Kazekiri and Gintaro returned to the Yoshimitsu camp with great celebration. They were carried in on their comrades' shoulders and given places of honor at the feast that followed. They were pressed with questions about how they were able to fend off the Great Buta and his brother, but most just asked so that they could toast to their health. After an hour or so, the Yoshimitusu host had moved on from their temporary adoration of these two young men to a baser form of love, which was self-indulgence.

  Nevertheless, for having never received such praise before, both Kaze and Gintaro were astonished, and far after that day ended, their heads still swirled with voices of others praising their skill. Kaze remembered the words that came out of the darkness, about him being the one to change the world. He was more than ever convinced of this notion, though he continued to keep these thoughts in the depths of his heart.

  Even though the young men would have liked to partake in the night’s revelry, they were not used to such social gatherings and were frankly worn out from the day. They soon found a quiet tent and passed out from exhaustion.

  In the morning, they arose to the familiar face of Kusakabe staring down at them with his arm folded across his chest.

  “Late risers…” he growled, as it was plain that the sun had risen earlier than they. Kusakabe appeared to have sustained an injury to his right leg during the battle, for it was heavily bandaged. Yet it did not take away from his formidable presence.

  The two young men stood up as quickly as they could. Both were still sore from the battle and were healing from their previous injuries.

  “The Shōgun himself has summoned you. Get washed up and meet him at his tent within the hour,” Kusakabe barked. He continued to glare at them for some time before marching out. He seemed to be the only man in the army not overly impressed with these two newcomers, and he did not seem to care if they knew it.

  Both swordmen merely shrugged and went to a tent specifically for washing. Omoto greeted them when they had finished, and presented them with new clothes, these far superior to the ones they wore for battle.

  “If you are to meet with the Shōgun, best be properly dressed. He sees all, that one. He examines every detail.”

  The two thanked him and proceeded to the Shōgun’s tent in the very heart of the encampment. The tent was indeed massive, and compared to all the others, it was the deepest hue of purple. It was surrounded by many guards, the Shōgun’s personal retinue, and all were fearsome to behold. Some stood out more than others, and the two later remembered ‘the giant’ who might have edged out the Great Buta in a contest of size, and ‘the woman,’ a dark-eyed sentinel that gave them both goosebumps as they passed by.

  They stood at the entrance of the tent for several minutes before being ushered inside by several other samurai. The tent itself was broken up into several chambers, but the two were brought directly to the largest of them, the Shōgun’s war room. There was a large rectangular table with several zabuton chairs around it. Standing in one corner of the room was young Yoshimitsu Akira, absorbed in a scroll that he was reading.

  He appeared much less threatening without his silver armor, but not less impressive. His long hair fell to his shoulder blades, and the regal outfit he wore harkened to ancient days when the culture of the Islands was at its peak.

  As the two were brought forth, Akira looked up from the scroll and smiled. “Ah, my army’s newest recruits. And if I am to believe what I hear, our finest new young warriors.” He said this without a hint of jealousy, for there indeed was none. He knew that though they had garnered some semblance of fame, they had done so under his banner.

  Kazekiri took one step forward and spoke first. “You honor us, my lord. We were merely carrying out the orders set before us.” He bowed and glanced back at Gintaro, who did the same.

  “What manners!” the Shōgun exclaimed, striding forward with a wide grin. “For country bumpkins, as I am led to believe, you speak quite well. Now, I am sure Kusakabe received a version of your history, but now I want to hear it for myself. So, you will sit and tell me all and leave nothing out. Do you understand?” He said this casually, but there was an imperative in his voice that was subtle yet unyielding. “Please, sit,” he repeated, extending his arm out to the table in front of him.

  The table itself was wide, made of oak, and was exceedingly heavy. Upon it was a paper map of the Islands and spread about were bowls of fruit and other exotic foods.

  “Help yourselves,” the Shōgun offered, recognizing their surprise at such a table. Neither of the young men had tried certain rarities such as dates or oranges before.

  However, not knowing whether they were yet in danger, they restrained themselves. Kazekiri looked over at Gintaro, who gave his consent, and so Kaze told of their history, describing their childhoods as apprentices of a wandering Kaijin, of the Order of Truists. He did not go into either his or Gintaro’s background before they met Nakoto, for he did not think it relevant. Akira eventually sat down and seemed to hang on every word. Kaze spoke the most, but Gintaro interjected now and again if details were needed. Finally, when they were finished, the Shōgun sat and remained silent for some time.

  “Hem,” he mused aloud. “That would explain your prowess in battle. The Kaijin are a strange folk, it is said, but I have little to do with the Order.” He eyed the black swords that they both wore on their left sides. “And so, you quit this service? Are not Truist…offices, held for life?”

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  “We were never fully sworn in,” Kaze explained. “We were close to beginning our trials, but we never got that far. Our master always told us that this was our choice, and he did not force us. Yet, if he did not teach us the way, he could not have accepted us as orphans.”

  “Nakoto Jinsai…” Akira said, closing his eyes. “Seems like a name from legend.” At once, Akira’s piercing eyes were visible once again. “But we need not legends here, gentlemen, we need real warriors.”

  “We are yours to command,” Kaze said with a bow of his head.

  At this, Akira licked his lips and glanced around at his officers who stood in the background.

