He had bought many trophies of many a vanquished foe, including more than a few of the demon's commanders. Still, the pleas of reassurance from her champion did little to reassure the Goddess of Time.
"Once again, I feel you are being too cautious, milady." the hero reassured, one knee bent in sincerity.
"Hm, you may be correct." she conceded, rubbing her chin in concern. "But despite what the people call me, I am neither all-knowing nor all-seeing. And I cannot ignore an ill wind that seems to sweep across the land."
"That is merely the influence of the fiend. Milady should know its vile influence even more than I who've fought it for centuries."
"Again, that could be the case. Still, this sense of foreboding...it unnerves me greatly."
The hero took his goddess' hand in his, kissing it daintily. "After our last bout and the foul tricks it pulled, I feel there is little the demon may surprise me with."
"Perhaps it was the errand I sent you on earlier or simply myself, but...please, be careful, my champion. The enemy possesses the hatred, malice, and cunning of its old master."
It was not an exactly popular policy among them, but for all of his ten children, Lord Yatsunasa of Mutsu had insisted upon each of them at least possessing some proficiency with a weapon before they came of age, were married off, or otherwise no longer under his technical sway. While it was not at its greatest intensity for the time being and the northern lands were somewhat insulated from the consequences of the war, the western fanatics, with all their raids and general marauding, made it clear that it was only a matter of time before the continent was engulfed in war once again, sooner most likely than later.
Yes, he and his wife had raised an astonishing ten proper young lords and ladies. But there was something...different about their youngest daughter, he could not deny. Perhaps it was her fascination with his blade since about the time she could walk, perhaps it was the odd, triangular birthmark on her right hand, or maybe it was just that her blade work had sent Yatsunasa into the dirt for the umpteenth time this father-daughter training session.
"I think that will do for today." groaned the lord through gritted teeth, heaving himself upright with the help of his practice blade. "You've done well. I'm always shocked how much you've grown."
The lass beamed. "Oh, don't be so modest, Father." she insisted. "I've still got a ways to go before I'm anywhere near your level!"
"I would not be so sure of that. I'm getting on in years now. I'm not as quick as I used to be."
"But what does this have to do with you exactly?"
"Actually, it's more to do with you."
"Me?!"
Yatsunasa wrapped a protective arm around his daughter. "Listen to me." he insisted. "I've always known you were...different. Exceptional even. You've taken to the blade like none of your brothers or sisters have."
In spite of the praise heaped upon her by her father, the young lady was still modest as ever. "Oh, I'm not so great as you think, Father." she insisted.
"I mean it. There will come a day when I am no longer walking this earth and- while others would look down upon me for this decision- it falls to you and your brothers to protect the north from whatever threats it may face."
"But that's all so far away! You don't really believe that those maniacs would even target us, do you?"
Yatsunasa let the question hang ominously, as if to answer in the affirmative without intruding upon such a father-daughter moment.
On this particular day in the south, these usually-verdant fields were instead watered with human blood, both of the combatants, onlookers, and innocent civilians alike. And this fact hung heavily in the air, along with that terrible, very particular coppery smell. Lifting himself shakily to his feet using a branch as a makeshift crutch, it was not so much the injuries suffered in battle or even the loss of his comrades, that stung Gyoshin the most- it was his inability to protect the villagers who had been so hospitable to him and his now-destroyed unit.
But that scarcely mattered. Not his shattered spear, nor his own considerable injuries. No, the only thing that mattered now was to regroup with the survivors of the ill-fated encounter with those western fanatics. While it was disheartening for sure, the fact that he had not managed to get terribly far on his shattered leg was not exactly a surprise. However, what was an unwelcome surprise was the presence of an enemy reconnaissance party, inflicting otherwise-fatal wounds on the dead and stealing meager valuables for good measure. Depressing himself behind a lone tree, Gyoshin began to swear to himself, biting down on his own fist to keep the sound from coming out. He had his crutch, to be sure, but that would do him little good against the marauding enemy party- at least five of them from what he could make out- hunting the battlefield.
"Hey, I think I heard something!" spoke one of the enemy scouts.
"Where?" inquired another.
"Over there, I think." spoke a third.
Against his better judgement, Gyoshin, operating on pure instinct by this point, attempted to heave himself away from his now-compromised hiding place, managing several noisy, thumping steps before the makeshift crutch gave out, sending him to the ground with another curse. And surely enough, the enemy scouting party, five-strong, had located him, all of them looking rather pleased with themselves- or at least, pleased with whatever tortures they or their commanders saw fit to inflict upon Gyoshin.
"Well, well, well, look what we have here." spoke the apparent leader. "Looks like those ears of yours do work after all!"
"Doesn't look like he has anything on him, though." remarked a second.
"Fuck you." spat Gyoshin unwisely. "You fanatics make me sick. All of you!"
Unsurprisingly, this did little to endear Gyoshin to his tormentors, now encircling him like a group of famished vultures. "This one's got a mouth on him, huh?" said another of the party.
"Maybe he needs a lesson in respecting his superiors." said another, stroking the axe in his fingers menacingly. "Yeah, that sounds good."
If the wounds from the battle stung Gyoshin, it was nothing compared to what surged through his body as the marauder bought down the axe on his leg, Gyoshin howling in pain at the severed limb, much to the joy and delight of his tormentors.
"We should finish him off. You know the orders."
"Why bother? He's just gonna bleed out soon anyway."
"Good point there. Oh, alright! Let's keep moving. We're on a schedule anyway."
Once one danger had passed, Gyoshin realized that, thanks to his new wound, he was far from out of danger. In fact, the taunt had a lot of truth to it if he could not stop the bleeding. Now even less mobile than before, Gyoshin, with some effort, tore some fabric from his already-torn trousers, attempting to stop the hemorrhaging to some effect. This however, was not nearly enough: His increasingly-panicked attempts at stopping the blood flow was leaving Gyoshin increasingly light-headed...
It took a little while for him to confirm it beyond a shadow of a doubt, but once Gyoshin opened his eyes again, he was reasonably sure that he was not in the afterlife, having awakened on a cot in what must have been one of the temples nearby.
"Ah, good!" spoke the attending monk. "You're finally awake."
"Mmm, where am I?" asked Gyoshin groggily.
"Our temple. You were in some state when you were first bought here. Right on death's door, in fact."
"...Did you find any others? Any survivors?"
"I apologize. You were the only one."
Gyoshin swore to himself once again, his foul mood not helped by his looking down; true to his word, the monks had dressed and bandaged the wound where his left leg once was. "Well, thank you for saving my life." he said. "But I really have to get back- the general will need a report."
"Not in this condition!" scolded the monk. "You are in no condition to travel, let alone return to duty!"
Attempting to prop himself upon a cane provided for him, Gyoshin managed to shakily get upright. "Really, thank you for your concern, but I'm fine-"
The stubborn soldier was interrupted by hitting the floor rather abruptly, the monk clearing his throat as if to say I-told-you-so.
"It's just that I hate, hate, hate, HATE feeling useless." confessed Gyoshin. "If I can't get back to the general and to the fight, what else can I do?"
The monk rubbed his chin. "Now that you mention it, there ARE some things you could help out with around the temple. Copying texts and whatnot."
"That...could work."
While Gyoshin had entirely intended this to be a temporary occupation, hoping against hope to be on his way once he'd become accustomed to losing his leg, this was to be the beginning of his new life with the monks. All the while, his fascination with the strange mummy enshrined in the temple's main hall continuing to grow over the years.