The machiyas—traditional dwellings in the east—were not the same here as he had seen in many other places. Here in Urukawa, they were towering with many levels, though the tiled roofs with curved eves were quite similar.
Ignoring the light and the shadows moving from behind paper doors, the King jumped, took hold of the support held up by the tokyō brackets that allowed the roof to extend beyond the veranda. With his back facing outward, he swung his body with great magical force, curving his form in an acrobatic backflip. His feet came into contact with the roof above as he reached out.
The Dancer clasped his arm and pulled him forward to balance.
The King and the Dancer scurried through the light of the moons across the tiled roof to get a better view of Momori Jinja. Together, they crouched, peering across the city through the frigid night. The castle was well placed atop a hill, its stone base would be easy to scale.
Despite the cold night, the city was alight and kindled with evening activities. Lanterns had been strewn through-out across the streets and through the alleys and musicians pounded taiko drums or played their stringed shamisens. An explosion in the sky erupted with a flash of light.
Neither of the two members from The Reconnoiters commented on the beauty of the festival or the fireworks.
“Do you have the salts?” the Dancer asked him, holding out the small vial, her breath visible in the cold air.
The King, Ardamius glanced toward Sakura and smiled. He took the vial of magical salts from her, caressing his fingers across her wrist and over her open hand. She returned the tentative gesture, her own fingers curving slightly as their hands parted.
“I do now,” he said.
She smirked at him, then regarded Urukawa City.
“Do you believe love can triumph over anything, Ardamius?”
Slightly taken aback at her sudden question, he thought about it for a moment. It seemed an odd question at such a time.
“I don’t know.”
She smiled, but said nothing else on the topic.
If only we didn’t have a mission, he thought, watching her, then I would ask you to walk along the river with me.
The mere idea sent his heart racing, a sensation he rarely felt while in combat. “Ask me again when we’re done here.”
“Mm,” she noised with a nod. “I will.”
The King set his feelings aside and focused on Momori Jinja, the smaller of the two castles in the city, as he unstopped the vial of salts.
The smell was not wholly unpleasant, but the magic within the powdered crystals would allow Ardamius to track their target, should he be marked with their special blades—and assuming he actually escaped The Reconnoiters.
“The others seemed bored,” Sakura said, her hand on her short wakizashi blade.
“They shouldn’t be. General Yoshinaka isn’t a fool. The Six might be here.”
“Where else would they be?” she asked. “The army is only three days away.”
“There’s been a lot of important engagements. They could be anywhere, and Yoshinaka has plenty of soldiers to protect him.”
Saying the words, he gazed over the inviting city in the mountains, then brought his attention toward the encampment. By his estimate, there were at least thirty thousand warriors there—maybe more.
“The army might not have an easy time of this.”
“Not our concern.”
Sakura nodded. “Mmm.”
The Reconnoiters were not officially part of the Imperial Army. The band of paid mercenaries specialized in scouting ahead of an invading force, to “reconnoiter” their enemy and to attack soft and hard targets.
Part of Ardamius hoped the Taisho Six would be here tonight. Those legendary warriors might make this a little more interesting. And besides, they were a constant hindrance to The Reconnoiters. Recent information suggested they might be protecting Yoshinaka. It was time they were removed from this conflict.
But what fun would there be in that?
A gong sounded and the sky alighted brighter than ever as the largest fireworks exploded, cracking, popping and booming in every color known. The stroke of midnight had come.
The attack on Momori Jinja would begin.
The others would sneak into the castle and kill the general. Should they fail, they were to flush him out, whereupon Sakura and Ardamius would make their play. If they or the others manage to wound him, the salts would lead them to whatever location he escaped to.
“Let’s get this done,” he said, glancing toward Sakura. The King couldn’t help but look at her in her blue kimono, her pale knee exposed.
She stood, clearly avoiding eye contact with him, though her subtle smile she did not hide. The Dancer nodded and flicked her wrist, revealing three shuriken with a metallic chink.
