The lead guard had not deceived him when he said that the Shōgun would want to see him right away. Gintaro was immediately led out from the narrow alleyways and back into the main square, this time as a prisoner. He was extremely well guarded, and ever more of the Shōgun’s soldiers seemed to gather around him as they continued towards the castle entrance. Many of the soldiers spoke in hushed voices and refrained from deriding him openly, even though he was thoroughly under their power. It was as if they had witnessed what happened at Kagiminato and knew exactly how dangerous this prisoner was. The story that was being told in the Old Capital had obviously made its way this far. He could sense the fear and wonder in them.
It was late in the afternoon when they reached the preliminary gate to the castle grounds. They had to cross an expansive bridge just to reach the first gate, which was opened but well garrisoned with Mashige soldiers. The design was cleverly devised, for as soon as one passed through the immense wooden doors, a would-be attacker would immediately have to decide to turn left or right. This construction was purposeful, for it was meant to confuse and divide any invading force. The left was the correct way, while the right continued for a little while before coming to a dead end. Invaders who had picked the wrong path would be surrounded on three sides by defenders overhead. They would have little chance to recover from their error.
The swordsman was prodded onwards, surrounded by the silent host. At this point, his entourage had grown so much that he was attracting the attention of all who could see them. As they made their way up the gently sloping path through the Daimyō District or East Bailey, he could feel that there was a throng of eyes upon him. He knew that the news of his capture would not stay secret for very long.
The Eastern Bailey was large, and it took some time to pass through. It was almost a small city in and of itself, but in this city, everyone seemed to have tremendous wealth. The buildings had high white walls and were clean, with entrance gardens that could rival any of the spacious scenery gardens of the Old Capital. Samurai in bright colors and sigils stood about, representing each of the great and lesser lords of the Islands. There were also several high-end shops and tea houses, catering to the elite retainers and officials and their expensive tastes. Heads turned towards him as he passed, and those who were sitting around rose to their feet.
“The Raijin...” he could hear someone whisper.
“It’s the Thunderlord…” said another.
After coming to the end of the East Bailey, they came to yet another wide moat and bridge. This time they were checked both at the beginning and the far side. Mashige archers patrolled atop the battlements with arrows at the ready. A small rowboat was floating down upon the moat, and it was also filled with bowmen.
Gin was anxious but also felt a slight wave of relief wash over him. He could not help but feel glad that it had worked out this way. If they had gone through with his former plan, it could have taken weeks or months to get this far. He would have had a near-impossible time trying to break in alone, and as well-intentioned as his companions were, coming here would likely be their doom. This place was nothing like he had ever seen. It was a fortress to end all fortresses. The prudent Shōgun certainly left nothing to chance.
“They are bringing me right in through all of this,” he thought, nearly letting out a laugh as they passed through yet another checkpoint of soldiers.
He had finally come to the innermost landmass but was still only within the third and outermost ring of defenses. This region appeared quite like the former, although it was much smaller, and only the Mashige banner hung from the doorways and adorned the backs of the samurai.
“This must be where the Shōgun keeps all of his most prized officials and warriors. He keeps them close, closer than any of the other daimyō. He wants to surround himself with his own people. Mashige is no fool.”
At this, a sharp pang of fear began to work in his heart. Up until this point, his way of thinking had been entirely one-sided. He had been so preoccupied with getting to the Shōgun that he had not thought about how he was going to deal with him once they met. He had not thought out how he was going to get the Shōgun to release his daughter, especially now that he was in chains. He also had not fully accounted for the cunning of Mashige Hideyo, or at least had not afforded him all of his due respect in his blind passion to free Yukiana.
Mashige had not been his sole enemy in the war, for that was Akira’s business, but he had been the mover behind everything Gin fought against. Mashige, through cleverness or luck or a mixture of both, had emerged from the War of Ashes as the preeminent victor. That in and of itself was worth ample respect. Mashige had also survived and solidified himself as the Lord of the Islands for the past ten years. Gintaro had not given much thought about why he was being summoned, for he could not think of an obvious reason why the Shōgun would want to see him after all this time. But there had to be a reason, for Mashige did nothing carelessly. He was sure that he would find out soon enough, but he was beginning to question if it was wise to give himself up.
