It was dark when a gentle hand roused me from my sleep.
“Wake up,” the servant urged me.
Despite the incredible exhaustion that still suffocated me like a heavy blanket, I managed to sit upright, at which point the servant girl left, and I started getting dressed. A tray of food sat in the centre of the room and when I’d finished equipping the first few layers of armour, I emptied the bowls of soup and rice, and stripped the roasted fish of all its meat, then I equipped my newly-repaired cuirass, my raven cloak, and my obsidian sword.
I emerged into the front courtyard of the mansion, where the gates had been flung wide and a band of finely-dressed azure-blue Samurai were waiting. Amongst them I spotted a few of the Lady’s attendants, as well as the old Mitsui, who’d helped Hanada and I when the guard had given us a hard time. Despite his laidback demeanour, Mitsui was clearly an accomplished swordsman, and I could practically feel the commanding aura he exuded. From the looks the other Samurai were giving him, it was clear that he was a sort of leader or figurehead.
Beyond the courtyard, crowding the spaces between the village houses, were a minor host of soldiers, dressed in the same blue tabards I’d seen Hanada wear when I’d first met him and his group. A few of the soldiers held large blue banners decorated with the strange symbol that I now knew to be a Tsukikusa flower.
At once, the assembled host and Samurai turned their attention to where I was standing, or rather, behind where I stood. I too turned around, and saw the magnificent Lady Seiryū, wearing the same elegant kimono she always wore, but this time with an enormous stringless longbow that seemed to have been carved from the strangest gnarled and twisted white wood. In fact, the pallor of the wood and its odd deformed visage wasn’t too dissimilar from the tree that crested the hill between the Vermilion and Azure territories, the very same tree which Nobushige had waited under. I was sure it wasn’t a mere coincidence that the tree had lacked a branch. Unlike traditional Japanese longbows, its limbs were thicker and wider, but it was still fashioned in the style of one short limb and one long, creating an uneven stress-load when pulled taut, and requiring a fairly unique stance when used, wherein the wielder’s eyeline was fixated on the bottom of the hand which held the bow, and not above the hand like with an English longbow. Once again, I had to marvel at my apparent insight into archery, though at this point, I’d started to take it for granted that the knowledge injection of this realm enabled me to comprehend the variances in the weapons I had access to, so that I could make informed decisions on the things that would alter my fighting style.
The Lady took her time walking to the front of the walkway, soaking-in the attention. It was at this time I realised that I couldn’t find Hayato anywhere. I wondered what he was up to. When she stopped, she surveyed her Samurai and the footmen beyond the courtyard, and then spoke.
“Gather the horses! We march on Kakon-shi to reclaim what is ours by right! By night, the White Wolves shall have been repainted in a crimson hue more befitting of those demons! By tomorrow, our banner shall fly above the Palace!”
The assembled host, down to every single man, roared loudly in approval. It was both an awe-striking and terrifying thing. A war like this: where every single soldier would fight with their brains addled by a supernatural bloodlust; where every man and woman would revel in the act of murdering their countrymen; and where blood would be imbibed and corrupt their souls beyond salvation, that… that was a scary thing. Scarier yet, was my own excitement, my own loud roar that disappeared into the even louder combined chorus. I couldn’t wait to shower in a red rain of my own making. The rational part of my mind was already helplessly shoved into the farthest recesses of my brain, the Voracity was the only ruler of my thoughts. Indeed, its insatiable hunger ruled me and my fellows.
“Now entering Stage ‘The Root of Evil’.”
At some point I must have gotten to piggyback on a horse and followed the army to Kakon-shi, though my recollection of the events were fuzzy at best. It felt as though I’d blinked, and now I stood over the body of a guard in white and black, with flames roaring around me and screams echoing in the far reaches of the city. In the background, an orchestral melody of strings, flutes, and a Koto serving as the ‘voice’, followed the slow beat of a deep drum.
Someone put their hand on my back, and I looked up slowly to see the face of Mitsui glancing back at me.
“Impressive work, but we cannot stop yet.”
I nodded lamely.
What’s happening to me? I wondered. What would Ginko say if he saw me now? Would he remark on the frightful size of the so-described parasitic spider that clung to me and every denizen of these lands? In my own hubris I’d assumed I was stronger than this thing, but even in my current moment of clarity, I felt my veins throb with a single desire: Kill!
Alongside Lord Mitsui and his detachment of footmen, I continued down the street, killing every man and woman who stood in our way, bearing little regard for what their intentions were, whether they were paralysed in fear or poised to defend their city. It mattered not.
By the time we reached the marketplace, flames guttering and roaring on either side of us, the dread horn sounded across the city.
“Secure our position! Use whatever cover you can find and beg whatever Gods love you that we outnumber them more than three-to-one!” Mitsui yelled to his men.
“What’s coming?” asked a terrified boy, far too young to be on any battlefield such as this.
