by Ryan Kirk
When Nori came, Takako felt like she had suffered an entire lifetime in waiting. She moved slowly, reacted slowly. The air around her seemed as heavy as water as she attempted to struggle, attempted to escape her captors.
Nori brought her into a different room with a high table. She was thrown on the table without ceremony, and she could feel the leather straps being tied tight around her wrist and ankles. Her clothes were ripped off, and she was left naked on the table, unable to move.
Takako was prepared to experience lust, to experience the desire of the men who saw her. She had become well enough used to her body to expect it. She didn’t expect Nori’s reaction, or lack thereof. There was no arousal in his face. He stood in a corner and looked at her. He was not excited and made no move to take her by force despite her vulnerability.
It was more disconcerting to realize he was just watching her, examining her. She wasn’t an object of lust so much as an animal to him. Something to be taught the error of its ways. Takako could almost feel the disconnect from his humanity, and that scared her more than anything had before.
The fear in her body melted her down. Even if she hadn’t been tied to the table she was confident she wouldn’t be able to move. She had experienced the paralysis of true fear before, but nothing that had ever permeated through every single part of her body.
The first feelings of pain were almost a relief from the fear. Nori had brought with him only a few tools, but his experience was evident. Takako at first tried closing her eyes, but it was worse not knowing.
Nori didn’t hurry, working alternately with an extremely sharp knife and a hammer. He always took his time. The pain and the waiting were unlike anything Takako had ever experienced. She had been burned and injured before, but she had never known the world of pain that existed beyond that, white-hot, agonizing, and unending. She had resolved to be strong, but that resolution was broken within moments. She cried for mercy, screamed in pain until her throat was raw. She would have told him anything to make him stop. But he continued without emotion.
Twice she passed out from the pain and twice Nori brought her back with smelling salts. Then he would begin again, slowly, building the pain up to yet another unbearable crescendo. The third time she passed out Nori did not wake her up, and she slipped into the blissful realm of unconsciousness.
When she awoke she saw through the open door that evening was beginning to fall. She didn’t even bother trying to move. Something, deep within her, had finally snapped. The hope which had sustained her for so long, the belief everything would be okay, was gone. She didn’t have the mental strength to catalog her injuries, but some part of her knew her body would never heal from this, would never work again.
She knew both her legs were broken as was one arm and probably a couple of the bones in her torso. Skin was missing from small sections of her body, including her face and breasts. If she did survive the day she would never have her beauty again, never be able to walk normally. Her dreams of making her own way had disappeared. She did not know everything Nori had done between her legs, but she knew she would never enjoy making love, she never had enjoyed it.
It was the never part that got to her. She would never do many of the things she had dreamed of. That hurt more than the physical pain itself. Some part of her had always believed everything would turn out. Setbacks and challenges were temporary and could be overcome. But what had happened to her ended that. Even if Ryuu rescued her, she wouldn’t be the same.
A single tear rolled down her cheek and shattered upon the table as it dropped from her face. Little droplets had spread out from the point of impact. There wasn’t anything left.
Takako figured out the truth. She had heard of people who had reached this stage in their lives, but the thought of getting here had always terrified her. Aging had never scared her, but the process of giving up, of not having anything to look forward to froze her heart. She believed in the Great Cycle, perhaps now more than ever, because it was the only hope she had remaining.
She heard slow footsteps outside her door and closed her eyes. If she could feign unconsciousness, perhaps they would just let her lie here for a little while longer. That was all she wanted. Just to lie there and let the darkness overcome her.
Somehow she knew from the footsteps. He moved like Ryuu and Moriko. She imagined she could sense the shock from him as he looked over her and cataloged her injuries. She knew he didn’t look at her lustfully, not because of her injuries, but because he saw her as a person. It was refreshing, in a way, but she still just wanted to be left alone, to be allowed to sleep once and for all.
“Your sleep will come soon enough. But not now, and not by my hand.”
