Ryoma’s proclamation hung in the air for quite some time. He hadn’t imagined the shogun Lord Makoto would decline the samurai’s acceptance after he was the very one to suggest the duel, but as the silence drew on longer, Ryoma began doubting what he figured in the first place. “Well?” The samurai asked. “Do we have an agreement or not?”

“Very well.” Makoto said. He unsheathed his katana and began descending the stairs to the courtyard. He took his time to find equal footing with Ryoma which sent shivers through Yuki’s body. He couldn’t bear the menacing stature of the shogun and feared greatly for his friend’s life. Himiko and Tetsuo similarly held a sour taste in their mouths for the upcoming battle.

Ryoma began backing away from the staircase in order to allow room for Makoto. He didn’t wish to attack his opponent without starting the duel properly as it went against bushido. Of course, seeing the sheer magnitude of the shogun led him to doubt his honor, thinking that a sneak attack may have been his best chance to defeat his opponent. Then, he cursed under his breath, bemoaning his sudden insistence to disavow his code of conduct.

“Let’s begin.” Makoto said, snapping Ryoma back to the present. The samurai nodded and rushed forward. He slashed outward toward the shogun who easily blocked the oncoming assault. Ryoma felt the clang of metal reverberate through his arms and into his chest, mocking his heartbeat. He wasn’t ready for the shock and staggered back instinctively.

Makoto, however, was unphased by the clash, remaining steadfast in his stance. In response to the attack, he turned his torso to the side, rearing his katana back and preparing a slash of his own. Ryoma still shook and felt unable to move his sword to block the attack, so whenever Makoto swung forth, the samurai jumped back, landing supine but still alive.

“Pathetic.” Makoto said. Ryoma felt a wash of shame across his cheeks. Yet, he persisted and returned to his feet. “You’ve got it wrong, Lord Shogun.” He said. “One mistake does not a fool make. I shan’t flank you unprepared again.” The shogun smiled for once and asked, “Is that so? Then, by all means, advance once more, demon.”

Ryoma brushed off the last remark and charged forward once more. Makoto readied his reply and caught the blade against his own again. This time, though, the samurai stood his ground, able to retain his composure. The shogun nodded approvingly. “Very good, oni.” He said. “I was worried you wouldn’t provide me a decent challenge.”

The two warriors recoiled slightly to readjust themselves. Then, both swiped at one another, and another clang rang out across the courtyard. Again and again, Ryoma and Makoto clashed while the onlookers gazed upon the skirmish. The enemy samurai cheered on the shogun, willing him forward despite him not really needing the support. The trio backing Ryoma, however, were silent. Himiko hadn’t realized it, but she was gripping Tetsuo’s hand tightly as she yearned for the battle to cease.

Another clash seemed to send a shockwave across the courtyard. The ferocity of the fight unnerved Yuki greatly, but all he could do was stand back and observe. He had faced ronin, demons, and even gods, but Makoto’s might was something else. Truly, the only other beings who compared to him were Orochi and Koichi. Tetsuo whispered, “He’s going to lose.” Yuki wanted to believe in his friend, but deep down, he knew to whom the monk referred.

Makoto took yet another swing and, following the connection to Ryoma’s blade, panted ever so slightly. The samurai took note of the faint folly and reveled in his opportunity. He quickly disconnected from Makoto’s sword and pushed forward with all the swiftness he could muster. Makoto seemingly couldn’t move his sword fast enough to respond.

Instead, Makoto, with an equivalently blistering speed, navigated his forearm between himself and the oncoming katana. Ryoma successfully pierced through the armor, causing the shogun to wince, yet he then smiled and said, “I’ve got you now.” Before Ryoma could react, Makoto’s blade was upon him. He realized too late that his opponent had feigned his fatigue.

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Pulling back, Ryoma realized then that his sword was stuck within Makoto’s armor. With no other options, he let go of his katana and stepped back from the attack. The shogun’s sword grazed his arm as it passed. Ryoma grimaced and lost his footing, falling back once more.

Ryoma began shuffling backward as Makoto pulled the samurai’s katana from his arm, the tip laced with his blood. Then, he threw it to the side and began walking toward his opponent. The samurai continued scooting farther away from Makoto, who didn’t seem in any particular rush to close the gap. Instead, he asked, “Why shirk away from the duel now? Are you that scared of death, demon?”

“For the last time,” Ryoma exclaimed, “I am no demon! Perhaps I still have fight left in me; have you considered that, Lord Shogun?” Makoto cocked his head to the side as he paced ever forward and asked, “What do you mean by that? Your actions betray your message, you know.”

Ryoma felt around with his hand and smiled. “Don’t be so sure.” Ryoma said. Then, he grabbed one of the enemy samurai’s discarded katana and swung it at Makoto. However, Makoto wasn’t caught off-guard as the samurai had hoped, and parried the blow. Again, he knocked the weapon out of Ryoma’s hand, though this time, he was left without an option. Of course, he could always grab another dropped blade but he knew the result would end up the same. All he could do was sit there, unable to make another move.

Makoto placed his blade at the side of Ryoma’s neck and said, “You’ve lost. And now, your life is forfeit.” Ryoma, downtrodden from the skirmish, relented and said, “Very well.” Himiko cried out and exclaimed, “No, you can’t die here, Ryoma!” Yuki chimed in as well and yelled, “Please, don’t leave us, Ryoma!” Even Tetsuo felt horrid though he couldn’t find the words to express the sentiment.

“Hold, friends.” Ryoma said, placing a hand into the air to quell them. “Don’t shed tears for my corporeal form.” He looked Makoto dead in the eye and said, “Know this, Lord Shogun. My body may die here today, but my soul will not extinguish. Nay, it shall burn ever bright until His Majesty is saved. I’ll claw my way back from Yomi to avenge him, whether you pledge your sword to help or not. Do you hear me, Makoto? I swear my lifeforce will continue on!”

Although he could not see the figure, Ryoma felt a warm hand upon his shoulder, gentle yet firm. He realized that even now, so far away from the imperial palace, the spirit of the emperor was with him, ever guiding his resolve. Yuki, despite not seeing the figure, noticed a change within his companion; his aura blazed brilliantly in its crimson sheen, seemingly palpable. He likened the spike in resolve to a blessing from the gods themselves.

Makoto reeled back his katana and sheathed it. “I understand.” He said. Ryoma was perplexed and asked, “Understand what, exactly? That my spirit will live on?” Makoto chucked and said, “Of that, we have no need of proving. The resolve you’ve displayed here is uniquely human in my eyes. Though you’ve apparently made a pact with an oni, I cannot judge you as one yourself. Your constitution is as mortal as my own.”

Then, Makoto turned around and began walking back across the courtyard toward the abode. Ryoma and the others stared at him as he moved, unsure of what he intended. Finally reaching the bottom of the stairs, the shogun turned around and asked, “Aren’t you coming inside? Is that not the reason you came?” Ryoma smiled and exclaimed, “Yes, Lord Shogun! Thank you!” Rising to his feet, he and the others made their way to the steps, closely following Makoto inside.