On the battlefield, the massacre raged on. Kondo led the charge, his swift horse sprinted down the beach as he slashed left and right with his sword, felling any who came within range. The forces of the daimyō had been devastated by the chaos and the coming of the oni. However, the sheer number of the barbarians was astounding, going far beyond even what he could have ever imagined. Their forces had also been decimated, but fresh reinforcements had come in to bolster their numbers, and they were coming quickly.

He swiveled in his saddle, taking a brief survey of the field around him. The oni had now largely dispersed and were chasing anyone nearby before moving on to the next. The barbarians, however, were beginning to regroup, and their leaders were shouting orders in a foreign tongue, trying to get them to create a wall by the ships. They were less daunted by the monsters than the island men, perhaps because of lack of context or perhaps the barbarians had their own yomi, who were just as monstrous and fierce as these. Regardless, they still had the advantage in numbers, and if they could collect themselves, it was possible for them to still take the beach. He could not allow that.

Kondo grabbed the reins and turned his horse back towards the greatest concentration of oni. He would have to try and gather them once again, or at least set them upon the forming wall, but he knew all too well the difficulty in organizing them in their bloodlust. The battle of the Akaii capital went well only because most of the groundwork had already been laid, and all the oni had to do was what they did best. They were fearsome monsters, but not altogether clever, and were quite resistant to following the orders of their own kind, let alone from a human.

The march south from Akaii had been perhaps the most terrifying journey he had ever taken in his life, as he was alone amongst the throng of beasts. They followed him at a distance, but he never slept well and preferred to only nod off during the day, when their powers were limited. In the night, their wicked red eyes seemed to weigh on him, and he did not know if he would make it to the battle alive, or if they would turn and consume him in their frenzy. But they had made it just in time, and now he would have to finish his task.

He waved his sword in the air and shouted, trying to attract their attention. Some did give him an amused glance, but most continued with their butchery.

Meanwhile, the barbarians had reformed and were growing stronger, moving away from the heart of the ships in a tight formation.

“This is not good,” Kondo thought. He tried once again, shouting, and directing them with his sword, trying to make them see. The oni continued to slaughter mindlessly, unaware of the threat that was growing.

“Why do I always have to be the one?” he asked himself bitterly. He quickly dismounted, and slapped his horse on the rear, commanding it to escape the battle. Kondo bent down to grab one of the lit torches that had once been used by an adjutant. Lifting the torch aloft, he raced down the beach towards one of the central wooden ships. He would have to get close enough to throw the torch onto the ship, and then hope that it caught fire. He knew that these barbarian ships were particularly susceptible to fire, and this being a transport vessel was even more likely to burn, being made of lesser materials. But he had to get close enough.

The phalanx was growing and blocking his way. Fortunately for him, they were more concerned about the oni than one ordinary man, which allowed him to hit their flank. He cut his way through, constantly moving his eyes to and from the nearest ship. He was getting closer, but he was not yet close enough.

He had to jump, roll, slash, and thrust, all with one hand grasping the torch, which limited his abilities. He had come through freezing snow, blood, fear, and near death to get this far. Everything he had ever worked for hinged on this battle. A spear’s edge almost caught him in the throat, and it took all his balance to avoid it. He had finally drawn the ire of the phalanx, who were now beginning to reform with him as the target.

This was his last chance. Kondo stepped forward and cocked his arm back. With a jerk, he threw the torch high into the air, and it sailed long and far. He did not see where it landed, for a wall of spears was nearly upon him. He retreated, fending off the ugly weapons with his blade.

He made it back to the embankment before he dared to turn back around. When he did, he could see the beginnings of a fire on the massive vessel, and within minutes it had grown. The fire, as he anticipated, captured the attention of the oni, who then also noticed the growing number of barbarians in its wake. The oni then began to congregate and focus their mayhem on the new resistance, for at this point most of the beach was covered in the blood of the fallen.

The ship soon began to burn so brightly that it shed light upon the entire battlefield and beyond. If Kondo was pleased with the fire, he regretted what he saw in its light. The ocean still teemed with transports, as if the number were without end. His heart sank as he came to the grim realization. Even with ten thousand oni, it would not be enough to hold back this flood. It was simply too great.

