“What in the name of the Sun-Goddess?” Shinkei asked confused, his hands still upon the box of the Kami that the trio had opened unwisely some months ago.

  “It sounds like the three you rescued,” Satomine shouted wherefore he turned and began to lead the way back up the darkened path that led thither to the entrance of the cave.

  It was a long road back, one that they had undertaken over the course of nigh on an hour and that they now sought to undertake in almost a tenth of that time. It was to be with a great deal of satisfaction that the youth noticed that the monk who raced along just behind him, was to cross the distance from where the Kami’s box was to be found, to the mouth almost as quickly as he did.

  Both were however surprised to find a raven pecking and slashing and stabbing at the trio with its beak, which may as well have been made of iron, given the amount of pain and grief it was doling out. The trio sought to back away, their arms bleeding and their shrieks terrible to behold as they sought to repel it, to no avail.

  “No! No! Please stop!” One of the children shouted, frightened by the raven that swept down upon them, from outside, pecking and tearing at them.

  Shinkei the monk was to throw himself at the bird, in an attempt to rescue them yet was fought off, by it with his arms torn and slashed at by the ferocious animal.

  Springing into action himself, tantō held high fury consuming his heart without fear for himself the bushi was to stab and slash at the raven with all the rage of one who has lost all. Before he had feared the beast, and now he quite forgot himself at the sight of the wickedness it had wrought, wounding and tearing at the children ere it set eyes upon Satomine.

  Tearing at its wings, it was only with its cries of pain and anger that he felt some measure of satisfaction, with it being Akemi who cried out to him. “The fire! The fire! Throw him into the fire!”

  It took a great deal of effort, yet with one of the wooden spears sharpened to a point that the youths had fashioned for the killing of their victims or in defence of themselves that he succeeded. Stabbing the bird with the aforementioned spear, Satomine was to cast the bird into the flames where it squawked and shrieked a terrible vengeance upon him.

  “Burn me away if you like, however my vengeance shall follow you as a cloud of locusts will a hearty harvest, you filthy descendant of Pimiko!” the raven that was a mouth-piece of Motonaga shouted from deep within the flames, chilling the blood of Satomine’s new friends.

  Each of them stared into the flames, as the bird struggled to burst free, to no avail. When it revived, it was once more burnt away, just as it was the third time after it was to pass away. At last Motonaga gave up on his servant and it at last with a great squawk passed on to Yomi.

  It was with no small amount of relief that the youths that surrounded him sighed, and sagged against the side of the cavern wall. Satomine for his part, remained as grim and stoic as ever, his eyes staying upon the flames that to him seemed darkened as though the light of the flames had been doused.

  *****

  It was then that they set out, all five of them for the southern road. The three local youths, whom had by now had the pleasure of a proper bath, could not very well return to their home-village. Each of them having committed terrible crimes when under possession, so that many in the locality regarded them with thinly veiled suspicious at best, and hatred at worst. It happened though that Shinkei would not leave them alone, since one of them was his great-niece so that he would not return to the monastery himself.

  The fact that the Abbot had chosen to engage in violence, and had forsaken Yoshinobu was something of a shock to him. As he had been absent at the time of the battle, and was thus ignorant of what had transpired. “Such folly, however I had heard something of this before, and therefore will not return to the monastery. Once one has chosen the path of evil, one cannot easily deviate from it, and I suspect that this monster, this akuma, Motonaga will be the end of the only home I have had since I was given into its care by my parents.”

  It was a statement that resonated a great deal with the young man, who pondered them. It was with a great deal of thought that he remarked to his companion, “It might therefore be said that the finest cure for evil then, is the blade.”

  “I would not go so far as that, as blood begets blood and tragedies are wrought on the shedding of the blood of a great many.” The old monk answered quietly, a hint of sorrow in his voice, “After all, we need only look to the ancient past for proof of this fact.”

