A half-hour later, Nakoto Jinsai emerged from the thatched house and turned his eyes in the direction of the dark forest.

  Kazekiri and Gintaro were waiting for him and begged to accompany him on this mission. Their teacher stared at them for several moments, surprised at their sudden ardor, and wary of what it could possibly mean. Though his apprentices never enjoyed staying inside the towns that they frequented along the way, it had been a long time since they asked him if they could go with him on a mission. For the first few years, he had outright refused them, for he knew that it was too dangerous, for they were still young and weak. But now they had grown in stature and resilience, and the time was drawing neigh for them to learn the way of the sword and discover the way of the Kaijin.

  “They will have to see the world for what it is,” thought Nakoto. “A mixture of light and darkness.”

  Their teacher eventually consented, and the boys could scarcely contain their shock. “Follow me,” he commanded and then strode off to the north as they trailed behind. They soon came to the edge of the dark wood, and there they finally halted.

  “This wood has an unwholesome feel to it,” Nakoto observed, glancing about. “Can you sense it?”

  Both Gintaro and Kazekiri nodded, but their faces were already pale, and their palms were damp with sweat.

  “Trust your intuition,” said Nakoto. “It will serve you well if you train yourselves to listen. Yet where others fear to go, this a Kaijin calls his workplace. Follow me.” With that, they proceeded forth and pushed into the dark wood as the sun was falling in the sky.

  The pines seemed taller once they entered within and towered over them menacingly. It was quieter than what one would expect during the late afternoon, and an eerie stillness prevailed. Slender beams of sunlight penetrated through the canopy overhead, but many failed before they could reach the forest floor, causing the way to be moist and slick. The croak of frogs and the faint buzz of insects was all that could be heard. There was an old dirt path that meandered upwards, and this they followed, though it faded in several places, or was blocked by loose earth or a fallen tree.

  “Tell me,” Nakoto said quietly, “What do you know of this place?”

  Gintaro and Kazekiri shot each other worried glances, as if unsure how much they should divulge.

  “We heard that a young woman wandered into this forest,” Kaze finally answered. “The villagers usually shun this place, but the girl went in and did not come out.”

  Nakoto only nodded his head but continued up the path, not slackening his pace, as the way became darker as the sun continued to fall overhead.

  After an hour or so, they came at last to an opening in the woods, and before them sat the ruins of House Ine, a once grand estate that had fallen from its splendor. They each had lit a torch to better illuminate their path, and this gave some shape to the estate displayed before them. High and stately walls converged upon them but the proud gate that would have barred their entrance was gone, only splinters along the rusted hinges remained. As they passed the threshold their eyes were consumed by the main house, which resembled a kind of four-storied castle, though it was not made for defense but for luxury.

  Yet the wooden stairs and walls were worn from years of neglect and harsh weather, and the stone in many places was crumbling. The servants’ houses that sat off to the left were spotted with holes or overgrown with moss or other vegetation. The once perfectly manicured landscape had deteriorated into an unkempt jungle, wild and uncouth. The air on this side of the mountains seemed thin and uncomfortable, and silence enveloped them like a mist.

  “This place has an evil history,” Nakoto whispered, as his eyes scanned back and forth for signs of life. “Speaking with the village elders jogged my memory. This place was once the fief of an infamous lord. This lord did many unspeakable things to not only the local townsfolk but to his own children. He was seeking some greater power, as is often the case with the powerful. Yet he had the resources and authority to carry out his terrible designs, and out here in the wilds, he had privacy. None seemed to know or care what he did, as long as he supplied his liege lord with funds and soldiers at the appointed time, and that he always did. None now remember his true aim, but eventually his evil experiments came back upon him, and he was destroyed. His house fell into ruin, and the mansion was left deserted. I tell this to you because we have no idea what we may find here, yet I fear that the mystery of this girl is tied up in this wretched place. Evil tends to fester if not quickly rooted out and destroyed. We must be wary…”

  Both boys stepped closer to their teacher as if he were their shield, but he turned around and said, “I shall venture inside. I will trust you both to stay here. If anything happens to me, return to the village. Do not by any means enter this place unless I say so.”

  They gazed at their master with wonder mingled with fear. They had never heard him speak like this before, about not returning. Each had always thought he was invincible, and their teacher never let on that he was afraid. But this time was different, they could see his rapid breaths, and the uncertainty in his face.