He breathed heavily, and his vision was blurry. He was beyond exhausted for he had not eaten a proper meal or taken a solid rest in weeks. And now, it all seemed to be for nothing.

Kondo did what any man would do when all hope was lost, he sat down.

The oni had collided with the phalanx, but that no longer seemed to matter. Even if the phalanx was broken, more reinforcements would come, and they would build another.

“It’s over,” he murmured, catching his breath. “It's all over. We have lost.”

Then, he noticed something strange out on the waters. It looked, at first, as if it were just cloudiness in his eyes, weary from their long vigilance without rest. He rubbed them vigorously, hoping to gain some clarity. No, there was definitely a thick mist crawling along the ink-like ocean from the south. It appeared to slink along as if it were a wave atop the real waves, and in it were several glowing orbs, bobbing up and down.

Shapes began to form in the mist. They were tall, human-like forms, but they were not human, not in the least. They were giants. Their long arms were slick and black. The pale orbs for their eyes gathered and sat upon their heads like a crown. Their terrible visages emerged from the mist as the barbarian ships closed in on the shore. There were three, no four, perhaps several of these great behemoths in the depths. They rose higher and higher, towering over the foreign vessels like a child in the bath with his toys. Then they attacked.

They stretched out their hands against the barbarian transports, and with one or two mighty strikes brought down the sturdy wooden hulls, spilling their contents of men into the sea like grains of rice. Then they methodically moved on to the next. Cries of terror began to pierce the air once again.

Kondo instinctively rose to his feet, his eyes wide in amazement. “It can’t be...” he whispered in utter surprise.

Then he saw her. He did not understand how he knew it was her, but he seemed to know it at once. From his vantage, she was like a faint glimmer in the darkness. But he knew he could sense her awful power emanating from the mist. A glowing figure emerged from the grey cloud behind the yomi and stood on the water with hands raised and a chilling voice that was both deep and powerful. She was commanding them, and they were listening to her.

“Vengeance!” she cried out over the stifled moans rising from the ocean. “Take your vengeance!”

During the battle, Henji had been dealing with the two other daimyō lords near the forest’s edge. He had frustrated their initial attempts to skewer him where he stood, for he was too nimble, and despite there being two of them mounted upon horseback, they could not land a single blow. After some considerable effort, they saw that they could not hope of getting the job done in this manner, and thus abandoned their horses and prepared to fight him on the ground.

Surprisingly, Henji did not harry them as they dismounted, but paused and let them prepare themselves without adding pressure. This was a noble gesture, afforded to the daimyō who were not fighting within the traditional boundaries of honor, being two against one. But Henji did not seem bothered in the least by these odds, which they considered with growing apprehension. He did not seem to be physically affected, despite their full-hearted onslaught. His face was set in his usual, emotionless disposition, and he wore a far-away look. He did not even seem to be breathing heavily, despite his rolling and tumbling around to avoid their spears.

Still, the two daimyō were proud and brave men, and whatever misgivings they had, they forcefully ignored them as they cast down their spears and drew their longswords from their sides. Henji stood in between the two of them, holding both swords in his hands, one sword pointed at Tora, and the other at Ryū. They circled him for a few moments, edging closer in the soft dirt mixed with the sand of the shore. Henji remained still, shifting only to keep his swords pointed at his opponents.

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Tora moved in first, and once he did Ryū followed a split second later. They had hoped to converge on their unarmored enemy and bring him down at that moment. Once they reached the place where he had been, both men nearly collided with each other, for he was no longer there. He had jumped backward and had landed a few yards away. He raised his swords at them, and there was a malevolent glee in his eyes.

This seemed to enrage the daimyō even more, and they both charged at him once again, swinging their blades with great fury. This time Henji did not move away but held his position and parried their strikes, one after another. Despite his slender and lithe build, each block threw the daimyō back, nearly causing them to falter or slip.

They returned again and again, pushing into Henji’s defense, and causing him to step back, slowly, but not once were they able to land a blow on him. They never even came close.

After several valiant efforts, both men paused to collect themselves. They were tired from the effort, and the battle armor they wore was incredibly heavy. It was crafted to save them from stray arrow shots, or a glancing spear thrust, not for the technical combat of swordplay.

