War Games

by Nikita Thorn

  Seiki felt his senses heightening as he looked into the darkness. He could now make out the young man’s dim shape in the darkness, standing slightly further away behind one of the low bushes. The lamp light did not quite reach his face, but enough for him to see that Okamoto had another arrow nocked in his bow, aimed straight at him.

  “I’ve told Sato and the folks at the dojo the same thing,” the young man said. “I’ve chosen my path. This is between me and the Shogun and the whole Shinshioka City, so don’t try to stop me.”

  Seiki was starting to suspect what the young man was really up to. The arrows, though weak, were aimed to hurt, not warn. From his speech, it was clear what he had in mind was probably much more destructive than simply throwing himself off a cliff in secret.

  Seiki tightened his grip on his Hikari. “What are you planning to do?”

  The man had not lowered his bow. “Like I said, Seiki, this is between me and the Shogun” His voice hardened. “It’s none of your business. Turn back. You… you don’t need to die here. I’ve come this far, don’t think I don’t have it in me to do what I have to.”

  The obvious threat finally made Okamoto’s intention perfectly clear, and Seiki felt a spark of anger he had not felt in quite some time. “Master Tsujihara took the blame for everything you did. He died to give you a second chance, and now you’re back at your stupid plot against the Shogun? Did his death mean anything to you? Did you… did you even learn anything at all?”

  Okamoto’s voice trembled. “I never asked for him to protect me. I never asked him to go to that underground cave. I didn’t want any of this. I never… No, don’t come closer, Seiki.” The young man drew his bow taut as he took a small step backward. “I’ve warned you. Turn back.”

  From the lack of power from the two arrows earlier, Seiki judged that he would easily survive a few more, and he would drag this stupid boy back to the city by force if he had to. Taking yet another step closer, Seiki clenched his fist and tried one last time to reason with him. “Everything he did was for you. Everything. He had a life, a promising career, and he gave it all up for you. The least you can do is show some remorse.” Emotions were suddenly getting in his way, and Seiki stopped to maintain his composure. After all, he had never spoken of the old man out loud to anyone before. “And even when—”

  A dark weight crashed on top of Seiki.

  He caught a glimpse of two pairs of red-glowing eyes as he fell to the ground. Seiki twisted his wrist to free his hand for self-defense, but almost immediately an icy blade pierced deep into his right shoulder, rendering his whole arm numb. His health now down by a third, Seiki grunted as he struggled to move, but the weight on top of him would not budge. Several more shadowy arms grabbed hold of his elbows and knees to hold him in place.

  Seiki’s first guess was that it was a demonic ambush, a common event that could happen at random in the open out the West Gate, until one of the demons spoke.

  The Demonic Agent [Level 17] who had speared him, clad in tight black like a ninja, slowly straightened and looked up, leaving the blade pierced through Seiki’s shoulder. “Should we kill him now?”

  Okamoto had not reacted at all to the development, but simply stood watching, and Seiki felt his blood run cold. It was clear now the encounter was something much more sinister than a chance ambush. There were no more excuses. The old man’s death had been entirely futile.

  “After all he did for you, this is how you repay him?” Seiki felt his mind reeling from both shock and rage. “By colluding with… with the Demonic Clan?”

  Okamoto’s voice cracked. “Be quiet!”

  It was suddenly difficult to breathe. Master Tsujihara had chosen to die for this boy, and it was for nothing. The grief, the pain, the sleepless nights, the permanent loss of all he had ever known was ultimately for nothing. And Seiki had been angry at everything he could place the slightest blame on, even himself. But this was the first time he realized that he was also angry at the old swordsman for not choosing to live, for not choosing to be that one last bit of his past he could cling onto, a memento, a keepsake, something to remind him who he used to be.

  The Demonic Agent laughed. “Dead men are quiet.” He drew his dagger and bent down toward Seiki. “Let me help you with that.”

  “No!” Okamoto gasped. “Don’t… don’t kill him.”