“To become the Shōgun, you must think seven steps ahead,” he remembered his old commander, Yoshimitsu Akira, saying in one of his councils. “To remain the Shōgun, you must think eight.”
“Am I prepared?” he thought, beginning to panic. “Have I made the wrong choice in coming here?” Then he remembered the face of his daughter and felt the fear that she must have, even now, so far from home and with so many enemies around her. “It doesn’t matter,” he silently resolved. “I have considered my options and made my choice. I will hear what this Shōgun has to say, and I will do whatever I must to get my daughter back.”
They made their way up the steep, meandering path to the second ring, which again was gated and separated by a moat. This moat was much smaller than the others but was designed to make climbing out impossible, as the grey stones were sheer and offered no footholds to use. One who fell into this moat would quickly become exhausted and drown, which was the clear intent.
From this position, Gin could now look out and see the castle grounds below, for they had ascended high enough on the central hill to see across the wide, flat land of the New Capital. The sun was now setting in the sky, and the once crowded streets were strangely quiet, as those who worked during the day were now home, and those who made a living at night were not yet out. This dusk was the small gasp of air that this city had until early morning when the transition would happen once again. It was so calm and peaceful at that moment, and the sky was red and dappled with rolling clouds, that Gin’s resolve doubled, and his heart began to race, not because of trepidation, but because of excitement.
At last, they came to the third and final ring of the castle complex. This was the only layer to not have a moat around it, but it was protected by walls that were almost double the height of the others. Not only were the walls there lofty and thick but atop these walls sat sturdy, covered battlements and several watchtowers, which stood like formidable bulwarks in the sky. And beyond even those loomed the massive frame of the Hawk’s Perch, Taka-no-jō, the signature tower of the castle grounds, which grew ever greater the closer they came.
The path they now used became narrow, and it clung to the sides of the hill as it spiraled upwards. There were gates at short and even intervals, and at each, there were strict checks, so it took a great deal of time. By the time they made it to the top, night had fallen, and the white moon was rising ominously in the cloudy sky.
Up until this point the group had gotten through the gates without being detained, but once they reached the Inner Circle, they were finally told that they must wait. Gintaro was moved to a holding chamber in the nearest guardhouse while the others argued in muffled voices outside. It was highly irregular to summon the Shōgun at this short of notice, but this was an unusual and special case. Finally, it was agreed that they could proceed, but most of the lower-ranking samurai were sent back and replaced by guards of higher rank and trustworthiness. Gin did not care who would be escorting him, he just hoped that they would hurry. He could not contain his anxiety.
They made their way to the Shōgun’s palace; a series of massive wooden buildings connected by lavish corridors, each with long murals of legendary stories and heroes. Like the rest of the castle grounds, the paths were designed to confuse, and after a dozen twists and turns, they paused outside a building with two great wooden doors. Upon them was engraved a scene from the battle of Akasaka, or the Red Hill, where Yoshimitsu Akira was famously defeated.
Gintaro frowned, for it was still a painful memory for him, even though he was not there to witness the stunning defeat. Two of the guards grabbed the ornate handles and pulled the doors apart with a low rumble and shoved him through the threshold.
He entered a great hall, larger than any he had ever seen before. It was the Shōgun’s primary audience chamber, and it was used to hold councils, pronounce judgments, and carry out other official business of the state. The room was usually lit by nearly one hundred golden lamps that stood along the perimeter, but since the hall was not prepared for use, it was empty and dark, giving it an eerie and lonely feeling. He was forced to his knees as the guards awaited their master’s coming.
After several quiet minutes, the doors on the far side were heaved open, and a tall, dominating silhouette stood on the threshold. The figure strode forward briskly, his long outer robe billowing behind him. As the man drew near the guards around Gin began to tremble and bow sporadically. As he came into the light of the few lamps that were lit, Gintaro could see that this was indeed the Shōgun of the Islands, Mashige Hideyo, and each step he took was like a shockwave through the stiff tatami.
