The samurai shouts again, his voice grating and rough, like a boat crashing into rock. "Kneel!" The other samurai wave their swords threateningly at the captured villagers, and father tells us to do as we're told. The Emperor is here, after all.

We drop to our knees in the dirt as our homes burn. Ashes drift like snow, and the stench. The stench of smoke is stuck in my throat. People are crying. I can hear the women and children. Some of the men too. I haven't had a good look at the bodies on the floor, but my heart aches every time I glance at their unmoving forms. Everything's burning, flickering orange light rises right up to the sky, casting shadows in every direction. We lower our hands on the dirt and bow our heads, and then we hear heavy footfalls. I raise my head slightly, shaking with fear and anger, and there he is. The Living God himself, the Immortal Emperor.

Unlike his samurai, he wears a neat white robe with a golden sash around the waist. The sash also holds the scabbard of his katana. He's a tall, slender man, taut like fishing rope and taller than any of the men of our village. He has dark hair, tied back in a bun, and he keeps his pale face shaven. His brows seem to be stuck in a permanent frown, and he eyes the villagers warily. Despite the scorching heat from the flames, the Emperor seems cool. His gaze lingers over the women and children, and he nods at his samurai before walking over to us.

Golden sandals grace his feet. They don't seem to disturb the dirt at all, and his footfalls seem rather light, but each step shakes the earth. Each step makes the world tremble.

"You may rise," he says in a magnanimous voice as he approaches. As we lift our heads, he looks at us one by one. A horrid shudder runs through me when his gaze settles on me, like a chilling breeze when you climb out of the water, your skin wet, your heart racing with panic. But it's when his eyes find father that the Emperor's lips twist into a toothy smile.

"Ah!" he shouts and spreads his arms as though he wants a hug. The long sleeves of his robes flop in the wind, and even the ashes seem to avoid his white cloth. "There you are my treasured Mr. Fisherman."

Father doesn't move. We're all still on our knees. I was really young the last time the Emperor visited our village. We're far north of the capital, so he almost never comes here, and the last time he'd visited, it had been peaceful. I remember him shaking father's hand. I remember how proud I'd been. I must've been four. Now the Emperor is burning down our village.

Why? I try to search father's face, trying to understand why he'd cut my hair, but he stares at the dirt.

"Come now," says the Emperor, his voice deep and booming. "You may rise. Your Emperor is here!"

"You've burnt our homes," says father through his teeth, his head bowed. "What have we done to dishonor you?"

A look flashes across the Emperor's face. A dark scowl. But he grabs his katana. There's a flash of light, and he must've swung, because a sharp wind rushes through everything.

All the raging fires go out in an instant. The heat vanishes. Ash and smoke swirl through the town, and I don't move a single muscle. Not even to turn my head and check on our house. The warm orange glow is gone. Embers scatter in the breeze, pieces of cloth and burning things, but the nighttime seems so much darker all of a sudden. The Emperor’s strike was too quick for my eyes to follow. Yet, he’d stopped all the fire.

How? Everything should be dark, but the Emperor seems to be his own source of golden light, illuminating the village center. He’s like the sun.

The Emperor nods with satisfaction as he slides his katana back into its scabbard with a metallic clack. "Apologies for the theatrics. My samurai do like to make a mess, and when you've committed treason against your homeland... well, you know how it is with loyalty."

"Treason?" whispers father in disbelief.

From behind the Emperor, three more people step out of the shadows. They don't wear armor. They don't have weapons. They're robed just like the Emperor, identical in height and size. One wears yellow, another blue, and the last one green. Black, demonic masks cover their faces, masks with grotesque eyes and twisted teeth. They are the Emperor's Guard, and it's said they are immortal too, and possess supernatural abilities. They only accompany the Emperor into battle.

But we’re just a small village! What did we do? I want to scream. What have we done to deserve this?

"Now then, Mr. Fisherman. Tell me why your deliveries have been so lacking for the previous two seasons."

What's he talking about? My breath catches. What's he talking about? We've been fishing night and day to feed his army. And it's still not enough?

Are we supposed to starve ourselves?

Two of his Guard grab father by the shoulders and drag him to his feet. I bite my tongue to keep from crying out, to keep the tears from spilling. I taste blood. Kota and Aiko are tense beside me, clutching the oars, and all the other fishermen remain kneeling. Some still have their heads pressed to the dirt.

Do they know something that I don't? Are we being punished?

"Not enough fish," says father, his voice strained. "We've been fishing too much, and they need time to breed."

He's lying. My father is lying. He's always so careful with where he fishes and when. What catches he releases back into the water. Why is he lying to the emperor?

Father!

