Kondo Daisuke rode out from the glade with wild fury. Indeed, his journey from that glade to the New Capital might have been remembered as one of the fastest journeys from the west coast to the east on a single horse, were there another person to bear witness to it. He rode with such ferocity that he seemed more like a yomi than a man. His eyes gleamed with a fell radiance, and his jaw was set with grim determination. The occasional passerby would have to jump out of his path, and those who watched him from a safe distance shouted after him, “Ride on! Ride on!” His black steed galloped like a gale and seemed to pay no mind to the risk of death that such a pace would certainly carry. They pushed on day and night, resting only when Kondo could sense his horse was growing weary. He slept little and ate and drank only what he could find nearby. He lit no fires, despite the chill wind of the mountains blowing through his kimono, for he was burning on the inside. Yet he no longer rode to destroy but to save.

He had decided in his heart that he would rescue Yukiana by whatever means necessary, even if that meant throwing away everything he had just won. He cared for nothing and could do nothing until he could see her face again. This obsession mastered him, driving him to near madness, and the longer he dwelt upon it, the more all-consuming it became.

Kondo arrived at the New Capital in three days, but he was sore, exhausted, and in a fey disposition. The first thing he did upon entering the city was to stable his horse. Tegata was on the verge of collapse from the journey and in dire need of care and rest. Kondo knew how hard he had ridden for him, and though his mind was wracked with turmoil, he did not completely abandon practicality. He spent the last of his money on a good stable and a trustworthy caretaker, before wandering back out into the city.

He then sought out correspondence from his apprentice. He had left her in charge of Yukiana when he was away, and he commanded her to leave him a message if anything about the situation changed. He came to a shabby, claustrophobic sake den at the edge of the city where ninja of the Shin-Shadowhand frequently met to exchange information. It was called the Suimitsu. He nodded to the owner, a short, plump woman who bowed knowingly and disappeared behind a sliding door.

He sat down, and for the first time in weeks, allowed himself some sake. Kondo had spent many hours on his return journey considering how he was going to break into Ishihara and take Yukiana back. That, he thought, might be more difficult than any of his trials thus far, including his victory at the beach. Ishihara was designed specifically to prevent this kind of intrusion, and it was well guarded by the ubiquitous foxes.

“But the Lady has not yet returned,” he mused. “And that is advantage enough. I cannot wait until she comes back, for her powers are great.” He, as a ninja, would have to put his skills to the ultimate test.

The plump woman soon returned with a sealed letter and presented it to him with both hands. Bowing, she silently returned to her post, leaving him to read the letter.

“Something must have happened,” he thought, quickly breaking the seal. He opened it and noticed right away that it was written in a rushed, personal script.

Captain,

Forgive me. I regret to inform you that the girl has fallen under the wrath of the Prime Consort. She was gravely injured but survived. She is now being held under the care of the Shōgun, but he has warned me that there is little more he can do to dissuade his mistress. I have been summoned by our master for a mission on the far coast. Indeed, the entire clan has been summoned there on an urgent matter. There are none of us left to watch over her now. I beg your forgiveness.

I hope you will not despise your servant for her failures, but if I have displeased you, merely say the word, and I shall fall on my blade before you. Your gaze of disapproval would wound me far worse.

Kira

Kondo’s eyes opened wide with horror. On this seemingly insignificant piece of paper, his entire world was coming apart.

“Gravely injured?” he exclaimed, causing the other patrons nearby to eye him apprehensively.

“In the care of the Shōgun?” he thought to himself.

He did not know what to make of this. How on earth did Yuki fall under the wrath of the Lady? She was supposed to be protecting her, keeping her safe! But he knew, he always knew that the fury of the Lady was not a stable thing. It was as wild as the sea winds, prone to turn without reason and at any moment. And it could not be thwarted, not by any power that he knew of.

“This is the very reason why I was opposed to this plan!” Kondo seethed. He reread the letter, studying it more intently this time. He knew all too well that Kira was telling the truth about her summons. Kondo’s instructions to remain in the New Capital and watch over Yukiana would be overruled by an order from their master. Henji had said that the entirety of the Shin-Shadowhand had been summoned to ‘clean up’ the battlefield so that no one would discover what truly happened there. He could not remember a time, if ever, when the entire clan was summoned for one mission, but he did know the punishment meted out to those who disobeyed.

“They would kill her,” he thought. Then he considered his own ambitions. “They may kill me too.” He thought about that for a moment but concluded that he did not care. He had lived long enough in this miserable world. He was not afraid of the shadows, for he was a shadow himself.

