That very afternoon, Kazekiri and Gintaro departed from the encampment of the Shōgun and made their way towards the Old Capital. A servant of the Shōgun named Ibuki took them via a horse-drawn wagon. Ibuki was an old man of a very quiet disposition and hardly spoke to the two young men unless it was urgent. He was polite enough, but the two found the trip miserable as they were not used to travelling by wagon and could not fall asleep easily on the wooden interior.

  As they came to the Old Capital, both were filled with awe, for it was the first time they had seen a city of that size and magnificence. At that time, the Old Capital was still the greatest city on the Islands, and though it was far greater at its zenith, it still held onto the grandeur of a thousand-year-old capital city, which was still thriving. One could argue that Yoshimitsu City or Mashige City had more modern construction and design, but the Old Capital still demanded reverence for its architecture alone, to say nothing of its unequaled place in the lore of the Islands.

  Though the Old Capital was slowly losing its economic prowess, it still held firm to its religious and cultural significance. Furthermore, it was still the most popular place to live or visit among nobles and aristocrats, and so each wealthy family, if they could, bought or held some residence there.

  The two young swordsmen could not believe their eyes as they entered the city, from the tall, multi-storied wooden buildings to the fair canals and gardens, everything was far larger and far greater than they could have ever conceived. The smells of the food, the boisterous sound of voices, the multitudinous crowds, and the newest fashions bewildered them. If they had merely passed through, both young men might have thought it a strange vision. But they had come to the Old Capital to stay. This haven of new sights and sounds was theirs, and it eventually became a part of them, deeply embedded, as any unique city tends to be.

  Ibuki eventually brought them to an inn called the Hayashibara, located in the very heart of the city itself. It was a real inn purchased in secret by Yoshimitsu Akira, but it was converted into a kind of headquarters for his new group of swordsmen. The staterooms themselves remained as they were and would board one warrior each. On the main floor was the kitchen and dining area, which was used as a common room or meeting place. The bottom floor, which had been a secret to almost everyone in the city, was transformed into a special dojo.

  Rather than have them secluded at the edges of town, Akira thought it better to hide his warriors in plain sight. He wanted them to have a visible presence in the city, as legitimate foils to the ninja. He also did this to prevent them from being burned out, for arson at that residence would ignite half the city. If there was one thing that would eternally bind the hearts of a million people to his side, it would be the destruction of the capital city by a handful of fools. He could not foresee Mashige Hideyō allowing his so-called Shadowhand to cause such a blunder.

  Kazekiri and Gintaro arrived at the Hayashibara at about noontime, several days after the battle at Iwakuma. Ibuki handed them their few articles, bowed, and then left them just as he found them.

  The two gazed around at the marvelous city street for a few moments before proceeding inside.

  The first floor of the Hayashi was quiet and mostly empty, but for a few low tables and the kitchen far in the back. This contrasted greatly with the lively noise of the outside shopping thoroughfares. A high-pitched bell jingled as they crossed the threshold, which was separated from the outside by a simple, black linen cloth that hung halfway down.

  Among the low tables sat a handful of people, but each of them had an unmistakably dangerous aura about them.

  On the far right was a thickly built man wearing a simple leather vest over a naked chest and loose, airy pants. His exposed arms were large and muscular, glistening with sweat. He had a disheveled, wispy beard and mustache, and long, greasy hair. He glared at the two men with a maniacal smile, which was accented by his lack of many teeth. A great curved sword was laid across his knees as he sat with them crossed. By his look alone, one would think he was a barbarian.

  To the middle right was another man, this one tall and thin. He wore peculiar garb, a simple dark kimono with a thick straw cloak over it. On his head was a circular straw shade hat and hanging from the sash around his waist were many bags and bottles, seemingly used for long days spent in the wild. On his right arm was a leather cord, wrapped around several times. Lying on the table next to him was a polished longbow and a quiver of arrows. It was clear that this was a hunter of some kind, but of what, the two could not be sure. His sharp eyes darted from Kaze to Gintaro, but the rest of his body remained perfectly still.

