The winter storm lasted the entire day and into the night but abated as morning came. The group rose early but took their time eating breakfast before departing. The door had been sealed shut by a tall drift of snow, but with some effort, they managed to get free. All were worried about the stabled animals, fearing that they might have frozen to death in the storm. However, their fears were put to rest as the animals appeared to be unharmed. The barn was more recently built and withstood the storm far better than the drafty old house.

  The first trek was by far the most difficult they had made in all their journey since leaving the New Capital. They were not yet to the point along the mountain where they could begin to descend down the other side, so they still had to climb for some hours. The heavy snow had left great drifts that were nearly impassable, but if they were careful, they could maneuver through the shallow parts of them with some success. However, because the path was slippery or treacherous, there were many times when they were forced to go on foot, which made the going even slower. Though the storm had passed, the air was thin and cold, and once and a while a wind would cut across them like a lash. They pushed on well past midday and were driven on only by the cold and the pain. Eventually, they came to a pass where they could begin their descent, and that was all that mattered.

  Gintaro, who led the group, paused his relentless pace and stood still at the edge of a precipice. When the others joined up with him, they could finally see what they were looking for. Set out before them was the great expanse they had sought, and nearer, running down the mountainside like a ribbon, was a path leading down into the plain.

  They had come to the edge of the hinterlands, known as the Kōhaichi. This was the unoccupied territory that separated the lands of the Shōgun from the lands of the Akai in the far north. The Hoji Road entered within the Kōhaichi, but only temporarily, before skirting eastwards for the coast and terminating at Ganma Port called Ganma-minato, the last city of the contiguous realm. This city was technically within the Tora domain, but it acted as a kind of primary hub for those few living in the hinterlands, or those traveling south from Akai by ship.

  At this time, the plain of the Kōhaichi seemed green and fair, but all knew that the winter in this region was difficult to survive in. This is why the Akai never settled this far south, and why the Shōgun’s realm did not extend further north. Time was running on, and winter was not far away, yet the sunshine that broke through the clouds and the view in front of them was enough to lift their hearts. They decided to push on without a break and get a bit further down the mountainside, where the air would likely be warmer.

  The descent was far easier than anticipated, and Gin reckoned that they had covered twice the distance going down than they had earlier that day. The group made camp and took an early sleep, for they were weary. It was still cold, but the fire was enough to fend off most discomforts, and all fell into a deep and restful sleep.

  The next day, the group rose, but it was clear that something was different.

  “The ninja…” Nō whispered.

  “She has gone,” Saru observed after seeing that her makeshift bed and materials were no longer there.

  Nō moved to grab his belongings and give chase, but his teacher interrupted him.

  “Let her go. She will not come back and harm us,” Gintaro said assuredly. “At least not for some time, and by then it should not matter. She is now on the path of inner strife. I hope she makes the right choice.”

  “What do you think she will do?” his young pupil asked.

  Gintaro shrugged. “I do not know. She will attempt to reconcile her beliefs with what is gnawing at her heart. Most people simply avoid this tedious process, but she is now at a crossroads. She will attempt to stabilize herself, or she will sink into despair.”

  Nō seemed displeased by this. “She may become a threat yet again. We should have destroyed her when we had the chance.”

  “Perhaps,” Gin said, as if half lost in thought. “But I could not bring myself to kill her. And now there is no going back. Let us see what giving a second chance can do.”

  All remained quiet as they gathered their belongings and continued down the mountainside. It took another day of travel before the three had reached the foothills and the edge of the Kōhaichi. On their way down, they were able to see the faintest thin line bending eastwards, which was the Hoji Road. They would take the opposite direction and plunge further north towards the Dim Mountain of Oboroshi. Of this place, Gintaro had no prior memory, for his journeys never pushed him outside of the Shōgun’s realm. However, he had heard of paths cutting through the lands. It was said that hunters and trappers at times came through the dense forests, especially in the summer and fall. It was in finding one of their paths that he rested his hopes.

  They advanced into the dense pine forests of the Kōhaichi. It was indeed warmer, but still the bite of the winter air would occasionally blow through the trees. They were fortunate, for as autumn was nearing its end, much of the heavy brush had wilted away and would only rise again at the coming of spring. However, despite this boon, the first several days were slow going, and their path meandered back and forth depending on which way would be easiest for the horses. Gin had only a vague idea of where to go, and that was north. If it were not for the evening stars to reorient them, they could have easily gone astray.

