Yoshi glances around his room one last time. Its walls have always been sparsely decorated, but now, the room is barren. Empty. As empty as one of Hitomi's promises.
A single window adorns the western wall. A simple desk abuts the eastern wall, and beside it, in the northeastern corner, rests a small, narrow framed futon. A traveler's pack is resting on the futon pad, the final storehouse for the last of his worldly possessions. Two lamps burn on the desk beside his bed, their flickering flames cast a grim light across the whole of the room, leaving patches of darkness to gather in the corners.
He turns abruptly, wanting to remember the room in happier times, and reaches out to grasp his pack's shoulder sling. He walks over to his desk, and two quick breaths later, the lamps are extinguished. Yoshi shoulders his pack and turns to leave the room. As he passes through the doorway into the corridor, he tries not to notice the shadows; how they leapt up from the corners to consume his room, leaving behind a darkness as unforgiving as that which has consumed his former pupil.
He pauses for a moment and sighs. He is the last Togashi within the walls of Kyuden Hitomi, and with his departure, the shadows will finally control the heart of his beloved homeland.
He works his way through the crowd on his way into the audience chamber. Hitomi must have known why he was coming before he even got there. "So, you’re leaving?" The Daimyo’s harsh voice echoes off the walls of the empty throne room. Yoshi looks intently into Hitomi’s eyes, barely visible in the dim lighting of the great hall, looking for some sign of the samurai-ko he had once known. He takes no small pleasure in noting that it is her eyes that are the first to look away. As she turns, he sees the iridescent ripple of light as it reflects off of the obsidian growth that has consumed half her body. She turns back to look at him with eyes as cold as the stone that is slowly replacing her skin.
If the Hitomi he knew still existed, she was trapped somewhere, lost within the confines of that strange obsidian prison.
"Hai," he says. Yes. The stiff formality of his response is a surprise even to himself.
She looks away again, her eyes gazing into the shadows to the right of her throne. "Tell me, Togashi Yoshi, have I failed you as your Daimyo?" Her voice cracks as she speaks. Her words trail off into a whisper, so that Yoshi has to strain to catch the last of question.
"Is serving under my name truly so unbearable?"
For the briefest of moments Yoshi stands there in stunned disbelief. He knows this Hitomi. The shy, self-conscious little girl who used to gaze so intently upon his classes with her older brother, Satsu.
All is not lost he thinks, even as he realizes that her display of emotion in open court is a severe breach of etiquette. Quickly, he performs one last service for his former Daimyo.
"You must forgive me, Hitomi-san, the failure is mine. The mysteries you pursue here are no longer my own. I must depart if I am to find the answers to my own questions. I only ask that you send me with your blessing. In return, I give you this." Yoshi reaches into his pack and pulls out a tattered, old scroll. "Its an original copy of Niten, known by some as The Daisho Technique, written by the great master himself, Mirumoto Hojatsu. It was Yokuni's gift to me when I first arrived here. He had only just met me and I think he already knew me better than I knew myself. Please take it, in remembrance of the questions we once pondered together."
Recognizing the true nature of his final gift, Hitomi composes herself on the throne and turns her gaze back toward him. Her voice has regained its composure when she speaks again.
"Thank you, Yoshi-san. You honor me with your gift. Of course you have my blessing." Then she pauses for a moment before continuing, leaning forward intently to watch his expression. "But I must know one thing. If this is because of Gaijutsu's death..."
"You mean his murder," Yoshi interjects. "No, Gaijutsu is pursuing the paths of Shinsei. It is not his departure from this world that bothers me. It is..." Yoshi stops to collect himself. "It is him, Hitomi-san. I was here to see him fall into shadow. I was by Yukuni's side when he was cast off of the mountain. And now he returns here, after Yokuni's death, and you welcome him with open arms. I fear for you Hitomi, and the I fear for the future of our clan."
"Why do you fear for Hitomi, brother?" The voice comes out of the darkness to strike him like a physical blow. "I will not abandon her in her time of need. Go, if you must, but know that a Togashi still stands beside the Dragon throne."
Yoshi watches as a piece of shadow detaches from the darkness behind the throne and moves to stand at attention by the right hand of Hitomi. The figure comes to a stop, feet spread wide in a ready stance. The tension in his body is apparent, coiled, like a serpent, ready to strike. He stands close to six feet tall, his entire upper torso is bare, covered only by a constantly shifting array of tattoos that seem to come alive in the semi-darkness. The patterns move hypnotically, trying to draw his gaze in, in and then upward, into the bottomless, soul-stealing eyes of ...
"Kokujin," Yoshi says, the sarcasm in his voice palpable, "have you come home in search of a soul, soulless one. I’d like to thank you for joining us. I was just about to bid my farewell to Hitomi-san. I would have hated to have to track you down for your farewell as well." He keeps his eyes focused on Hitomi, knowing full well the secret of the Fallen One’s powers.
"Thank you for your kindness, brother, but I have no need for your gifts. To serve once more by the side of my Daimyo is more than enough for me."
"I beg to differ, Kokujin. If the past is any indication, the only one you serve is yourself. How long will it be, Fallen One, before your interests diverge from those of your new Master. And what will you do then? Tell me Kokujin, do you think it is time for me give Hitomi-san one last lesson in the history of our clan."
"You go to far, little man!" Kokujin’s shout stills the activity in the hall. Hitomi’s hand reaches out to calm him, even as his hand comes to rest on the hilt of his katana.
Yoshi merely smiles and makes a slight bow, signaling the end of his conversation with Kokujin. His attention remains focused upon Hitomi, as he addresses her for one last time. "I do ask for one, small boon, Hitomi-san. My boken is still in the Dojo where I trained with you and Satsu. It too was a gift to me from Yokuni, it means a great deal to me. I merely ask you let me return to the Dojo to retrieve my final gift."