  To his immediate left sat a younger man in a reclined position. He was leaning against the table with his arms crossed and eyed the two young swordmen with a handsome smirk. He seemed to be chewing on something, and he swayed back and forth as if he was listening to some melody that he enjoyed. His hair was slicked back and glimmered in the candlelight. His loose, gilded shirt tapered at his navel, and his pants were slim and straight. He bore no weapon that they could see, but his athletic build gave them some hint that he was a fighter.

  Finally, to the far left was an older man. He wore a look of indifference and did not seem to heed the newcomers at all. He was either bald or his head was completely shaved, though he did have a fine mustache. He wore the ascetic garb of a monk, but at the same time, bore no colors indicating rank or station. He had a grim scar across the left side of his face, and behind him an impressive spear leaned against the wall, though its blade was covered by a leather protector. He sat on his knees in the formal style and did not even shift at their approach.

  For a few moments, nothing was said. Just as Kazekiri opened his mouth to greet these strange-looking vagabonds, a commotion of horses could be heard from outside the door. Kaze and Gin quickly moved inside and turned about, as a faint cloud of dust rolled in from the outside.

  Two others, it seemed, had just arrived, as two horses were being tied up just outside the inn. From what they could see from below the black door curtain, there were two pairs of legs. One pair appeared massive and mighty, but the other was more difficult to distinguish.

  The mighty legs entered first, and these legs held up a giant of a man, who Gintaro and Kazekiri had recognized as one of the Shōgun’s personal guards.

  “The giant,” thought Gintaro, remembering his impressive frame.

  The man strode forth in even soldierly strides, paused at the threshold, and glanced around. His face was set to a permanent scowl, and his rigid posture indicated self-discipline mingled with indignation. He still wore the heavy breastplate of the Shōgun’s guardians, but his other armaments were gone, presenting him in a more casual, but lithe state.

  “This must be the commander of this new brigade,” the swordsmen assumed simultaneously.

  But the man did not announce himself as such. He merely said, “It seems that they have all come.” Then he took a step aside and then turned, as if to present someone of high import, such as the Shōgun himself.

  Both swordsmen thought for a moment that it might be Akira. They imagined that he had secretly come to oversee the genesis of this new secret unit. But when the final figure strode into the room, all were shocked at what they saw.

  “All rise!” the giant soldier boomed, “For you now stand in the presence of the Commander of this unit.”

  Slowly, the others got to their feet, but there was a tinge of disrespect at the speed at which they did so.

  “A woman?” Kaze heard someone from behind him scoff under their breath.

  Before them indeed stood a woman. This was another familiar face, for she was the same aquiline-featured guardian they had seen at the entrance to Akira’s tent. But here she stood in a black kimono, and her outer clock was black, and she bore two fierce swords at her side. Her hair was parted in the middle and fell straight down to her shoulders, as straight as it was possible to be. She was not small, but compared to the others in this room, she was clearly the shortest. Her frame was slender, but she stood with authority. Her black eyes slowly roved across the room, examining each man with great scrutiny. After several uncomfortable moments passed, she nodded subtly.

  “Bow!” the giant soldier commanded, and all did so, more out of curiosity than reverence.

  When they rose, their eyes met hers once again. Her gaze was piercing, unmovable, and at that moment, both Kazekiri and Gintaro began to fathom her greatness. “Those are Nakoto’s eyes! Akira’s eyes!”

  Her lips parted slightly. “Follow me,” she commanded, and then hastily strode to the left, past the standing men, and down a flight of stairs, to what was the basement of the inn.

  Everyone seemed to be frozen. Each began to look at the other, wondering if what they were seeing was real.

  It was only the deep voice of the giant that stirred them on. “Get going, you louts!” he cried. “You heard the Commander!”

  The men then shuffled forward, descending the winding stair that finally reached the bottom. What they saw there was another surprise. The first floor of the inn had seemed somewhat narrow and cramped, but it sat atop a much larger floor, the hidden basement that was perhaps three to four times its size.

  The basement had been converted into a dojo with two wooden platforms for sparring. Along the periphery, there were racks for weapons and other devices useful for athletic training. It was illuminated partially by torchlight but also by the sun that came from areas of egress along two sides of the room.

  The men, crowding at the bottom of the staircase, gaped in awe, for this was newly built, and the polished wooden floors seemed to shine like glass.

