Chiasa had planned to depart from the water at the soonest moment, but fate had other plans for her. In front of her stood a lovely Buddhist temple, which seemed to glow in the moonlight. The young woman was mesmerized, almost becoming reluctant to walk. Only her desire for the truth stopped her from staying forever. To her surprise, she found herself completely dry after standing on the land. And then, everything changed.

When the descendant of Tomoe opened her eyes, she found herself in a calming position. She was kneeling at an altar within the temple, accompanied by two women in simple kimonos. Realizing her arms felt strange, she took the time to gaze at her sleeves. Her eyes widened when she realized her sleeves were not those of a samurai, but of something else. They were not the white, agile sleeves of a ronin's kimono, but the orange, flowing sleeves of a princess. The sleeves were patterned with white blossoms gracefully falling through the wind. Chiasa tried to speak, but her mouth remained in its place.

"My lady," one of the other women said, "we have been here since nightfall. Should we not be preparing for our departure?"

Chiasa finally spoke, but her voice was not hers, "What I have come for has yet to find me. Only then will this visit be meaningful."

What was that? Chiasa thought. I never meant to say that.

Suddenly, the other woman accompanying her was begging, "Please, my lady, have some sense. You are the godchild of Amaterasu. That is what you are now, and it is what you ever shall be. Nothing in this world or another can change that."

Once more, Chiasa replied with the thoughts and voice of another, "You have spoken of what I am, but not who I am."

Only then did she realize what was happening. The moment in which she had been positioned was not a part of her life. She had been placed in the role of another person, whose thoughts and dreams were her own. Chiasa was merely a spectator of the scene, but she was also, in her own way, an actress. All she could do was play along and wonder if the princess' life was significant to hers.

The princess bowed at the altar again, reciting a prayer in her mind. Having become a part of the princess' mind, it was not difficult for Chiasa to listen to her thoughts, May I find the ones from whom I came and be able to honor them until I am no more.

Chiasa grew still, overcome with many feelings. She had been touched by the princess' prayer, for it was honest and heartfelt. It was a request for nothing more than the truth, which is a greater reward than the most valuable of precious stones. And yet, there was something Chiasa could not fully grasp: the princess' wish was hers. Had she not spoken of wanting to know who she was? There was now so much Chiasa wanted to know about this princess, but she could only listen for more.

CRASH! The three women grew still with all thoughts fleeting their minds. Chiasa looked around from within the princess' head, believing something was not right. Of course, Chiasa did not have much time to look, for the princess was quick to run to the nearest window.

"Princess!" one of the other women gasped.

The princess ignored her cry. Chiasa could almost feel her topknot shaking as the outside became a clear sight. The night was as it was when she departed from the water, but something was indeed wrong. Upon the shore was a large ship that had recently crashed. Its punctured walls and torn sails startled Chiasa, making her imagine a dying beast.

As the descendant of Tomoe wondered why the ship was as it was, she felt the princess rise to her feet. The young woman was now running across wide floors and through rice paper doors. Chiasa was somewhat troubled by the turn of events, feeling as though she were running. However, she knew she would have run if she were free. Who would not have run? The other two women had seemed hesitant, but that was because they wanted to protect their mistress.

When at last the princess was outside, Chiasa did what she could to assess the situation. She looked at the dying ship, which was shown only by the moon and stars. From it ran men who could not be seen well. They were shouting, "Awaken! Where are the inhabitants? The castaways are in need of shelter!"

The princess ran towards the men, just as Chiasa would have done. She shouted back at them, "Your troubles are about to end! I have found you!"

When at last the men were close, Chiasa realized there were eight of them. They were samurai, all bowing before the woman who had approached them. Perhaps, Chiasa realized, the princess' appearance was enough to show the samurai who she was.

"Welcome, humble samurai," she said to them. "I am Princess Ayame Takahashi, daughter of Emperor Akiyoshi Takahashi of Naipon. I give all of you my welcome to the Temple of the Heavenly River."

The eldest of the eight samurai spoke to her in a humble tone, "My name is Akio Watanabe of Heida, and I stand with my nephew and my men."

