His each footfall echoed through the darkness surrounding him, as he climbed the stone steps of Kyuden Hitomi. The flickering light of his torch chased the shadows from his path, but retreated from the darkness behind him with equal speed.
It was an empty, lonely climb, far removed from the controlled madness of a castle under siege that rampaged below. This was the tallest tower in the entirety of the castle and, at these heights, left all but deserted- save for a single inhabitant whose very nature demanded his seclusion.
The samurai paused as the flight of stairs finally came to an end. Standing before him was a thick oak door, heavily bound in iron and steel.
In the dancing play of shadows and light from his torch he could see the faintest gleam of fresh jade. Taking a heavy iron key from the folds of his kimono, the samurai unlocked the door and pushed his way into the room beyond.Though large, the room was cold and bare. Dark black stones, the color of soot, made up the floor, walls and ceiling. A thin sheet tossed in a corner was the only sign of a bed and a small prayer shrine to Amaterasu the only other furnishing. Across from the door, the room opened into a terrace, not even a thin rice screen divided the elements from the room's interior, and the samurai found his breath rising in wisps of clouds.
The samurai gave the room only a cursory glance, his attention drawn to the figure sitting in the corner furthest from the terrace. The shadows seemed to embrace the man's naked form, mixing with the dark stains of his tattoos so that it soon became impossible to find where one ended and the other began.
"Konichiwa, Hitomi Kokujin-san."
The Dark ise zumi turned his shadowed gaze towards the sound of the greeting. His eyes studied the samurai before him, lingering on the two sets of daisho the figure wore. With no more sound then the whisper of nightfall, the Tainted Dragon flowed to his feet and stood staring at his guest. When finally he spoke it was but a single word, uttered as if in judgement, "Giri."
Mirumoto Giri gave a humorless smile and a slight nod in way of acknowledgement. Not a tall man by any standard, Giri stood a full head shorter than the towering ise zumi, but he stood with a relaxed calm that only nominally acknowledge the other's imposing physical presence.
For a long moment the two were still, each taking the measure of the other. Giri met the Dark One's eyes without fear. Perhaps only he and the Lady herself, of all who dwelt within the lands of the Dragon could do so.
A fact not unappreciated by Kokujin. When the silence was finally broken, Giri found himself twice surprised.
"So," began Kokujin in a tone that might have almost passed for conversational, "I see you still wear four swords. Your blade of Jade and steel, and it's companion of purest crystal," Kokujin stood, his heavily tattooed arms crossed over his broad chest, as he studied the blades at Giri's waist, "I'm sure they still strike fear into the hearts of any Tainted fool you face in battle. Did they have their fill of Snakes' blood on your journey here?"
Giri only stood silently, surprised at Kokujin's speech. While Giri did not bear the ill will that many of the Dragon Clan did against the corrupted ise zumi, he had never expected the man to address him as one would a friend. His eyes watched curiously as the ise zumi circled him."And these other 'swords'," Kokujin asked, the derision clear in his voice, "Are these the sticks you use to beat upon the occasional haplessCrane?"
Giri turned to watch the dark ise zumi leave the room, walking out onto his balcony. The Tainted ise zumi seemed oblivious of the night's chill wind slashing against his unprotected skin. Bare against the elements, Kokujin seemed immune to any storm, save the one raging within himself.
With a small shake of his head, the Mirumoto went to join the other upon the balcony. There had been nights before when he had stepped upon just such a terrace and stared out into the night. When the darkness both he and Kokujin shared, drove them to isolation, less its hunger demand to be fed by any and all around them. There had been a time when he and the Dark One had looked in each other's eyes and found there an echo of themselves.
Now Giri watched Kokujin place his hands against the waist high stone wall that circled the balcony, and all he saw was a stranger. As he stepped up against the stone railing to join his companion, he noticed deep gouges in the masonry. A large section of the wall seemed to have been rent by inhuman hands, fistfuls of its inner face ripped out and dashed to the floor.