  After about a week of travel, the group managed to find one of the hunters’ trails, completely by accident. The trail was little more than a cut through the dense forest floor, but it did guide them through the forest with fewer turnabouts and kept close to a stream where they could source water. They had bought supplies in Yasugi, but those were starting to dwindle. Not knowing if they were ever to see a town again, they began to forage and hunt for small game to sustain themselves.

  It rained more often than it was dry, and they had an increasingly difficult battle with mold and skin irritation from damp clothes. Fires were difficult, if not impossible, to make, which caused each to become more irritable than ever before.

  Gintaro had returned to his quiet, brooding ways. Nō was ever consumed with practicing any technique that his teacher would give to him, and Saru, of all people, seemed the brightest. She felt that she was returning home, as the trees and the smell of the forest were more familiar to her, and this gave her renewed vigor.

  After two weeks of steady travel, they finally spotted the faint dome of Oboroshi, beyond them the jagged peaks of the far north, and they knew that they were drawing near to their destination. It was difficult to see above the dense canopy, but Nō, who was good at climbing trees, had managed to ascend past the tree line to make sure they stayed on their northward road. When he saw the menacing mountain to the northwest, he felt an uneasiness about him, for it was unpleasant to behold. Its face was scarred and pitted, and its peak was flat and uneven.

  When he described the image to his comrades below, their response was relief mingled with fear.

  “That is indeed the place,” Gintaro said somberly, “Based on your description.”

  “Would that we could avoid it completely and go straight into Akai,” Saru murmured. “They would receive us well there.”

  Gin nodded but wore a look of sorrow. “Would that we could. But that is the place we must now go. At least I must go there. Do you both still wish to follow me into darkness?”

  Both Saru and Nō nodded their heads, but there was trepidation in their eyes.

  “Very well,” said Gintaro, turning northwards once again. “Then let’s continue.”

  They went on for a few more days in relative peace. They had, until that point, come across no other living person, nor seen any remnants of any town or civilization. On the morning of the third day towards Oboroshi, they heard along the path what sounded like the coming of travelers. They had woken late and sluggishly had packed and gathered their belongings. At first, no one could fathom that there could be others about in such a desolate place. However, as the rumble of hooves grew ever louder, the group became convinced that they were no longer alone. What was more, whoever was coming was riding at great speed. With silent gestures, Gin motioned for them to get out of the path and to hide amongst the trees. This was easily done; however, the horses were not so readily hidden, so they were left to stand about.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Gintaro had his hand on his sword’s hilt, Nō gripped tight his bokken, and Saru crouched with her spear. The rumbling drew nearer and nearer until they were nearly upon them. One, two, three, four riders sped past. Gintaro could not identify them, as they wore no livery or identifying clothes, but Saru seemed to know them, as she sprang from her hiding place and called out to them loudly.

  “Hoi!” she cried, waving her spear in the air. “Hoi! Warriors of Akai!”

  At first, it seemed as if the riders did not hear her, or if they did, they did not seem to show it as they passed out of view. A few moments later, however, they returned, this time at a gentler pace.

  Gintaro could not immediately distinguish their features, but he could tell that they had to be from Akai, based on the long spears they carried. All resembled Saru’s former spear, which was shattered in their battle with the wicked Tengu.

  “Hoi!” One of the riders cried out. “Who goes there?”

  “Mei ada na,” returned Saru, which was in the dialect of the Akai.

  The riders slackened their pace and eased carefully forward. They were being just as wary as the company, not knowing if the other was friend or foe. From this vantage, Gintaro could get a much better look at them.

  There were indeed four riders, but on the furthest horse sat another rider, slumped in the saddle. He was covered in dried blood and did not appear to be conscious. Behind him sat a female of the Akai with red hair and pointed ears. The two in the middle were dressed as warriors but seemed too young for their profession. Their faces had the softness of boyhood, and their eyes were wide with panic. The man in the front was clearly the leader, for he was of age and appeared hearty and full of courage. He showed no signs of fear, and his posture was relaxed. They all wore the strange clothes of the Akai, which were made of leather and skins, but the front man also wore a thick beard, which was rare among the people of the Islands.

