Somewhere across the country…

In the woods…

After a month of battle, the warlord sits in triumph, warmed by the fire his men had built by which to celebrate their victory. He casts his gaze outward. Although his vision of the forest was curtailed by the tents they erected to mark their camp, he was confident in knowing that the land which lay behind these tents are now part of his fief. And now, sitting here, he attends to his duty in honoring his retainers for their valued loyalty. However, gratitude must come with evidence of their service.

A long line stretches within their camp, a line composed of samurai, each carrying the heads of their enemies harvested straight from their battlefield and encased in a wooden jar. At the warlord’s command, the next man was to approach and place the jar on the ground. The lowly samurai bows in the presence of his lord, his officers, and his guards; the latter quietly muttering an incantation. From behind his fan, the warlord permits the warrior to begin.

“My lord.” He greeted. “I, Choei Ashikaga, have captured the general’s commander — Fuku Eguchi.”

Choei lifts the cover of the jar, revealing the well-kept head of a fallen samurai. While the warlord further raised his fan to leave but one eye to peek at the head, the rest of his trusted officers leaned forward. Their inquisitive approach manifested as the arch in their brow.

“Mmm, ” hummed the warlord, “capturing the general’s right hand man is no easy feat. This head is sure to fetch you a large reward.”

“If,” one of his officers interjected, “only that was the head of the general’s commander.”

The guards turned to each other, but never broke from reciting the incantation.

“Oi!” Shouted the same officer. “Bring your heads!”

Upon his command, two more samurai were asked to return and kneel before their liege lord.

“Show your heads!”

The other two, positioning their heads beside Choei, were compelled to unveil them simultaneously. All three were tagged with the same name, but their features widely varied; the ridge of the nose differed, along with the depth of their eyes, as did the shape of their ears and the hair that grew on their face. Such distinct characteristics called the warlord and his entourage to step forward with a deep sense of scrutiny. Sharp eyes traced every bit of detail, but spotting them was useless in the face of uncertainty.

“The three of you thought you could take any head and buy your way into the lord’s generous hand?” Outraged, the officer stood.

“N-no!” Protested Choei, “The commander had a cut on his lip! Like this!” He points to the head he brought.

“You placed that cut!”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“I did not!”

“He had a cut on his ear! Not his lip!”

“That is a fresh cut! You put it there to pass as the commander! THIEF!”

“LIAR!”

“SILENCE!” The officer’s voice quelled their quarrel swiftly, bringing all three men to once again lower their heads to await their liege lord’s judgment.

But he was so deep into his inspection that silence was the only thing that ensued. The two guards that stood by him were not immune to the curiosity; they too would join the rest of the officers in leaning forward to partake of the mystery at hand. Both of the guards were aware of the tale that Fuku Eguchi had sustained a cut on his face when he was young, but the location of the cut was unknown. Taking an alternative means to solving the conundrum, they would inspect the freshness of the lacerations on his face, an endeavor that required silence and focus.

“Sigh…” the warlord folds his fan, dropping his hand onto his lap in a fit, “Your cowardly act has made it impossible to determine the real commander. Neither of you will gain anything from this. Take your heads and go.”

“But my lord!” Choei bowed deeply, “I would never seek to deceive you! I have the real head!”

“The lord’s generosity is that you keep your own heads on your shoulders.” The officer interjected, but the liege lord saw fit to pull on his leash with but the raise of his fan.

The warlord inches forward, “What proof have you?” He ferociously points his folded fan at him. “Your only hope is if these heads could talk, but dead men tell no tales.”

Cough.

All those present bit their tongue.

Cough.

All eyes went on a silent search.

Cough.

“MY LORD.”

The officer points to the center head, drawing the attention of all as it coughs a fourth time. Its eyes fluttered before bursting open to unveil an unholy green glow. Despite the lack of lungs, it carries its profane roar with rot-tainted winds. It bites at the air, turning its gaze at the warlord who nearly jumped from his seat, returning the cover of the fan to shield his eyes from its horrific gaze. The officer quickly came to his aid, drawing his katana and cleaving the head in two. All men stood in disbelief at what it was that they had seen, but the officer shot a look at the guards situated at their East and the West.

“YOU FOOLS!” Shouted the officer, “THE INCANTATION!”

Their bodies jerk at the realization; the guards quickly return to their muttering, but in their minds, they pray instead that it was not too late. They did not even make it past the third word, and the two remaining exposed heads began to awaken in the same fashion, staring daggers at the living with green-filled eyes. Shrieks and yells begin to emanate from the men still in line; more heads begin to move, the covers of the jars begin to rumble as unholy groans and moans seep out. The guards saw fit to speak louder, faster, only to end up with gibberish rather than an actual incantation. The samurai traded their heads for their swords, dropping the former to the ground in an instant to draw their weapons. But even then, none dared to come close, fearing what befalls them should they strike at these hellish things.

Discarding the fan, the warlord stood and drew his own sword. Now elevated, he sees that the worst was yet to prey upon them, for he stood at the entrance of their camp; his white robes contrasted with the dark forest behind him, a long katana cradled comfortably in his left hand — waiting.

HISASHI and SEIJUN will return in FUSHI NO SHOKUZAI: LEGACY