If Takako could have summoned any movement to spit any words of hate out at him she would have, but she had nothing left but resignation.
“There’s no need. You hate me, and with good reason. I would wish you would rejoin the Great Cycle without malice in your heart towards me, but I understand if that’s not possible. Take comfort. I sense the end of this journey is near. I cannot sense him, but I can sense this world beginning to change. We are on the verge of a new age. I know he will come tonight. I will challenge him, and I do not know who will win. He is stronger than Shigeru, but I suspect he never told you that. I will let him see you before we meet.”
Takako imagined herself nodding to Orochi’s statement, and he seemed to sense her agreement. It was nice not having to physically move to communicate.
“I will leave and shut the door behind me. You have my word I will guard it until he comes for you. Nori will not be allowed back in. Your suffering is almost over.”
Takako once again imagined agreeing, and once again it was enough for Orochi. He left, and as the door shut behind him all the remaining light faded, leaving her in complete darkness.
Takako closed her eyes and could feel the life in her blood draining out of her. She was ready. She wanted nothing more than to die quietly without hope.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Moriko sat as still and quiet as a statue as the sun rose high in the sky. She had to to compensate for Ryuu’s inability to do anything but pace with his hand on his sword ready to cut down anything that moved. Someone needed to be the calm one. Ryuu was angry, scared, determined, and uncertain. He wasn’t thinking straight. He couldn’t hold on to a single thought long enough to follow it to its conclusion. He was jumping back and forth faster than a jackrabbit in danger. He was a danger not just to himself but to her as well.
A part of her went out to him. She couldn’t imagine his pain. But if he didn’t focus he wouldn’t last. Moriko didn’t suspect an attack. Nori and Orochi’s strategy was simple, obvious, and effective. They weren’t going to come out and lose men in the woods. They would wait for them to come in, determine the field of battle. It was a significant advantage. Moriko was tempted to just walk away from it all.
As she watched Ryuu, Moriko allowed her thoughts to wander. He wasn’t the only one involved. She was reaching the point of no return. If she went with Ryuu on the rescue her course would be set.
She didn’t know where she stood. She wanted to believe her situation was different than Ryuu’s, that Lord Akira and Orochi wouldn’t hunt her down the same way they had Shigeru and his student. She was only an escaped monk, far less dangerous than a full fledged nightblade. She wanted to believe she could walk away without fear of consequence.
The rational part of her mind knew it was a lie. Orochi and Akira had no reason to view her as anything other than another nightblade who posed a danger to the realm. Her only chance to convince them otherwise would be to go straight to Orochi and plead with him. He knew her well, perhaps he would believe her.
It would be a tough sell. Orochi knew of her disdain for the monasteries. It would be difficult for him to believe she hadn’t some choice in the matter. Perhaps he wouldn’t believe her at all and would kill her where she stood.
Joining Ryuu on his attempt would firmly pla
ce her in Ryuu’s camp, and she wasn’t sure she wanted that either. She liked Ryuu but she wanted to maintain her distance. If she wasn’t close to anybody, if she wasn’t responsible to anybody, she wouldn’t suffer like Ryuu did.
He was an interesting man, not just because he was a nightblade in a world where they were nearly extinct, but because of his innocence. His emotions were so raw and pure. He wasn’t cynical or disillusioned. He saw the world as it was and sought to change it, thought he could change it.
He was also immature. There was clearly a relationship between Takako and Ryuu, but he had the gall to approach her. She didn’t compare to Takako at all. Takako was a good woman and beautiful beyond compare. Her skin was smooth and soft unlike the scars which criss-crossed Moriko’s body from her time in front of the Abbot. She knew how to bring pleasure to a man, a set of skills Moriko had never even imagined having the time to learn in her situation in the monastery.
But Ryuu was also attracted to Moriko, and Moriko was cynical. She didn’t believe Ryuu was malicious. He just found himself with two women he liked and didn’t know how to act. He would have to choose, but didn’t. He was too young to realize he couldn’t have it all.
