Gintaro sat alone in his small wooden cell located at the northern edge of the Ryū village, half asleep. His thoughts were bitter, and he was restless. He had met with the new Ryū daimyō a few days prior, and their conversation had not gone well. At first, he was cordial with the young woman, for the Ryū had made good on their promise to save Saru, and as far as he could tell, she was recovering in their care. However, when Kurea began to pry into his personal matters and the details of his quest, he refused to answer, and this lit the flames of wrath in the fledgling leader.

  “I miscalculated,” he thought to himself dismally. “I should have known that she would have to be harsh to save face. She is leading her men to her first battle as daimyō. She must appear strong. Now I must pay with time, the currency I have the least of.”

  He exhaled heavily and was just on the verge of slipping into a restful sleep when he was awakened by a piercing howl in the night.

  His eyes flashed open, and his mind began to search throughout his memories for comparable noises. “Last year…Ota-san…” he remembered. “It cannot be!”

  Gin jumped to his feet and strode to the side of the building where there was a barred window facing the village. His eyes scanned about, searching for the cause, but he could see truly little through the dark. There were some indistinct movements in the distance, but soon enough, cries of terror could be heard throughout the village.

  “Oni!” he hissed, pacing back and forth across his cell before banging on the exit door. “Let me out!” he cried. “We are under attack!” Unfortunately, the nighttime guard was not there, and he knew that the door had been sealed shut with an iron padlock.

  He then thought back to his old teacher and imagined what he would do in such times. “He would do nothing and wait,” he thought. “Foolish it seemed to me then. But one can do nothing, one should do nothing.” With that, he knelt upon the tatami floor, closed his eyes, and did his best to empty his mind.

  It was only a few minutes later when he heard something scrape outside of his cell. His heart began to race as he imagined an enormous oni outside, sniffing for blood

  It was not an oni, however, for he soon heard the familiar clicking of the padlock, and then the door slid open.

  He opened his eyes, and before him was Yoshida, holding his two swords under his arm.

  “Are you truly a Kaijin?” the samurai asked, wearing a bewildered expression, as if wondering how someone could be so calm during such circumstances.

  Gintaro did not answer him. He simply rose, held out his hands for his swords, and then tucked them at his side when they were given to him.

  “How many?” he finally asked.

  “We do not know, at least two, perhaps many more.”

  Gintaro nodded and then stepped past Yoshina into the night.

  A warning bell had begun to sound throughout the village, and nearby townsfolk were running about in turmoil, some wailing and others with silent determination. Yet he saw no sign of the oni, so he began to move quickly and went in the direction of a fire that had started at the southern end of the town.

  It was not long before it became ever clearer what kind of monster he would find. There were large claw marks on one of the doorposts of a nearby house, and the bodies strewn thereabout were similarly slashed or beheaded entirely.

  He could hear a gurgling and growling sound coming from the side of the furthest building, like a wolf feeding on a fresh kill. He removed one of his swords from its sheath and then the other. He then began to slowly sidestep around the edge of the building.

  Before him was a ghastly sight, as one of the oni had slain a horse and was eating away at its remains. It was hunched over and covered with blood. Fire was rising from the nearby house, giving off intense heat and a flickering light that illuminated the gruesome scene.

  The swordsman frowned and began to step forward, but the oni, with its demonic instincts, must have heard or smelled him and turned suddenly around. As it did, it rose to its full height and stood nearly as tall as the swordsman. In its hand was a crude iron axe, dripping with blood from its most recent kill, and gore dribbled down from its hideous mouth.

  Gintaro charged forward, but was beaten to it, as a sharp whistling sound came from behind him, and in an instant, the creature before him crumpled to the ground with a large spear penetrating its thick, sinewy neck.

  He whirled around to see from where the spear had come and was surprised to see Saru standing several yards behind him, wearing a knowing smile. She seemed vibrant and healthy once again, and there was a dangerous look in her eyes.