A look of comprehension slowly spreads across Hitomi's face. "Have care, Togashi Yoshi. It is a dangerous gift that you seek." Finally, she leans back into the throne and nods her head in approval.
"You may retrieve your Boken, Yoshi. May the Lady Sun be with you in the days ahead. And Yoshi," she says, "perhaps it best that you leave now. The future does not bode well for those in my house who resist me."
"Thank you Hitomi-san, and may the Lady Sun watch over you during your trials ahead," Yoshi said as he bows and backs away, shaken by her parting remarks, watching as Hitomi recedes into the darkness. When she is gone, he straightens and turns to leave.
Only then did he realize that the Fallen One is nowhere to be seen. Yoshi curses himself for a fool. Somehow, Kokujin had faded away into the shadows from which he had come forth, and he had done it so quickly, with such stealth, Yoshi had never even seen him move.
He was the last of his kind.
The last, he thought, except for that abomination in the throne room.
Yoshi pauses there, only for a moment, to brush his hands across the many colored inkwells and hand carved bamboo needles. Then, with all the precision of a Master of the Tea Ceremony, he straightens the old man's desk top one last time and leaves the room without a backwards glance.
He arrives at the Dojo a short while later. Yoshi slides the panel open, reaches down and removes his sandals. Only then does he step onto the tatami mats covering the Dojo's floor.
The walls of the room are lined with weapons, several Yari lean into the corner, while dowels in the wall hold a variety of Katana and Washizaki on display. And in the center of the wall, rests his boken, ‘Nazando,’ a name that means ‘Painful Lesson.’ This to, had passed to him through Yokuni's hands. He smiled to himself at the thought of the old dragon and the lessons he had learned from him on the other end of this weapon.
Yoshi walks over to the display wall and reaches out, almost reverently, to grasp the worn shark skin hilt of his practice sword. The Boken was old, its bamboo blade was worn thin and smooth with the passage of time. Its sole decoration was an ornamental hilt guard, depicting a dragon encircling a plum blossom, the Mon of the Togashi.
He closes his eyes and enters his stance, beginning the first few movements of his favorite kada. The precise movements free his mind as his body responds instinctually to the exercise, his movements as beautiful and graceful as the performance of Kakita artisan. He is lost in the flow of movement, until a dark foreboding threatens to pull him from his solitude.
"You've grown since we last stood here together, Yoshi. And you bested me in the throne room. I had not thought that possible. I look forward to testing the mettle ..."
"... of my steel, or my person?" Yoshi finishes, without a trace of his earlier sarcasm. A chill sweeps through him as he senses the appearance of the Fallen One. The malice that fills the room threatens to overwhelm him. He fights back the rising wave of fear, keeps his eyes closed and continues the exercise. "You'll have to settle for this," he says, as he lunges and parries in the midst of the kada.
"It will suffice," says Kokujin, his dark eyes flashing as he watches the dance. "You'll excuse me if I prefer to use my own weapon," Kokujin says with a smile, as he runs his fingers along the hilt of his katana in the gesture of a practiced swordsman; although for him, the gesture seems disturbingly obscene.
Yoshi knows nothing of this. He has found his center again, his mind relaxes as his body flows through the motions of the dance, moving at one with his sword.
"You'll have to remind me to thank Hitomi for this opportunity later. So many of my conquests," Kokujin pauses to smile, "fail to endure the sport I put them through." Again he pauses, "although, I'm certain that you will prove to be different in that regard."
Yoshi continues the kada in silence. His other senses come into sharper focus as he loses himself into the void.
"Of course," concludes the Fallen One, "you won't remember much after the kiss of my blade."
Yoshi begins the final movements of the kada, his boken whistling as it parts the air.
A forward shuffle and downward slash, wrists snap the blade upon imaginary contact to maximize damage and bring the blade back in line to parry; a spin and parry to the left, a final thrust and twist of the blade and he is finished. Togashi Yoshi stands perfectly still, boken held low, tip high, his eyes still closed. His kada has left him positioned directly opposite Kokujin, as he too draws his blade and enters a ready stance.
Yoshi finally opens his eyes, to see without looking, and awaits his opponents challenge.
Kokujin’s shout shatters the silence of the dojo, but before his shout can echo off the wall of the little room, Togashi Yoshi is moving. The wiry man thrusts himself forward, inside the arc of Kokujin’s swing. He strikes, the totality of his Chi focused on his practice sword as the tip of his boken appears to lightly brush the sternum of the Fallen One. A sound, not unlike a peal of thunder, fills the room as Kokujin is sent reeling backward to crash into the wall.
Yoshi follows quickly, his boken up, pressing it deep into the soft flesh of Kokujin’s throat. The pressure forces the Fallen One’s head up and to the left, so that his eyes can not meet Yoshi’s. Kokujin gasps for air, hampered by his fractured sternum and the sword at his throat. He stands there, defiantly, pinned to the wall, until finally, in mute resignation, his fingers slowly uncurl from around the hilt of his useless blade and his katana falls to the floor with a clatter.
Yoshi steps back, his wooden blade still pressed into Kokujin’s throat, and he speaks. "You will remember this day, Kokujin. The day the last Togashi bested you. Tell Hitomi what happened here today and learn from this." He pulls his boken away and returns it to the loop on his obi. Kokujin collapses to the floor, gasping for breath. And as Yoshi leaves the dojo, he shouts back over his shoulder.
"And tell Hitomi that Togashi Yoshi is dead. My name is Yoshi. I swear fealty to no one."