His thoughts quickly turned back to Yukiana. “It might be better if the Shōgun had her, for we have many spies in the castle. We have very few in Ishihara. I should be able to locate her and rescue her without as much danger.”

He quickly drank down the rest of his sake, rose, and then went back out into the city. He then met with several of his contacts who worked within the castle walls and were in the employ of the Shin-Shadowhand. Although the Shōgun did claim authority over the ninja, they, especially under Henji, did not consider themselves wholly subject to him, and thus kept spies in all areas of the castle. This was more for self-preservation than anything, for if the Shōgun suddenly decided to dissolve the group, which had numerous powerful enemies, Henji wanted to be the first to know of it. This was also how he quickly became a favorite of the cunning ruler, for he seemed to know exactly where the Shōgun was and what he wanted to hear.

“The Shadowhand existed before the time of the Shōgun,” Henji had once told Kondo. “And though we operate under his protection and at times under his instruction, we have a higher mandate than even he realizes.”

Kondo was relieved that the spies he sought were still in place, but after several attempts, he could not acquire any useful information about the Shōgun’s ward.

This frustration, along with his poor physical condition and fragile mental state, led to unhinged anger that frightened many of the spies away.

“I am sorry sir!” one agent cried, cowering in the corner of his small room in the heart of the city. “I have heard nothing of any prisoner. Please forgive me!”

“Silence!” Kondo growled, rubbing his head, trying to remember the names and stations of the other spies that he had not yet questioned.

“Though, I did hear of a girl being taken to the Second Palace,” the man added after a short pause. “They said she tried some violence up top, they did. She was one of the Lady’s servants I believe.”

Kondo removed his fingers from his brow and advanced upon the terrified guard. “Where is she?” he hissed.

The man told him everything he knew, and Kondo was soon on his way, his heart racing with a kind of wild ecstasy.

By the time he reached the outer castle walls, it was already late in the afternoon. He went up through the gate to the Southwest Bailey. There was, much like all the others, an enormous wooden gate spanning the sheer stone walls. Kondo, as a captain of the Shadowhand, had enough clout to be allowed into the outer baileys without much trouble. Yet he could not enter the inner circle unless he used the rubied ring of the Mukade that he still carried in his pocket.

In the end, it did not matter, and he did not have to test his new power. The girl was being held outside of the inner circle, within the southwest bailey. She was imprisoned in a small building vaguely associated with the Shōgun’s second estate, or summer palace. Because the Shōgun was not currently dwelling there, the entire estate was maintained but otherwise empty. It made sense that such a vulnerable prisoner would be held there apart from the usual miscreants.

Kondo was escorted to a nondescript, rectangular building, where two guards stood vigil outside.

“I am a shadow. I need to interrogate the girl,” he said abruptly and appeared so fierce and resolute that the guards did not question his authenticity.

He was permitted inside and told what cell the girl was placed in. He was also warned that the woman within seemed mad, and was not likely to speak to him,

Kondo nodded, accepting their instruction but also told them that they should take a short reprieve and seek some refreshment.

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“Depending on her answers, this may become one of our matters,” he explained with chilling sternness. “In which case she will not last the night.”

The guards grew pale but did not protest, and quietly strode off, handing him the cell key before departing. Kondo smiled, as now the escape would be all too easy. For once, fortune seemed to be shining down upon him. He slowly approached her cell, which was a simple room with strong, wooden rails on the door barring her in. It took a few moments for him to compose himself, for this was the fateful meeting that he had been longing for since the last time that he left the New Capital. He took out the key, forced it inside the lock, turned it, and then slid the door open.

“Yu…” he began but then stopped suddenly. From there he could see a girl lying quietly on the straw-covered floor. But it was not Yukiana. Horrified, he stepped backward, his face twisting with rage. This was not her. This was not her at all.

The girl in the cell said nothing and merely stared at the ceiling as if she were a corpse. Kondo could tell that she was not dead, for her chest rose mildly with each breath. Kondo’s fists clenched tightly, for he had built up all his courage for this one moment and it had all come to nothing. He stood frozen for a time before he was able to master himself again.

He moved to turn and walk away, but something struck him. He recognized this girl. Yes, this was the girl who had been summoned by Ueda to be Yukiana’s mentor in Ishihara. He remembered that day well, for that was another of his great blunders, leaving the girl alone amid such danger. He did not recall this young woman’s name, but he thought that it might be worth asking to see if she knew of Yukiana’s whereabouts.

He turned back and cleared his throat, wondering why she had not acknowledged his presence. But she said nothing and continued to stare upwards as if she were completely lost in thought.

“Good evening,” Kondo began awkwardly.

This caught the young woman’s attention so that she blinked her eyes several times, as if waking from a dream. She did not, however, turn to look at him.