  “Mayhap, though I would warn you that to do nothing whilst evil rules over the land there is only one recourse,” Satomine replied sharply of the opinion that on this point there could be no compromise.

  It looked as though Shinkei had a different view. He however preferred not to speak out then, sceptical as he was to the efficacy of violence to solve the world’s ills, he could not bring himself to agree with the youth.

  Satomine while mindful of his perspective, knew Motonaga to be different from any other menace that had ever been spawned before. It was why he was to stop his horse and ask of him, “If I had done nothing to rescue you and yours from the raven, would they still live? Certainly, the blade should be the last resort as my tonou once said, but it is at times the only resort if one wishes to protect one’s child, one’s family, one’s dog, or one’s people.”

  Shinkei gave his words some thought, it was evident that he still disagreed if his expression was anything to go by. It happened though that it was one of the trio, Akito (for by this time the bushi had been introduced to all three of them) who spoke up remarking to the monk, “He is right, Brother Shinkei, we in the north know better than anyone else what it means to fight to survive. Life hereon the Marches has always been a battle to survive, so that we cannot say that life would be the same, peace possible if it were not for the bushi.”

  Shinkei was even more troubled, as he trailed along with the bushi wishing earnestly to conjure forth an argument against the young man’s argument. He might well have done so were it not for the thought that perhaps it might be best to let the matter lie.

  This proved the better recourse as Satomine was not to press the matter. He quite liked Shinkei despite himself, and though not keen to lower his guard around the monk, he was not in any great hurry to make an enemy of him.

  “I suppose everything has its place, I really will have to pray for wisdom regarding your views Satomine, as you do not strike me as an unwise or impious fellow.” Shinkei said heavily, so much so that Satomine at once felt guilty for having been so disagreeable.

  It was because of this incident that he put in a greater effort towards being more pleasant, and a good deal more solicitous towards the monk. He felt he owed him not only this sort of respect, but also compassion.

  *****

  Their journey southwards was one that they made at a hurried pace, so that Harukor and Akito complained continuously. It was to be Shinkei though who was to seek to remind them of the dangers that lurked about everywhere, most especially behind them. Once he heard the name of Motonaga, after Satomine recounted his tale to him, he was to press the small group of travellers all the harder south.

  “Motonaga is a monster spawned from Orochi! The youngest of his terrible sons’, I daresay that there has never been a more urgent time in our lives than this,” Shinkei cried out worriedly as he pressed his horse forward. The old man had taken his horse along with three others from the monastery stables, having hoped to ride slightly south to the abbey of Midorinoki, yet now he refused to go there, though his rescuer had shown himself supportive of this notion. “We shan’t stay there, it will not be safe when the armies of evil advance south. Though I do not fear for myself, I have these three youngsters and my niece to think of.”

  Moved by his courage and goodness, the bushi was to bow his head as they travelled through the fields that stretched ever southwards past the mountains to the south of Midorinoki.

  The plains were sun-kissed and appeared to redden ever so slightly, and as the season was late there were a great many trees and branches here and there that had begun to yellow and become orange or red naturally. Autumn had seeped into the land, beginning its short-lived rule over the north of Zipangu.

  What was more was that the suns’ had begun to rise, with each of the wanderers grateful to have put the northern highlands behind them along with the forested area near Midorinoki.

  There was truly a sense, as they studied the vast kilometres that stretched out ahead of them that they had put the worst behind them. This was a natural feeling for his companions to feel, with Satomine simply grateful to soon put the corpse, head and katana of his liege to rest.

  Each of them was filled with such admiration for those vast plains, bathed in the orange light of the morning suns’. Such was their awe towards it that none spoke for several long minutes, with Brother Shinkei in particular was moved to tears. Akito and Harukor said nothing, and were to encourage their horses forward even as Akemi who rode with Satomine, if at her own insistence and his previously indifferent acquiescence.

  “Is it like this where you were born?” Akemi asked of Satomine, her voice warm and full of curiosity.

