Gintaro lay alone in the dark, somewhere among the myriad square rooms that made up the expansive estate of the Kagi daimyō. He was alone in the room, but he knew that two guards were standing outside, for he could hear them mutter to each other on occasion. Yet even their presence was not enough to make him feel less alone. He felt as if he was stranded in the middle of the wide ocean, as a storm raged, and he knew that he was going to die completely alone, without a single person to mourn him.

He had been bound hand and foot and was so sore from his injuries that it hurt even to breathe. The steward had not yet come for him, as he had promised. So he waited. Each minute felt like an hour. He wanted death to come, for his mind was filled with thoughts so painful, that if he did not stop himself from dwelling on them, he would surely plunge into utter madness. All he could do was focus on his breath and heartbeat and count. Yet even then, his mind would begin to wander to the dark recesses of his past.

“All-kami...” he whispered. “My master, he used to believe in you, even though I never did. I wanted to. I wanted to see you, but all I saw was darkness. If you are out there, I ask you to grant me one favor. Only one. This is my first and last request. Destroy me. I cannot take it anymore. I cannot stand living anymore. Please, if you have any mercy in you at all, destroy me. Be done with it.”

He waited and strained as if to hear a faint voice in the distance. But there was nothing. Nothing at all.

“Kill me!” he cried out loud. “Kill me! Kill me! Kill me!” He slammed his head onto the floor violently as he repeated the words.

Yet no response came, other than a mocking chuckle from the guards outside his door.

“Kill me!” he screamed out desperately. “Answer me for once and let me die!”

Gin waited, hoping to see some flash of lightning or shroud of darkness creep over him. But there was still nothing. No reply, only silence. Exhausted both mentally and physically, he could no longer hold on. He slowly slipped out of consciousness into a silent dream.

He eventually awoke to the faint sound of voices. These were not coming from the guards outside of his room but from somewhere else. He lifted his head, but the sounds dissipated. He did not know how long he had been asleep but reasoned he had been out a few hours, judging by the movement of the moon, which was now casting its pale light through the opaque walls of his cell. Puzzled, he wondered if he had been dreaming and let his head down again. The voices returned. They were coming from directly below him. He inspected the tatami underneath him but could see nothing amiss. There was a crack in the wooden floorboards below that carried the sound upwards to where his head was resting. If he pressed his ear to the floor, he could hear the voices quite clearly.

“What do you think about the Steward?” one man asked. His voice was like that of a younger man, hearty but unsure. “Seems a bit hard if you ask me.”

“You need to be quiet,” the other man rebuked. His voice was deeper and measured. It sounded like a veteran soldier. “You don’t know who’s listening around here. Besides, I bet the Lieutenant is harder.”

There was a pause. “Well, I miss our lord. And I think we will miss him more as time goes on. Sagi is a hard man, dare I say cruel. Did you hear what he did about the rice farmer?”

“I heard it,” the veteran replied. “But I don’t think much of it. I’ve served long enough to know each man has his own way of doing things, and if you stay in line, there’ll be no worry.”

“Now what could the steward possibly want with a man like that?” the young man said after a moment. “Didn’t seem harmful from the looks of him.”

“How should I know? He might know a thing or two about the merchant, I warrant. But they are leaving him alone for the time being.”

“How come?”

“Who knows! Did you see him as they brought him up? Looked as limp as a dead fish. Whatever they told him earlier, it sure took him down a peg or two. He didn’t move a muscle when I saw ‘em. Wouldn’t be much use right now I suppose. But quiet down, you’re getting too loud.”

At this Gin lifted an eyebrow and pushed his ear closer to the floor.

“Well, it doesn’t sit well with me,” the younger man continued. “Waiting around like that could drive a man mad.”

“You’re preaching to the wrong man,” the vet grunted, “Cause I would make ‘em wait until he started growing moss.”

There was a short pause before the younger soldier took up the conversation once again. “Well, they also talked about a girl. Guess his daughter got cut down when they went out for that merchant fellow? That’s hard.”

“There was no girl!” the veteran hissed, letting his voice break as if something had touched a nerve. “They sent me out with a few others to look for that rascal, but we never found any trace of him or any girl. If anyone’s been cutting down girls, look to the Lieutenant. He’s been pushing his luck for years.”

“So, the Steward lied then? That’s harder than hard. Poor fellow.”