The Emperor walks up to father, hands folded behind his white robes. The golden sash glows. "Really?" he says. "Prawn. Crabs. All the mackerel. Every single one in such decline that your village's entire output has dropped considerably over the year?"

"We are fishing two and three times as much as normal," starts father, but the Emperor cuts him off with a wave of his hand.

"We have a military to feed," says the Emperor. "Samurai who keep you and your family safe from invaders. Samurai who protect your land and your pride." He smacks his chest with a fist as if to drive the point home. "The least you can do is feed them."

Why don't you? Why don't you feed them? You're so powerful and wealthy.

Father shakes his bearded head. "I'm sorry, my Emperor. But if we keep fishing like this, we'll all starve."

The Emperor turns. He looks at all of us, and again I feel that sensation of a cold, miserable wind. He walks back to the other villagers. He pats a woman's hair bun, and she sobs. "Chin up, darling. You're quite easy on the eyes. And look at you, child. You're so pudgy and cute." He squeezes the cheek of a little boy who stares back with wide eyes. It's just baby fat. The boy's as thin as the rest of us, but the Emperor doesn't seem to care. He whirls around to jab a finger in father's direction. "Explain, Mr. Fisherman! How your people are so well fed, yet you claim there's not enough.”

Well fed? I want to spit. Most of us skip meals to ensure the children have enough to eat. We have fish head stew while the meat is carted off for the Empire. What the hell is he talking about? Father has been growing thinner and thinner. All of us are gaunt, keeping muscle from how much we work, but I can't remember a day I didn't go to bed wishing I could have another bite.

I want to tell the Emperor that he is wrong, but you don't ever tell an Emperor that he is wrong.

He wipes his brow. "Bring today's catch," he says.

Good, I think. Then he can see how much we catch and how much we provide. All our hard work. Then he'll know how foolish he's being. He’ll have to make this right.

Several of his armored samurai appear, carrying the ice boxes from the boats. Twelve boxes, each one holding thirty to forty fish. They lay them on the ground in front of the Emperor and remove the coverings to reveal the fish. Only our box has them headless.

"How many are there?" he asks softly.

"Three hundred and four," says one of the samurai.

That's right. I stick out my chin. That's how many we caught, and that was just one fishing trip. And it was all going to be shipped right out for you. So why attack us?

"Three hundred and four," repeats the Emperor. "From a late-night catch, no less..." His voice trails off, then without warning, he grabs father's face. The Emperor's lips stretch back as he bares his teeth. "How many during the daytime? How many?" He's screaming in father's face. Why is he screaming in father’s face?

Father doesn't answer.

"How many were you going to report?" roars the Emperor. Then he shuts his eyes and steps back, letting father go. He shakes his head. "I know what you've been doing, Mr. Fisherman. I know what all of you have been doing."

I glance around. What is he talking about? Aiko and Kota don't seem to have any idea what's going on either. They look like frightened little boys. And with my hair cut like this, I must look the same.

"You should all be ashamed!" shouts the Emperor. "You should have starved before you let my warriors go hungry. My people." He thumps his chest again. "And yet... you've been shipping your fish to the mainland, haven't you?"

Stolen novel; please report.

The mainland?

"HAVEN'T YOU?" shouts the Emperor. His voice rings all around the burnt village. He jabs father's chest again. "I should ram a hook down your throat and hang you in my palace. Make an example out of you... Treason. Feeding our enemies. Giving them the strength to harm our lands... What did you think would happen? Have I not protected you? Have I not kept you safe?" His eyes bulge as he spits.

"We traded for rice," says father quietly. "For tools." He sounds defeated. I hate hearing him talk like this. Tell the Emperor they made a mistake!

The Emperor slaps him. "Do I not provide? Do you not have plenty?" Which each word, he raises his voice until finally, he screams, "HAVE I NOT TAKEN CARE OF YOU?"

Waves of nausea run through me. My head is spinning. My heart is struggling. I feel like I'm on a boat that's about to capsize. Father was trading fish with people from the mainland? But why? We're at war with them!

Kota and Aiko are red in the face. They seem horrified by the revelations, and I wonder if they're disgusted with father. If they hate him now. Look at what he's brought to our village.

But anger sits like a burning hot stone in my stomach. My father would never have done such a thing. He always did what was right. I glare at the Emperor. What kind of ruler marches into a village and burns it down? Attacks the women and children while the men are out fishing? Without questioning? Without finding out the truth first?

What kind of coward does something like that?

He kicks over one of the boxes, the one father and I packed. Headless fish and ice roll across the ground.

"Here's what I'll do," says the Emperor. "I'm taking you with me. You will train my men to fish as expertly as you can, and then all is forgiven."

