The next day, the two ventured onwards. It had been nearly a week of travel, and Kondo reckoned that they had gone quite far. The hamlets and pastures outside of the Old Capital had become less and less common, and the great forests and mountains of the Middle Country began to expand before them.

  The two eventually made camp outside of a small town called Kama, in what appeared to be an abandoned abbey. The roof and walls were long gone, but a stone foundation remained, as did some of the tall pillars that rose in three of the four corners. The abbey might have once been impressive, but all that now remained was rubble, and it was overgrown by vines and moss. Yet, it was a place of solitude, being far enough away from the village as not to attract attention, and there was a winding path upwards that undoubtedly led to an ancient temple.

  Mori had gone up that way to pray and then returned for dinner by nightfall. They shared a hearty meal that night, for Kondo, sensing that they were drawing near to the Middle Country, risked going into the village to buy food. He hoped that a satisfying meal would revive the doctor’s health and spirits, and so he bought a chicken and a few vegetables.

  The meal seemed to have its desired effect, for Mori was more open and livelier than he had been since he left the Old Capital. He talked about his time serving the Mashige house and recalled many fond memories.

  “His proudest day,” Mori stated, speaking of his pupil, Hideyō. “Was the day he went out with his father, older brother, and the other nobles on a deer hunt. He couldn’t have been more than fourteen at the time, and he had yet to come back with a single trophy. I could tell that it was driving him mad, and once you get it in your head that you cannot accomplish such a thing, well, sometimes that becomes reality. But Hideyō-sana, at his core, was not one to easily give in. He had a firmness about him that surpassed his brother’s, even his father’s.

  As the story goes, they went out and camped for five days, and on the fifth day, they were supposed to return. Five days came and went, and no one was able to gain a worthy trophy, least of all Hideyō-sama. So, they stayed out for two more days. By this time, winter was nearly upon them, and it was growing cold. Hideyō urged that they remain a while longer, but his father gave the word that they must return before the heavy snow was to come.

  The next day, the hunting party packed up and set off for home, but Hideyō-sama was not with them. Nobody realized it at first, until they were partway home. Then, the daimyō orders that they ride back and search for his second son. One day passes, then another, then another, until four days have gone by. No one has seen any trace or sign of Hideyō-sama. By then, a great snowstorm had come across the mountains, and so all had to retreat to the capital or be lost.

  Many of the men feared Hideyō dead; indeed, I was beside myself with grief. Another three days passed, and at last the storm died down. The daimyō prepared another party to go out and search for his son, one even greater than the first, but even he is bent with despair. Then, just as the gates were opened, a figure rides across the threshold.

  It was him, as you might have guessed, and across the back of his steed is the largest trophy I had ever seen, greater than any of those that adorn the treasury of the Mashige clan.

  I still remember his smile. He was absolutely beaming with joy and seemed not the least affected by the storm. He lost part of his left ear due to frostbite and a small toe on the right side, but never did he mention them or even seem to care. He just told his father, ‘I have gone off and I have done what I have set out to do.’

  His father was torn between anger and joy, and because all was well, all was forgiven. But I knew from that day that Hideyō-sama would be a special man. He went deeper, farther, and closer to the edge than anyone else dared to go. That is a marker of greatness.”

  “Yet he died before his due time and ignobly, I perceive,” Kondo murmured.

  “Yes, that is true. I said it is a marker of greatness. But one must also have direction. One who digs under the mountain without aim finds nothing but dirt. It is only those who are persistent and wise that find the treasure beyond worth.”

  The fire crackled and popped, and a frigid wind blew across the open abbey floor, stirring up the dirt.

  Mori looked over at Kondo, whose eyes seemed transfixed in the fire, though his mind was elsewhere.

  “Kondo-san, do you know who you remind me of?” he asked with a grin.

  Kondo slowly raised his eyes, but as he did so, a sudden pang of fear ran through him. Instantly, he jumped forward, crossing over the fire and knocking Mori onto his back. But it was too late, for a black arrow had pierced the doctor’s left shoulder.

  Kondo rose and stood over Doctor Mori, his eyes searching for the hidden attacker.

  “Come out, cowards!” Kondo cried. “Take your shot in the light if you dare it!”

  A few moments passed, and nothing or no one came into the light. But Kondo could perceive figures in the distance, slowly creeping their way towards them.

  As he was unarmed, Kondo bent low and grabbed a small knife that they had used mostly for cooking. This would do little against any array of warriors, but at least in Kondo’s hands, it was still deadly.

  Eventually, a voice drifted in from the night.

  “Kondo-dancho…you fool.”

  Kondo recognized it right away. “Suguru…”

  At once, the visage of Suguru was visible in the light of the small fire. It was almost as if he had appeared there out of thin air. But Kondo was used to such tricks and was not intimidated by them. What concerned him the most was the old doctor and the number of ninja still hidden by the cloudless night sky.