“On that I agree. The old daimyō wouldn’t have stood for it. He woulda’ hung any of us up for using tricks like that. The daimyō was lenient and slower than a legless horse when it came to decisions, but he had power in ‘em, and would not tolerate evil deeds. But our new leader, I’m not so sure about ‘em. He may want to break his prisoners before questioning, like a spider on a fly. But no girl is dead, I can tell you that. Just a bluff to keep the man down I reckon.”

Gin lifted his head from the floor to allow him to process what he had just heard. His heart was now pounding in his chest, and he could almost sense the blood flowing through his veins.

“She…she’s alive!” he thought in sheer amazement.

He lowered his head again and rolled to his back. His mind was racing. Instinct was taking over.

“Then I need to get out of here!” he thought. “I need to live!”

But there was a problem. He was still bound hand and foot with thick, chafing rope. He pushed and pulled to test their integrity, but there was no give, as they were deftly secured. He paused for a moment, trying to think of another way. He surveyed the room, searching for something sharp in which to cut the cords, but there was nothing. Without other options, he pushed one last time, struggling with all his might against the rope but it was no use. Just then, the magatama on his necklace slid down across his chest, just enough for him to notice it. His eyes grew wide as an idea sprung into his head.

He then glanced once more toward the only exit from the room. The glow of a lit torch still permeated from the other side of the opaque shoji door.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“At last, a bit of luck,” he thought, as he rolled away so that his back was facing the door.

He then craned his neck so that the dark magatama stone rested lightly upon the rope that bound his hands and quickly closed his eyes. It had been a long time since he had used his magatama. He was not sure how easy it was going to be after all these years. He paused, reciting the words in his mind. Then he whispered the sutra toward the stone, just loud enough so that his words could reach it. He repeated it once, twice, then three times before it began. The black stone began to illuminate, softly at first, but it began to grow stronger before his eyes. A small wisp of smoke began to rise from the rope where the magatama rested. Gin continued, his voice more rhythmic and deliberate, all the while the stone grew white-hot, burning through the rope slowly, but surely. He was also listening intently, hoping that the guards would remain unaware of what was going on. The lit torch outside of the room would provide some cover for him, but if the light inside his room exceeded the torchlight, they might take notice, and he would be exposed before he was free. He heard nothing but was cautious and kept his voice as quiet as he could, limiting the magatama’s power but making for a longer process.

After a few minutes, the rope was nearly severed. It had burned through enough so that he could rip free. He then carefully went to work on the cords around his legs by removing the stone from his neck and placing it on the rope around his feet.

“Quiet down in there!” one of the guards shouted from across the threshold.

Gin stopped, and suddenly the light died. He held his breath knowing that he was done for if he was caught too early. A moment went by, then another.

“They couldn’t have seen,” he thought. “Or they’d be in here already.”

He continued the sutra once more after he rolled to the far side of the room. The rope around his legs was thicker, covered in a plaster that made them difficult to burn through. His eyes constantly flashed back and forth from the door to the rope. The guards were beginning to stir, he could see their silhouettes through the door.

“I need more power!” he thought, panicked. His voice grew louder, the sutra more forceful, as the stone seared against the cord.

“That’s it!” one of the guards bellowed, throwing the door aside. As he stepped in his face shifted to that of unbelief. There, directly in front of him, stood the prisoner, completely free from his bonds.

Gin thrust the bottom of his open palm straight up at the guard’s nose with a crack and with his other hand, removed the man’s sword from his waist as he fell. The second guard stumbled in but was cut down immediately, as Gin had drawn the sword and slashed him so hard that he nearly cut the man in two. He surveyed the bloody scene and then bent down and grabbed the second guard’s sword before exiting the room hurriedly. He took the lit torch posted outside the door and tossed it into the room where he was once held captive, watching the flames ignite upon the tatami mat in mere seconds. He waited until the room was sufficiently aflame before he turned and proceeded down the corridor.

He could feel the heat at his back, but it was nothing like the flame inside of him, burning away at everything. Three guards came whirling around the corner and stopped dead when they saw him.

“That’s the prisoner! Get him!”

Gin unsheathed the second sword and held them both at the ready, his eyes bent darkly upon the soldiers. The guards hesitated, seeing the freed prisoner with an inferno blazing behind him. Gin moved first, striding forward, twirling his blades, ready to strike. The soldiers barely had time to draw their weapons before he was on them, slashing with wild speed. A few times they managed to parry his attacks, as he was unpracticed, and his blows were at times awkward and off the mark. Yet he was still deadly, and ultimately, they were all cut down. Like before, he took the nearest torch and cast it near the bodies so that it began to burn.