Henji remained still, statuesque, like a gargoyle, the sea breeze flapping through his kimono. Otherwise, nothing else moved.

“Who are you?” Ryū suddenly asked, trying to catch his breath.

“I am Henji Tetsuya,” he said quietly.

“No!” Tora barked. “Tell us who you really are!”

Henji blinked a few times, but his expressionless face remained unchanged. “I am the master of the Shin-Shadowhand.”

Tora’s face twisted with rage. “As I thought! The Shōgun elevated one of his pets to the rank of daimyō, to stamp us out from within!”

“We should have protested!” Ryū huffed, agreeing with his former rival. “When we first heard that the Shadowhand had returned we should have turned the Shōgun against it. We had more power then. You will be the ruin of us all!”

“What little power you might have had would not have been enough,” Henji snapped back, his pale eyes revealing just a hint of anger. “Besides, our order is not beholden to any man, not even the Shōgun.”

“You see!” Tora said with a grim laugh. “We are all traitors, aren't we? We all lust for that which we should not have!”

“You are wrong,” Henji answered pointedly, slowly raising his swords once again. “There is no lust within me. In fact, there is nothing. Nothing at all.”

With that, he shot forward like an arrow freshly loosed from a bow. Before the daimyō could even lift their weapons, he was next to them. In one instant they were both disarmed, and in another, they were both falling backward. They had been pricked by Henji’s sharp blades before they could even understand what had happened.

“It cannot be!” Tora gasped.

“That speed!” Ryū cried.

They hit the sandy dirt with a muffled crunch and made to get up, but soon found that it was impossible. There was a sword buried deep in each of their chests.

They spent their last few breaths and effort looking out onto the waters in the distance, as several enormous black figures rose from the sea and began to smash their way through the barbarian armada. After these precious moments passed, both venerable warriors breathed out their last breaths, and the Tiger and the Dragon, once the most bitter of enemies, died lying next to each other, their blood mingling in the dirt and the sand.

Henji’s face did not change as he pulled out the swords from their bodies. He was too busy watching the horizon to give the daimyō any final gestures of respect. Besides, defeating them had been all too easy. What concerned him most were those things outside of his control. Yet, the second wave of yomi had made it at last. The Lady had kept her promise. Both groups of terrible creatures were integral for this night to work out in the way he had planned, and now that it had, he could let himself feel some measure of satisfaction. Finally, he could breathe.

“It was a bitter struggle, but alas, there is no hope for them,” he said to himself.

At that moment, he could see Kondo approaching him, galloping up from the shore, so he tightened his facial muscles and remained stern. His subordinate reached him quickly, and, looking frightened and bewildered, stumbled down from his horse. He spent a few moments studying the ground, and the fresh bodies nearby, before looking back up and his master and falling to his knees.

“What are those monstrous creatures?”

“Insurance,” Henji said, watching as one of the black yomi sundered a hull of the transport with its mighty fist. Men were no longer pouring out upon the beach but were either swimming hopelessly away or giving their best efforts to escape the monsters that had come upon them, by turning their ships around.

“But…” Kondo stammered. “How?”

“That is her business,” answered Henji, taking it all in. “She has some sway over the yomi, being what you call, gifted. If she exerts herself, well, this is the result.”

Both men stared out at the carnage, as ship after ship began to either burn, capsize, or sink entirely. Those few that did manage to turn around would need to be fortunate to escape, for now, the white mist was everywhere, and Henji could count no less than ten pairs of glowing eyes out on the waters. In the very center of it all remained the pale light.

Kondo made to speak but then paused before opening his mouth again. “Then we have won.”

Henji nodded slowly. “We have. Everything that has been planned for years on end has come together in perfect completeness. In one fell stroke, we eliminated the Akaii, the Tora, and the Ryū, our most powerful enemies in the north. We have repelled the filthy barbarians and have gained untold fame for doing so. The name of Henji will be a legend among the people for years to come, and I will use that fame as a weapon more powerful than any sword.”

“Master,” Kondo said warily. “Surely others will find out what happened here. Once they realize that we used yomi, well, we will be scorned.”

Henji lifted a slender eyebrow. “Oh?” he said softly. “And how will they know that? The Tora and Ryū forces are obliterated, the barbarians are either dead or fleeing, and nobody would believe them anyway. The oni will return north, and these foul creatures will sink back to the depths from which they came. The rest of our order will clean up everything else.”