  “Ah, yes. You are probably wondering how I managed to recover from that slice you gave me,” he said, motioning to his thigh with his open palm. His pants were still torn, but the wound was nearly healed. “You do not understand the depths of knowledge the Lady has to offer. Our alchemy has evolved much since she became more involved. She thinks that one day we will be able to bottle life itself, and I believe her.”

  “Then you are the fool,” Kondo countered. “I do not trust that witch. And whatever benefits she seems to extend are not without cost.” He said this, eying Suguru’s lips, which had a blue, lifeless pallor to them.

  “Well,” Suguru said with a shrug. “We are clearly at an impasse. Now, you know what I want. And since I am here with more men, and you are here with but a cooking knife, I would say that the negotiations will be a bit one-sided. Give me the doctor without issue, and I will give you an easy death. Struggle and fight, and I will tear you open with that knife of yours, and it will not be pretty.”

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  Kondo glared at Suguru, as his mind raced for options. He knew that this man was not bluffing; there were indeed several ninjas nearby, creeping about in the dark. At this point, he could not hope to defeat them all. Even if he charged Suguru and disarmed him, an arrow or two would be fired at him before he had any chance to disengage. But if he failed now, Mori’s life would be forfeited. He would be immediately sent back to the New Capital, and if the travel itself did not kill him, the Lady sure would. So, what could he do?

  “Now, Kondo-dancho, please act rationally,” Suguru pressed, taking one step forward. “Your little rebellion is up. It was impressive to say the least, but there is no escape from this. You knew what you were doing when you betrayed us. Now it is time to die.”

  Kondo bowed his head and eventually lowered the arm with the knife to his side. “All-kami…” he whispered, for he knew not what to do. “Forgive me, in the end, I could not even save one man.”

  Suguru eyed him snidely. “Stop your babbling. Drop the weapon, then kneel.”

  Without any other option, he dropped the knife from his hand.

  Suguru, still hesitant, repeated, “Kneel.”

  Kondo exhaled and felt his legs begin to give way, but suddenly he stopped.

  He looked up and around. Suguru felt it as well.

  “What is going on?” the ninja hissed.

  A fierce gust of wind seemed to penetrate the scene, nearly extinguishing the fire in the center of the abbey.

  When the wind finally stopped and the fire grew hot once again, a strange figure stood behind Kondo, at the very edge of the abbey grounds.

  This figure was tall, and its height was augmented by its wooden geta sandals. It wore a long robe which was covered with a crimson overlayer. Atop the figure’s head was a white cowl, so that only the eyes could be seen. In its left hand, it held a fearsome naginata, but it also had a katana tucked into its sash at its side. Its arms were adorned with plated wrist armor, alluding to other protection hidden underneath its flowing robes.

  The figure did not move, but its coming seemed to startle the ninja, so that they drew back slightly.

  “Who is this?” Suguru managed to say, breaking the silence.

  Kondo shook his head, equally puzzled.

  The figure, who had been scanning the scene, finally lifted his naginata and pointed it directly towards Suguru.

  “Black shinobi, depart from this place. You have defiled holy ground by bringing violence upon this brother. Depart and live, or else be destroyed.” The voice was deep and masculine, monotone but unwavering.

  “Who are you?” Suguru repeated, his eyes squinting with skepticism. “And why should I heed your threat? I am of the Shin-Shadowhand, and we do not flee!”

  “I am Yazu of the Truist Order. I am a Temple Guardian. You have entered within the boundary of the Congregation of Truists, and so your life is mine. I have given you a chance to depart without bloodshed, as our creed dictates. But if you decline, we will be forced to expel you from this life.”

  “I have many men with me, monk, and therefore…”

  “I know your number,” Yazu interrupted. “You have six others. We know where they lay hid. I have three men to each of yours, and the difference is you have not seen us upon your ascent, but long have we seen you.”

  To this, Suguru paused and considered for a moment. He did not know if this was a bluff or not, but since the monk appeared so suddenly, it was possible that even his ninja had been espied. “Very well, I shall leave, but I must take with me what is mine. That old man over there belongs to me.”

  “Nay,” answered Yazu coldly. “This man belongs to us. He is a Truist. We shall judge him.”

  Suguru glared at Kondo, then at the monk. “Then I am afraid this cannot end peaceably.”

  “Very well,” the monk said, stepping forward. “I was hoping that you would decline.” The monk strode slowly past the fallen Mori and then stood beside Kondo. Turning slowly towards the swordsman, he said, “Back away, but do not try and flee. You will be judged at a later time. Yet you need not fight this battle. The Truists shall take it from here.” With that, Yazu took one step forward and then settled himself into a fighting stance.