  One of the warriors, the barbarian-looking fellow, strode forward and lifted his foot as if to test the integrity of the nearest platform. He was immediately stopped, as the woman’s sheathed sword moved as fast as lightning to bar his way.

  She glanced at him and then down at his mud-crusted boots.

  “Line up!” she commanded, pointing to an area outside of the nearest training surface. The men did so, though with some grumbling, but it seemed that the Commander either did not hear it or simply ignored it.

  Once the men were lined up well enough, the Commander turned, removed her sandals, lined them up evenly, then bowed to the training surface and took a large step to ascend. She then turned, took several strides until she was at the center of the platform, and then turned to address this strange assortment of individuals.

  “You all shall give this dojo the highest honor,” she began. “That means following the proper forms. I know many of you have not trained in a real dojo before, so we will cover the rules in full later. But know this, any lack in discipline will be punished.”

  At this, one of the younger warriors, the man with the slicked-back hair and flamboyant outfit, sneered. “Will you be the one to dole out the punishment? If so, that might not be so bad.”

  The woman’s eyes flashed momentarily, but she did not show any other outward sign of anger. “My name is Senbara Nanae,” she continued. “I have served the Shōgun for the past three years as part of his personal retinue, and I am the fourth master of the Tenkamuteki-Ryū. You have all been summoned here because the Shōgun saw something interesting in you. But he has left me the charge to lead this organization. I know that my appearance and sex might be a hindrance to you accepting my leadership. This is nothing new to me. Therefore, one by one, I want you each to state your name, come forth, and try to either land a blow on me or force me to move from the place I stand. If you can do so, I will resign from this post immediately. If not, you shall submit to my leadership from this day henceforth.”

  This drew a rise from most of the warriors, who chuckled and began to boast of their prowess. Only the giant, Gintaro, and Kazekiri remained quiet, though the youths grew excited at a chance to prove themselves in front of their peers.

  At the head of the line stood the giant warrior, and he stepped forward and announced himself, quieting the others. I am Matsuda Daichi, and I come from a long line of samurai loyal to the Yoshimitsu Shōgun. I have known Senbara-sama for many years and have served under her during the war. I already know her skill and submit to her authority. Therefore, I lay down my arms in her service.

  At this, the great Daichi laid down his beautiful swords and bowed humbly before Senbara. This scene was particularly striking, for it appeared that the greater was bowing before the lesser. Yet the way in which he revered this woman gave both Gintaro and Kazekiri some hint of caution. They eyed each other knowingly but said nothing.

  “Matusda-san has been chosen by the Shōgun to be vice-commander of this outfit,” Senbara explained. “Please afford him your respect. If anything happens to me, he is next in line. Now, who is next?”

  The barbarian-looking fellow was next in the order, and he stepped forward with a malevolent grin. “They call me Zushi Rogetsu. I was a pirate for most of my life, living free and content, until I was caught by the Mashige and sent to prison. Apparently, I caused so much trouble there that they decided I was better off dead. They tried to kill me, but before they could, I found some explosives, blew up the prison, and escaped. Akira found me and offered me a chance to get further revenge on my captors. I could not pass up the chance.”

  “Are you indeed a barbarian?” the young man with the slick hair asked, likely voicing the question many were afraid to ask.

  The big man shrugged. “Some say that my mum was a pirate who came from over the sea. She found the men of these Islands to her fancy and made me many half-brothers and sisters. While I speak the language of these lands, I prefer the fighting style of those abroad.” He said this as he twirled around his large, curved blade. “And of all the things that come over from the Continent, I enjoy most the things that go ‘boom’.”

  Gin could tell by the man’s singed arm hair that he was not lying.

  Rogetsu lumbered forward, kicked his boots off, and then jumped up to the platform. Senbara had already stepped back and taken a fighting stance in the very center of the platform, her sword held in front of her with two hands.

  Rogetsu began to sprint forward, pulling his blade back as if to cut his foe in half.

  Kazekiri stepped forward in concern, but Matsuda Daichi held his hand out as if to stop him. “He’s going to try and kill this woman!” Kaze thought with panic.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  As Rogetsu barreled forward and was almost on top of her, Senbara suddenly shifted her weight, dodging his wide-arching strike, and then smacked him on his backside with her blade so that he continued forward, crashing to the ground. She had not moved at all from where she stood.