Again, father is quiet, his head bowed as the Guards hold him firmly. I’m shaking with anger. I should be by his side. I should say something to defend his honor. Our village’s honor.

The Emperor squats and pokes at the fish. "Where is your daughter by the way? I'm told she's a wild one. I'd love to meet her."

Another wave of nausea. Followed by an icy pinprick of disgust. I think I might actually throw up this time. Father turns his head. Is he looking for me?

"She's on the ground," he says sadly. He nods toward one of the bodies, and the green-robed Guard kicks it over. It's a girl, Megumi. She was a bit older than me, but sweet. She was supposed to marry in a few months to one of the fishermen. I hear him gasp behind me.

"Such a shame," says the Emperor, glancing in Megumi's direction. "She would've made an excellent attendant, don't you think? Curvy and supple and she smells so sweet."

"I'll come willingly," says father, his voice breaking. "On the condition you let my people go. They'll give you all the fish from now on, just spare them. Please."

"No, no," says the Emperor with a laugh. "Then what's the point of having you train my men? No. Definitely not. Don't you know what happens when there's one rotten fruit in a barrel?"

We've never had a barrel of fruit, I want to say, but I'm petrified. Father just pointed at a dead girl and lied to the Emperor's face. Is that why father cut my hair? To keep me safe? I'm stuck in my body, trapped by my fear. Watching through my eyes as father bleeds from his nose. As the Guards hold him up. As the emperor mocks him.

"One bad fruit incites evil," he says. "Turns the entire crop rancid. Everything is ruined." He grabs a fish head and stands with a swish of his robes. Then he thrusts the head into father's mouth, and I hear the others cry out. The Emperor shouts, but I can't understand a word. My heart's beating so loudly; all I can do is watch him force-feed a fish's head to father, clamping a hand over father's mouth, forcing him to chew and swallow.

My stomach twists and flips, I swear I'm going to throw up just watching father's face turn green. The Emperor wipes his hand on father's robes. Liquid glistens on father's chin as he caughs and heaves.

"Alright," says the Emperor. He turns to his samurai. "Keep the pretty ones and the children. Burn the rest. As for the men..." He marches back to us, and his lips curl when he sees me. "Boy, who cut your hair in such an unsightly manner?" But he shakes his head. "It doesn't matter. Too many mouths."

"No!" cries father. He throws up, spitting out chunks of fish head. "They can serve in the army. They can fish. They're all excellent. Please. You need them."

"Silence," snaps the emperor. "What did I just say? Too many mouths. And treasonous mouths only take food from the mouths of loyal servants."

Father looks like he's on the verge of tears. He struggles against his captors, but the Guards hold firm. Even though he can't properly see me, he looks right at me and mouths the word, run. Then he shouts it. "Run! All of you, run!"

Nobody moves. My heart's pounding. I can't just leave him behind. I can't just... The samurai have their swords pointed at us. A part of me wants to run just as father commanded, but my legs are rooted to the spot. I'm too terrified to move.

The emperor laughs, clutching his belly. "Go on then. Run! I do love a chase."

A chase. None of us dare. The Emperor draws his katana slowly. The steel flashes, and Kota drops to the ground like he's bowing down again. Except his head rolls away, his eyes wide and staring blankly. This time, I scream. I grab Aiko. Or he grabs me. I'm not sure. But the next thing I know, all of us are running. All of the fishermen. We're abandoning our village. Our families. I'm abandoning father. We're all cowards.

And then the Emperor is upon us. Laughter slipping between us like a breeze. He sounds so joyful. So innocent. As though we were running around in the dark, playing a game. The villagers are screaming. Women and the elderly, and I can hear them cut down. I can hear the children crying. Bodies hit the ground one after another.

A fisherman is cut in half beside me. Someone's head is sliced down the middle. We run past the blackened remains of our homes, and somehow, we make it to the beach. It's just me and Aiko now. The youngest of the group. He must've saved us for last.

"What do we do?" cries Aiko.

The Emperor approaches through the smoke, grinning wildly. His eyes shining menacingly. His white robe is splattered with blood stains, and his hair has come loose. My first thought is we can get on a boat and row away. Then the katana swings through the air. Lightning cracks across the sand, and Aiko's arm falls away from his body, severed at the elbow.

Aiko screams as his arm rolls down the beach and into the water. He'd cut the arm off from a distance.

My head feels like it's about to burst with fear and rage. How can he be this powerful? What chance did we have? Why would we trade fish with our enemies if he had this much power?

The Emperor marches slowly toward us, and the words come up before I can stop myself. But why bother? Why stop myself now?

"You coward," I spit at the Living God.

He pauses. His grin vanishes. "What?"