He had not changed much since the last time they had met, but there were a few noticeable differences. His hair was pulled up into a regal bun and was streaked with grey, giving him a noble, dignified disposition. He had also inherited a king’s figure. He was not overweight by any means but had gained sufficient bulk to make him appear solid and immovable. He no longer had the leanness of one who frequented battlefields in the far-off countryside, but the gravity of one who ruled from an unassailable castle, in a palace with every convenience. His shoulders were still wide and strong, as were all of the Mashige line, and his square, stern countenance was set to a scowl. His well-manicured mustache and beard accentuated his lips and sharp protruding chin.
He came with his own retinue, who with synchronized movements marched at his flank. As he approached, his eyes fell upon the prisoner, still forced to his knees. Gintaro lifted his head so that the Shōgun could get a better look at him and know for certain who he had captured.
At last, when he was only a few yards away, the Shōgun stopped abruptly and stood still, and inspected his prisoner thoroughly.
“His weapon,” the Shōgun ordered, holding out his hand.
The lead guard who had captured Gintaro back in the city scurried forward and then fell to his knees, holding up the sword with his head down.
“Please forgive me for bringing a sword into this place,” he said, his voice trembling.
The Shōgun glared at him and snatched up the sword, examining it closely. He looked at the hilt and the design of the small, metallic cross guard. He studied the sable scabbard and even pulled the sword open just to see the naked blade. The sword was still dark in the lamplight and did not gleam as one would expect.
“Ah, yes,” he murmured to himself. Then the Shōgun lifted his head, his eyes met Gin’s. There was a moment of silent tension, but no word was uttered.
“Leave us,” Mashige finally commanded. “All of you. Speak not a word of this to anyone, or you will be locked away or worse.”
At this, there was a gentle stir from the guards, who objected to such a rare request but were too fearful of voicing their concerns.
“Must I repeat myself in my own palace!” the Shōgun boomed, his voice echoing through the spacious hall. What little resistance the guards showed melted as they seemed to flee from their master’s wrath. Mashige’s entourage remained, but he dismissed them too, albeit much more cordially.
“Are you sure this is wise?” the captain of the elite guard asked brusquely. He was obviously on much more personal terms to speak to the Shōgun in this way.
“Wise?” retorted the Shōgun. “The man is in chains! And besides,” he said with a pause, looking at Gintaro with a faint glimmer in his eye, “I have something this man wants. If he harms me, well, you know what to do.”
The captain hesitated but then bowed and returned the way he had come with the others behind him.
At last, the two were alone in the great hall, with nothing but silence and electric tension between them. The Shōgun slowly sat down across from his captive, but his posture was rigid. There was a long-drawn-out silence where neither moved nor said a word. There seemed to be a fierce battle of wills, where two men of great skill and power bent their thought towards one another, vying for supremacy.
In the end, the Shōgun spoke first. “I have waited a long time for this moment, Gintaro.” His voice was low but edged with undeniable excitement. “At last, the Raijin, Captain of the Kurogumi comes before me once again. You were one of my greatest foes.”
Gin glowered at the Shōgun but said nothing.
“Do you remember the last time we met?” the Shōgun continued. “I do. I remember it very well for it was on that very day that I became the ruler of these Islands. When the Kurogumi fell, and you bowed down before me, there were none left to oppose me.” He smiled nostalgically. “It has been over ten full years since the siege of Yoshimitsu Castle ended. I remember all the details of that day. The smoke was thick in the air, the smell of boiling tar was on the walls and blood ran in the cracks between the cobblestone streets. There was an eerie silence hovering in the yard, except for the men bringing down the few wooden gates that remained standing. Up at the very top of Akira’s keep, you stood with your back against the wall, flanked by your comrades, the last remnant of Yoshimitsu's men – the fabled Kurogumi. Of them, you alone answered my generous call to surrender, and you cast down your swords, of which this is one, here at my feet. The rest of your friends were then stuffed with arrows.”
Gin’s face trembled with rage, but he remained silent.
The Shōgun sighed. “It was a black day for the honor of the samurai to be sure, but I was pleased that you had taken my generous offer even if it came with great disgrace. In doing so, your life was spared, and I allowed you to go and live in peace.” He studied the swordsman for a moment as if trying to read him. “Do you remember? I made you swear an oath that day, Gintaro. You swore an oath to never lift the sword again. It is clear that you have not honored that pledge, but I understand you have faced dire circumstances as of late that might have driven you to it. I am here to tell you that I release you of that oath and I will not hold your faithlessness against you.”