  The others began to howl with laughter, and Rogetsu jumped up, his face red with rage. He approached the woman as if he were to strike again, but Senbara remained calm, with one hand upon her sword and the other upon her hilt. They stared at each other for several moments before Rogetsu lowered his sword.

  “Not bad,” he rumbled. “You remind me of my mum.”

  The big man returned to his place in line, and now all were aware of the sheer speed and skill that Senbara boasted. She was one of the fastest swordsmen that Gin and Kaze had ever seen, and they wondered if she was even faster than their former master, Nakoto Jinsai.

  The next one up was the hunter. He stepped forward subtly, one hand on his bow, the other on a long gutting knife. “My name is Tachi Ushiro,” the man said, and his voice was quiet but menacing. “I was raised in the Middle Country, and my father taught me archery from an early age. When I was eight, I could split a pear from one hundred paces. When I was twelve, I could hit a deer’s heart from two hundred. Eventually, I was recommended to the former Shōgun’s hunting retinue and earned a spot amongst his best hunters.

  When he died, I was about to return home, but Young Akira knew me and asked me to join his army. He said, ‘What sport is there in hunting creatures that cannot fight back? Under my father, you were a hunter of simple beasts, but I will make you a hunter of men. A much more worthy quarry, you will see.’ And he was right. I joined his bowmen and then soon became a sharpshooter along the front. I took down many scouts, but the best was taking out lords and captains before they even knew what was coming. Akira told me that this venture would be the greatest sport of all, and that is why I am here.”

  Tachi then reached back and removed an arrow from his quiver.

  “Madame, if you can block my shot from this range, then I will give you my loyalty.”

  Senbara looked at him but then nodded, settling into her fighting stance once again.

  Tachi took an exquisite arrow from his quiver, notched it, bent his bow, aimed, and then loosed the arrow. There was a faint hiss of the arrow as it flew through the air, followed by a clear metallic ring as Senbara’s swift blade deflected the shot. The sound of the arrow that plunged into the side wall was overwhelmed by the gasps and murmurs of admiration. Gintaro and Kazekiri knew that it was possible to deflect an arrow with a sword, as they had done such a thing before. But it was one thing to deflect an arrow haphazardly shot in the heat of battle, and another to fend off a point-blank shot from an expert marksman.

  Tachi produced a subtle smile and briefly nodded his head before stepping back in line. Senbara, showing no anxiety whatsoever, returned to her former, relaxed posture.

  “Next,” she cried.

  The following warrior was the flamboyant youth, and he sauntered a few steps forward and looked around at the others.

  “You should already know my name,” he said with a hearty grin, but when none ventured to speak, he continued with some irritation. “The Old Capital Rascal? The Gon Street Gambler? The Hottest Hands Since Hariyama? Come on, guys, have none of you spent time in this here fair city?”

  “I’m from here,” Senbara said dryly. “And I’ve never heard any of these titles. Were they self-given perchance?”

  The youth seemed to snort in indignation, but then shrugged his shoulders as if to keep himself from losing his temper. “Well, you don’t seem the type to frequent my kind of localities, Commander, begging your pardon, and since the rest of you are new, I shall elucidate you on my history. My name is Motomiya Yazu, and I am the best tile player on this side of the Western Sea. Now you might be wondering, how does a degenerate gambler fit in with the rest of your lot? Well, don’t worry, I’ll tell you.”

  “Keep this short,” Senbara interjected, sensing that this might lead to a protracted introduction.

  Yazu turned to her and smiled. “Don’t worry, Commander, I’ll keep it brief. Not only am I the best tile player and perhaps the best-looking gentleman in this fair city, but I originally came into my wealth as a prize fighter. Three-time champion with fists, two-time full action champion on top of that.

  So, a few months ago, I got on a hot streak. I eventually found my way to the table, and lo and behold, there is Young Akira, slumming it up with the rest of us. He was disguised, of course, but it’s hard to trick and trickster as they say, and I recognized him immediately. Well, one thing leads to the other, and the Shōgun wins himself a hefty purse. Not bad, for a Shōgun, I thought. However, some of the other lowlifes at the table start accusing him of cheating. They thought they could take advantage of that mild manner of his. They start talking violently, and then they start acting violently. That’s where I came in. I smashed one, dropped the other, and the third I tossed out the side of the building.