A younger man approached Princess Ayame, bowing to her with all his honor, "Good evening, my lady. I am Yoshimitsu Watanabe of Heida, nephew of Akio Watanabe."

Heida! Chiasa gasped within her own mind. That is the homeland of Tomoe Gozen. Perhaps it is the Watanabes to whom I am connected.

"All of you are welcome in my presence," Ayame smiled. She then turned to Akio, "I feel it in my heart I must send aid to you and your companions, but I must know of your business on this shore."

Akio did not seem perturbed, "Please, forgive us for our intrusion, my princess. We are Naiponese who were on our way from the Celestial Kingdoms of Ho, and we mean no harm to you, your family, or our people. Our ship was on a smooth course, and the moon and stars were lighting our path." He then gazed at the ocean, "What brought us here was a great disturbance."

"A disturbance?" Ayame asked. "What is this disturbance of which you speak?"

Akio sighed, "Not even our navigator could identify it. Yoshimitsu warned me of a great master, but I could not comprehend his warning. That was when a wave with a green glow swallowed our ship. I thought we would drown, but for some reason, we were breathing perfectly."

For Chiasa, everything was coming together. The old man in the village of corpses had spoken of being drowned spiritually, and the glow of the spirit of Goro Maki had been green. And now, Chiasa was quite aware of the "wicked" Great Master. If she could have spoken, she would have discussed the events with Akio as she would discuss readings with her university professors. She felt like quite the scholar within the mind of Princess Ayame.

"You were breathing perfectly?" Ayame gasped. "Perhaps you were abducted by the Dragon Queen. Some speak of a fisher who visited her without drowning."

"We never found what has become of the madwoman Keiko," Akio shivered, "and we pray that shall never be our fate. Within the wave, we saw only ourselves and our ship. Of course, we thought we could hear an old man laughing and calling us cowards. And then, we saw the figure of a maiden holding a golden sword…"

"It was a naginata, uncle," Yoshimitsu interrupted him. "The blade was short compared to the handle."

Akio spoke sternly to his nephew, "You dare defy your elder? Is that not a sign of disrespect for our culture?"

"Honorable Akio," Ayame said calmly, "allow your nephew to aid you in telling your story."

Akio's face was red like an apple, and Yoshimitsu was smiling brightly. Chiasa laughed at the sight, not allowing the muteness of her laugh to stop her.

"You may continue, Akio," Ayame nodded.

After releasing a sigh to calm himself, Akio obeyed the Mikado's daughter, "The maiden was dressed in a kimono that was green like jade. It complimented the golden blade of her naginata, making her seem as though she were a figurine. She swung her weapon as if to strike something, but we could not see what it was. And then, our ship fell upon rocks. Most of it was washed onto this shore, but I feel it will never be sailed again."

In a practical tone, Ayame asked Akio, "What was your intended destination?"

"We seek to reach Kyoto, my lady," the eldest of the samurai answered. "There, we are to make contact with your father, who has special orders for us."

Chiasa could feel the princess growing tense, but Yoshimitsu interrupted the thoughts of both women, "I can assure you, my lady, our business is nothing to be feared. We are merely…"

"Nephew!" Akio snapped. "Are you not able to honor…"

"Let your nephew speak," Ayame said sternly. "If he is indeed a samurai, he must know how to communicate with those of greater authority."

"But, my lady," Akio replied, "This man is speaking without the permission of his elder. He has yet to become the patriarch of our family."

"And you, samurai, have yet to understand your place," Ayame snapped again. "I may be a woman, but you lack the blood of the sun."

Akio prepared to protest, but he stopped his tongue before it could resist him. He then stepped aside, allowing his nephew to stand before the princess.

"Now, then," Ayame nodded at him, "what more do you have to say to me?"

"With all due respect, my lady," Yoshimitsu said, "All we need is shelter for the night. I promise you that we will not overstay our welcome."

Ayame was smiling sweetly, "Have no fear, noble Yoshimitsu. My entourage and I shall care for you until you are where you need to be."