I’m distracted…
Putting his mind on the task at hand, he hoped Valdek wouldn’t get too caught up in the killing. At least he’s with the others, though.
*
As the sky exploded with bright colors, The Muscle made his way toward the entrance gate to Momori Jinja. “Mmm,” he hummed. “Time to distract.”
He pressed his fist into his hand, his knuckles popping loudly as he ascended the stone street to the gate. Horris rolled his shoulders, stretching his body.
The two guards in leather armor and round straw hats gripping yari spears stepped forward. One put his hand forward and squawked what must have been an order for him to hault.
“Sorry,” he said in his heavy voice, not stopping, “but I don’t understand.”
Light flashed over the guards and the archers in the tower behind the gate. He could see on their faces that they were ready to kill him as they lowered their spears in aggressive defense of his approach.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated as the guard in front of him thrust his yari at The Muscle. The tip of the blade came in to pierce his chest, but Horris grabbed the spear shaft with an underhanded grip and snapped it off. “I said I don’t understand.”
The guard screamed, and two shafts sunk into Horris’ shoulder armor. He looked at them. Then he snatched the tiny guard by the shoulder and the crotch, lifted the screaming man over his head.
The other guard bellowed for what must have been a plea for reinforcements. “That’s… what I want!” he thundered, throwing the guard. He squealed as he flew through the air, his body landing against the gate before falling heavily to the cobblestones.
The other guard was taken aback, retreated as the gate behind him opened to reveal five more guards with yari and at least five samurai, their katana blades glinting in the lights from the fireworks overhead, which were noisy enough not to make this ruckus attract too much attention from the encampment to the west.
But since I’m only one man, Horris thought, they won’t sound the alarm. He laughed. Not yet at least.
The archers loosed more shafts. Horris sidestepped them, then grabbed one in midair. Lowering the shaft, he smiled.
The yari and katana samurai became instantly outraged and rushed forward. Horris crouched and with an arc of his arm he brushed the spears aside, then came at them with his other arm, bowling into the three men and sending them into heaps.
The katana samurai surrounded him, their sharp, gleaming blades closing the distance between them. Horris jumped over the yari, then stopped to grab the fallen men, still screaming—one in each hand. He tossed them into the blade masters and they went down.
Someone laughed, and The Muscle looked up and found an exceedingly well dressed man in a blue jacket and black trousers. He wore shiny patrician shoes with elaborate tongues, and his fingers were decked in various rings. At his waist was a black-steel rapier gilded in gold.
“Well done, as ever, Horris,” The Fop said as he stepped over one of the unconscious warriors at his feet.
“Nama,” Horris said with a nod, greeting his Reconnoiter ally.
“Well,” Nama said amicably. “Surely they will sound the warning bells now…” He unsheathed his sword and flicked a shaft out of the air that would have otherwise found its target between his eyes.
Amidst shouting of alarm in the courtyard beyond, the warning bells of Momori Jinja sounded. Horris smiled. “Let’s go in.”
“Indeed, my oversized friend.”
“I told you not to call me that.”
“You call me a fop, do you not?”
Horris looked at him skeptically. That wasn’t fair.
*
Hardly needing stealth with the level of high quality distraction Horris and Nama were supplying at the entrance, The Jester vaulted the back wall, thrust himself over it with a front flip when his hands came into contact above, then ran across the lawn and up the inclined base of Momori Jinja.
Why they build their castles with stone bases that had inclines was a mystery to Valdek—one he did not care to find the answer to.
He ran up the base of the castle and grabbed hold of the wooden railing as he jumped, angling his body into a handstand. He peered at the watch tower, the frantic guard looking toward the front gate, then quickly scanning the other walls.
The Jester smiled. You only just missed me.
He turned, still balancing on his hands and then jumped to his feet, his krakow-style boots making no sound as he made contact with the polished hardwoods. About to slide the door open, he was distracted when a swordsman came in for a strike.