  “What do you expect to find?” Gin blurted out suddenly, his voice ringing loudly throughout the grounds.

  Nakoto’s face flashed with anger, and he motioned for his pupil to be silent. “I do not know, but I sense a darkness here that I have not felt since that time…” he said trailing off. Grasping the hilt of his sword, their teacher approached the main stairway and then ascended. Once he reached the top, he paused for a moment and then without looking back, plunged inside.

  A chill seemed to come over both boys, who were left to wait outside in that dreadful place. Fear alone would have kept them rooted to that very spot until their master returned, if not for the words of the young village girl that ran through Kaze’s thoughts.

  “Please find her! I cannot live if she is truly gone.”

  He stepped forward and rolled his shoulders as if to push off the dread that lay upon him. Looking about, he scanned their surroundings for footprints or other clues.

  “What are you doing?” hissed Gintaro. “Sensei said to wait here!”

  “He told us not to enter. That does not mean that we cannot have a look around.”

  “What do you think you’ll find?”

  “I don’t know, but we promised Haru, did we not?”

  At this, Gintaro seemed wounded, and mustering up his courage, he too began to inspect the entrance of the estate for anything freshly moved or out of place. Kaze went to the left and Gin went to the right.

  After several minutes, Gintaro finally cried out. “I think I found something!”

  Kaze sped back across the estate and found his friend standing before what appeared to be a cave’s mouth, though it was partially covered with vines and other thick vegetation. Beyond, one could make out a stone-hewn stairway leading downwards into the earth. Kaze recognized the outline of human footsteps on the moist ground thereabout, so he pushed aside the vines and branches that blocked the entryway. They moved aside with surprising ease, like a thick curtain.

  “She went down there,” whispered Gin. “These tracks are somewhat fresh.”

  Kazekiri took and deep breath and glanced back at the main residence. There was no sign of their teacher within, no torchlight, not a sound. It was absolutely quiet. He swallowed hard and his hands tightened into fists. “I am going in,” he said coldly.

  Gintaro turned around, and his eyes were wide with fear. “Are you mad? Sensei said that we should by no means enter!”

  Kaze pushed past him and put his foot on the first step descending downwards. “You can wait here then.”

  Gintaro could say nothing but only gaped at him as he took one step and then another until he had disappeared into the darkness.

  Down he went, and the stairway continued much further than he first thought it would. He went slowly, and carefully, as the stairway was cracked and broken in many places. The flickering light of his torch allowed him to see only a few steps ahead, but no further. The walls were made of brick and loose stone, but in many places, the roots of the trees had broken through like spikes. There was a dense, earthy smell to the air, and the deeper he went, the more claustrophobic he felt. He looked back only once to see if his friend had followed him, but all he could see was frank darkness. For the first time in years, he was utterly alone.

  After an indistinguishable amount of time, he at last came to the last step and the uttermost bottom. A thin mist seemed to cover the slimy ground at his feet. Around him was wet earth, rock, and stone, but ahead was a great arched doorway, perhaps two or three times his height. It looked old, ancient perhaps, but it still held strong after all these years of abandonment. Carved across its towering arches were written characters that he could not read nor even guess their meaning. He passed underneath the archway with awe and came into a long winding passage that, much like the stairs, went on for some time.

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  “What is this place?” he wondered and could find no clear answer. In the wilds, he had come across many ruined houses, temples, and even castles. But nothing here seemed to make sense. It was as if this place was built in another place or time, far removed from anything he had ever seen before.

  Suddenly, he came to an abrupt stop. The narrow passageway had come to an end, and he stood at the entrance of a large chamber. He lifted his torch to see the extent of the room, but he could not see the furthest walls or the ceiling. Stone pillars supported the chamber’s roof, and the floor was also hewn of carved stone. Though he could not identify the vast room’s size, he could understand its purpose. Hanging from the walls to his left and right were aged chains and rusted shackles. Bones were scattered about the floor, and skeletal remains were still held to the walls by their fetters. Barrels there were, each filled with cruel spears, prods, and tongs. Decaying wooden tables were arrayed before him, their wood still stained crimson after all these years.

  “A torture chamber,” thought Kaze, cringing with distaste. He had heard of such vile places from his elder brothers growing up, who had tried to frighten him as a child. The next few steps he took were the most difficult, but a strange power drew him onwards. A foul smell seemed to emanate from the center of the chamber, and it was there that his attention was fixed.