“The White Wolves,” I answered before Mitsui could. Panic gripped the boy, as all the frightful stories he’d no doubt heard swirled through his noggin.
“If you want to live, then hurry up and help your comrades,” Mitsui responded harshly, though to his credit, the boy went to work immediately, working twice as fast as any of his fellows.
“Have you fought them before, Kuro[1]?”
“No, but I have seen them in battle.”
“They are vicious and never show mercy. They are intoxicated with their hemolatry[2], and live solely for the sake of slaughter.” His words, while no doubt true, were quite ironic, considering how we were no different.
“You really hate them, don’t you?”
“Three years ago, their commander killed my only son…” Mitsui flashed me a bitter smile. “If you happen to see him before I have the chance, give him my regards.” Even if the words were nonchalant, the tone was anything but.
Then the horn sounded again, much closer this time. Our fortifications amounted to a few wagons on either side of the market’s opening, creating a funnel for the enemy to push through, which in turn would make our defence much more effective. Past that barricade were stalls we’d overturned to create shields behind which we could escape the enemy arrows for however long we needed to. In terms of makeshift defences this one wasn’t too shabby, though I wondered if it mattered against the Wolves.
“Brace for arrows!” Mitsui ordered, and we all took cover.
Nothing happened for a minute or two, and I started wondering why he’d issued the order, but then suddenly the sound of tiny objects piercing the air sounded from above, followed by the clink of arrows hitting the pavement, then immediately overshadowed by a cascade many more slamming into our covers with enough force to splinter the wood, though lacking the power to fully penetrate.
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“Report!” Mitsui demanded.
“Two injured here!” one man yelled to our right. “One over here!” another yelled to our left. As our party numbered eighty strong, these were insignificant numbers, and we were still fully fit for battle, but then came volley number two. It was more eager than the first, and somehow more precise as well, honing in on our defences with ease and finding every unexposed arm and leg, and managing to injure seven more.
“This is what they do,” Mitsui said from his protective corner of the overturned stall that ten of us huddled under. “They dwindle their enemies down until they outnumber them, and with no archer unit of our own, we can only wait for their inevitable charge.”
Maybe ten seconds passed before the third rain of arrows showered us. This time three people died straight off the bat and eleven men were injured, some for the second and third time. Our unit was faltering, as panic slowly gripped the men. And who could blame them? The White Wolves seemed capable of locating any opening in our defences, as though their arrows had a mind of their own, all the while remaining far out of sight... It was like magic… But then I thought about it. They were just men, and weren’t actually capable of hitting something they couldn’t see, which meant there had to be someone relaying our location to them.
“I think they have one or two spotters close by,” I whispered to Lord Mitsui. His eyes narrowed as he contemplated this.
“What do you plan to do about it?” he asked me, genuinely curious.
“I’ll brave the storm and kill him, before taking on their archers. They shouldn’t see me coming.”
“Your suicidal plan might give us the break we need to win this fight, but I have a better idea.”
Just then the fourth volley began and Mitsui took a step backwards, retreating further under the cover, seconds before an arrow pierced through the roof directly above where he’d stood. He flashed me an innocent grin, then turned to a man at his side.
“Run east and find Hanada’s unit, tell them we need covering fire. He should only be a few streets away.”
The man chosen as messenger swallowed nervously, but then made a one-syllable sound of acknowledgement and set off as soon as the last arrow had fallen.
“When Hanada’s unit launch their counter-assault, you push out and find their spotters, then group up with Hanada. When we are no longer being bombarded with arrows, my men and I will follow suit.”
I’d greatly underestimated Mitsui, as he clearly knew how to rule a battlefield. Despite his personality, he’d earnt the admiration of his fellows no doubt thanks to his strategic skill. Part of me was eager to see how he fought, since the way he wore his armour like an effortless burden and casually leaned on his sword-hilt, made it seem like he’d been born for battle.
The next few minutes of waiting for backup felt excruciatingly long, as the rain of arrows seemed never-ending. Then, suddenly, fifteen seconds passed in complete silence, with only a few pained whimpers and terrified sobs filling the void left by the disappearance of the deadly swarm.
My heart kicked into overdrive as adrenaline surged through my veins, and I ducked out of the cover and spurted across the marketplace square towards the enemy, guessing that their spotters would be somewhere between us and them.
I almost missed the cowering form in the midst of two buildings that had a clear view of the market, but then doubled back and looked down at the young man. Because I didn’t want to kill someone curled up so pathetically, I told him, “Stand,” and, to his credit, he did, albeit on shaky legs. My sword immediately left its home and tore its way across his throat. I performed a flourish of my blade and returned it to its scabbard, then left the spotter to die by himself, gurgling and choking on his own blood. I would like to imagine that it was the supernatural bloodlust that made me capable of killing someone coldheartedly like this, but I couldn’t rule out the fact that I was simply taking my revenge on him after having been under fire for so long.