Valdek sidestepped that slash, and cut the man in the back of the neck with one fluid motion of his dagger from sheath to target. The kimono-clad samurai fell to his face with no other sound than his sword clattering to the wooden boards.
The Jester sighed. “Almost too easy.”
Regarding the beautiful hanging lantern for a moment, he touched the artistically-made device, then turned to enter the castle proper.
But the sliding door wouldn’t open. Again he sighed, pushed his fingers together, his long nails forming a spear-like point. He pushed his hand through the paper and undid the latch on the other side.
He chuckled as he entered Momori Jinja.
*
“We stay,” he barked.
The General was not accustomed to running away, especially while inside his own castle, surrounded by an army of thirty-five thousand warriors!
There were two of them with him tonight. The other four members of the Taisho Six were elsewhere currently serving different needs in this conflict.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“Yoshinaka-sama! They are inside Momori Jinja,” Tsubaki said. “They are here for you.”
The General knew that. And he also knew that Tsubaki was no coward. None of the legendary warriors of the Six were. A moment of indecision assailed him, but Tsubaki persisted.
“My lord. Please. For the sake of the war.”
Gritting his teeth, The general relented. But he was not pleased. How are these assassins so skilled?
“Yuki will take you to the boats.”
The woman nodded, making eye contact with him, her naginata in hand.
The General wanted to sneer. Running away by way of the river no less. How undignified. But survival was more important than that, despite feeling his honor was being insulted by these heathen assassins.
He nodded, then in unison everyone jerked their heads at the screaming and clash of swords in the main moya overhead.
“Go,” Tsubaki said, almost sounding like an order. The General was unsure whether he was addressing Yuki or himself.
Nevertheless, he followed the woman down the passage that lead to the waterfront. Behind them twenty of his best samurai followed. It seemed Tsubaki would take up the rear, or stay behind altogether to stall the assassins.
“Kuso!” he cursed, slapping the armor over his hip.
*
“Here they come,” Sakura said.
Long boats revealed themselves from under the arching bridge of Momori Jinja’s east river exit. The rooftops of the machiyas had been the best place to wait so that The King and The Dancer could change their plan of attack depending on the whims of their target.
The people bellow seemed to hardly notice the warning bells from the castle. Some were moving about with half-hearted haste. Perhaps many of them could not hear because of the incessant fireworks on display.
The explosions were enough to distract a distant bell toll quite easily. The perfect distraction, Ardamius thought.
“They’re going to stop and make a break for the encampment in the west,” he said. He didn’t need to tell Sakura that, but he also spoke his thoughts aloud. As the leader of The Reconnoiters, it was important to be clear.
“Mm,” she nodded. “I will make my play, and you cut him off if he escapes.” He had no need to tell her that was acceptable, and so she ran toward the roof’s edge and jumped across.
Ardamius watched her go, a feeling of apprehension in his stomach. Was he afraid for her? This was not healthy for his line of work, especially being The King.
The salts were active. At Sakura’s wrist, where she kept her shuriken hidden, a bright pink mist, visible only to someone who had inhaled the powdered crystal, were visible. They left an aura—a trail of visible magic.
Ignoring the feelings he had for The Dancer, he made his way across the rooftops so that he could cut Yoshinaka off from the rest of his army. They didn’t know their general’s location, and if he sent up a signal flare, it would no doubt be obscured from the display in the sky.
*
Sakura jumped across the rooftops, running as fast as she could to position herself on the other side of the Higashi River. But she needed to cross, so she swung down onto the veranda of the highest machiya and made for the stairs.
I know this city well. Too well.
After descending eight flights, she came out onto the street. People stopped, taken aback at her haste as she rushed past them, though being one of their countrymen, and dressed in the traditional silken blue kimono of the festival, she was not out of place.
An older woman yelped as she skirted past, her evident husband yelling something at her back as she sprinted.
