Closed to Lilith Kazumi.
Takes place after the Night of Debauchery.
To say it had been a long month, would be a dramatic understatement.
He had fought a one night war, and nearly come out the victor. Those who witnessed the atrocities of the night could easily say that the Ixian Knights had won, after all they were still together. The castle was slowly yet surely rebuilding and the recruits filled in the empty dorms as fast as anything. Life moved on, and with it a sense of purpose renewed the conviction of those left to the Ixian Knights.
Doubt however, still whispered in Taka's ear. He had fought hard, no one could fault him for his final failure, nor to whom he failed against. No one could have expected him to stand up against a godling and expect to survive, let alone fight them. His mind was clouded with the doubt of one who had yet to win anything. All of Taka's accomplishments had been born of dubious defeats. Even the fight that had revealed his malady was nothing more than a dragged out loss at the hands of his former lord. The Ronin had not one victory he could claim, for even the fight that cursed his blood, that saw him tainted was a hollow victory at best.
How then, was a General of the Ixian Knights supposed to lead men, when he was nothing but an utter failure? How was he to fight when his sense of purpose and duty were tarnished with repeated failure. Seppukku could not save him, for the Oni's blood within his very veins prevented an honorable death. He was truly cursed, unable to die and atone for his sins, and unable to succeed to wash them clean in victory. He had failed his sensei, Hoturi. He had failed Anita Orlouge who had been injured due to his incompetence. He had failed himself, in not growing strong enough to defeat even Shiryko Benimaru. Twice he had fought the hopeless samurai, and twice he had been killed. One death was even while in the arms of his charge, his blood staining her dress.
When he took leave of the Castle, Sei seemed to give him a knowing look. The Akashiman's mind was elsewhere. He was unable to focus at all, and even Hoturi had reprimanded the Samurai, who to the others had seemed the perfect student only weeks ago. Their private lessons had ended with Taka disarmed due to gross negligence. Hoturi had only frowned and thrown Taka out of his dojo, until he had reformed his will. Much like his original Katana, he felt broken, his soul unable to find succor in the stains of defeat. He could only hope a little time back at home, would show the Ronin the purpose to which he was to live. He could only dream that in this crazy quest to his homeland, he would find the willpower to grow, and redeem his lost honor.
Perhaps the deepest stain upon his honor was the death of the peasant Sachiko in the village he had protected. That victory rang most hollowly to the General. In the closing moments of battle, Akihiro a member of his former family, had taken the woman prisoner, a woman who had tried to comfort Taka despite his taint, despite his curse. She had asked for nothing more of him than his love and he had almost given it to her. He had instead stabbed his blade through the woman and killed his erstwhile cousin in the attack, and the death rang hollowly in the Ronin's mind, a new nightmare that plagued his nights and haunted his dreams. He had of course given due payment for the death of Sachiko, but it felt hollow to hand over a few gold coins, it cheapened the girl's life.
It was perhaps the closest thing to love Taka had experienced since Anita Orlouge, who had eventually let the whirlwind romance that had enfolded the two simmer to nothing more than the love of a family member. The Daughter of Sei Orlouge, Leader of the Ixian Knights, had fawned over the Ronin until that realization hit them. Since then he had not let another touch him, except for Anita Orlouge the night she was injured at the hands of the deepest betrayal the Ixian Knights had experienced. Varying levels of Betrayal had rung through the halls and when Anita needed Taka the most, he had failed to come to her aid. A blow to the already fragile pride of the Ronin, who was fast running out of sutures of which to mend his soul.
His sandals scraped across the dusty roads of his homeland, the sun shining brightly upon the man. His arms were bandaged up hiding the marks of his taint, and his face was hidden behind a mask. His neck was similarly bandaged, giving the illusion of a grievous injury, or a burned man. Either way, he was left alone by the peasantry who gave him a curious look, under his dingy brown robes. he was surprised that he still had the old Kimono he had entered the Service of the Ixian Knights in, but he used it now as he went upon his Mushi Shugyo, a pilgrimage of the sword. Until he reached the epiphany that would see him become the Dark Blade that Sei wished him to be, he could not look the Mystic in the face.
The Second is a man of the blade. His heart is tainted, but shall be cleansed by the virtues he performs. He shall be the most ruthless of the Nine. He is a masterless wanderer whose eyes bear the mark of a thousand restless nights.
The words of the Prophecy burned into his mind, the very prophecy that marked him as one of Nine Generals who would bring peace and prosperity to the world. It was the only reason he was not dismissed from duty, because it was believed he could do the job. He didn’t know what he believed anymore, but he was certain as he moved along the roadways towards the capital city it had not implied he would be defeated so soundly. Even in his ruthlessness he had found the bitter sting of Defeat, a victory that hardly felt as such.
He raised his eyes to the city and let a soft sigh escape his lips, hidden behind his mask. He then shook his head slowly and continued to move his way deeper into the heart of his homeland. If he could not figure his place in the cosmic order, he would certainly perish when the enemy figured out how to kill him once and for all.
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