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It was after that subtle insult that Gintaro found that he could finally speak, and the words that had been on the edge of his lips ever since he had lost sight of Yukiana spilled out of his mouth.
“Where is my daughter?” he managed to say. He spoke through clenched teeth, and there was a great burning fire in his eyes.
Mashige smiled and did not seem the least bit frightened. His eyes met Gin’s frantic glare and reflected their own sinister light. “She is well enough,” he answered softly.
Gin breathed heavily, and every word he uttered was a labor. “Why did you take her from me?”
The Shōgun laughed. It was a cruel, haughty laugh. “Surely you know the answer to that Gintaro! You must know!”
“You need me for some devilish task!” Gin surmised. “But you did not have to take my only child! You could have come for me! You could have summoned me, and I would have come here on my own!”
“Really?” the Shōgun said, feigning surprise. “Come now, Gintaro. Do not take me for a fool. If I had summoned you, you would have fled. Then I would have to wait much longer for this auspicious reunion.”
Gintaro recoiled with frustration. There was some truth in the Shōgun’s assessment. He probably would have fled and hid if summoned. “Can I see her?” he asked suddenly.
At this, the Shōgun frowned, and his face grew stern. “No. Not until you complete the task that I will soon give to you.”
Gintaro looked up at the Shōgun, and his face contorted with despair. “Please…” he begged, tears welling in his eyes.
“Gintaro,” Mashige continued, ignoring his plea. “I gave you ten years of happiness when what you deserved was death. To tell the truth, I had already planned to kill off the Kurogumi no matter what choice they made. I offered mercy in hopes that it would increase the suffering of your pathetic brotherhood. Your act of submission indeed affected them. I am sure you remember the look of hatred, and of utter defeat in their eyes when you bowed down and cast your swords upon the ground before me.”
Gin bowed his head, as the dark memories came rushing back. He had done all those wretched things. He had betrayed his dear friends at the last, and he, being captain, left his subordinates to enter the afterlife ahead of him.
“I was going to kill you too, Gintaro, but then I decided against it. Do you know why I spared your life all those years ago?”
He could do nothing but shake his head ‘no.’
“You said that you had a daughter and that she needed her father. Is that not why you capitulated?”
Gin slowly nodded his head, remembering those exact words.
“I too had a daughter once,” the Shōgun said quietly.
Gin’s eyes rose to examine the man across from him. His face bore faint creases of sorrow that were all too familiar. He was not lying. “Is it true? I’ve never heard of this.” Indeed, it was well known throughout the Islands that the Shōgun had always been childless.
“Very few have. I was young,” he explained. “It was before my name had become famous. I was married to the daughter of a political rival of my father to bring stability to our clans. My wife was not so beautiful, but I loved her. We conceived a daughter soon after we were wed.”
“Where is she now?”
“She died during birth,” the Shōgun said, his voice growing quiet and somber. “My wife died shortly thereafter, of grief.”
Gin cast his face to the floor in sorrow. There was no question that he detested this man, but in this, both could commiserate.
“When you surrendered, you surrendered for your daughter,” the Shōgun continued, “I was moved. I saw myself in you for a moment. I have always wanted to be that little girl’s father. So, I gave you the chance to do what I could not.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Gin finally asked. It was strange, for it was a side of Mashige that he had never seen before.
“At last, we come to the crux of the matter,” the Shōgun said, stiffening. “For as you may know, soon my prime consort will bear me a child. And this child of mine shall carry on my legacy. For a man who has achieved all things, it means nothing if I cannot pass it on to anyone. This child means everything to me. I know that you understand this.”
Gintaro said nothing but continued to listen with great interest. The Shōgun was drawing near to his true motive.
“I am getting old, Gintaro. I may well die long before my heir comes of age. The daimyō of these lands are like wolves. They fear me, yes, but are growing bold as I get on in years. I suspect that even now some of them are plotting against me, and the others are waiting to see the outcome, waiting to see if they too may repay me for the sins of the war. And if they cannot defeat me, then they will come next for my child, not even yet born.”