  Seiki was preparing a Slide, since both his knees were on the ground, and he was sure it would break him from the pile of demonic soldiers on top of him. As if reading his mind, one of the demons holding him down shifted, and Seiki groaned as sharp metal pierced through the back of his left knee and twisted—sending numbing chills down his whole leg, dropping his health by nearly half and effectively locking him out of Slide.

  Nearly shivering, Seiki forced himself to inhale and try to keep it under control. He needed to think. He was trapped. Once again trapped, helpless.

  The Demonic Agent frowned. “I can see this one’s going to cause us trouble. Focus on our goal.”

  “Don’t kill him.” Okamoto slowly approached and crouched down on one knee in front of him. “Look, Seiki, I don’t want to do this.” His voice was strained, and he avoided meeting Seiki’s eyes. “I never wanted Master Tsujihara to get involved. I never wanted him to… to…” His voice quivered. “But I have to avenge my father’s death, and my mother’s.”

  Seiki wanted to shout some sense into the boy that his father had died for Shinshioka, and that what he was doing was going exactly against what all who had loved him had worked for and believed in. But, perhaps like how he had reasoned with himself before, reasons suddenly felt empty and meaningless, and Seiki had no words to say.

  Okamoto produced a slim black box from his pocket. “Master Tsujihara left me this,” he said quietly. “After what I’ve done, and with what I’m going to do, I’m too ashamed to keep it, but you can have it if you stay out of my business from now on.”

  He flipped open the lid. In the middle of the small cloth-lined box was a single carefully-woven black-and-white hemp thread.

  Master Tsujihara’s Protective Charm. [Unique Consumable - Ronin] Effect: permanently adds +18 defense and +18 dodge to The Master’s Army Plate.

  Seiki could only stare at the tiny thread. After all this time, even when the stats were relatively low, and even when he had since obtained several better upgrades, he had never switched out his Master’s Army Plate from his Charm Slot. This small item would solve that problem and ensure Master Tsujihara’s charm would remain relevant for a very long time.

  “It’s too late for me now.” Okamoto still refused to meet his gaze. “So just let me be, Seiki. Stay out of this. Take the enhancement and leave. Master Tsujihara would have wanted you to have it.”

  Seiki closed his eyes. He so very badly wanted the item in the box. But now he finally saw it for what it was: nothing more than a dressed-up consolation prize. For the first time, it became crystal clear what this trap he was in was actually made of. The past was no more, but was still holding him prisoner with its death grip, made of what he remembered and thought and believed about himself. The present was here, and the uncertain road that was the future was still unwritten. It was what he chose to do now that mattered. Who he was depended not on what he had done, but on his decision in this exact moment, and perhaps every moment from now on.

  He opened his eyes once more and looked straight at Okamoto. The young man had turned deathly pale.

  “No,” Seiki said, firmly. It was the first time in a very long while he had said anything with absolute certainty. “The old man left that thing for you. So you’re going to keep it, and you’re going to remember what this has always been all about, and you’re going to walk away from this and come back to the city with me.”

  The demon scoffed. “See, Okamoto? Nothing but trouble.” He pressed his dagger against Seiki’s neck. The cold blade was sharp enough to draw blood upon contact.

  Seiki did not flinch. He paid the d
emons no attention as he kept his eyes on the young man. “Okamoto. This isn’t what you want.”

  The young man gritted his teeth and turned away, breathing heavily. Then he let out a faint whisper. “Kill him.”

  Seiki knew he had to act.

  With his left hand, he shot a bare-handed Focused Strike at the demon’s wrist, pushing the dagger out of range. The Demonic Agent growled, and Seiki ducked low, using this opportunity to hit the nearest demon holding him down with another Focused Strike to free himself from its weight. Reaching over his back, he yanked the blade lodged in his right shoulder, wincing as it took more of his health. He was now armed, and he swung the weapon at the Demonic Agent in front of him, forcing the demon to retreat.

  The Demonic Agent shrieked in alarm as he fell backwards.

  Feeling had returned somewhat to his right leg, and Seiki pushed energy down in an awkward Slide, bursting through the grip of the other demons on top of him. Finally free, he rolled and grabbed his Hikari from the ground, sweeping out again with both blades in both hands, cutting the lesser demons on their legs as they rushed in. The demons screamed as they fell.