At this time, he had an important choice to make. He could stay on the upper levels or proceed down a staircase which would presumably bring him to the first floor. He tried to think back to when they had brought him to his cell, but of that time he had no memory. All he could do was draw upon his knowledge of the other great estates that he had visited many years ago. Usually, the lord’s chamber was in the very center of the estate, on the first level.

He ran down the steps but was met at the bottom by another group of soldiers, who were frantically trying to figure out why a fire had started. They stopped upon seeing him, startled by the suddenness of his appearance. They were about seven men strong, so Gin could not simply rush past them. They eyed the blood on his blades cautiously but were emboldened by the strength of their numbers. That was their mistake.

They fanned out across the narrow corridor to block him from slipping through, and moved in concert, hedging him in. Gin’s gaze kept shifting from soldier to soldier, as he held out both of his swords to give himself some breathing room. He was searching for something, not a weakness in the chain, but a strong point. When he found it, he attacked.

The speed of his movements was almost incomprehensible to these men, who despite being soldiers, had never seen anything like it. They hacked carelessly at the point where he had once been, while he had already moved in and smote the leader to the floor. Parrying and dodging their other misplaced strikes, Gin carved his way through his attackers, slicing, stabbing, and thrusting, all the while growing in power and speed. Most men could not even see their death blow coming, for the further away from his swords they thought they were, the closer they were to their own demise. His movements and attacks were so creative, so sporadic, that they were nearly impossible to predict. What made matters worse for them was that doubt began to grow in their minds after seeing their leader fall, and with that doubt came hesitation. In any sword fight, a mere moment of hesitation could mean the difference between life and death. They were too slow, and he was too far beyond them and filled with a fury that was spilling over.

Since he had heard that his daughter was still alive, something had begun to boil up within him. It was different than the bitter anguish he felt before when he realized that Yuki had been taken, or the frustration when he had fought Saru in the moonlit woods. This was rage, an unquenchable and indomitable urge to destroy everything set before him, and he had almost no power to try and subdue it. So, he gave in and drank the cup of wrath in full.

He ran ahead, leaving the bloody mess behind him, pulling down torches where he could, smashing lampstands, and cutting through any door and guard that got in his path.

Yet soon, he began to realize that he was lost and that his escape would be futile if he was unable to question the steward soon. Worse than that, he might make a mistake and get recaptured. In a free moment in between bouts, he stopped to catch his breath and contrive a plan.

From what he could remember, most estates in the capital were built to display a picturesque central garden, with a large pond, fed by a nearby stream, which often contained several small islands. These gardens were meant to capture the glory of days of old when the Islands were young, and their beauty was not marred by the evils of men. Facing the garden directly was the main hall, which housed the lord, his valuables, and his family. There was often a grand veranda under the eaves, from where the lord could enjoy the best vantage of his estate.

From the central building, many other halls, including pavilions were connected by open but covered corridors and bridges, which gave those passing between rooms an unobscured view of the garden. These rooms varied in size depending on their purpose, as did the corridors, which could be as long or as short as they were needed to be. To create a tranquil atmosphere, most rooms were edged by a veranda and only enclosed by moveable shoji doors, so that at any point the lord, his family, or his guests could enjoy the pleasant scene while being relatively safe from the elements.

Gin peered around, as he was standing in an open corridor at that time. He noted that the garden was behind him and to his left, which meant that the main rooms of the estate were ahead. At this moment, another pack of soldiers appeared before him. This time there was a familiar face amid the group.

“Midlander!” the burly guard growled.

Gin did not reply but shot forward like a bolt of lightning. The guard made a strong downward slash, but it was deflected by Gin’s left sword as if it were an unpleasant insect being swatted away. His right sword plunged deep into his engorged paunch and remained there stuck firmly within. The heavy guard staggered backward and hit the wooden floor with a loud crack while Gin went to work on the others. He was just as deadly with a single sword, and though it was far more conventional, his attackers could not withstand him. He hewed them with incredible force and ferocity as if he were trying to shatter their bones with each clash of blades.

At last, he gained a respite as the remainder of the guards fled from his wrath and left him alone. Without looking down at the man who had insulted them just this morning, he grabbed the sword lodged within him and pulled it out with a quick jerk. He proceeded on, unchallenged for a little while.