From what Gin understood and experienced in the War of Ashes, this was likely true. The daimyō followed the Shōgun out of fear. They remembered how terrible Mashige was and could be cowed by his current might. But that would not last forever.
“So, you brought me here to assassinate them?” Gin asked, his face dropping in despair.
“Some have considered that path. They would see the daimyō altogether destroyed,” the Shōgun mused to himself for a moment, before coming to himself again. “But no, I do not believe that the Islands can stand without the daimyō. Their sway over their people is still quite strong, and their individual talents should not be ignored. I fought them; I should know. I only wish they would see my vision, see it as I do.
The daimyō still blame me for the evils of the war, though it was not I who began the War of Ashes. I only finished it. They may have many reasons to hate me, but they must see what I have done since that time. Look at the roads! Look at this castle! In just ten years we have revolutionized the Islands, and that is only the beginning! When the barbarians are finally beaten and scurry home like the dogs that they are, we shall have great advancement in all areas of life. I see these Islands as becoming an example to the nations, and our people becoming a mighty people. Yet it cannot be done with vengeful daimyō interfering at every bend and curve. Even now I fear retaliation for the sins of the war.” The Shōgun’s voice suddenly fell to a whisper. “Even now! A victory against the barbarians will greatly help my house solidify power, but even then, it will not be enough. It will never be enough. There is only one who the daimyō would obey unconditionally…” The Shōgun looked at Gintaro with a glint in his eyes.
The swordsman understood right away, but he could not believe it. “The House of the Emperor is finished,” he asserted.
The Shōgun’s mouth seemed to quiver with excitement. “Perhaps, perhaps. But what if there was a way to bring their legacy back? Do you know the story of the Blood-Slayer, Chisatsu?”
Gin nodded his head but eyed him dubiously.
The Shōgun spoke hurriedly, his words spilling out with increased rapidity. “It is said that the last of the Miyamoto took the three sacred treasures of the Emperor and hid them in various places on the Islands. There was a magatama, a mirror, and a sword.”
“I do not see how I could help you with any of this,” Gin interrupted. “This is a delusion! A child's tale!”
“What if I told you that is not just a child’s tale,” the Shōgun said, his gravelly voice becoming soft and low so that it was barely an utterance. “What if I was to tell you that it is real.”
Gin could not stop his eyes from betraying him. He stared at the Shōgun with a kind of pity, as one does when they speak to a once venerable elder who has lost the majority of their faculties. But the Shōgun seemed so sure of himself that it gave the impression of unshakeable confidence or pure madness.
“You doubt me,” Mashige said with a singular chuckle, reading his face. “I suspected you would. But it does not matter. You are in my power, are you not? Therefore, I would listen carefully to your charge. The reason I went through all this trouble is that I want you to retrieve that sword, the Emperor’s sword. With it, my heir’s authority will not be questioned, and my vision for these Islands will last far beyond me.”
Gintaro could feel his pulse rising again. “You took my daughter from me to send me on an impossible errand?”
“Impossible? Yes, it has been impossible,” Mashige agreed. “But hopefully not for you. Indeed, you may be the only one on these Islands who could retrieve it for me. I have sent a considerable number of soldiers, my best assassins, and even my most resourceful hunters and adventurers and none have returned.”
This seemed strange and piqued Gin’s interest. “Where did you send them?” he asked, toying with the idea that the Shōgun was, in fact, speaking the truth.
“You know how the tale goes. The magatama was cast into the sea, the mirror was lifted to the sky, and the sword was buried beneath the ground. After one thousand years of fruitless searching, we have come to find out where the sword is buried,” he said with a conquering pause, “It lies at the very bottom of Mount Oboroshi in the north.”
At this Gintaro's face began to drain of all color.
The Shōgun laughed once again, and it was a bitter laugh. “So, you fear the place too? But did you not slay a Tengu as the stories say? If this is true, then surely you have nothing greater to fear?”
Gin’s eyes strayed downwards. “There are worse things than Tengu said to be at the bottom of that accursed place. There are things not even the Emperors dared to disturb.”
“Then you must summon your courage Gintaro, for this may be your greatest trial, and your daughter’s life is depending on it! For you shall not see her again until this task is complete. I gave you ten years! Ten years that you did not deserve. Now it is time to repay your debt to me.”