  The Shōgun at that point knew I had found him out, but was impressed by my skill and my ‘candor’ as he called it. He asked if I’d be willing to wager more than a few hundred silvers.

  ‘This bet may cost your life, but if you come out the other side, you’ll be a lord with your own estate.’

  Now I’ve won quite a bit in my life, but never anything like that. I said I’d take him up on it, and it landed me here.”

  Yazu then turned to face the Commander. “So now, do my worst, eh? I’d hate to break up that pretty little face of yours.”

  Senbara merely glowered at him. “Come forth,” she said, and then returned to her fighting stance.

  Yazu ambled up to the platform, jumped square up atop of it, then reached into his pockets to reveal two shining brass tekkō, fist weapons. They glimmered in the torchlight and had the design of dueling dragons on the handles, and along the edges there were formidable spikes.

  “Since you have a sword, I am sure you won't mind?” he said with a smile, this one darker and more ominous.

  “Come forth,” Senbara repeated.

  Yazu donned the tekkō and got into his own fighting stance, this one more kinetic and bouncier than the Commander’s. He seemed to sway back and forth, his feet ever moving, and his hands cocked back and ready to strike.

  Suddenly, Yazu sprang forward, blocked Senbara’s original strike with his fist weapon, and then countered with a right hand to her face. The Commander narrowly dodged the strike and countered with a fist of her own. This caught Yazu off guard, and he not only took a hard punch to the chin, but it knocked him straight onto his back. When he looked up, the tip of Senbara’s sword was lowered to his nose.

  “From this moment on, if you ever make a comment on my appearance, I’ll remove as many features as I need to make sure you never get a date in this town again,” she threatened.

  Yazu chuckled sheepishly as he was permitted back to his feet. “As you say, Commander,” he said with a half-bow, before getting back in line.

  The next man up, besides Kazekiri and Gintaro, was the sullen bald man with the scar. He took one step forward and then bowed formally. “I am Sukemon Hageshi. I am formerly a member of the Truist Order’s renowned Temple Guardians. I had lived many decades keeping peace at various temples within the Mashige domain. However, after witnessing the Mashige commit one sacrilege after the other at our temples, I broke with the meek temple authority and devised to try and assassinate the daimyō. My plan was foiled, and I was stopped by the Order and excommunicated before I could attempt it. I then wandered the lands, taking out as many Mashige scouts or agents as I could.

  The young Shōgun eventually heard of my plight and summoned me. He said he would offer me a chance to do far more damage to the Mashige cause in a group than I could on my own. I eventually agreed. My only aim is to destroy the Mashige clan so that my soul can be redeemed and know peace.”

  The ex-monk then strode forward with his spear in hand, lifted himself to the platform, and then untied the leather bag that covered his spear’s blade.

  The yari, or spear, had a distinct advantage over a sword in close combat, and both Gin and Kaze wondered how the Commander would overcome this.

  Sukemon settled into a stance and then slowly approached. His experienced eyes seemed to peer deeply into the Commander, searching for any weakness or opening. When he thought that he had found one, he exploded forward.

  He lunged at Senbara; his spear aimed at her fair head. This time, she did not dodge but took her sword and, with both hands on the underside of it, thrust it upwards, just as the tip of the spear drew near to her face. This deflected the mighty spear upwards and simultaneously drew the ex-monk forward and off-balance. He would have fallen directly into her blade had she wished it, but instead, he merely fell before her at her feet.

  “You move well, Commander,” Sukemon managed to say, bowing his head. “You are worthy of my spear.” He went to retrieve his weapon and then fell back in line.

  Next, it was Kazekiri’s turn. He took a step forward and then bowed formally. “My name is Koji Kazekiri. I descend from a now-deceased line of samurai. When I was young, I was adopted by a Kaijin, a kind of wandering yomi hunter. Recently, I decided to part ways with my former master to seek my own destiny. I met the Shōgun at his last battle, the battle of Iwakuma, and afterwards he asked my brother and me to join this group.”

  At the mention of the word ‘Kaijin,’ Sukemon turned and looked upon the two young men with wonder.