  The leader peered at the group, at Saru more specifically, and then gasped with wonder. “Could it be?”

  Saru lowered her spear to the ground as a sign of peace and then smiled a toothy grin.

  “Saru-hime?” the man murmured, his face showing great bewilderment.

  “Aye,” she answered. “It is I. I was captured by the Hairohi and brought far to the south. Slowly, and with many deeds, I have made my way back north.”

  The leader looked back at his companions as if trying to verify with them that what they saw was real. When they answered him with the same look of abject shock, he slowly turned around again.

  “Excuse me for my insolence,” the man stammered. “I just…I cannot believe it. We all thought you were dead. There was even a funeral.”

  “I was as good as dead,” Saru answered ominously, as her mind passed back over her capture and subsequent imprisonment. “But this man rescued me,” she said, motioning to Gintaro.

  “Then you are trying to return to Akai?” asked the man. “Pardon me, my name is Chikara, I come from the East Tribe.”

  “Well met,” Saru said with a short bow. “Actually, we…”

  “Is it possible that you do not know what happened to Akai, to our home?” the woman in the rear cried, interrupting her.

  Saru’s face grew stern. “No. What do you mean?”

  The group of riders looked amongst each other, and worried expressions marked their faces.

  “Perhaps I had better dismount,” Chikara said somberly.

  “But what of your wounded?” Saru asked, motioning to the man in the far back.

  Chikara paused for a moment to think. “Kaede, do you think you can continue without me? The boys will go with you. This is a meeting designed by destiny. I must tell her. Do you understand?”

  The woman in the rear nodded gravely, as did the boys.

  “But it is many days before you find the Hoji road, and perhaps longer until you reach a town or village!” Saru argued. “He will not make it in his condition. Is there no one in the north who can help him? Akai must be closer than anywhere south of here.”

  Tears welled in the older man’s eyes. “There is no one north of here that can help him. We were driven south, and we could not return. Listen,” he continued, looking back towards his family. “Go on ahead of me. If I ride hard, I will be able to catch up with you soon. There should be a Truist healer a few days from here. We will find him together.”

  “I am a Trusit,” Nō said, stepping forward. “I can see that your injured friend was attacked by a yomi. Such wounds I cannot help, but if there is a Truist healer, like you said, he should know the method to draw out the evil from the wounds.”

  Gintaro bowed his head. It was within the skillset of a Kaijin to be able to cure wounds caused by evil spirits, but he had not stayed with his master long enough to learn such techniques.

  Chikara looked about at the group and then bowed. “Very well. Ride south!” he commanded his family. They turned about and, with a kick, galloped off down the forest path. The man then hopped down from his steed and approached Saru, whose face had grown pale in the exchange.

  “Please excuse me. That was my oldest son who was wounded. Please, Saru-hime, sit down. You will not like the news I bear.”

  Stunned, Saru sat down where she stood, as the others gathered about her. Chikara knelt as well and bowed his head. With a sigh, he began.

  “I do not wish to be the one to tell you this, but your father…he is dead.”

  Saru’s hands, which had been balled up into fists, slowly relaxed and went limp.

  “No…” was all she could whisper.

  “I know this is a heavy matter, but I heard that he died peacefully, before all the terror began.”

  “Terror?” Saru asked, though her voice was faint and despondent.

  “My lady…” Chikara continued, his voice hoarse and his words rushed. “Terrible things have come about since your father’s death. A month or so ago, the oni came upon us like never before. They were organized and deadly. They broke through the outer defenses and then began to besiege the capital. We thought we could hold them, and at first, we did. But someone let them in. Someone betrayed us. And now, Shiroha, the city that has ever held the oni in check, has fallen.”

  “My sister…” Saru said in a voice barely audible.

  “We do not know for certain, but many suspect she did,” answered Chikara with hesitation. “I am sorry, but I feel that you must know what is happening.”

  “Go on,” breathed Saru, her head still downcast.