“Couldn't you release her now?” he pleaded. “Or let me see her? There is no hope in this! I will not come back! I will never see her again!”
“When you bring me back the sword of the Emperor,” Mashige repeated obstinately. “Then, and only then, shall you have your daughter.”
“But it cannot be done!” Gin cried, stirring from his knees for the first time. His voice was frantic, he had reached a pitch of desperation. “What proof do you have that the sword even exists?”
“I did not bring you all the way here, to this very room, and give you an audience with the Shōgun, the master of these Islands, for nothing!” Mashige roared, rising to his feet, and pointing his thick finger at Gintaro. “I have enough proof for myself. And as for you, have you considered all the resources and time I devoted to finding you and your daughter and sending someone to take her from you? I had to send a ship to bring her back and devote considerable influence to keeping her here and safe. Have you not considered the cost of all these preparations? The damage you caused in Kagiminato alone should erase your doubts! I have great reason to believe that this sword exists, and I have been patient long enough for you to be ready.”
Gin felt as though his knees would give out from underneath him and he seemed to go numb in his body and mind. “I cannot do it...” he muttered repeatedly.
“You must,” the Shōgun said with an air of finality. “You have come all this way through great peril to save your daughter. Do not give up now. Look at yourself. You are lean and strong, and your skills have no doubt begun to return. I wanted you to claw your way here through great adversity, to change you back into the man you once were. That man, the Raijin, will be needed to reclaim the sword and reunite with his daughter once again.”
Gintaro turned a shade of red, and his veins were beginning to show on his forehead. He was only a few yards away from this vile man and chained or not he knew he could choke out his life before help would arrive. But that would not do, for then he would sentence his daughter to certain death, and everything would be for nothing. “And if I fail?” he whispered.
“Then you fail your daughter as well. I am not an overly generous man, Gintaro, as you well know, and you have already used up my generosity. The next time I see you, it had better be with that sword in your hands. As you would do anything for your child, so too would I do anything for mine. Bring me the Emperor’s Sword!”
Gin did not reply, but let his head slowly droop, with his long, black hair covering his face. Tears streamed down to his chin. He sobbed and shuddered intermittently.
At this display of perceived weakness, the Shōgun frowned. In a tremendous burst of speed, the great lord reached across his body with his right hand and unsheathed the sword at his side with a harmonic ring. The sword’s steel blade also did not reflect the light of the torches. Mashige grinned and admired it with lustful eyes. It was a black sword, identical to Gin’s longsword in every detail except that it was a wakizashi, a short sword.
The familiar noise of his old sword being unsheathed startled him so that he lifted his eyes. “My sword…” Gin whispered as if disbelieving its very existence.
“You will need this for your quest, I think,” Mashige said, before sheathing it again with a click. He then took both of Gin’s swords and laid them down before him, as it was custom to do, with the shorter blade farthest away, and the longsword nearest. It was a strange act of reverence, from one so irreverent. “As I said before, I release you from your oath. You may use your swords again. Indeed, you must use them. Use them well, Gintaro.”
The Shōgun then stood and reached inside his elaborate robe and took out a sliver of a woman’s garment and tossed it over to his captive. It fluttered and landed awkwardly, just on top of the two swords.
“So you know that I have her,” he said quietly. “And let me make it perfectly clear, if you try to come back to this place without the Emperor's sword, Yukiana will pay the ultimate price. It will be because of you, Gintaro. She will die because of you. Do right by her then and go. It is your only chance, as slim as it may seem, but then, such is the life of a swordsman I am told.”
With that, the great Lord of the Islands swirled and turned away, clapping his hands so that his guards knew that he was finished. Guards poured in from both sides of the great hall, half of them surrounded their lord and made sure he was safe, the other grabbed Gin and pulled him violently from the floor and back out the way that he had come.
Gintaro had managed to grab the garment before they had pulled him away, and despite his iron bonds, he was able to lift it to his face. It was a piece of his daughter’s kimono, for it still had her familiar scent, and he held it close to his face, inhaling the happiness that once was, and wiping the tears that fell from his bloodshot eyes. One of the other guards grabbed his swords, now two, and held onto them fearfully as if he were holding onto the bones of one recently deceased.