  He hesitated with his answer. He had no great desire to answer as the question left him feeling awkward. How could he tell her that he was born on a military campaign north, just to the south of these very fields, in the midlands of Mittsu province?

  What was worse in his view, was how the query made him think of his father, made him miss him. It was a sentiment he had long ago attempted to suppress, on account of how the man had been disgraced having left the battle-field by ship. The man had saved Yoshinobu-dono the year before and in those battles, much to the gratitude of the warlord however, these valorous acts had been followed by one great and cowardly one. To have taken to the seas’ whilst his liege fought for his life was disgraceful.

  He simply shrugged his shoulders with it being Shinkei who was to mutter, “These fields are important in our history, for it was here where Motonaga’s army was put to flight and defeated by Pimiko-dono’s great army. Her forces were led by her brother the legendary Wakakiniirihiko who was said to be the finest warrior of the age.”

  Akito became excited at the mention of the battle in question, “Ah yes, the great hero Wakakiniirihiko! We always pretended to be him when children, the finest of the heroes of that age, do you remember his song, Shinkei?”

  “Never you mind music, now is hardly the time to be caught singing,” Satomine growled just as the other youth prepared himself to sing the song of the ancient hero.

  “It is only a song, there can be no harm in singing a few verses,” Akemi retorted irritably.

  “She is right, it is a popular song in these parts,” Harukor agreed at once.

  “That may well be, however we do not know how close the enemy is, and the village of Midorinoki is not far to the north-west, therefore keep quiet!” Satomine hissed at his companions, to their irritation.

  “Surely, if we are cautious all will be well,” Harukor insisted in an argumentative voice.

  “It might be best to keep silent,” Akito advised having taken notice of the consternation in the bushi’s voice.

  “Bah, do not be so fretful,” the other youth sneered.

  “Akito, you would do well to learn from Satomine, he has a great deal more wisdom in such matters than any of us,” Akemi advised a hint of disapproval.

  As it was the girl who had spoken, Akito could hardly argue. He looked on the bushi then with displeasure, even as the servant of the house of Takimoto along with Shinkei strained their ears.

  Hardly paying any of them any mind Satomine for his part, was to listen for quite some time. All that the trio they had rescued was the rustling of the wind, the cawing of some bird in the distance and the sound of the gulls in the distance.

  It was strange, however Satomine told himself, he had the sense that there was some sound buried all the others. Yet quite what it was, he was not certain.

  It was then that Akito began to sing, if ever so softly. The song, the cadence of his voice proved irresistible to the likes of Harukor and Akemi, so that they sang together and for a moment there was a moment of perfect stillness. Their voices melded perfectly with the local hills, wind and rolling green plains.

  Any other man might well have enjoyed that moment, might well have allowed himself a temporary respite from his duties. Yet it did not reassure Satomine. The song and their combined voices did not offer him reassurance but quite the opposite; it only worsened his apprehension regarding the local area.

  “Blossoms flower and fall,

  Men ride and dally,

  Women dance, short and tall,

  They weep thrice daily

  For those who in north-plains beyond the pall,

  Didst behind Wakakiniirihiko rally,

  Six thousand times he struck in the green hall

  Men call the north-plains, and six thousand he fatally

  Struck dead, thereupon the bloodied fields,

  Just the moon arose in the east,

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  Hope gave little in the way of yields,

  When the demon didst feast

  And gorge as his forebear Orochi didst, and as leeches

  Might, such was his wicked wroth, the whole east

  Of the world he plunges

  Into shadow, shadows only he who rallied beast

  And men could press back, and didst hunt,

  Such was the glory of Wakakiniirihiko, Prince of the East,

  Such his glory, his light that he didst blunt,

  The Dark King’s spread, this though he was the least

  Of five sons, Wakakiniirihiko the prince of the blossom,

  Suns-kissed and glorious, who in after-days

  Beloved by the blossom-kami, didst feast under the blossom

  Tree, and raise his cup in distant halls, and host feasts

  There, for away whither to the sun-lady’s bosom

  He went, blade glimmering armour rent by the fiends,

  Lo! How men and beasts still weep, as does she of the blossom,

  Lo! How blossoms flower and fall,

  Blossoms flower and fall,

  Just as they always shall!”