"There is a strength in madness," Kokujin whispered, his eyes filled with the scenes of dark mountains and deep valleys. Giri kept his silence, waiting to hear what it might be that the ise zumi might have to say.
For a long moment there was only the play of the winter winds, chasing each other through the rocky crags of the mountains and racing through all the nooks and crannies of the castle's walls. An eerie whistling dance that Giri had once known as intimately as his mother's lullaby.
Finally, Kokujin's voice came, deep and low, "Why did you bring the torch, Mirumoto? Have you now become blind in your old age? Do you find yourself needing the feeble light of fire to keep you from stumbling around in the darkness?"
Instead of answering, Giri turned and studied the other. Kokujin still searched the night with questing eyes. Hunter's eyes. His gaze picked through the valley, below the walls of Kyuden Hitomi, stopping here and there as he spotted his various prey.
Turning, Giri cast his own gaze below. Like Kokujin the black veil of night placed no limitations upon his own sight. The darkest hour of night was the same as the brightest light of day. He could see in either with equal proficiency.
Even so, it took long moments before he could find, what the Dark One saw with a falcon's hunting gaze. Movement in the bushes, tiny bits of inky blackness that detached themselves from the shadows and skirted across the valley floor, like tiny undulating worms. The besieging Naga army. Shaking his head, Giri returned his attention to the man besides him, who kept his piercing eyes on the motions of the Naga soldiers hundreds of feet below.
"Why did you call me here, Kokujin-san?"
The wind howled past, ruffling the thick wool and silk Giri wore under his armor. For a while Giri thought the other wouldn't answer, but just as he was about to turn and leave, Kokujin rose from his observations, straightening again to his full height. The gaze that searched Giri's face seemed troubled, almost doubtful. The Dark ise zumi turned away, seeking to hide his confusion. Giri waited patiently, while the other regained his composure.
When Kokujin again turned to face the samurai, it seemed as if the shadows all but swallowed him whole. Where once before the darkness only rested its fingers upon him, now it seemed to clothe him in armor. Armor stronger than any metal made by man.
The ise zumi's voice was low, but it reverberated with a terrible strength- it was the thunder in a rain storm, threatening to become a Tsunami, "I can taste you fear," he said.
If Kokujin's voice was thunder and the darkness roiling across his skin were the blackkness of storm clouds, than the brilliant flash of light that shattered the darkness of night, was the deadliest of lightning.
The tattoo of a crow over Giri's left eye blazed into brilliant light. For a dozen ken-an in every direction, it was as if Amaterasu herself had returned to chase away the shadows of the night. Giri had seen ogres wilt beneath the power of his tattoo, even mighty Oni had flinched from its might, but Hitomi Kokujin stood immobile. The ise zumi's dark gaze never wavered, the only sign of his discomfort was a slight narrowing of his eyes.
For a brief instant, night was day, then the light died away and the night returned. The only remnants of the momentary brilliance, were the crackling slashes of electricity that still danced across the dark face of Giri's tattoo. Kokujin's smile was dark and smug, "You fear me," he said.
Giri shook his head in disagreement, "No, cousin. I fear the memories you return to me."
The Tainted Dragon scowled, "Why do you call me cousin? I share no blood with you. Only the Taint that roils through our veins could mark us as relations."
Again Giri shook his head and his hand moved to touch the Dragon mon set upon the breast plate above his heart. When he saw the Dark One eyes dart to the golden scaled emblem, he nodded saying "The Taint is not all the only thing that binds us, cousin."
Kokujin's scream of rage crashed against the castle walls, and howled into the night. With fist clenched in fury he lashed out, smashing into the wall of the balcony. Rubble rained down to the walkway below and there were shouts, as patrolling samurai made to leap out of the way. Seething with fury the Dark ise zumi slammed both of his fist into the wall of his own apartments. Great cracks snaked out from the point of impact and with a desperate rage he raked ragged furrows along the wall with fingers more closely resembling clawed talons.
Giri watched and waited in silence. His stance seemed outwardly calm, but the flashes of light from his tattoo came brighter and faster and the hand he casually held at his waist, gripped his jade and steel katana in a wary preparation.