They pushed him along for some time, and in his bitter despair, he did not resist them. He knew now that he would never see his daughter again, or at least, not for a long and dreadful time. The Shōgun, with all his craft and resources, had trapped them both. He knew now how foolish it had been to doubt Mashige’s guile and wander into the New Capital ill-prepared.
He was pulled with a sudden jerk and forced to go right when he anticipated going left. He assumed that they would bring him down to the same market area where he was taken, or at least near to it, but by going right when they did, they were headed into an unfamiliar part of the castle grounds. They crossed a short bridge and passed through a gate, and entered into a large, open space with what appeared to be a small forest in the distance. It was dark, for they were far from the lighted torches and lamps that illuminated much of the city.
He gathered his wits and reckoned that they must be taking a different direction out of the castle, but he did not know why.
“Where are we going?” he asked, following his captors without resistance.
One of the men looked at him sideways and debated whether or not to answer him. “West Bailey,” he finally said.
Gin assumed that this was the case, judging by the moon and stars, and wondered why they would be going west instead of east. The most likely reason was to keep him from being seen. There was no one else in this area, and this way the people who saw him go up to the Shōgun for judgment would not see him escorted out unharmed. He noticed that some of the distant walls were not completely finished, although they had been built tall enough to prevent someone from entering easily.
They pushed him along, and the further they went, the darker it became. At the same time, the celestial lights above seemed to grow in power and strength, giving him a strange sense of hope.
He let himself breathe and did his best to remain calm, for he knew that his ruin had been complete at the hands of the Shōgun, and to have any further hope of rescuing his daughter, he must collect himself and move forward with a clear and focused mind.
It was just at this point of reaching inner pacification that the group came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the dark road. Gin looked up instinctively, and from beyond his captors, he could perceive the outline of someone standing before them, blocking their way.
“Who goes there?” one of the guards cried out.
“A Shadow of the Shōgun,” the voice answered, dark and menacing. Gin was sure that he had heard this voice before but could not remember where or when. He strained his eyes as if to catch a better glimpse of the man.
“What business have you?” the guard asked in return, his voice strained with apprehension.
“You will leave that prisoner with me,” the voice commanded. “I will see to his departure.”
This was a strange request, thought Gin, who looked around, and saw that they were in the very center of the isolated bailey. His heart began to quicken as he wondered what this sudden change could mean.
The guards that surrounded him appeared worried and glanced at each other as if to see if this was going to get them in trouble or not.
“We just came from the Shōgun. By whose authority do you…” the lead guard started.
“You know by whose authority,” the voice cracked back like a whip, and suddenly a red gleam flashed in the darkness.
This was followed by a more prominent pause where the lead guard tried to decide but was having a great internal conflict. Gintaro could still not see who was before them, though his mind began to craft an image.
“Very well,” the leader finally answered. “What would you have us do?”
“Give me the keys to his chains and return to your posts,” the voice instructed them coldly. “If your master asks, tell him it was the ‘Mukade’ who told you to do this.”
The lead guard turned around one last time to inspect the faces of his comrades. It looked as if he was begging for someone to verbally object to this unorthodox procedure, but no one had the heart.
The leader nodded, as if to himself, and then stepped forward into the darkness, and offered up the metal keys and both of Gintaro’s swords.
The man to whom the voice belonged was still concealed by the soldiers that hedged around Gintaro, but slowly, almost one by one they began to disperse. A cloud overhead blotted out the moonlight so that even after the guards had left, Gin could still not identify who it was that stood before him.
Suddenly, the cloud passed on, and the moon shone brightly once again, illuminating the area about them with a pale light.
Gin’s eyes flashed wide. “You!” he hissed, unable to control the unmitigated wrath in his voice.
The man before him bowed. It was a curt, irreverent bow, but a bow, nonetheless. “Gintaro…the famous Raijin...” he answered, and upon his bearded face, a kind of heinous grin began to take shape. “Allow me to formally introduce myself,” he said, taking one more step into the light. “My name is Kondo Daisuke. It was I who took your daughter from your home. And it is I who shall be the one who finally ends your miserable life.”