“I am Kondo,” he continued.

“Are you the Lady’s henchman come to kill me?” the girl asked quietly.

He bristled at this question and answered a curt, “No, I am not.”

“Then we have nothing more to discuss.”

“You are in the power of the Shōgun,” Kondo said after suffering the shock of her insolence. “Should you not be worried about his henchmen as well?”

The young woman blinked again, and this time she turned her head and looked over at him, still without rising from the ground. She obviously did not remember him for there was no glimmer of familiarity in her eyes. “The Lady is often more efficient. But perhaps this time the Shōgun will have his way. I am disappointed though, for I would have rather it had been her.”

“I am not here to kill you,” he explained, “And I do not work for the Shōgun. I want to ask you a few questions.”

The young woman finally sat up and stared at him suspiciously. “What kind of questions?”

“To start, what is your name?” he said.

She eyed him dubiously before answering, “Misasa.”

“How did you come to be here? It is not very often that this prison sees use. You must be an unusual case.”

Misasa’s face fell, and her eyes searched for an answer. “I... I don't really know how I got here. They told me that I did something unlawful, but I cannot remember exactly what.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. I... I just don't understand it. It’s like something strange comes over me, and I am in this fog. I remember things, short glimpses, and a feeling, a heightened emotion. A voice, yes, a voice! I hear her voice! She is making me do terrible things, but not making me, just helping me to do those things deep down I want to do, those dark things you bury the moment they arise.” With that, the young woman began to weep heavily and buried her face in her hands.

Kondo did not like what he was hearing. It seemed to be the Lady’s foul work at play. This woman was clearly not in her right mind, and he assumed some spell or alchemy was at the source. “What did she tell you?” he asked after some time as her sobbing began to slow.

She shook her head frantically, indicating that she did not remember.

“You must try,” urged Kondo, stepping closer. “Try and remember…”

“I think...” she whimpered, wiping her eyes with her torn sleeve. “She told me that I would soon become a master. If only I…”

“If only you…?” Kondo repeated hastily. “If only you did what?”

Misasa’s face seemed to come alive all at once. Her eyes opened wide as if she could see something truly dreadful for the very first time. “All-Kami...what have I done!” Her voice was strained, like a scream, but defeated like a last gasp of air.

Kondo knelt beside her in the cell, his heart aching for the girl in such obvious anguish. “Tell me…” he whispered, though deep down he was afraid of what she would say.

“I…” she began, as tears ran down from her wide-open eyes. “I... killed…her.” She lifted her hands to her face and looked at them as if they were still covered in blood. She trembled and shook from head to toe. “With these hands, I took the dagger...her neck...the pool of blood! Oh, what have I done!”

It was as if Misasa had delivered another dagger thrust, but this was to Kondo’s heart. Everything within him seemed to shudder and grow cold, and even his breath seemed to die within his lungs. “She’s dead?” he managed to get out.

She nodded, and then let out a wail so awful, so potent, that it never completely left him. The ringing of her wail shattered something within him. Tears began to form in his own eyes, and once they came, he could not stop them.

“Why?” he cried. He grabbed the wailing girl by the shoulders and shook her violently. “Why did you do such a foolish thing?”

But Misasa could not answer him, she was lost to despair and thoughts of self-annihilation. She hung loosely in his arms like a ragdoll.

“She was innocent!” he cried. “She was the most innocent person I ever knew! She was going to save me! Do you understand? She was the only one who could!”

Misasa shook her head but cried all the louder. His chest heaved in and out as tears streamed down his face. A dead silence followed, with the two people crumpled upon the floor in the small cell.

“Kondo-sama,” Misasa murmured at last. “Kill me, please. If you pity me at all, kill me.”

He closed his eyes, but the ringing was only growing louder. Her wail, as if amplified, was repeating again and again in his mind, growing louder and more powerful by the moment. He wanted to kill her, wanted to strike her down for what he thought she did to Yukiana. He knew that a part of him could do it and do it effortlessly. But a small fraction of him could not.

“I…I can't!” he shouted, and his voice lifted throughout the cell. “I can’t do it!”

Just then, Kondo felt his short sword leave its sheath, and before he could open his eyes to stop her, Misasa had thrust it into her belly, and with one additional stroke cut to the side.

Kondo pushed himself back and stood up, horrified. “What have you done?” he cried, his hands rising to his ears as the wailing grew even louder.

Misasa, despite her trembling, met his gaze. “This is what I deserve.”

He did not know what to say or do.