  Somewhere to his right, blue sleeves fluttered, as Okamoto turned and fled the scene.

  Seiki had no time to be distracted as the Demonic Agent rushed in for another attack. He scrambled to his feet and pushed forward with Focused Strike. It pierced the demon on his thigh, the light-forged Hikari flashing white upon contact. Growling, the Demonic Agent kicked up at the base of the blade with his other foot, and Seiki returned the growl as he pulled back the demon’s blade in his left hand, slashing the Demonic Agent with his own weapon. Another demon recovered its balance and made a blind lunge at him, bringing him to the ground and pinning his left arm down once more.

  Letting go of the demon’s blade, Seiki burst out in another Slide to get himself into a better position to face them. With four demons, and with half his health already missing, Seiki knew it was going to be close if he was even going to survive this at all. But at least, the next time he visited Mani Shrine, he could say to the old man that he did not just take the easiest way out. That, he thought he could live with.

  Before the Demonic Agent could attack again, a small shadow in red and black burst out from the thicket beside them, charging at the demon and yelling curses at the top of his lungs.

  It was Saburo.

  The demon let out a cry as he was knocked to the ground.

  Appearing out of the darkness beside the boy, Genta, panting, ran in with his sword bared. As if rehearsed, Saburo pushed himself away to one side, allowing Genta to take a stab at the Demonic Agent. The demon growled as he rolled away, before springing up once he was out of range.

  Seiki only now remembered that, by default, his unit got automatically summoned as soon as he set foot out of Shinshioka’s West Gate. Once again, he had forgotten they existed, and once again was extremely glad they had come.

  Seiki stepped up toward the group of demons. The wound on his leg was still numbing, but that was not enough to hinder his Sweeping Blade. The move caught three of the lesser demons and knocked them back, giving his unit some room to maneuver.

  “Took your time, didn’t you?” Seiki said, the corners of his mouth turning up.

  “It was hard keeping up with you on that horse, Chief,” said the boy in mild protest as he scrambled back to his feet and unsheathed his short blade, his eyes fixed on the Demonic Agent. “Ojisan almost killed himself running.” Despite the danger in front of him, the boy had a slight grin on his lips, his cheeks flushed with excitement.

  A humph sounded in response to that remark. Behind Seiki, Rumi and Ojisan had also appeared and had engaged the remaining Demonic Soldiers.

  Seiki chuckled as he glanced at them. “Well, you’re just in time to kill some demons.”

  Placing the guide circle on the ground, Seiki ordered his unit to unleash a Stun, freezing the lesser demons in place as he rushed in toward the Demonic Agent. Sweeping out his Hikari, he knocked the demon down, before following up with two rapid slashes. Now that he no longer had to worry about attacks from behind, finishing off the enemies was not that difficult.

  The demon leader, however, apparently no longer had any further intention to fight. With a loud clap of his hands, a thick pillar of dark smoke burst from the ground underneath him. Seiki rushed in with Focused Strike, but his Hikari met nothing but empty air.

  “The coward ran!” cried Saburo in disappointment.

  “Kill the rest of them,” said Seiki, turning around to cut at one of the demons who, abandoned by their leader, were trying to retreat. Saburo followed suit and stabbed his short blade into one of the demon’s back, while Genta and Ojisan mercilessly hacked down the next.

  Demonic Soldier slain. 164 XP gained.

  Demonic Soldier slain. 164 XP gained.

  One more demon, gravely wounded, fled into the darkness with a wail, before Rumi rushed after him and finished him off. Seiki was not sure if he was imagining things, but his unit seemed much more confident now after two successful war events.

  Demonic Soldier slain. 164 XP gained.

  The last of the four demons had made it away from combat and was disappearing into the woods, leaving a trail of black blood on the ground.

  “Chief, should we follow?” asked Genta.

  Seiki shook his head. The paper lamp was still hanging on the tree, but Okamoto had escaped.

  Casting his glance into the darkness, Seiki could still hear rustling noises from somewhere in the wilderness ahead. The young man had not made it very far.