  Suguru’s face contorted with rage. “Enough of this! Fire on him!”

  A moment went by, then another, but no other black arrow came.

  “Fire!” Suguru screeched.

  “The moment you declined my mercy, you sealed the fate of your comrades,” Yazu explained. “They are now dead, and you shall never see them again in the land of the living.”

  Suguru took his eyes off the monk and looked back into the darkness. Nothing could be heard, but he sensed death.

  “You shinobi pride yourselves in lurking about, spewing death and destruction wherever you go. You have slain many innocents who could not fight for themselves. Now, perhaps you should understand what it is like to fight one of your equals.”

  Suguru began to shake, and whether it was from fury or fear, it was difficult to say. He fumbled for his sword, drew it, and held it out.

  “Do you now understand?” Yazu asked quietly.

  Suguru flinched but said nothing.

  The monk whispered what could have been a prayer and then bolted forward. His speed was incredible, and his first strike nearly beheaded the ninja where he stood. But Suguru was a high-ranking ninja and was indeed skilled, and dodged the blow at the last moment. The warrior monk continued his assault, unrelenting, and chased Suguru across the hard abbey floor. Suguru did everything he could to escape the persistent monk, but with each strike, the monk began to move even faster than before.

  Meanwhile, Kondo had moved out of the way and had grabbed Mori and brought him to the edge of the abbey. There he was immediately greeted by three other Temple Guardians who were robed in crimson. Two quickly began to tend to the old doctor, while the other bound Kondo’s hands with rope and forced him to lie on the earth. Kondo did not resist. There was nothing he could do now. Furthermore, he had accomplished his mission; he had brought Doctor Mori back into the hands of his people. Yet he had one request, which was strangely granted to him.

  “Let me watch!” Kondo managed to say, though his head was pressed firmly into the ground.

  The duel between the monk and the ninja was indeed heating up. The monk was near the mark when he judged this a battle of equals. Both were fast, both were deadly, but neither seemed to have the upper hand. They moved about the old abbey, side-stepping, dodging, parrying, and attacking. If one began to build momentum, the other would steal it away. Yazu had reach with the naginata, but Suguru had precision. The clash of blades seemed to echo off the old stone floor of the abbey and into the starry night above.

  Kondo hardly blinked during this time. His eyes were transfixed on the duel. Rarely, if ever, had he seen such a brilliant display of one-on-one combat. Such a thing was so rare because few are able to achieve such skill, and of those few, seldom did they ever meet in a fight to the death. But here it was, if but for a moment in time, and Kondo consumed every second of it.

  He was so busy watching that he had almost no time for internal commentary. However, in one aspect alone did Yazu seem to have the upper hand. As the battle continued, Suguru was beginning to show signs of fatigue, while Yazu appeared fresh, though it was hard to tell for sure under his white cowl.

  Kondo was surprised by this, for he knew the rigorous training that the ninja were put through and the unrivaled standard they upheld. “He should be able to last much longer than this,” Kondo mused. Then, a few images flashed through his mind. It was of Suguru’s healed wound and of his pale lips. “The elixir of Ishihara is perhaps not as wholesome as described,” he judges.

  Suguru was beginning to show signs of wear, and the monk recognized this and redoubled his assault. He initiated a stunning combination which sent the ninja reeling backwards, so that he lost his balance and fell on his back.

  “This is when he is most deadly,” Kondo thought. “Be careful!” he managed to get out.

  Yazu did not turn towards Kondo, but it was evident that he heeded him, for he paused and inspected his adversary with care.

  Suguru was sweating profusely and breathing heavily, but had managed to get back to all fours. He glared at Yazu with intense hatred.

  This was a look Kono had seen before. In an instant, Suguru’s arm extended outwards, and from under his sleeve a small pin came forth. It sped towards the monk, but as he was prepared, the monk smote it aside with his weapon, charged forward, leapt in the air, and then brought his spear down upon the amazed ninja. The battle had finally come to an end.

  Kondo closed his eyes. There was nothing more to see, nothing more to do. He had accomplished his mission, and now he could rest. His muscles relaxed, and his mind faded into oblivion.

  “He is dead,” he heard one of the monks say.

  “Ah, yes, Suguru is dead,” thought Kondo. “A shame, but yet deserved.”

  “What will we tell the Council?” said the other monk. “He was supposed to have some important news for them.

  “Council? Kondo wondered. “News?”

  “Poor soul,” came the voice of Yazu. “Bring him with us so we can bury him among the honored saints.”

  “Wait?” thought Kondo, panic rising once again. “Who are they talking about?”

  “Mori was a steadfast Trusit,” Yazu continued. “May the All-Kami keep his soul in everlasting peace.”