The young samurai thanked her, returning her smile. In fact, Ayame allowed him to converse with her as the samurai and sailors departed from the shore. As the two spoke, Chiasa learned of who they were as individuals. It seemed as though Ayame was not really of royal blood, but the Mikado had adopted her when she was an infant. Nevertheless, the Mikado had declared Ayame was to be regarded and treated as though she were his flesh and blood.

Yoshimitsu's story was more complex, and to Chiasa, it was quite tragic. His best friend had been his brother, Haruto, whose birth had come five years before his. The two had fought the forces or Akimitsu Tifune together during the Naiponese Civil War, hoping to honor the Watanabe Clan together. After surviving many battles, the brothers believed they would be successful. Not until the deaths of his brother and their daimyo Yoshimitsu lose faith in their dream. Knowing he was now destined to be his family's patriarch, Yoshimitsu hoped he could find comfort in his new position. Alas, he returned to his family only to discover his home had been robbed and burned. His mother and his younger sister, Chinami, were all right, but his father had lost his life.

The Watanabes were devastated by their impoverishment, for they could not show their honor without a daimyo or wealth. They remained in their luxurious house, but they sold much of their property to pay for food. Now a ronin, Yoshimitsu worked for various masters to make ends meet. His jobs included guarding fortresses, stopping criminals, and defending wealthy travelers. He never earned much money, but his love for his Chinami kept him going. Yoshimitsu found Chinami to be especially precious, for she was a sweet, intelligent woman with autism.

Still listening to the samurai and the princess, Chiasa realized their meeting occurred ten years after the Naiponese Civil War. She was surprised Lord Isamu had waited so long to depose the Shogun and restore the Mikado to full power. Of course, it was not until now when she heard how much time had passed since the war. Hisoka had given her an adequate description of the event, but he had not been clear on intermediate periods. It seemed as though the Passage were a place of truth after all.

Wanting to know more about Yoshimitsu, Chiasa pushed her realization of the ten-year period of "peace" aside. In doing so, she learned Akio was also a veteran of the war, and he had disappeared while fighting Akimitsu's forces in Kyushu. He was reported dead, but the reporters had never learned of his escape to the Celestial Kingdoms of Ho. There, he and his followers sabotaged the armies of a prominent daimyo who was fighting the Ho. They favored the Mikado over the Shogun, and they were not afraid to show this truth in battle. When the daimyo himself came to investigate, Akio killed him in a brawl. He then hid among the Ho, not returning until Lord Ryuusei pardoned him ten years later.

Now that Akio was in his homeland once more, he was determined to restore the Mikado's full power by force. He offered to take his nephew with him to Kyoto, where he had planned to unite with all his followers. Yoshimitsu accepted the opportunity on behalf of Chinami. He had been reluctant to leave her, but she reminded him departure was more beneficial for the many. Yoshimitsu spoke fondly as he repeated the last words he had said to her, "Every man should have a sister."

That was when Ayame said to him, "Sometimes, my father tells me every man should have a daughter. I have never understood his words, for it is sons who are valued."

She hung her head in shame, remembering the Naiponese customs that were disgusting Chiasa. Noticing what had happened, Yoshimitsu softened his eyes.

"Please, princess," he gently begged, "do not think of yourself so harshly. There are many wonderful women. Is Amaterasu not a woman? And what of Kwanon and Benzaiten?"

Ayame sighed, "You will never understand the burdens of femininity, noble samurai. The land on which we walk was shaped by the Male of Invites and the Female who Invites. And yet, with every passing day…"

"I promise," Yoshimitsu interrupted her, "if anyone treats you poorly or even hurts you with words, they will have to deal with me."

"What can you do?" Ayame asked without hope.

Yoshimitsu was blushing, speaking in a quick tone, "I can do so much. I can lead armies. I can duel. I…"

Come on, Yoshimitsu! Chiasa's mind snapped. Get on with the story!

She knew the samurai could not hear her, but such a thought did not have influence. He and the princess were now discussing their thoughts on women's roles, the imperial family, and the duties of samurai. Even with patience as her ally, Chiasa was growing restless. As an attentive, practical woman, she had expected immediate answers to her questions.

Some Passage, she thought. I just hope this will be the last delay.