Moriko’s reverie was interrupted by Ryuu stopping his pacing right in front of her. “We need to leave now. She could die at any moment!”
“She’s not going to die.”
“You don’t know that, don’t say that,” Ryuu spat back, his emotions almost literally carrying him away.
“I do. She’s bait. I don’t know if they were searching for her or found her by chance, but Nori and Orochi are using her to draw you in. They get to choose the ground, they get to set all the traps and all the kill spaces they want. Bait is no good if it’s dead. They want you dead, and for that to happen she needs to be alive. So stop worrying.”
Ryuu shook his head at the last comment, but kept his silence. He knew she was right, it was just difficult for him to admit it. She softened her tone.
“Look, I know the waiting is horrible, but we have to wait until nightfall. We both know there’s no way we can cross through that grassy patch without getting stuck like a shooting target. We need the cover of night to make our advance.”
Ryuu collapsed in exasperation. “I know. I know they will keep her alive. But it doesn’t stop me from wanting to go in and get her.” He made no effort to hide the tears that started streaming from his eyes. He looked up at Moriko. “They could still hurt her.”
Moriko didn’t have anything to say. That statement was most likely true.
“Did you know all this was my fault? When I first met Takako, Shigeru had hired her to teach me how to interact with women and girls, how to act in society. Nothing more. We became friends. When she was taken, I didn’t feel like I had any choice. I had to stop it from happening. But look at all the pain it’s caused. Her entire family is dead and now she’s captured, enduring whatever they have in store for her, all because I tried to stop things. Shigeru is dead. All because of me. I should know to leave well enough alone.”
Moriko’s heart went out to Ryuu in that moment. “It’s not your fault. Yes, many people are dead, but that doesn’t make your actions wrong. You did the best you could with what you knew. The ones who are responsible are the ones who swung the sword. Not you.”
Moriko’s decision was made. “And I will help you. But you have to know something. I will not help you in any fight against Orochi.”
Ryuu looked up, rage flashing in his eyes.
Moriko stepped back. She had never considered Ryuu hadn’t anticipated her dilemma. She assumed he would have thought it through. She regained her confidence and returned his stare with all the willpower she could muster.
“I understand he killed Shigeru, and I’m sorry for the pain he caused you. But you are forgetting two things about him.”
Ryuu’s gaze pierced her like a blade.
Moriko stepped forward, hands relaxed at her side.
“First, I can’t believe Orochi is an evil man. He is intimidating, scary, and unapproachable, maybe even misguided. But he is not a bad man. He disdained the monastery and its systems, and to my knowledge he has never broken his word. I will not be responsible for helping kill a decent man.”
Ryuu’s face was a mask of anger, but he made no move against her.
“Second, Orochi was a teacher and a mentor to me. If not for him I would have been killed at the monastery many cycles ago. He was the one who trained me as a nightblade. He was the one who made me as I am today. I will not attack the man who did that for me even if I disagree with his actions.”
Moriko had underestimated the depth of Ryuu’s emotion. He drew his sword and Moriko knew she was no match for him. His speed was incredible. He had guarded his intent well, and she never sensed it coming. She couldn’t even react before he had his blade to her throat.
The cold steel bit into her flesh, but she refused to move, refused to show fear, even when Ryuu spoke softly in her ear, his voice full of menace. “You are talking about the man who killed my father.”
She looked Ryuu straight in the eyes. “I know. And you are talking about killing mine.”
It was exactly what he needed to hear. Ryuu’s eyes went wide, and he deflated as if he had been punched in the stomach.
Ryuu couldn’t find his words. He looked up at Moriko, eyes filling with tears, and Moriko could see he was at the end of his rope. He had done everything he could to protect everyone he loved, and it was all slipping away.
“I’m. . . I’m so sorry.” Ryuu turned and started shuffling away, his body boneless as it slumped down against a tree.