  The tale told, and the song fully sung in spite of Satomine’s efforts to quash it, they carried on. It was to be after they woke in the middle of those fields the following day that they discovered the worried of Satomine to have been answered by the sudden appearance of a small patrol sent out by Hidemasu in search of whoever had loudly sung the song of Motonaga. The song having been overheard by them, so that they were forced to make for the nearby woods to the east, after which they would journey through the night, to evade capture.

  Though they all yearned a great deal for the song in all its beauty, in all its wonder and glory might last forever, it could not. Just as the sakura must after their brief moment of glory descend down from the tree-branches they rest upon, or the suns’ must set so too did the beauty of the suns’ kissed morning fields and the peace felt by the song of Wakakiniirihiko.

  The first arrow that sundered through the air planted itself into the ground near Harukor’s horse, with the youth’s steed rearing back in response even as a scream was torn from his lips. This first arrow was followed by a second one that was no less inaccurate. It was not until there was a third arrow that flew through the air that blood was drawn.

  The scream that was torn from the lips of Shinkei was terrible. It shook the spirits of all of his companions’ to their very core so that there was not a one did not leap some thirty feet in the air. The shock of the moment and of the arrow in his side, drew a second even more wretched shriek from the monk, who reached down in disbelief.

  Staring at the blood that he found seeping along his robes and side, Shinkei looked up and met Satomine’s gaze. It was brief, however for that one moment the old man looked no different from a child, so that the bushi felt a flash of pity.

  The flash dissipated as a fresh wave of arrows rained down from the heavens a short distance behind them, ere some of them could land the bushi urged his newfound friends onward. “Forward! Forward! To yon woods, all of you!”

  “There he is, seize him! Kill him if necessary! Motonaga commands it!” One of the Emishi warriors who rode some distance behind them shouted, waving his bow about after them.

  A glance over his shoulder while the other three horses dashed forward towards the distant woods that beckoned to them, revealed to Satomine the grim reality of the dangers that were to be found behind him. Thirteen horse-archers, each one dressed in the grey armour of the lowest ranking of the Emishi warriors, hardly a match for that of the Samurai of Montō or the Occidental Provinces, their armour was nonetheless more than resilient enough to endure a series of arrows.

  The pursuit lasted for some time as Satomine urged his companions forward, transferring mid-gallop Akemi if against her will to Akito’s horse, with the aid of the farmer. Satomine was to toss the young woman with little difficulty without consulting with her, all while Akemi screamed and wept. Once he had done so, he took up the rear even as he urged those around him towards the forest.

  They galloped faster and swifter than they ever had before, with the farmers soon left breathless and Akemi with a throat hoarse from screaming. Shinkei for his part, was half unconscious as he continued to suffer from his terrible wound. There was soon much blood that trailed, down the side of his steed so that his companions were rather distracted by his distress.

  “Shinkei! Shinkei!” Akito and Harukor screamed, both overtaken by panic for the monk’s sake even as they raced along at Satomine’s urgings.

  “Quiet the both of you!” He shouted at them, too hardened by years on the battlefield to truly let such a thing distract him now from survival.

  This was his ultimate gift at that moment; that of the battle-hardened bushi who had been on campaigns of war and fought by Yoshinobu’s side since he was twelve years of age. Of all the men present thereupon those fields or therein the darkened woods, none had the wealth of experience in blood and madness that Satomine possessed.

  “But what are we to do?” Akemi shrieked utterly overtaken by fear also.