  “Will we fight the ōgi next?” Gintaro interjected. This was the first question posed directly to the Shōgun, and it irked Kaze, though he did his best to hide it.

  But the Shōgun merely smiled. “No, I think not. I made sure that they knew of our victory over the Buta as soon as possible. That scroll you saw me reading as you entered was the response of one of my scouts. The ōgi appear to be turning back. They shall not threaten us without support.”

  Gintaro seemed visibly disappointed by this, which caused Akira to laugh. “But do not worry, my dear boy. The war is not over yet. Have you heard of Mashige Hideyō?”

  Both swordmen were acquainted with the name of the clan but did not know the person of whom he spoke.

  “He indeed is my fiercest enemy.” The Shōgun pointed to the domain of Mashige on the map laid out before them. “Hideyō had subdued the Tora and the Ryū, and all this land here. But he is in the same situation as I. He does not have the men to make a direct attack. All this warring over the years has cost the Islands many warriors. And of such precious matter, there is a limit. However, it is quite possible that in a few years he could gather a sizeable army and move against me. Yet that brings me to my point.” He once again paused, as if he were not sure this was the right decision. Kaze’s eyes contained unsatiated ambition, which was useful, but it was Gintaro’s eyes that convinced him.

  “We have come to an interlude in this miserable war, a stalemate some would call it, but I see it as the crucial moment that will decide the very outcome. Right now, there are two primary pieces left on the board: Mashige and me. Neither of us has enough men or resources to win outright. However, if I could convince some of the lesser pieces to come to my side, then that might turn the tide in our favor for good.”

  Both Kaze and Gin nodded, for it made good sense to them.

  Akira exhaled, and for the first time since the two had met him, he appeared concerned. “This plan is already known by my enemy. He, somehow, has recruited an old order of ninja called the Shadowhand. He is using them to intimidate the other daimyō and wealthy samurai houses, essentially anyone who could help me. As most influential people live or have estates in the Old Capital, the Shadowhand is headquartered there. In the last year, I have had several of my most faithful supporters suddenly run out of money, or I have found their heads removed cleanly from their bodies.”

  Akira paused for a moment, as he contrived a way to say what he needed to as clearly as he could. “I am forming a group, or a task force, one could call it, to eliminate this Shadowhand and break Mashige’s influence over the upper class. I will be honest upfront. These battles will be mostly fought in the shadows, in alleyways, and in tight corridors, and likely during the middle of the night. None may bear witness to your deeds or even know who you are.”

  At this, Kaze frowned, but Gintaro sat a bit taller.

  The Shōgun smiled wryly, knowing this would be difficult. He could sense Kaze’s power over his ‘brother’ the moment he met them. He knew that he had to win one to get the other. “I bought you two here today to ask you if you would consider being part of this task force. You are highly skilled for your age. I do not doubt your abilities after seeing you fight yesterday. But the battlefield is full of chance and misfortune. A stray arrow could find your eye socket, and a divot in the ground could leave you with a broken ankle. The man behind you might get frightened and think that you are the enemy and run you through. Do you see what I mean? Glory there is fleeting, especially upon the front. I would know, I have lost many of my best men. They were just as skilled, if not more so, than you. Now they are gone.

  If you join this group, you may fight in the shadows, but these battles will be against the very best swordsmen on the Islands. You will get a chance to fight duels akin to those only now remembered in ancient tales and lore. And it will make you stronger.”

  Gintaro’s eyes gleamed, and he rubbed his fingers together in anticipation. But Kaze interjected. “Seems like a good way to die without anyone remembering our names,” he said sardonically.

  “Perhaps,” Akira replied with a mild shrug. “But that may happen in open battle as well. And so, I will also add this. Once the war is over, any of the surviving members of this group will be elevated to become one of my personal retainers and will be given an estate in Yoshimitsu City or the Old Capital, whichever they prefer. They and the heirs of their bodies will be nobility from that time on.”

  Kaze’s face then revealed a subtle smile.

  Akira carefully inspected the two young men once again. “I ask this of you, not command you, for this is indeed foul work, challenging work. If you decide, you must be committed wholeheartedly. This group will be your life for the next several months, or until this cult is stamped out. Because of the secrecy involved, I cannot endorse you openly, at least not until it is all over. You might live difficult lives, but then, you have already lived difficult lives. Like your previous teacher, I offer you a choice. You can decline and continue as a regular foot soldier in my army, basking in the already fading glory of one victory. Or you can have a chance win this war and save us all.”

  Kazekiri turned towards Gintaro, who looked back at him. Each knew the other well enough to know what choice they would make.

  “We are in,” both said at once.

  Akira paused once again, and this time he let the silence linger for many long moments. If they were to go back, this was their chance, he thought, but they did not take it.

  “Very well,” young Shōgun said with a relieved expression. “You shall begin right away. I shall have a servant of mine take you to the Old Capital. There you will meet with the others and begin training.”

  “Training? I need no training!” Kaze grumbled in the recesses of his mind but ensured that Akira could not sense his agitation.

  Gintaro, curious as he always was, ventured forth one last question before rising. “May we know what this group will be called?”

  Akira looked at him and laughed. “I had not much time to consider it, Gintaro-san. I might as well name it right now. Since you will likely be fighting in the darkness, I thought you might be called… the Kurogumi. Yes, that is what you shall be.”