Moriko didn’t know how to react, but Ryuu needed help. If he was going to go into the fort in this mental condition, Orochi would destroy him. In his current state, Orochi might not even have to do the work. A child with a stick and a grudge could probably kill Ryuu right now.
She came to him and sat down next to him and cradled his head against her chest as he sobbed. It was the first time she had held a man. She embraced him, emotions flooding her senses as well.
Eventually Ryuu’s breakdown subsided, and Moriko could see that everything had burned away. He was a man on a mission. Moriko nodded her approval and cleared a space in the dirt at their feet. With a stick she sketched out the compound, making corrections as Ryuu brought them to her attention. Much of it was guesswork, albeit educated. They weren’t able to sense walls or buildings, but only the people in them. It was guesswork to determine which collections of people represented which types of buildings, but they felt reasonably sure of their efforts.
They discussed several ideas for entering the compound, from a direct walk up the main road to attempting to sneak in through the tree tops without being detected. A simmering tension lay beneath the surface, as Moriko’s ideal attempt kept them completely unnoticed, while Ryuu preferred an approach that left a trail of corpses in his wake.
Like all great plans, they ended up deciding on a compromise. Ryuu would attempt to enter the compound directly. His goal was to divert attention to himself. While Ryuu was the distraction, Moriko would sneak in and pull Takako out by approaching and leaving from a different direction. It was as good as they could come up with. Ryuu was the better swordsman and Moriko could get in and out without Orochi sensing her.
It was also a plan which pitted Ryuu against Orochi. Ryuu was happy about it, Moriko unspeakably sad. She knew she was going to lose at least one of them if not both. She cursed fate for putting her in this position.
Moriko looked up at the horizon. “They’ll be expecting us to attack in the middle of the night.”
Ryuu glanced at the horizon as well. By a quick judgment it looked like they still had a couple of watches before the sun was down. “That’s why we are attacking as soon as the sky is dark.”
She almost protested, but realized it was the most logical decision. Many guards would be sleeping in preparation for the night watch and wouldn’t recover quickly. It would gi
ve them an advantage in the opening moments of the attack.
They decided to take turns sleeping and keeping watch. Moriko was exhausted and fell asleep in an instant. When she was awoken, the sun was just dipping below the horizon.
“Three watches and then wake me.” Moriko nodded at Ryuu’s command.
Like Moriko, he fell asleep instantly. Considering the emotional strain he was under, it was surprising he could sleep at all. She smiled to herself and kept watch, reflecting on the turn of events which had very likely brought her to the last day of her life.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Ryuu awoke the moment Moriko moved to wake him. Again Moriko was reminded of just how different Ryuu’s training had been from her own. Sometimes it didn’t even seem like he slept. His sense was so well-tuned he was able to pick up movement towards him even while asleep. He had attempted to teach the ability to Moriko, but she hadn’t been able to get the hang of it. She suspected it wasn’t so much an issue of technique or ability, but more the repeated conditioning of waking up to an imagined threat. Ryuu had mentioned in passing once that Shigeru had often tested him with midnight attacks.
They prepared without speaking. Words weren’t necessary. They knew what they were doing, knew there was nothing further to be discussed. They each practiced some cuts and made sure their edges were sharp.
Moriko couldn’t help but stare a little as Ryuu went through his kata. She could see the small differences in his swordsmanship that made him better than anyone she had met. His moves and cuts were perfect. She had considered her own training to be rigorous, but his had been more intense. For over ten cycles he had done nothing but train every day with a man who was one of the best swordsmen in the Three Kingdoms.
Even more impressive, Moriko was convinced she had yet to see his true skill. He had dispatched the Abbot with so little effort, Moriko was positive she had never seen his full potential. In all of their training, he had always been able to block or dodge every single one of her attacks. It was sometimes only by the smallest of distances, but she had never struck him. To an untrained eye they may be close in skill, but Moriko suspected a vast plain separated them.