  Satomine stern and stoic as always in the face of tragedy and murder, now that they were in the forest glanced about. A plan came to him, one of incredible impulsivity of a sort that Yoshinobu and many men of his age might well have reacted with horror towards, and yet it came naturally to the youth. Old Shinkei was to react with no less horror than any other man, as did Akemi though she was young in years, with only the two other youthful men acquiescing to the plan desperate as they were.

  “Now go, you all know what I shall have need of you to do, and do so quickly,” Satomine commanded ignoring the pleading cries of Akemi who had no wish to see him take on the greater part of the risks, he threw himself away from them.

  He prayed as he hurried away, this plan inspired as it was from a fox-hunt he had been on once with Yoshinobu would prove itself as effective for the fox, as it might for him; for if it failed he would soon be reunited with his liege.

  *****

  It was once they entered the forest that the Emishi found that their prey had simply vanished. Confused, they attempted to search the tracks and while they led off the proper path, and there were a great many broken branches, only one set of hooves were to be found going to the left. Three of their numbers also took notice of the fact that there were hoof prints going in the opposite direction off the main path while there was another set of tracks going along, on the often used main-road of sorts that led south. The road was bare and muddy, so that the hooves of the horses that had continued along on that path led that way.

  The confusion that was felt by the Emishi led to them stalling for several minutes. Their captain could not quite decide which way they ought to go.

  “They split up,” he concluded at last, stating the obvious and glancing about in each of the three directions, as he pondered the problem posited before him. “They obviously split into three different directions however whither did the fourth man go?”

  “What do you mean?” One of his men asked confused.

  “There were four of them,” one of their numbers piped up. “One of them an old man, another was a woman though she rode with the assassin, while the other two looked to be peasants.”

  “How could you tell at such a great distance, we must have been nigh on a league away from where they stood.” The other man snapped in disbelief.

  “Do not doubt Abuan’s eyes, he has those of an eagle so that if he says that he could see them from nigh on such a distance it is because he could.” The captain retorted at once, with such faith in the other scout as to make several of his men look upon him with considerable jealousy and resentment. Not that the captain paid them any mind, focused as he was upon pondering the strange conundrum that had been presented before him.

  Hardly a foolish man he was to think for quite some time, before he at last arrived at a decision, “Very well we will simply have to split up-”

  Quite what he intended for them to do after they broke into smaller groups, was difficult to say as it was then that an arrow flew through the air and through his left ear.

  He was not alone in meeting his end this way, as another arrow pierced the head of another of the scouts, tearing through his brain with equally deadly precision. This second arrow had followed the first after but a few seconds, the scouts noted with stunned horror, with this second one piercing the skull of the sharp-eyed Abuan.

  The astonishment that his men felt at the sight of his shocked face and as he fell from his horse was not to stall them for long. As one they turned in the direction from whence the arrow had come from, with a great shout they all began to charge forward into the forest, away from the beaten path, their captain had kept them upon.

  “There he is! There he must be!” They shouted, as one resolved to slay the southerner who had already slain two of their numbers.

  As they raced mindlessly into the jungle, it was now that a new arrow sang through the air and through the neck of another man. Such was the precision with which it had been released from the bow with that even the likes of Hachiman might well have stopped to stare in wonder.

  There was however little in the way of wonder, as the man at the rear of the contingent of scouts fell from his horse, unable to warn his friends of what had just occurred.

  Moving away to as any true workman might, seize his corpse that had fallen and drag it into the foliage Satomine this accomplished, withdrew once more into the forest. He was aware that it would not be long before they took notice of their peer’s absence.

  It was as he predicted, however what he did not foresee was how quickly they took notice. No sooner had he hidden the corpse it seemed, than the Emishi scouts turned about in bewilderment wherefore they took notice of the blood-soaked horse that ran past. Crazed by the death of its rider and free from him, it tore its way through the foliage.

  “He seeks to pick us apart, one by one until there are none left,” One of their numbers guessed, able to at last think rationally.

  “We must find him and kill him,” Growled another man, “Come let us hurry back the way we came and slay him!”