For the first time since he had met this young woman, a smile crossed her face, as her eyes suddenly filled with warmth and light. She stumbled to the floor; her grip loosed from his blade. He carefully caught her as she fell and turned her so that she lay peacefully on her back in his arms. Blood covered the floor of the cell, but he did not heed it at all. He held her gently, for that was the only thing he could think to do.

“You know…” Misasa whispered, her breaths slowing and becoming increasingly labored. “Although my family left me here...all alone. I... I still would like to see them, kiss them, one last...time.” With that, her head fell back, and the girl from the far seaside village breathed her last.

Things had happened so quickly, that Kondo sat in shock for some time. How long it was, he could not say, nor did he seem to care. He had seen many horrors throughout his life, but this one shook him the most. This young girl was haunted by her decisions, decisions she alone had made, but under heavy influence from that monster, Ishihara. Now the anguish of her deeds snuffed out the light of her life too soon, and he was too slow to stop it.

“Then who was to blame for the death of Yukiana?” he wondered continually. “Surely the Prime Consort was to blame. Yukiana had somehow fallen under her wrath, and so Ishihara had sent her own mentor against her. How black was the wrath of the Lady? How cruel? Did it know no bounds?”

“On the other hand, I knew full well that the Lady was dangerous. The blame cannot fall only on her. She is a monster indeed. But who was it that left her alone with that monster? It was I...”

As the weight of blame slowly began to settle upon him, Kondo shuddered. He remembered Yukiana’s words, how she had been so right, and he had ignored her.

“Your quest has already failed, because you desire to claim at the end what can only be found in the beginning.”

“I left her to seek something that I already had. I could not see it then. She was wise and kind. And now, I will never see her face.”

Eventually, Kondo rose from where he knelt and lifted Misasa’s body from the floor. He carried her out of the prison and soon found that the guards were returning from their respite.

“She will need to be cremated,” he said, as their faces showed horror at the bloody sight. “Make sure it is done correctly, or I will see that you follow in her footsteps.”

The guards were aghast, but complied with Kondo’s wishes, and had her placed on a cart and covered it respectfully.

“What should we tell our lord?” one of the guards asked meekly.

“Suicide,” he answered, staring off into the setting sun.

“Where should we send the ashes?” the other asked. “To the district?”

Kondo paused and thought contemplatively. “No, not there. Bury her near the sea, at one of the temples that looks out upon the ocean. You will do this personally, and it will be done right, or I will know of it.”

He glowered at them malignantly so that they understood his intent. They nodded hastily and then took the cart away.

When they had gone, he sighed heavily. He too felt like death, or worse. All he wanted to do now was sit down and fall asleep and never wake up again.

At that moment, he heard the excited voices of guards who were striding down the path from the inner circle. They were of higher rank, for the armor they wore was well polished and distinguished with emblems of the Shōgun’s more trustworthy soldiers. They were changing shifts, for the night was drawing near.

Kondo could not hear everything they were saying, but he understood a few phrases well enough.

“I can't believe it! Caught ‘im, they caught ‘im! They got the Raijin!”

“Raijin…” Kondo murmured, coming out of his stupor. “Hey, you!” he called out to the group of four guards.

They turned on him with dark expressions, but when they saw that he was a ninja, and one covered in blood, they immediately froze.

“Yes, sir!”

He went over to them quickly, for at this word his heart began to race again. “You said that the Raijin was caught?” he asked rapidly.

“I didn’t mean to…well, yes, eh, sir! That they did! Found him on the east side of the city, I believe. Captured him alive, and now they are bringing him up to our lord ‘imself.”

The ninja peered at these men for a few moments. “Are you sure it was really him?”

The four looked at each other quizzically. “We didn't see ‘im, sir. But it's all the talk up top. Plus, nobody is allowed to go home who works in the palace, for they are saying that they need extra security. Luckily, we are Third Circle men, but they rarely keep everyone in unless there is something important going on.”

Kondo stiffened. “Thank you. You may be on your way.”

The guards forced a polite bow and then quickly departed from him. As he stood there for several moments, his mind was ablaze with thought.

“Gintaro, I wonder if you know that she is dead? What will that do to you, after journeying all the way here, for her? Will it shatter you? Will it break you like it did me? No. You cannot possibly feel this anguish, this rage. You, who should have stopped me all those days ago. Yes, all of this, in the end, comes back upon you. If you were the father she needed, you would have saved her before the end. As it is, she is dead...dead because of you.”

A vengeful heat was rising in Kondo’s insides, and a fierce anger was boiling in his veins. His eyes gleamed with a rage that he had never felt before and his energy rose as if it knew no limits.

“Before I die,” he resolved aloud, “You will pay for your weakness. You will suffer for what you failed to do. Her blood will be on your hands, not mine!”