  “Good to see you,” she said, as Gin fumbled for words. “Now I’ll only say this once, please do not steal my kills.” She strode past him, extracted the spear shaft from the dead oni, and returned.

  “Are you...?” he began.

  “I am fine,” she replied, standing tall and unaffected. “Now, before we waste too much time exchanging pleasantries, we should finish this first. That was not the leader, or I am a fool.”

  Gintaro nodded and peered about, as the scene was increasingly becoming more chaotic.

  Fires were beginning to start all around the village, and people were fleeing frantically for the woods.

  “Do you think they are waiting in the forest, plotting an ambush?”

  Saru shook her head. “No, this looks like the normal pillage and plunder to me. They know villages like this are often poorly defended. They will only kill what is before them.”

  “Then let us present ourselves,” the Gintaro said, glancing down at his dark blades, “And let them try.”

  Meanwhile, Nō and Kurea were having an increasingly difficult time, for they had chosen to go into the very heart of the village, where the fires were most concentrated. There, they managed to help several families escape, though many had already fled in terror or were slain. Fires and debris choked many paths, and the way of escape was becoming increasingly labyrinthine. Because of this, each time a family was discovered, Kurea volunteered one of her samurai to lead them out, while she plunged further into the blaze. All the while, the fires grew ever hotter, and the roars of the oni grew ever nearer.

  Eventually, Kurea and her retinue believed that they had gotten every living soul out of the heart of the village. Upon one last inspection, the young daimyō herself had caught sight of two small children still trapped within a house, which sat along the dirt road that ran through the center of the village. They were trapped, not because of the fires or the rubble, but because there were two oni standing just outside. The oni seemed not to be aware of the trapped children and were loitering about the adjoining road. Kurea, Nō, and three other soldiers crouched down behind a stack of wooden crates. They surveyed the scene and considered their options.

  Kurea cursed under her breath. “They don’t seem to be moving on! Why not?”

  “They might be searching for more livestock,” Nō guessed. “Or perhaps they can smell the children but cannot find them due to the smoke.”

  “They seem to be waiting for something,” Kurea insisted and then looked around frantically. “We need to do something! Those children won’t last much longer in that house!”

  She was right, as the roof of that simple house had just caught fire from the building next door, which was nearly consumed in flame.

  “Are you sure you saw children there?” one of the soldiers asked hesitantly.

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  “I swear it!” answered Kurea. “They retreated further inside, but there is no other way out of that house! They are trapped!”

  The three soldiers looked around at each other worriedly.

  “Then let us distract the enemy,” the monk said suddenly. “You should go in and rescue them.”

  Kurea looked at them, studied their resolve, and then nodded. The grip on her blade tightened so that her knuckles grew white like frost.

  “On my count. One, two, three!”

  With that, they quickly emerged from behind the crates and charged upon the unsuspecting oni. Nō led with a sword given to him by the daimyō, and he let out a harrowing cry. He and the three other samurai made as much noise as possible to divert the oni and allow Kurea to slip behind them and get the children out.

  As the four approached, the oni turned their ugly heads toward their attackers and began to roar and bare their terrible claws in anticipation. The feint worked, as the oni did not seem to notice Kurea as she sprinted behind them. Nō watched on as the young daimyō disappeared into the half-burning house.

  Yet the monk quickly realized that they had gotten more than they bargained for, as the ferocity of the oni was not to be underestimated. One of the oni leaped upon a Ryū samurai and crushed him instantly, while a blow from the other nearly brought Nō ‘s head clean off his shoulders. The monk managed to pull out of his charge just at the right moment and stumbled to the ground, but the samurai behind him was not so fortunate and was struck so hard that he did not rise again.

  By the time he could turn around, the third samurai was alone, fighting with all his might to fend off two oni, but he could do little against their combined strength.

  “Monsters!” Nō gasped, watching in horror as they made quick work of the last defender.

  The oni then set their red eyes against a new target as their bloodlust grew. Ryū Kurea stood at the threshold of the house, with the two children huddled just behind her, their faces white with fear despite the ash and soot.