The boats were upon her. She had no time to cross the bridge. Running to the center, she jumped and flicked three shuriken toward the man in the back of the boat. The general’s samurai screamed in response to the attack, several of them jumping to take the impact of her blades aimed for their leader.
He’s wearing a lot of armor. Good.
She hoped they wouldn’t recognize her up on the bridge. She turned and withdrew without looking to see if her shuriken had made their marks. She had no need to.
*
“Yoshinaka-sama!” Harunaba screamed, spreading his arms wide to prevent any more attacks from hitting his lord.
Yoshinaka feared for his loyal warrior, as he was dressed in a kimono and sandals, and not in his armor. But he was distracted as something stuck into his left shoulder. His eyes went to the two blades sticking out of his shoulder sode which prevented him from taking any injury.
The assailant on the bridge didn’t stop. She kept running toward the other side. “Are you all right?” Yuki asked him, her voice was calm and undisturbed.
He nodded. “Hai.”
“To the right bank,” she ordered, and the twenty samurai, some in armor, others not, rowed the boat to the bank.
They piled out as Yoshinaka was rushed between them, Harunaba’s hand squarely on his back. “My lord, quickly!”
*
As they rushed into the streets and made for the alleyways of the residential machiyas, Yuki stopped under a line of bright lanterns as a dozen samurai rushed past her. She searched the bridge and the surrounding area with her eyes, but the assailant was nowhere to be seen.
It had felt to her like a halfhearted attempt at assassinating Yoshinaka.
Something isn’t right!
She turned, sprinting to catch up with the others, the residents of the area frightened and shocked into silence or quick retreat into their homes.
*
The King waited, crouched at the edge of the roof. The salts were moving through the streets. But he only knew that because of the general and his samurai who were in clear view. Should Yoshinaka escape, he would have to follow the salts by line of sight. He couldn’t see them through objects.
Ardamius prepared to cut them off. He jerked his head up when the signal flare for help cracked in the sky, but as he suspected, with the distraction on display, it melted into the entertainment of fireworks.
He doubted Yoshinaka’s sentries at the encampment even noticed.
*
Yuki caught up, keeping a careful eye on the rear, as well as on the roofs above for any signs of the assailant.
Is Tsubaki all right?
She increased her speed, running up beside the group samurai. To maintain pace, Harunaba had set a speed that could be kept all the way to the encampment. It was no use to tire yourself and your men if battle might be needed. In fact, it was a terrible hindrance.
“Anything?” he asked.
The samurai still had his arm around their leader. Yuki shook her head. “Nothing. That woman seems to have disappeared.”
They ran on for a few moments, when Harunaba said, “Something feels wrong.”
“I know.”
“Be ready.”
“Hai,” she said, nodding, when she, along with everyone else, came up short as a man landed in the alley ahead of them.
Harunaba unsheathed his sword, but Yuki looked about for an alley to escape through. There were none nearby.
Frightened residents, mostly the old and some small children, huddled back into their machiyas, watching through doors and windows.
Harunaba walked to the front of the group, their swords bared. She followed to confront the man barring their path, though she maintained her weary eye for the other attacker.
It’s a man. She looked about. Where is the woman?
“Make way,” Tsubaki said, “or we will kill you.”
The man said nothing. He hadn’t even readied his blade yet. He was strangely dressed. Foreign, in black shoes that were somewhat upturned at the toes. His trousers, sleek and black.
He dropped his robe, revealing a white shirt and black gloves. Instead of a belt, there were strange straps holding up his trousers that covered his chest and wrapped around his shoulders.
“Surrender, General Yoshinaka,” the man said calmly, though he revealed his blade, a scimitar of all things, glowing in blue highlights as bright as the fireworks ahead. “We’ll let you live.”
Yuki changed her stance, lowered her naginata.
“I’ll handle this,” she said, leaving no room for argument. As one of the Taisho Six, she would not be ignored.