  He approached slowly, cautiously, trying to ignore the horrors that surrounded him, the sins of a bygone era that had endured the years. As he came to what he thought was the room’s center, he could see the outline of a slender figure lying on the stone floor. He had a sick feeling that this was Haru’s elder sister.

  “Miss…” he ventured, but his voice came out thin and weak. “Can you hear me?”

  When the figure did not move, he assumed the worst, yet he continued to approach her. As he drew near, he could see that she was sprawled across the ground, her face cast down so that he could not see it. Her hands were reaching towards something, and as he slowly lowered his torch, he could see a circular hole in the ground, large enough for only a child, but its depth was unfathomable. Around the hole, there was a pool of blood, and it seemed to drip downwards, gliding over the edge and then falling silently into the abyss. Kaze crouched down and put his hand on the girl’s back. She was cold, and the terrible smell was coming from her.

  He wanted to turn back at that moment, he wanted to run away, but he had to be sure. He grasped her arm and turned to pull her over, and as she turned and displayed her hideous face, he fell backward and cried aloud. Her expression depicted abject horror and immense suffering, though it was marred as if she had been attacked by a clawed animal. He then looked down and knew that it was no animal, as her own hands bore the evidence that they had done the evil deed.

  “Why would she do this herself?” Kaze shrieked, reeling from the morbid sight. He then looked around, for suddenly there were torches and lit braziers illuminating the chamber. He could see the naked, writhing bodies of many wretched prisoners, lamenting and wailing, pleading for mercy.

  Then he beheld a figure beside him, standing over his shoulder. He was tall and well dressed, trim and focused. He did not seem to hear the voices crying out to him, even those who called him ‘father.’ He was fixed on the hole in the ground, staring downwards into its limitless depth.

  The man said something, but his face remained fixed and unmoved. A child was brought forth by two servants whose faces were shielded by black masks so that they seemed like heralds of doom. They brought the screaming child to the gaping fissure and then forced the child down with the most grotesque barbarism.

  Kaze nearly retched in that moment, as the piteous child was swallowed up into the ground. All the while the man, the father, watched on with supreme anticipation. He could see his chest lift for a moment, as the man appeared to hold his breath, waiting for a certain conclusion.

  Then, suddenly, Kaze was brought out of his vision, and the room around him grew quiet once again. Every instinct in his body commanded him to turn away, to run, to flee, to never look back. But a stronger mastery gripped him, and he crawled on his palms and knees closer to that very same hole.

  He had to see; he must discover what it was that dwelt in that deep, dark place. What was so vital that a father would send his own child to their doom for a glimpse? As he reached the edge, an intense heat seemed to blow out, so that he pulled back from the burning pain. He paused, exhaled, and then slowly leaned forward and looked into the void.

  What he saw surprised him. He saw a man of high and noble bearing atop a comely black steed in the center of a great congregation of people. In the man’s right hand, he held aloft the banner of house Henji, his father’s liege lord. In his left hand, he gripped the gilded Sword of the Emperor, with the ancient golden tassel hanging from the end of the scabbard. The man was riding down a great thoroughfare, and before him was the imposing Taka-no-jo, the completed Castle of the Shōgun. As he drew near, the great wooden gates of the castle walls were thrown open for him, and he was let inside to a resplendent glory.

  Then he heard a voice, and this voice was so potent and penetrating that it seemed to echo through every fiber of his being. The voice said clearly, “Thou art the one whom I have sought. For thou art one who may change the world if thou hast the courage to do so.”

  Kaze blinked, and he saw in the very depth of that chasm, an outline of a mouth. It spoke to him these words of fate, again and again, and it seemed that those words were etched into his heart. Then he understood, and he knew that the great man riding atop the steed was indeed himself, though in some other time and place. The man who had sacrificed the blood of his child was hoping for such a revelation, for a vision of the future. Blood was the key, and the blood of Haru’s sister had unlocked this mysterious door for him.

  Slowly he leaned forward. Closer and closer to the gap he came, his eyes straining to perceive the countenance of the mouth who spoke so clearly and wisely. But he could see nothing but curving lips and an eager smile. Then, all he could see was blood, a sea of blood, with arms reaching up trying to escape, writhing with futility until they disappeared altogether.