  As the oni moved to attack, Nō jumped up from the ground and yelled out at the top of his lungs. “Demons! Fear me! For I am the follower of He Who Holds the Keys, the Shinjin!”

  The oni, as if hearing something cruel and intolerable in their native tongue, turned back and snarled. Their eyes gleamed with fell intent, and they changed direction to bear their malice upon him first. The monk knew that this was not a charge he could withstand on his own, but he settled into his stance and held out his sword, just as his teacher had taught him.

  While oni came forth, he did his best to calm his mind, though his heart was pounding so loudly in his chest that he could hear nothing else. He closed his eyes.

  “A quiet mind, a singular focus, a vision of the future is the stroke of the blade,” he recalled his teacher saying to him. “Now breathe…”

  He opened his eyes once again, expecting the oni to be nearly on top of him now. But it was not so. The two oni lay before him, slain.

  Before his mind could comprehend what had happened, a familiar hand rested upon his shoulder. It was that of his teacher.

  “That was a brave stand,” Gintaro said to him. He wore a look of pride on his face. “But you are not quite ready to take on two oni just yet.”

  Behind him, Nō heard heavier footsteps approaching. He whirled around, expecting to be charged by another oni, but was surprised to see Saru, who drew near, gasping for breath.

  “That’s not fair!” she growled. “I’ve been laid up sick for a few days, and I haven’t gotten my wind yet.”

  Gintaro shrugged and smiled playfully. “Still, that adds two to my count.”

  “Is this but a game to you?” interjected Kurea, who had walked up to inspect the two dead oni that lay at their feet. As she bent forward and looked upon the wretched beasts, her face wrinkled with disgust, but when she looked up at Gintaro, her expression changed to that of awe.

  “So, your apprentice was telling the truth. You must be a Kaijin,” she said. “Only Kaijin could bring down those beats so skillfully.”

  Gintaro did not immediately answer her, but looked down at the two children, still hiding behind Kurea. “You should not be here unguarded, my lady. It is extremely dangerous here.”

  “These are my lands, and this is my people, and it is my job to protect them,” the daimyō returned.

  “You cannot help them if you are…”

  “Excuse me!” Saru interrupted, “This will have to wait. Look!”

  Out of one of the burning houses, an enormous figure had emerged. It stood at least ten feet tall, and in its brutal right hand it held a long, spiked club, the weapon of the oni called a kanabō. It wore on its body crude plate mail, and on its arms, it wore bracers of iron. It came forth slowly as if at ease, but its red eyes were lit with the flames of rage. This surely was the chief of this raiding party, or at least a captain of the oni skilled in battle. Many scars decorated its body, and it stood tall and undeterred by those about it.

  Everyone took a step back, except Gintaro, who merely gnashed his teeth with annoyance.

  “That must be why the others were stalling at this location. They were waiting for him…” whispered Kurea.

  “Nō, escort the daimyō and the children out of here. Saru, you should go too,” said Gintaro, stepping forward.

  “I shall stand with you!” Saru protested.

  “You are not yet fully recovered,” he returned, his voice hard and stern. “There may be other oni about. You must keep the daimyō and the others safe.”

  This time, Saru did not argue, not because she did not agree, but because this was a tone that Gintaro took only when he was deathly serious.

  “Come, let us go,” she said, urging the others to follow. They did so hastily, as the monstrous oni set itself across from Gintaro and pointed its ugly weapon at the swordsman in challenge.

  Gintaro settled into his fighting stance and twirled his blades about him several times before freezing in an attitude of defense. The magatama around his neck began to emit a pale blue light, and his swords seemed to reflect the illumination, like a quiet mountain pool reflecting the moon.

  The others hastily made their way out of the village and did not face any other oni on their way. The fires in the village center raged, and they could tell that the oni, though relatively few, had done great damage. Besides the fires, there were many slaughtered animals and beasts, and a few other structures were hewn or crushed to the earth. As they made their way to the outskirts of the village, they were met by Yoshida, who was wounded in his left shoulder, which hung limply at his side.