  “For my part, I have seen enough,” Kaze continued. “I need not test you, Commander. I will serve you faithfully from here on out.” He bowed once again and then stepped back in line.

  “Come forth,” Senbara replied, much to his surprise. “This test is not just for your benefit, but mine as well. I know Matsuda-san from years of fighting alongside him, but the rest of you are unknown to me. I want to see if you are worthy of this group, and worthy of my trust.”

  Kaze studied the Commander’s eyes for a few moments, and at once he could tell that she was deadly serious. “Very well,” he said, shrugging as he approached the platform.

  He climbed casually up and, like a panther, edged closer towards his foe. Eventually, he slid his longsword from its sheath and twirled it around, slowly drawing closer. Senbara’s gaze met his, and they locked eyes as he began to circle her. He was the first not to approach her head-on. He wanted to see what she would do if he tried to flank her. She did react, and as he circled her slowly, she shifted to keep him ever in front of her. She never changed from her position on the floor, as her back foot merely pivoted, but she did not allow him to get an angle on her.

  “Very clever,” Kaze thought.

  He then drew as close as he could, knowing she could not move from her spot on the platform, and continued to sidestep and circle her. With an unexpected flash, he abruptly attacked. His long sword was thrust forward, but it was a feint. His real attack came from underneath, from his shortsword, which he drew out as she deflected his longsword with her own. Her ribcage was left exposed, but as he pushed in to strike, Senbara’s elbow dropped, sending his shortsword tumbling to the floor. He had been disarmed.

  “Impossible!” Kaze gasped, realizing that he was thwarted.

  Senbara tapped her elbow with her own longsword and sounded the familiar clang of metal armor. “You are a cunning one,” she said with a smile. “But I have tricks of my own as well.”

  Kaze was still stunned at his loss as he bent to pick up his shortsword. This subtle act felt humiliating, and he despised it.

  “I’ll admit,” the Commander continued. “I had a bit of help. The Shōgun informed me of all your apparent strengths and weaknesses in advance. So, that is the famous No-Ryū. My grandfather used to tell me about it. It is a two-sword technique that has been said to have been invented by the Kaijin and passed on to them alone. You might have considered staying with your teacher a while longer, for it is said that no form could defeat the No-Ryū when fully mastered.”

  Kaze glared at her for this remark but said nothing. He sheathed his weapons and went back to his position, burning with anger.

  “Finally,” Senbara acknowledged. “The last. Let’s get this over with.”

  Gintaro, sensing Kaze’s frustration, stepped forward and bowed hastily. “I am Gintaro. I come from a village called Masaki, though it has been destroyed for some years now. I was adopted by the same Kaijin teacher as Kaze-kun, and he taught us the way of the sword. I thank you, Commander, for this opportunity.”

  Gintaro then anxiously stepped up to the platform, nearly missing it in his haste, and drew both blades out with a loud, metallic scrape.

  The others looked at each other with some skepticism. Gintaro seemed nervous and moved gracelessly. If the Commander could easily embarrass the others, what would she do to him? But Kazekiri knew him well enough to know this was not the case at all. “He’s not nervous,” Kaze thought. “He’s excited.”

  Gintaro approached Senbara, who had returned to her familiar fighting stance. He smiled awkwardly, but then his face changed, and his focus and concentration grew.

  “She’s toying with us,” he realized. “One strike is not enough to defeat her. She might be worn down by attrition. If I cannot finish this in one shot, then I must give her a few things to think about.”

  He grinned and then sprang forward. His right hand, with his short sword, slashed diagonally upwards, which the Commander easily deflected, but his second sword plunged downwards towards her feet, a curious place to strike.

  Senbara had no choice but to move, and her jump was graceful and well-timed. She landed square atop Gintaro’s longsword, which had gotten lodged into the wooden floor below. Her nimble toes curled around the backside of the blade, and though she wobbled, she did not lose her balance. The edge of her sword rested but a hair’s breadth from Gintaro’s neck, though his short sword was in a position to parry.

  “Oh!” the line of warriors cried, clearly impressed by the agility and skill of their Commander.

  Senbara remained on the blade for several moments before stepping off.

  “Not bad,” she said with a modicum of praise for the young swordsman. Gintaro was elated, not because of her words, but because of the greatness he had just beheld.