  “The oni took the capital and now control the pass south. Their numbers are great. It’s as if the entirety of Kitashima was emptied for this invasion. However, for some reason, a vast number of the oni departed once the capital was sacked. We do not understand why, but they left the capital sparsely garrisoned. Many of the survivors attempted to mount a counterassault in their absence, but we were unsuccessful. A great oni, Haramaru, he is called, sits within the keep. He is especially cunning, and we have not been able to overcome him.

  Eventually, most of us decided that we must seek aid in the south. Several of us went by boat, but they have not yet returned. Others, including myself, attempted to try the pass south. We did so with great care and nearly made it through. But just as we came to the end of the pass, the missing oni host returned. Most of our group was slaughtered, but my family and I somehow survived. My son was grievously injured in the escape, and so we sought a healer in the south.

  I do not wish to frighten you, Saru-hime, but you must know of these things. Your people hide amongst the land like rats, while the oni spoil our once beloved city. Your sisters are either dead or captured. There is no one left to lead us. Please, I can see you have gone through much, but you must return to them. There may be something you can do.”

  Saru sat quietly for several moments. Finally, she opened her eyes and addressed Chikara with a warm smile. “Thank you, dear friend, for your information was hard to give, yet you gave it with courage. Now, please, depart from here and rendezvous with your family. They will need your strength. If your son is healed, if you can, continue southwards. Tell all you can of our plight, and if possible, see that it reaches the ears of the Shōgun.”

  Chikara bowed his head low and then lifted it again. “What will you do?”

  “I do not yet know,” she answered, shaking her head. “I must have time to think about this matter. But your time is limited. Go, find your family. If you leave now, you may catch them quickly. This meeting has not been profitless, I promise you.”

  The careful father bowed low once again and then rose to his feet. “There is a remnant of our people that survived the slaughter at the pass of Akai. They are likely gathered somewhere north of here. Meet with them if you can. They can aid you further.”

  He then stared at Saru and her companions for a few moments before hopping atop his steed. It was almost as if he did not believe they were real. Then after one last glance, he turned around, spurred his horse onwards, and was soon lost in the dim forest.

  Once he had gone, no one spoke amongst the group for some time. Gin and Nō sat down next to their companion, and each put their hand on her shoulders while she cried. Saru’s shoulders seemed to shake with the contractions of deep, welling emotion, the kind that came from deep within. Her father was dead, her homeland conquered, her people in disarray. Neither Gin nor Nō could fathom that kind of loss, so they just let her cry and did not try and stop her.

  Eventually, when sufficient tears had fallen, Saru wiped her eyes and looked over at both companions. “I am sorry,” she whispered.

  “Sorry?” asked Nō. “What on earth for?”

  “I have been dishonest with you,” she answered. “I never told you who I really was.”

  Gintaro could not help but chuckle. “Saru-hime? So, you are a princess after all. That means we weren’t lying all those times.”

  Saru smiled between sobs. “It should have been obvious, right?”

  “Not particularly,” Nō said with a grin, to which Saru responded by pushing him backwards.

  Now that tension had eased slightly, Saru held her hand up as if to make a formal announcement. “My name is Akai Saruko, third daughter of the late Akai Kagamoto. Nevertheless, I must apologize,” she said, and then bowed exceedingly low, with her head nearly touching the ground.

  “Get up,” Gintaro commanded, and then took her by the hand. “All is well. I am sure you had your reasons to conceal your identity. If anything, it should be I who should apologize to you. You should have gone north in much more comfort, and here you have been sleeping on the earth and eating…”

  “Stop it!” Saru cried, startling Gin and interrupting his thoughts. “That is precisely why I did not tell you my station. You would have treated me like a child. In Akai, princes and princesses have a long history of being warriors, especially those further from the succession. I did not need my hand held all the way up here. That’s the last thing I ever wanted.”

  Saru rose from the moist ground where she had sat and brushed off the dirt from the back of her thighs.

  “Let’s be off, and I don’t want to hear another word about this princess thing again,” she said, eyeing Nō in particular.

  “What will you do?” Gintaro asked quietly.

  Saru paused. “We still have a few days before we reach the foothills of Oboroshi. Until then, I wish not to speak of it.” She strode over to her horse and began packing her things. Both Gin and Nō remained quiet out of respect for their comrade, but from that time on, Saru let no tear fall that they could see.