  “Kazekiri!” a voice shouted and broke him from his trance, and then a sudden force pulled him upwards and away. He fell backward and landed hard on the stone floor. He was shocked to see his teacher standing before him, though he had his back toward him, and his dark sword was drawn and gleaming.

  A sharp hiss was let out, and Kaze sensed that they were not the only ones in the chamber now. He scanned the floor, and something was amiss. Indeed, Haru’s dead sister was no longer lying upon the ground where she once was. She was gone, no, she stood before them, her eyes blood red and her gruesome hands held out before her as if to strike.

  In a fit of blind rage, she charged forward, her broken jaw hanging loosely from her face. Nakoto stepped forward and slashed upwards with his sword, and the woman fell, smitten to the ground. She did not rise again.

  Nakoto then exhaled, stood tall, and sheathed his sword with a click. He turned around to face his pupil, who sat mesmerized on the ground. He stared at Kaze intently, and his hand still held his sword tightly, with his thumb resting upon the edge of its scabbard.

  “What did you see?” Nakoto asked firmly.

  Slowly, as if waking from a dream, Kaze began to come to his senses. The chasm, from which the mysterious vision and voice came was gone, and only a shallow pool of blood remained. He then saw the decapitated corpse of Haru’s sister at his teacher’s feet.

  “What did you see?” his teacher repeated.

  “Nothing…” Kaze managed to say.

  “Are you certain?” Nakoto pressed, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

  “Just, darkness....”

  “Why did you come to this place?”

  “I…” Kaze stammered. “I thought that the girl was down here! I thought she was in danger!”

  “You fool!” Nakoto boomed, and his voice echoed through the dark room. “You were in danger!” His face for several moments was full of paternal wrath, but then it softened. “Are you hurt?”

  Kaze shook his head, but he could not avert his eyes from the deceased. “What happened to her?”

  “She is gone,” his teacher answered softly. “She has been gone for some time. A yomi that had been lingering here inhabited her body and attacked us. That was probably its plan all along, to use her as bait.”

  Nakoto strode forward and helped his student to his feet. “Let us leave this place,” he said, “For here I feel a lingering aura of darkness, though the yomi is destroyed.”

  They departed quickly, striding up the seemingly endless stairway with fearful haste. When they reached the very top, they found Gintaro awaiting them, his face pale with fright, and a pang of regret in his eyes.

  After only a few moments of rest, Nakoto launched into a scathing tirade of condemnation. “You ignored my instructions and nearly got yourself killed! I will contrive a fitting punishment for you soon enough, and you can expect that it will not be pleasant.”

  “Yes, Sensei,” Kaze said obediently, through a poorly hidden snarl. He glared at Gintaro, who stepped back sheepishly.

  “If it were not for Gin-kun, you may not have ever left that place!” Nakoto continued, looking at the two of them. “He called for me and led me here. Do not despise him. He did it to save your life.”

  Kazekiri offered a humble bow, and Gin forced a look of humility, though he still felt guilty for getting his friend in trouble.

  Nakoto lifted his head and gazed at the night sky. The ample moon was at its fullest and its clear illumination seemed like a breath of fresh air in contrast to the unrelenting black of that foul chamber.

  “It is time,” he announced, as his eyes once again rested upon his young pupils. “It is time that you both began to learn the ways of the Kaijin. I have done my best to shield you from the evils of this world and allow you to grow without fear. But this night has reminded me that such things cannot be wholly sealed away. You must learn to confront evil, in all of its guises. Remember that this world stands but on the edge of ruin, and it often falls upon a few to keep it from descending into darkness. I shall teach you how to challenge evil and extinguish it. But be wary, for the deadliest peril lies not in that which confronts you from without, but that which lies hidden within.” As he said this his eyes flashed toward Kaze, who could not bear his teacher’s scrutiny.

  They silently withdrew from that place, but a part of Koji Kazekiri remained there. For he never forgot the events of that fateful night, down to the most minute detail. He never forgot the blood on the stone floor. He never forgot the words that came out from the abyss. “Thou art one who may change the world if thou hast the courage to do so.” But most of all he never forgot the look in Haru’s eyes, and the tears that streamed from them, when he told her that her sister would never return.

  “I could not save her,” he repeated to himself, “I am too weak to save anyone. I must become stronger. To do that I must advance myself at all costs. To advance, I cannot be afraid to make great sacrifices, nor can I relent from my goals. I must become the man who changes the world. I will be the man who changes the world.”