  “We’re following that man,” he told his unit as he broke off into a run in the same direction. His back and leg were still wet from deep cuts, but his health was safely hovering at a fifth. As far as Seiki was concerned, it was plenty enough.

  Genta ran after him. “Who’s that, Chief?”

  “Must be a traitor,” said Saburo. “He was working with the demons. What are we going to do when we catch him?”

  Seiki was not sure he knew the answer to that question, and simply told them not to attack.

  The woods abruptly ended, and the starry midnight sky opened up in front of them above the great shadow of a low mountain. Seiki found himself on a wide grassy ledge that wrapped around the woods behind in a wide curve. His ears caught sound of moving water below, and he realized they were on top of a deep ravine. The cliff ran in a wide jagged horizontal line in front of him, separating the grass ledge from the mountain range on the opposite side. He had not remembered the ground rising at all on his journey, but, like everywhere else, the West Plains was known to hide unexpected scenery at every turn.

  The young man finally came into view, his blue-clad figure fleeing ahead toward the edge.

  “Okamoto!” Seiki shouted. Now that he had cleared the woods, the ground was much smoother, and he broke into a Slide to close the distance.

  At first, he was worried that the young man was going to throw himself off the edge as he had originally feared. But as he drew nearer, he saw that Okamoto’s destination seemed to be two brightly-lit ground torches that marked the beginning of a slim hanging bridge. Woven rather crudely, the bridge connected two sides of the gorge like flimsy spider threads.

  “Don’t come any closer!” Okamoto spun around and raised his bow. Instead of stopping, Seiki had broken out in another Slide toward him, and the young man dropped the weapon and swept out his hand instead to launch smoke bombs between them. “Give up, Seiki!”

  Seiki told his unit to stay back as he burst through the thick white smoke, squinting so as not to get any of the powder in his eyes. Okamoto was already on the hanging bridge, with a torch in one hand, which he had grabbed from the ground. The young man grumbled as he awkwardly made his way forward, struggling to keep his balance as the construction swayed under his weight.

  “It’s not too late, Okamoto.” Seiki stepped carefully onto the bridge. The wooden plank under his feet
wobbled and the knots around the thick wooden posts at the edge groaned against the extra weight. “This is not what your father wanted. This isn’t what Master Tsujihara would have wanted.”

  The hanging bridge was made of crude short wooden planks, spaced much too far apart for safety. Down below, between the planks, Seiki could make out a white flowing stream. He took another step, and the bridge tilted sharply to one side. Okamoto let out a cry and grabbed the rope handrail to steady himself.

  Seiki ignored how long the construction would manage to hold two people. “Okamoto, listen.”

  “You don’t understand!” The young man turned around. Seeing Seiki closing in, he smashed the torch in his hand onto an empty wooden plank between them. The orange flame sparked, caught on the dry wood, before leaping toward the knotted ropes on both sides. A wall of smoke and fire materialized as the flame started to eat its way upward.

  “This is the end, Seiki.”

  Through the flames, Seiki could see a streak of tears streaming down the young man’s cheek. “The Shogun, the city, the Shinshioka army,” Okamoto said through gritted teeth. “They took everything away from me. I never knew my parents. And I would have been none the wiser if the Demonic Clan hadn’t told me the truth. Master Tsujihara wouldn’t have told me. Even the woman who raised me wouldn’t have told me. My life was a lie. The whole world is a lie. I’ve made up my mind a long time ago. You… you wouldn’t understand.”

  “I do,” said Seiki quietly. He knew all too well what hate felt like, the hate that would have been enough to burn the world to the ground and himself with it, and his hand was gripping the rope of the bridge much more tightly than he intended to. “And I know nothing comes of it. Trust me. This really isn’t what you want.”

  Okamoto shook his head, turned around and continued to make his way across.

  “Stop,” said Seiki, taking one step further toward the growing flames. His health had recovered enough for him to take a few burns. Once upon a time, Master Tsujihara had asked him to drag this boy out of a burning dojo, and now if he had to do it again, he would.