"You lie!" the ise zumi screamed, hurling great chunks of masonry away from him, "I am no Dragon, save by name! I am a monster, a deadly beast! A hound at Hitomi's heel, ready to chase whatever sport she chooses! A Dragon!? You call me 'cousin', but I am a closer cousin to an Oni, than a Dragon, samurai!"
Giri watched as the rubble of Kokujin's decimation rained around him. His voice was calm, but filled with a strength to match the Tainted One's mad ravings, "And yet, you wear our Lady's name. You gave her your fealty. You strike against her foes and you stand at her side. You are no goblin. But, if you are not a Dragon, than what are you?"
"Foes! FOES!" the Dark One screamed, "Two days ago I destroyed a legion of Shahadet's Naga!" his eyes were hidden in shadow, only the gleam of madness broke through, "With my bare hands I tore their hearts from their chest and dashed their lifeless bodies upon their shrieking comrades! With the might of my hand I killed their scouts and their soldiers. With the power of my Taint I slew their shugenja!"
The ise zumi stood three feet from the samurai, hurling his furious words in the other's face. Without shifting his feet, Giri had fallen into an iaijutsu stance and merely waited, as Kokujin's screams continued, "They were nothing to me! Children's toys to be dashed aside! An entire legion I broke and sent to their cursed Akasha! But am I Dragon then?! A 'cousin' to be thanked, a warrior to be praised!?"
The howl began with the word 'cousin' and by the time he had reached 'praised' had become almost a wordless moan. With a sharp cry, Kokujin span and slammed his bare foot into the far wall, sending great chunks of rock spinning into the night.
"They hate me, Giri!" he screamed, and it was a howl of loneliness, loss, confusion, anger and hatred, "I face our Lady's foes and I slay them as they come upon me! Never do I hesitate, never do I run! I bathe in their blood and their children's children, if I leave any living to bear them, will be haunted by my deeds from here unto the end of time! And your 'Dragons' stare at me with fear and loathing! I am exiled within the castle that is supposed to be my home! Cast out from those with whom I serve my Lady!"
His voice now hoarse from his agonized cries, the ise zumi turned his dark stare upon Giri, advancing, his finger pointed before him in dark accusation, "And mark my words, Mirumoto. If Hitomi gave the word, if she even hinted I no longer held her favor, your 'cousins' would fall upon me like rats upon a corpse!" his voice rose again into a ragged scream and he threw his arms open wide into the night, "I have killed, and courted death a million times upon the field of battle! In these past months I have slain nearly as many now as in the entirety of my Tainted madness! And still I am denied! Still I am rejected! Still I am hated and feared!"
Eyes wide, mouth slavering, the corrupted tattooed man hurled his uncomprehending agony at the man before him, "Why! Why!! WHY!!!WWWWWHHHYYYYY!!!"
The motion was faster than any human eye could follow. Giri's blade sang free of its saya and leapt in its terrible arc towards the raving ise zumi, but Kokujin's dark form blurred in motion, leaping to the side and escaping the terrible blow.
The Mirumoto never paused, with a flick of his wrist he sent his blade swinging around in its back swing. The fist strike had been a feint. The ise zumi now found himself trapped against the stone wall of the balcony and unable to evade the second blow which smashed into the left side of his head. The force of the blow was enough to send him careening to the stone floor, leaving him lying on his belly gasping for breath.
Giri stood over him, a wooden bokken in his hand. The samurai stayed a ken-an and a half away, making no move to help the fallen tattooed man to his feet. He only stood and watched as the other slowly drag himself into a seated position. Leaning his head against the ruined outer wall of his balcony, the dark ise zumi groaned, gently probing the wound above his temple. The wooden blade had opened an ugly gash running from just above his cheek, to just above his eye and cutting to the bone. A dark oily blood leaked down, stinging his eye with its acidic taint and rendering his vision blurry.