*
The King regarded the small woman. “You’re Yuki Arinatto of the Taisho Six. Where are your friends?” he asked. Other than looking about with his eyes, he made no visible movements that would reveal his curiosity about whether or not they were nearby.
Behind her and the lead samurai, was General Yoshinaka. He waved his hand to cut off conversation. “Stop waiting, Taisho. Kill him!”
“Hai.”
She shot forward, covering the distance between herself and Ardamius faster than the blink of an eye.
The King jumped back, parried six blows from her naginata before their feet touched the ground again. He smiled, feeling thrilled at the prospect of a good fight, despite being on a job.
“My turn,” he said.
He rushed her, sidestepped toward the machiya to his left, jumped up and over the little naginata fighter and slammed his scimitar toward her.
She tried to get in a swipe of her sharp blade against his arm, but Ardamius pinched her blade with his thumb and forefinger, stopping the blade.
The time needed for the crafty flick of her naginata cost her the ability to dodge the attack by back stepping, and so she pulled her blade back for defense.
*
Harunaba blinked as the attacker’s blade connected with Yuki’s naginata, wondering if he had seen correctly as their Taisho Six ally slid across the cobblestones a good three paces from the sheer force of the impact.
The master samurai had barely been able to keep up with their movements, the force of their attacker’s strike had created a shock, forcing dust and wicker baskets to go flying through the alley in every direction.
Are we going to die here? No! We can’t. The war…
Yuki did not look back to address them. “Go,” she ordered. “This assassin is beyond all of you!”
“I said we would let the general live, if he surrendered,” her opponent said. “I don’t much like being called an assassin.” He sauntered forward, almost flippantly. Harunaba wasted to time. “Retreat!” he ordered, guiding General Yoshinaka back down the alley.
“How can we expect to fight against such power?” Yoshinaka muttered.
“Have hope, my lord!” He pointed toward a narrow street up ahead. “We can make our way around them while Yuki keeps him distracted. Go!”
But when they turned down the narrow side alley, guided only by the dimness of some small lanterns strewn up ahead, Harunaba realized there was something there.
Another attacker?
“Back. Back!”
But it was too late. This new attacker rushed forward, screeching and howling, it’s eyes glowing. Men screamed. Swords flashed, but Harunaba found himself on his back in a pile of clay pots.
He jerked, extricating himself from the pots and the plant that had fallen over him. All of his samurai were down, on their backs, their stomachs, or on their knees, including the general.
“Lord General! General Yoshinaka!”
“Ah!”
He scurried to the general. “My lord, are you all right? Daijoubu desuka?”
“Uh—hai—daijoubu...”
Harunaba looked about. None of the men seemed to be hurt, only shocked at suddenly being knocked about. The master samurai clutched his chest. His heart was racing faster than when he had run the mountain last week—faster than when the first assailant had attacked them, or even the second.
What was that… creature?
“We must go quickly.” He hauled the general to his feet. “Ike!”
*
She was a good fighter, but The King was able to parry every single one of her blows, and on the occasion that he couldn’t, he back stepped, sidestepped, or dodged.
“You’re very adept at evading my strikes, Taisho.”
“And you are very adept at talking during a fight, assassin.”
Unable to help himself, Ardamius laughed. “Perhaps.”
A crash erupted behind Yuki down the alley. The King blinked, as a creature burst out into the street, a samurai rolling across the cobblestones in its wake.
He took a step back, and Yuki jumped away from him, glanced back as well to see what was happening as the creature scurried up the machiya in bounding leaps and over the roof.
Ardamius would have used the opportunity to attack the Taisho Six member, but he was too distracted himself.
“What is this?” she accused. “You use foul magic here? Have you no honor, gaijin?!”
Ardamius had no idea what they had just seen. It had shocked even him, but now that the thing—whatever it was—had gone, and he had recovered. Shrugging, he said, “It’s nothing of mine.”
Yuki looked at him with narrowed eyes.
“Give up so I can take the general.”
