They hadn’t gotten out of the palace. Sakura had lost the others—Kaiya, Yumiko, and the mage’s attendant Ishi. But after they had been captured, they were reunited. What’s more, Sakura had also been reunited with her parents and her sister Yoko. Tomiichi had a bruise across his face.

“I’m so glad you’re all right!” her mother had said, embracing her and running her hands up and down Sakura’s back and over her shoulders. “And you’re not hurt?”

She held Sakura away, her eyes glancing about her neckline at the blood covering her.

“No, mother.” She smiled, happy to see them. “I’m fine. It’s not mine.”

Despite seeing her up and about, her mother seemed to exhale at her words. Her father, Hitomo came forward and also embraced her with a sigh of relief.

“How did you get out of the palace?” Yoko asked. Their mother, Yukio, glanced toward her younger daughter, then back to Sakura.

“Well…” she said, shrugging. She felt numb. Images of Umo came to her mind. Her hands were still shaking.

She was afraid. No, she was terrified, still.

Upon making their escape, the group had been viciously attacked, Sakura nearly clove in two, but for her speed. She had been able to side-step the blade. Unfortunately the man behind her took the full force of the attack. She was still sticky, her Kimono spattered and soaked at the neckline after she had been drenched in the poor man’s blood.

Only after the group had been thoroughly terrorized, many of its members killed, were they taken captive, then herded into this outbuilding that was evidentially used for storage. Being up on the third level would make any chance of escape much more difficult. The only reason Sakura thought she knew this was because of Tomiichi. One could learn many things from a sibling Watch Commander.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

After being reunited with her family, Sakura turned to her friends. Most of them were here.

Hours passed.

“What are they going to do with us?” Kaiya asked.

Yumiko sighed, clearly exasperated. Sakura felt the same. “You’ve asked that a hundred times, Kaiya.”

The other woman didn’t respond. She only paced back and forth. She looked to Sakura to be in deep thought, but she wondered if the other woman wasn’t simply terrified and this was how she displayed those emotions.

Everyone was afraid. Most of them stayed huddled in little groups on the wooden floors. No one wanted to look out the windows. The palace grounds were covered in dead bodies and the whole west wing of the Imperial abode was afire and smoking as if end times had come.

Sakura forced herself to look out the window. That’s when she saw something. A man. He was tall. Not Mikuman and not of any race of the local lands. His skin was pale, his eyes—at least for a human’s—were more rounded than that of her own people or the various cousin peoples.

It’s him…

“Look,” she said calmly, though she didn’t feel calm. She felt a surge of excitement and hope build inside her.

“What is it?” Tomiichi asked.

“It’s the mage.”

“What mage?” Yumiko asked.

“What are you talking about, Sakura?” Kaiya said, stepping past some people in a not so polite manner. “Who is that?”

“It’s…” Hitomo began, but he left the rest hanging.

“He’s my master,” Ishi said.

Sakura smiled. “I thought you said he wasn’t your master.” She looked at the short lad. He was a little small for his age. Too young to be the attendant of a warrior expected to fight in battles.

The boy shrugged.

Spurred on by their curiosity, many of the people, dejected, afraid, and crying, got up from where they were sitting to see what the fuss was about. Now there were nearly thirty people watching as a bewildered-looking foreigner wearing a kimono and a katana, came out from under the courtyard roof.

“Oh no,” Yumiko said. “They’re here.”

The attackers hadn’t left. Of course not. And a group of them was fanning out as they approached the mage, among them the largest samurai Sakura had ever seen.

“Look,” someone exclaimed, pointing. “It’s the Masked Demon!”

“General Muji?” another asked.

“Who?”

“I’ve never heard of him.”

Sakura’s father looked on as he caressed his chin thoughtfully. “These are not the same samurai who attacked us.”

“What do you mean?” Yumiko asked.

“Their armor. It’s different.”

“It’s not black,” Tomiichi said.

“Mmm,” Hitomo noised. “But are they with the others?”

“Father,” Tomiichi said, turning to Hitomo. “General Muji is our man.”

Hitomo raised a skeptical eyebrow.