The pain and the motion proved too much and the ise zumi promptly leaned to the side and spewed the contents of his bowels upon the floor besides him. Mirumoto Giri merely stood watching, waiting patiently for the other to finish.
Eventually, Kokujin's heaving subsided into a dry, hacking cough and Giri knelt down before the battered figure. His voice was soft, but hard as steel, and there was little pity in his gaze, "Two days ago you destroyed an entire legion of Naga warriors. Without pity, without mercy, you unleashed your wrath upon them. Was this right? I am not the one to judge. But it was war."
Giri stood and his eyes shone with a hard light, his features set in a look of such judgmental grimness, the corrupted ise zumi only sat and waited for the jade sword to appear and grant him an end to this twisted incarnation.
"Two days ago," Giri's voice was a quiet whisper, but it was the same steel whisper of a katana leaving its saya, "You led three Hitomi ise zumi to ambush a legion of Naga. You killed them all."
Kokujin raised his eyes to find the Mirumoto's gaze boring into his own. For the first time since he received his tattoos, the Tainted Dragon found his gaze commanded by another, held captive by another's will.
"All of them, Kokujin. In your mindless rage you slew the Hitomi as well as the Naga. Hitomi Karemane, Hitomi Mineiko, Hitomi Trai'mikata. Three more names to add to those of our blood who have fallen to your hands. Three more to join those dead and corrupted by your Tainted soul."
Giri's wooden blade returned to its saya, but his eyes never released Kokujin's own. "You stand at our Lady's side. You slay her foes and have sworn your fealty to her. You are a Dragon. But too many of our own have met their ends at your hands, too many of us have died to feed your Taint's eternal starvation."
Thunder clapped and the heavens opened to loose a frigid rain that was more ice than liquid. "You are a hound Kokujin," Giri's voice was tired and weary, but there was no longer any hatred left in his tone, "You are a rabid wolf set loose upon our Lady's enemies. But every time you loose your madness upon our foe, you feed their souls to your Taint. It goes stronger Kokujin and none know if, and few believe, that you might yet be saved. And for every two dozen Naga you lay at our Ladies feet, Dark One, there are a handful of our brethren who join in their deaths. Not by the Naga's spear, but through your own blind maddened rage."
Giri turned and walked back into the darkness of Kokujin's chambers, leaving the broken ise zumi lying against the balcony's wall. The rain ran down his naked form, turning a dark, ugly red that was almost black, as it ran across the gash upon his temple. The dark stain flowed down his face and across his chest, but it washed his vision clear and he watched as the Mirumoto samurai paused in the chambers entranceway and turned.
"But do you wish to know the truth, Kokujin-san?" the samurai asked, the lightning flashing across his tattoo matching the brilliance that leapt across the sky, "You swore your oath to the Lady. And she accepted. And until she decrees otherwise you are of our blood. And we will fight for you as you should fight for us," Giri did not turn around, his back still to the ise zumi lying in the rain, whose corrupted blood flowed like a stream down his face and chest, "You are pained that the others reject you? You are hurt that you must live your life in service to our Lady, alone and unappreciated?"
"Forget their acceptance, Kokujin-san," Giri's voice held a finality to it that defied any response, "They will never give it to you, not while our blood is still fresh upon your hands. But that shouldn't bother you," the samurai stopped to retrieve his torch from its scone upon the wall, beside the stairwell's door, "You gave your oath to the Lady. It is to her, and her alone, that you owe your every action. She chose you for a reason, Dark One. See that you serve her well."
Giri paused as he opened the door and for the briefest of seconds his tattoo lit the room and the balcony beyond. It was come and gone so quickly that it might have been mistaken for a flash of lightning by any who knew no better.
"If you do not," Giri said as way of farewell, "the next time I draw my blade against you, it will be the Jade."
With that the Mirumoto samurai started down the stairwell, closing and locking the door behind him. Upon the balcony, the corrupted ise zumi, Hitomi Kokujin, sat in silence as the frozen rain lashed against his naked skin, and watched as the blood of the Dragon flowed from his wounds.