The Taisho Six member cocked her head, baffled apparently. “Do you really think that you can simply convince me to let you kill the man I’m supposed to protect? Are you truly so arrogant?”
“You’re only delaying the inevitable,” he said. “Why sacrifice yourself for a man who won’t last the night?”
Amidst a scream of outrage, she shot forward, her naginata strikes faster than ever. The King gave ground, parrying and dodging her blows.
She was faster than before. It surprised him. But she had a reason for fighting—one better than his own.
But in her rage, she was also sloppy.
“Gale-force sword!” he bellowed, the magic gleaming across his scimitar and coursing through his arms.
She parried, but she could not stop the blinding flashes of his blade as he came at her with a ferocity and speed no foe had ever been able to defend long against.
She back stepped, back stepped more and then finally jumped out of his reach.
But he would not let her escape. The King summoned a ball of energy and struck the cobblestones in front of her.
A blinding flash of light erupted, brighter than any firework.
Then he cut the blade head off of her naginata before kicking her in the chest, the soul of his shoe coming into broad contact with her body.
The impact clearly knocked the wind out of her as she landed on her back three paces away, her arms outspread.
This fight is over.
The magic coursing through The King’s sword, up and through his arms and chest dissipated and was gone.
Walking calmly to the woman’s side, he looked down at her as she spluttered, barely able to move, much less defend herself. He didn’t want to kill her. Not now. Not while she was on the ground like this—defeated.
“I’m going to let you live,” he said. “But I’m still going to take out General Yoshinaka.”
Her eyes widened, but before Ardamius could react, something touched down behind him.
He flew through the air, arms flailing. The paper on the door ripped, the wooden dividers cracking loudly as he crashed through it on the second level. The King shook his head, turned over onto his back.
Where’s my scimitar?
Something howled, and he knew he was in trouble. Whatever it was, it had come back and it was after him.
It landed on the veranda before him, claws like knives and eyes alight with evident magic, embers of fury and rage.
With complicated hand movements—“Gods and goddesses of all the combined underworlds!”—he materialized a fireball and hurled it at the creature, but it knocked the magical projectile away and into the sky with ease.
It exploded like just one more firework.
The King scurried back, clutching under himself for his stiletto on his back, the only blade in reach.
The thing came at him.
He kicked furiously, his blade now bared.
Claws swiping at him, he screamed.
“Thousand blade strike!”
With movements increased far beyond his normal capacity, he struck out, his blade making contact repeatedly.
The creature howled as something wet and glowing spilled over him. Whether it was his blood or the glowing substance coming out of this creature—possibly it was a mix of the two—he didn’t know.
“Gaahh!”
It backed away as Ardamius scurried into the dark machiya.
It looked at him, howled and screaming its fury. The sheer pitch of the thing’s outrage nearly split his hears.
But then it suddenly turned and ran, leaping away and out of sight, leaving trails of that glowing substance spattered about
Breathing heavily, The King collected himself, swallowed. He wasted no time and got to his feet, looked about for his scimitar, but it was nowhere to be found. He clutched his pounding chest for a moment. Yuki was in the street bellow, limping down the alley. He searched about for Yoshinaka, but he was too far to pursue now—he would never catch the general in his current state, and without a proper weapon.
The stiletto. It was covered in that bright purple liquid, glowing, but dying in the darkness. This creature had bled all over him when he’d stabbed at it. His own forearm was slick with his blood.
This job’s a bust… He looked about. Where is Sakura?
He wiped at his face with his good arm, stiletto still in hand. He took a moment simply to breathe.
Was that thing human? Its skin was a greying blue, eyes glowing with yellow-green fire and the claws—like razor crystal. Its black hair fallen down with one pin still sticking in the back from when it must have been put up in an elegant eastern coif. The kimono had fallen to its waist, breasts completely bare. A woman, then…
Some kind of local beast? A curse?
He would find out later. For now, he needed to leave—get back and regroup with the others.