"You heard me." I pull out my fishing knife, pretending it'll do some good. Pretending I could gut him like a fish if I wanted to. "You waited till the men left. You attacked women and children because you're pathetic. With all your power... with all your strength, this is the best you can do?"

What am I saying? Where is all this coming from? The words stream past my lips faster than I can think.

"We're just a poor fishing village. And you're a coward."

The emperor remains standing as Aiko sobs on the beach, clutching the bleeding stump of his arm. Nobody moves.

"You take all our food. You take our people. You're always at war, but you never seem to win. What's the point of you?" The thoughts I've had all this time come rushing out. All the questions father wouldn't let me ask. All the horrible things I wanted to say.

Energy crackles around the Emperor, and I take an involuntary step back. Lightning fizzes around him. He takes a menacing step forward, and the ground shakes. The sky trembles. His face is a mask of dark fury, like a thunderstorm, like a tidal wave.

He's going to kill me.

His lips are pressed tight. He swings his katana as he nears Aiko, and the boy collapses on the sand, blood spraying from his side. I turn and run toward the nearest boat. I’ve said what I wanted to say. Tears rush down my cheeks. If I die now, at least I’ve said it to his face. I made him mad.

Everything shakes as the Emperor approaches. I grab a fishing net and I throw it as hard as I can in his direction.

But the katana flashes again, streaks of silver light, and the net falls away in little pieces. More lightning snaps around the Emperor's head. His face shines brightly, furiously.

"What is your name?" he asks in a low voice.

I still have the fishing knife. I could run at him. I could thrust it into his throat. But I can't move.

"Speak, boy," he hisses. "No one's ever spoken to me with such insolence before."

I almost blurt out my real name. The force of his question hits me like a nightmare. But I know better than that. I don't want to become one of his attendants. I don't want that. "Hayato," I tell him.

He cocks an eyebrow. "Just like Mr. Fisherman."

Hearing him say that, hearing the sarcastic tone of respect in his voice when he says mister, sends me over the edge. With a scream, I ran at him with my fishing knife. I'm going to slit his throat. I'm going to end this madness. Then his katana is inside my belly.

It feels like a punch to the gut. The blade slides so smoothly through and bursts out my back. Blood and bile rise to my throat and spill down my chin. The Emperor's so close to me, it's almost like he's holding me in an embrace. His white robes flutter. His face shines. My head tilts forward and I rest my forehead against his chest.

"Rest well, young Hayato," he says. Then he twists the katana, and pain radiates through my insides in terrible waves. When he wrenches it free and steps back, I sink to the sand. I'm staring at his smirk. His eyes glimmer so brightly... golden lightning sizzles up and down his katana. Maybe he really is immortal. Maybe he really is one of the gods. Maybe there are no gods and we’re stuck with him.

I slump forward. My face hits the sand, but I don't feel it. My blood soaks through my robes, my warmth seeping out of me. Pain fills my body like a pitcher of water. Then it empties. I feel the Emperor walk away, the ground quacking. I manage to turn my head to stare at his broad back as he walks out of focus. At the way his robes flutter around his legs. At how he steps on Aiko's head.

"Father..." I whisper, clutching the fishing knife, wishing I had the strength to crawl up the beach. Rage clouds my vision dark red. Or maybe that's blood. My eyelids grow heavy. It's getting more and more difficult to breathe.

I slip into the darkness. No more waking up before sunrise. No more preparing rice and eating breakfast with father. No more of his stories. No more fishhead stew. No more running around the village. No more fishing. No more sleeping. This is my final sleep.

Do you seek vengeance? says a voice. It rings through my head like a prayer bell.

And my eyes open again. Except, I'm no longer on the shores of my village. It's not nighttime. Everything is as bright as day. But it's empty. I'm in a world of nothing, a world of brightness and emptiness, and I feel as though I'm drifting at sea.

I'm still wearing my blood-soaked robes. I grab my stomach. The cloth is torn, but when I feel my skin, I can't find any traces of the awful wound. Even my hair has grown back, floating around my face.

Do you seek vengeance? says the voice again. It's coming from all around. From inside me. As beautiful and as clear as a stricken bell.

"Yes," I whisper. Anger fills my heart. Anger at the Emperor. Anger for my friends and neighbors. Anger for all the suffering and struggling.

Then, allow me to introduce myself.

A woman materializes from the nothing. She's eerily beautiful, tall, taller even than the Emperor, and slender. A thin, white strip of cloth wraps loosely around her pale chest and her waist, but it's stained red in several places. Her eyes are bloodshot and wide. Her face is the color of ash. Long dark hair cascades over her shoulders, coming down to her knees.

I am called Izanami, she says. And I wish to make you an offer. A proposition to restore balance between life and death. Will you take my blade and rise as my samurai?