  This they might well have done, blindly once more and they turned about to do just that when one of them caught sight of the foot of their missing comrade and pointed it out to the others. “There you see? The foot of Harusho is there!”

  Cursing his own misfortune, Satomine acted quickly seizing one arrow from his quiver, he notched it let it fly then the next. His aim was as impeccable as ever, so that two more of those who sought to run him down were sent to Izanami, to plead their suits before her.

  There were still ten left.

  “Follow me, you cowardly Emishi that is if you have the courage to face down a single man,” he shouted ere he turned away to head deeper into the forest away from the path.

  His hope was that they might be forced to dismount as he had, from their mounts. He prayed that he had taken their measure and that they might follow him as full as rage as before.

  The Emishi warriors had no need for stratagem they thought, swinging about with a number of them throwing themselves off their horses while three of them did not.

  “Bah, we need not dismount and fight as he would have us fight!” One of them bellowed, whipping at the reins of his horse to encourage it forward at a full gallop.

  “Wait-” His friends cried out, but it was too late.

  The trio of warriors were to charge their way foolishly through the forest, with Satomine who had been observing them closely with the eyes of a hawk bewildered at how foolish they could be. He was almost out of arrows.

  He had but six, he counted as he planted the sword he had stolen from the Emishi, it was of shoddy inferior quality he could see this, and would have to still make use of it. Desperate he cast himself aside, rolling out of the way of the chargers, planted his sword in the ground and notched another arrow.

  The three men soon tore their way blindly through the forest, this much must be said about them however they were to charge so quickly, so blindly that it was not long before they did more than tear through overhanging branches. Their three horses advancing as only they could, soon tripped over a number of high-roots whereupon they were thrown forward onto their faces while their riders were thrown from them.

  The sound of their crash as they screamed only to then fall silent was to inspire but only a little relief in Satomine. Their deaths brought no satisfaction, not when he still had seven Emishi to face.

  They charged yet did so far more intelligently, with Satomine able to see the respect and fear they had for his archery. This nearly unnerved him as he shot one arrow at one, only for the man to duck behind a nearby tree so that he missed his mark.

  Another shot was fired to the same effect.

  Cursing, the youth waited a little longer, adjusted his aim and fired.

  The man to the rear of the group moved just as he had foreseen, making for the tree and into the path of the dart so that he moved towards his own death. Pleased, the bushi knew as well as they that he only had three arrows left.

  But by now they were too close, and while he had the satisfaction of slaying another by arrow, he had no other choice but to cast aside his bow in favour of the blade he had stolen.

  The first swing was broad and wild, with Satomine easily moving aside wherefore he disembowelled the northerner. It was however the second strike that very nearly got him as the enemy Emishi stabbed through his companion in an attempt to slay Satomine.

  The blade came up short and stabbing around the defeated man’s head, the bushi hacked off that of the next man.

  That left but three men left.

  The next man moved closer to slash at him with not one blade but two, with the first blade crashing against the trunk of a nearby tree. Startled at the rapidity with which Satomine had ducked behind it, he was left screaming nary a moment later as the bushi struck with all the fury of a demon, tearing his sword arm from him.

  The other man overcame his pain somehow, and took another swing with his other weapon. This one came very near to slitting Satomine’s throat, as he had leant too far and had to leap back almost tripping over a root as he did so.

  How is this man still walking, let alone fighting? He asked himself bewildered.

  “I will not let go! I will kill you! Kill you, you traitor! For Kiyomoto-dono!” He shrieked furiously, with the passion of a man possessed.

  It was then that the bushi understood. It was also then that he grew to respect his foe.

  Slashing the blades clashed and that of the stumbling bushi shattered.

  It was in that hour that Satomine knew despair, while his foe triumphed too early, “Now you die!”

  It was with the swiftness of a panther, and the savagery of an Emishi that the hilt shard flashed and the other man stumbled back, his gut ruptured and run through.