Further down the street was an intersection where a wide street crossed the one I was following. As I dipped right around the corner, following the sound of fighting, I almost collided with a White Wolf, who on reflex nearly tore my head off with his sword. He was helmless, his white-specked hair tied back into a ponytail just like his fellows, and he wore the fur-lined white-and-grey armour of his murderous band. Despite being part of an archer unit, he was still equipped with a sword and shield, which likely meant that one part of these soldiers’ strength was their ability to adapt, truly like wolves in nature, using claw, fang, and devious strategy to take down prey much bigger than themselves.
I pulled my sword from its scabbard in a wide slash aimed at his head, but my edge met with his metal-reinforced shield, which suffered thanks to the sharpness of my blade, but held together nonetheless. Before I had the chance to consider how to counter his shield, an arrow suddenly sprouted from his neck and I saw the whole unit of White Wolves behind him buckle and regroup further up the street.
“Fire!” I heard a familiar voice yell, and another volley of arrows showered the Wolves, who covered themselves with their shields as much as possible, though a few arrows did strike true.
Before a second volley could be fired, the Wolves charged the archers and I ran towards their flank, trying to relieve Hanada’s unit. Before I could reach the Wolves, who were making quick work of the footmen trying to protect the archers, Mitsui and the remaining men under his command arrived to even the odds. However, the White Wolves quickly formed two fronts to fight both of our units, proving themselves true veterans of war, whereas many of the Azure soldiers clearly showed their inexperience and died as a result.
With a Quick Draw, my edge carved cleanly through the shields of two Wolves next to each other and continued into the men holding them, unfazed by their armour and protective layers of cloth beneath. I also found good use for my newly-acquired ability, as deflecting the shield-bearers’ strikes proved to be the most effective way to create an opening and didn’t involve brute-forcing my way through their shields like some kind of barbarian, which also made it easier to conserve my stamina.
Though the White Wolves were fierce, our combined forces descended on them until finally their lines buckled completely and the skirmish turned into an all-out slaughter. Mitsui, his most veteran soldiers, and myself, formed the core of the Azure whirlwind, which slowly-but-surely cut the White Wolves to smithereens. To their credit, the Wolves never faltered in spirit, and fought bitterly to the last man, as though retreat never even entered into the equation.
When naught but corpses barred our way, Mitsui did a head-count. With how many we’d lost during the defence of the marketplace, and the subsequent battle, Mitsui’s party numbered only twenty-seven, excluding me, and Hanada’s archers were down to a pitiful twelve, with their friends scattered across the large street. Those archers who were left, looked upon their fallen brethren with darkness in their eyes, the cups that had filled with sorrow and hate for months-and-years finally spilling over. They no doubt wished a thousand curses upon the White clan, and they would fight with twice the fury to compensate for their heavy losses. Mitsui’s men mostly just looked tired and worn-out. Being veterans of such a long civil war they’d probably lost most of the people they’d ever cared for and no longer knew how to grieve. It was like they weren’t even concerned with what fate had in store for them, all of them just dead stares and forsaken humanity.
Mitsui looked around at his men, then cleared his throat with an old-man[3] cough. “Tomorrow, this city will know peace! The red rains will pass and our people will flourish again! Three generations from now, they will think of us as the heroes who lifted the yoke of oppression from the necks of their ancestors!”
A few of the men smiled, and most seemed somewhat content now. They believed their cause was just, and that, in the end, those they’d fought for all along would be thankful.[4] They had to believe that the ends justified the means, the few remaining shreds of their sanity depended on it. I didn’t begrudge Mitsui for abusing their hope in order to keep them willing to continue fighting, because it was either that or leaving them to their despair, even though this tiny flame of hope he’d sparked within them would doubtlessly lead them to their deaths.
When wounds had been bandaged and a few trophies[5] collected from the Wolves, we continued our march through the city, feeling boldened despite our severely-reduced numbers, thanks to Hanada’s group of highly skilled archers at our backs. Sadly, his demeanour, when we talked, was serious and lacked any of the personality from when we’d first met. It seemed that he was a slave to the hierarchical order of things, and because I’d become an Azure Samurai, I now outranked him. But I wasn’t really that upset about it. He wasn’t real, so what did it matter how he treated me? Or that’s what I told myself anyway…
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[1] Since he couldn’t really call me “Rōnin” or “Outsider” anymore, he’d instead chosen to use my appearance as a nickname, calling me Kuro: meaning “Black” in Japanese.
[2] From Latin: Hemo meaning “Blood” and Latry meaning “Worship”. Granted, the actual word he used in Japanese was a bit different, but basically meant the same.
[3] He was long past his prime after all, but he was oathbound to his duty, and the most experienced person in this party. After all, there is no cushy retirement plan for a warrior, only death.
[4] Nothing beats fighting for a ‘just’ cause after all, regardless of its oftentimes imagined righteousness.
[5] Although none for me…