  “Thank you!” he said excitedly, sheathing his weapons before returning to position.

  “Commander,” Kaze interjected, as he alone did not seem impressed by the duel. “You said that if one of us were to land a blow on you or force you to move from the place where you stood, you would resign your position. Now, I don’t think you should do so, but you were forced from the ground on that last one, were you not?”

  Senbara grinned, and this was the first time she had shown emotion since she had entered the inn.

  “Depends on your perspective, Kazekiri-san. Some measure their position from the lowly earth, while I measure mine from heaven. From that perspective, I did not move from my position, did I?”

  The rest of the warriors seemed to agree with this, and some even chuckled at their Commander’s amusing response.

  Kaze forced a half-hearted smile. “As you say, Commander.”

  Senbara then stepped forward and surveyed her warriors with a stern countenance.

  “For now, you all pass the test. Welcome to Kurogumi.” She paused before continuing. “I am not sure what the Shōgun told you, so I will make it plain here and now. We are a select group, a secret group, with one goal: the undermining and eventual destruction of the ninja organization known as the Shadowhand. The Shadowhand has cast its lot in with the Mashige and is currently working against the Shōgun. We must first discover all we can about this ninja outfit, then we must root them out and bring them to justice.

  Because the ninja are said to work behind the scenes and in small groups, we shall do the same. The ninja are said to be an elite fighting force, and that is why you are here. Akira believes each of you has the potential to be one of the best warriors on the Islands. The ninja are said to be ruthless, and even the name Shadowhand is pronounced by the commonfolk in hushed tones and fear. So too shall the Kurogumi be feared, and that is my commission.

  Yet it is important to remember that we are not ninja. We are not fighting fire with fire, but fire with water. We must hold onto our righteousness, our integrity, our dreams, or else we become just a mirror image of the very enemy we have sworn to defeat.”

  Senbara examined the group once again, and a faint smile etched her lips. “Are you with me so far?”

  “Yes!” the men shouted back all together.

  “Very well. Now listen carefully to the rules. Failure to follow them may lead to severe punishment or even death. The first is the most important rule of all. Since this group is meant to be an elite, secret group, we cannot permit infidelity. Your contracts, when you sign them, will be for six months to a year. If you decide not to renew your contract, that is well, but you will be sent far away until the end of the war. If you break such probation or are found to aid the enemy in any way, you will be marked a betrayer and executed on sight. If you leave this group before your contract ends, you will also be marked as a betrayer and executed on sight. And of course, if you knowingly betray this group in any way while serving, you will be marked as a betrayer and executed on sight.”

  Some of the men shifted uncomfortably, but this was not so different from the terms of a soldier in any army.

  “You will have the following obligations, which are non-negotiable. You will come to this dojo and train intensely for a minimum of three hours every day, save one rest day a week. You will then be expected to spend the rest of the day or evening doing reconnaissance in the city. I will tell you about your specific posts at a later time.

  You will respect each other. There is to be no in-fighting between members. Feuds will be tolerated, and if some animosity arises between one another, take care of it in this dojo. Remember, we have greater enemies outside this building than within.

  There will be no other fighting. Quarrels or duels with anyone who is not a specific target are strictly prohibited.

  You will respect this establishment. Soon, I will introduce you to our staff, who are all loyal members of the Yoshimitsu House. They will maintain this residence, prepare food, take care of clothing, and make other essential arrangements. Any disrespect to them will be taken as disrespect to the Shōgun. You will respect yourselves, shower daily, and keep your personal space clean. Failure to do so will result in punishment.”

  At this, some muted tones of grumbling could be heard, but Senbara continued, unbothered.

  “You will follow orders with precision. In combat, failure to submit to orders will result in severe reprimands. Failure to work as a team will result in punishment. Finally, failure to live up to the hope that Shōgun or I have for you may lead to your dismissal.”

  She paused one last time and peered around at the others.

  “It is my goal for everyone here to make it to the very end, so that we can each realize our individual dreams. But this will not be easy, and an untimely death is a very real possibility for all of us. However, if we can improve ourselves daily and put our individual skills together, I believe we will not only strike fear into all those who hear the name ‘Kurogumi,’ but we might just be the keys to winning this war. If that is the case, our names shall never die.”