  Another flash of movement and Satomine’s tantō was thrust through his throat. A heartbeat later and the bushi tore from the other man his blade.

  Panting, his heart almost in his throat he cast his gaze and his senses all about him, in search of those who sought him harm. To his horror though, they were nowhere to be seen. Their horses were also missing.

  Knowing that they had fled, and that they would return in greater numbers and with his legs aching, his arms feeling weighted down and his spirit shaken, he turned away. This was no victory, he knew and would require immediate action on his part.

  *****

  Tracking the small group of fugitives took little in the way of time, for the bushi who though he found that they had not heeded his words in their entirety he was pleased to find just outside the forest. Where they had disobeyed him was in the lighting of a small fire, and in stopping not in the forest but rather just outside of the forest.

  Displeased by this revelation, and the sight of smoke in the distance along with the smell of smoked rabbits (a scent that made his stomach rumble), he was further displeased when they took to shouting at him. Pleased to see the bushi still alive, they let slip a great cry escape from them, where they sat near to the fire they had lit downhill from the forest.

  “Satomine-san! Satomine-san! Are they well and truly dead?” Akito yelled by way of greeting as the other man approached from afar, weary and moribund.

  “Quiet, imbecile,” Satomine growled as he glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the forest from whence he had just come, saying as he did so, “There might yet be more of them, with two of their numbers having escaped me.”

  “What does this mean? Will there be more of them?” Akemi asked fearfully, as she drew back.

  Satomine did not answer her, instead he focused his attention once more upon Shinkei, who had by this time had the arrow withdrawn his side. The arrow had been one of those he had himself used, if only on account of his limited supply of them.

  Studying his wound hurriedly, he was pleased to note how parts of Akito’s clothes were torn and how the wound had been bound, saying to him, “You were wise to tear your clothes and bind this wound.”

  “But of course,” the younger man boasted at once, pleased by his praise.

  “However, we must clean it soon and then rebind it,” Satomine declared studying the bandage closely.

  “We have so little water though,” Harukor complained bitterly.

  “Then we will find more, there ought to be a river or pond to the south, now let us move!” Satomine grunted sharply, moving to help Shinkei get back upon the horse they had eased him down from.

  His newfound travelling companions reluctantly followed his example; helping the old man climb back onto the horse, before they re-mounted themselves. The only one to offer some measure of tension and outright disagreement among the men was Akemi. She insisted that if Shinkei was to ride with Satomine she should ride with them also, if only to help the old man.

  “This will not do,” the bushi snapped impatiently, “While my mount is fierce I will not exhaust him with such a burden when time is of the essence. You will ride with Akito, while Harukor will be our scout riding ahead of us.”

  At those words, though she was sulky about this decision and wished to continue protesting against this idea of his, only for Shinkei to interrupt them. “I should very much like to live, now if you children could do as Satomine-san has commanded, we should all be the better for it.”

  Chagrined and embarrassed to have been reprimanded in this manner, they fell silent. Each of them wishing to project some sort of dignity in the eyes of the monk, with Harukor working to kill the fire as the others prepared to leave.

  It was as they set out that the suns’ began their long awaited precipitous decline in the west. Observing this for several minutes, as they trotted south with all due haste, there was a sudden sense of weariness that overcame Satomine. It seemed as though he had not stopped fighting, not stopped riding for years.

  “Are we headed to Midorinoki first, we could slip into the village in search of rations and water for the horses if only during the night.” Akemi suggested eagerly.

  “No,” the bushi retorted firmly, uneasy about the idea of going anywhere near the place where Yoshinobu died. “It would only attract undue attention. We must avoid the villages, the monasteries and find water, whereupon we shall after cleaning Shinkei’s wounds continue south.”

  “Where to?” Akito asked resentfully.

  Eyes still fixed on the southern road that stretched on forevermore, Satomine answered him with but two words; “The Takimoto.”

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