“What about your own men?” Kondo interjected, “Do you trust them to keep this quiet?”

“I do. For they know well what will happen to those who speak out.”

Kondo understood what he meant by this and did not probe any further.

“Kondo,” Henji said suddenly, pulling him from his misgivings. “It is time that you receive what is due to you for your many endeavors. You are the ultimate example of what the Shin-Shadowhand was created to produce, a skilled and effective warrior, and a wise and prudent leader. In the next few weeks and months, it will be crucial that I live up to my newly won fame, as I will be far more influential as Henji Tetsuya than I could ever be as the secret leader of the Shin-Shadowhand. Therefore, upon completing one last mission, you will take my place as Master of the Shin-Shadowhand, and you should lead it as you see fit.”

This came as a great surprise to Kondo, and even more so was the gentle hand of Henji, lifting him off his knees and onto his feet, so that they stood, looking at each other, eye to eye.

“You have earned it, my friend,” Henji commended, who had never called him ‘friend’ before.

“How could I?” Kondo stammered. “I am nothing compared to you.”

“You will do well enough, I am sure,” Henji said tenderly. With that, he removed a ring from a pocket inside his kimono. It was a small gold ring with tiny rubies set within it. Upon careful inspection, one could see that the ring was designed to look like the venomous centipede, the infamous mukade, which had become the symbol of the old Shadowhand and the new. The mukade was chosen because of its ability to continue living, even if it had been cut in half or burned by fire. Henji carefully slid this onto Kondo’s right ring finger and then paused to admire it.

Kondo was astounded beyond words. All he could bring himself to say was, “What is my final mission, Master?”

Henji turned back towards the sea. It had grown quiet once again. The screams and cries that had once made the air electric had given way to the eerie calm of a battle complete. Most of the oni were milling around or resting, while others picked at the corpses of the dead and chewed on them for sustenance. A few vessels still sat upon the waters, half-submerged or in the slow process of sinking. Thousands of bodies bobbed along the surface of the water, lifted by the buoyancy of their many pelts. He knew that many times that number had fallen to the depths, weighed down by their heavy weapons of war. A few flames of light danced about the shore in strange places, but otherwise, it was inky black. The mist had begun to recede, following those who had tried to escape further out to sea.

“I need you to kill the girl,” Henji said at last. His voice was calm, emotionless.

“What?” Kondo let out, sounding more astonished than he had planned. “Why?”

Henji turned back to face him, his pale eyes seeming to see through to Kondo’s soul. “That whole scheme was the Shōgun's idea. I went along with it because I was commanded to do so. We might have benefited from it too, of course. But now, after this night has gone so splendidly, I am afraid that Gintaro may be the only one who could threaten our plans. I know the lengths you went through to retrieve the girl, but this is my final command. When she dies, he will destroy himself, and we will be free of him.”

Kondo stared at his master. He was unsure of what to say, of what to do.

Sensing his apprehension, Henji gave him one final push. “Now you must prove to the world, and yourself, that you are a man who is worthy of creating change. Is that not why you joined me those many years ago? Before you came to me, you were a simple outlaw, fighting meaningless battles just to stay alive. You wanted to have a chance to change this world, to become numbered among the great. That is why you came to me, is it not? Well, tonight you have earned that right, and soon, as master, you will be able to mold the world as you see fit, just as I did. Remember that I too came from nothing. Together, you and I, we can make these Islands into paradise. No more wars, no more battles, no more hunger, and no more needless suffering. We have the vision to do that, the vision that few others do. But we must do the hard things first.”

Kondo thought for a few moments and then stiffened his resolve. “It shall be done,” he said firmly.

“Very good,” his master stated, staring back out towards the sea. He took a deep breath through his nose as if he wanted to savor the very smell of this moment.

Kondo began to depart, but Henji, without moving, uttered one last piece of advice. “Be careful,” he warned, as a faint smile crossed his face for what Kondo thought was the first time. “Gintaro might be in the New Capital when you return. You would do well to avoid him. He will not be the same man you met before. He cannot be beaten as he is now. The only one who can defeat him is himself.”