  “Do not worry about me, my lord,” he said gruffly. “It’ll heal. Come this way, the villagers are gathered and protected by those of us still left.”

  They did as he asked and followed the veteran samurai to a clearing in the woods, where there, under the light of the stars, were gathered the remainder of the village’s people. They were huddled together, many speaking in hushed voices while those who had lost a loved one sobbed or wailed in bitter grief.

  Kurea went to work right away, speaking to and comforting her people, while Saru and Nō’s eyes were ever on the edge of the clearing, waiting for their companion to return. Gintaro did return, not too long thereafter, and was not injured, though he was smeared in blood. It was clear that he had won his battle with the oni chieftain, and with that, the terror of their raid was over.

  Many of the villagers looked at the former captives with newfound reverence, and even the Ryū samurai, including Yoshida, bowed respectfully at Gin’s return.

  Kurea soon returned and approached him, her keen eyes studying his blood-spattered robe with subdued wonder.

  “Then it is finished,” she said.

  Gintaro nodded.

  Kurea exhaled softly. “Then you have my thanks and the thanks of all these gathered here. Without your help, and the help of your brave companions, we might have suffered far more evil tonight.” She said this and glanced at both Saru and Nō.

  “You helped my friend when she was in need,” Gin answered. “Perhaps we can call it even.”

  “Healing your companion does not compare to what you just accomplished. I just witnessed a man cut down monsters from out of my childhood nightmares before my very eyes.”

  “These monsters have not raided your people before?” asked the swordsman.

  “No. Not as long as I have been alive,” Kurea said with obvious displeasure. “This is an ill omen, perhaps the most ominous of all, and just as we prepare for war.”

  Yoshida, who was standing beside his liege lord, bowed and interjected. “Excuse me, but I may have some valuable information. After speaking to the men and some of the locals nearby, we were able to confirm that the beats came up from the south, not the north.”

  Kurea rubbed her forehead in frustration. “How can that be? The oni come from the north. Is that not right Akai-san?”

  “I have never heard of oni passing south in great numbers,” answered Saru. “Though sometimes scouts have gotten past our defenses. Yet this was not a band of scouts. This was a raiding party, for they attacked with coordination and seemed to be under the leadership of that great oni we just now saw. They would only attack a small village like this for two reasons. They were either ordered to do it for tactical purposes or if they were hungry and desperate for food. I think the latter is most plausible, for they seemed to go for the livestock first.”

  “I agree, but that still does not answer why they are this far south to begin with.” Kurea turned once again towards Gintaro with a glint in her eye. “Well then, I suppose I must offer you something more if we are to call it even. How about…your freedom?”

  “My freedom?” he asked.

  “You are still my captives after all, and I could use a few more good warriors in the battle to come. Even you, monk. That was a rather impressive stand.”

  Nō cast his eyes downwards and his face reddened with embarrassment.

  “But I can see that you are on some important errand, and even though you did not disclose it all to me, I will give you leave to pass through my lands without hindrance.” She instructed one of her soldiers to get her ink, brush, and paper, and then hastily wrote a letter. Then, folding it carefully, and taking a nearby candle and spilling its wax, she sealed it with her signet ring, the emblem of the dragon, “This shall see that you are not stopped again. Take it with you, and if you need aid within my lands, any who reads this would be wise to help you.”

  Gintaro bowed. “Thank you. Though we have just met, I deem you worthy of the title you bear. You risked your life to save these people. That was an act of true leadership.”

  Kurea returned a restrained smile.

  “I should like to return, my lady,” interjected Nō, filled with bravado after receiving the daimyō’s compliment. “I’d like to sample the sake you spoke so proudly of.”

  The daimyō laughed. “There is hope for the Truist Order after all, if there are monks like this about. You are welcome to it.”

  The three bowed, and as the daimyō lifted her head, the sun was beginning to fill the sky with a soft, pale light. The stars remained, though they were slowly fading in the ever-changing expanse.