Speeding Fates

Three days went by in the blink of an eye.

Yuki sat outside her house, the white light of the moon bathing everything below in an ethereal glow.

Her mind was racing.

Any moment now. Any moment.

She had spent the last few days mentally preparing for this moment. But it didn’t make it any easier when the time came.

Sumida was behind her, still on the steps of the house. He wanted to comfort her, tell her it was going to be okay.

But he couldn’t guarantee that. He couldn’t guarantee anything. And she knew that too.

So he stayed back. She wanted to be alone. Wanted to come to terms with it herself. She knew there was a chance she wouldn’t come back.

A poem he had read a while ago came into Sumida’s mind.

It read: “What can a man do when faced with his own mortality? Nothing. For nothing truly lasts, even life itself. Perhaps that is the greatest vicissitude. Face everything with a smile, and pray to the Kami for guidance.”

But now even the Kami had abandoned them. So who would they turn to? What was the closest thing to the Kami?

Think as he may, only one answer came to Sumida’s mind: Shamans. The tall figure of Ichiji appeared in his mind.

The galloping of horses and the shouts of men soon reached Sumida’s ears, bringing him out of his reverie. He looked ahead into the distance.

A group of armored men were coming up the path, armed with swords and torches. Their voices carried into the night, sounds of wild laughter and joy resounding. They were coming to take Yuki.

Sumida came down from the house, walking forward as they came. Yuki stood up. She had steadied her heart. She was prepared to face them.

Dust and grass was kicked up into the air as the soldiers stopped their horses in front of the father and daughter.

Usui, the man who had come and beaten up Sumida days ago, came down from his horse. A smug grin was plastered on his face as he sauntered over to the pair.

He came close, looking at the two of them intently. At this distance, the similarities between father and daughter were staggering. The same white hair and expression was shared by the two. Yuki was really her father’s daughter.

“We meet again, Sumida,” Usui sniggered. “Just do what you came here for,” Sumida replied. Yuki nodded in agreement. “I’m ready. We can go,” she said.

Usui nodded. He reached out his hand and touched her cheek, caressing it gently.

Yuki flinched at his touch, but forced herself to stay still.

Just bear with it, just bear with it…she told herself.

Seeing that she wasn’t resisting, Usui smiled. Sumida’s blood began to boil as he watched the scene. He watched Usui’s smile turned to a grin as he slid his hands down Yuki’s chest.

Without thinking, Sumida’s hand charged forward, catching Usui straight in the mouth with a strong punch. Another punch followed on the wobbling Usui, dropping him to the ground.

Before he could continue with the beating, Sumida waa suddenly pinned down under all the men in Usui’s entourage. Yuki screamed for her father, before being promptly backhanded to the floor.

Drawn blades hovered at Sumida’s neck and head, ready to strike. A short distance away from him, Usui stood back up, laughing to himself.

He had suffered a cut lip and broken nose, but he could care less about this now.

The look on Sumida’s face made him feel as good as healed.

Yuki’s puberty had turned her into one of the most beautiful girls in the village. Usui had wanted her, but she was too young for the tribute. And Sumida was always there, like a hawk.

He had considered killing Sumida, but the bastard was so popular that it would have backfired terribly. But now he had the power. Sumida had just struck him. If he wanted, he could make sure he never had freedom again.

He looked into Sumida’s gray eyes. He continued to smile as he shook his head.

“No. I’m too happy to do too much today. Even to you. But I still have to follow protocol,” Usui smiled.

He unrolled a scroll that hung at his waist, reading the words written with a certain happiness that couldn’t be replicated.

“Sumida Tatsuya. By the order of Mori Terumoto, Daimyo of Tengoku District, your daughter, Yuki Tatsuya, has been selected as part of this Tribute. Your compliance is expected, and any issues or resistance will result in detainment or worse,” Usui read.

Bending down, he continued to speak as he rolled the scroll back up. “Don’t worry, Sumida. Cheer up.”

He stood up, binding Yuki’s hands and feet with shackles, before putting her on the back of his horse. The other men released Sumida from their pressure, going back to their respective horses.

“It’s been a pleasure, Sumida. Rest assured, Yuki will be taken good care of. Very good care of.” He shot Yuki a lustful look, making her squirm. “Do you have anything to say before we go?” Usui asked, the question intended for both of them.

Yuki looked at Sumida, but he didn’t look back. His face was firmly on the ground, shame pressing him down in place of the armored men.

“Dad. I’ll be back, I promise,” Yuki said, tears welling in her eyes. “Wonderful. Let’s go!” Usui shouted.

The men reined their horses, moving away from the house.

Once they had gone, Sumida turned over, his face stained with dirt. But he didn’t care. First his wife. Then his son. And now his daughter.

He was now alone. Truly alone.

Sumida fought hard to stop them, but the tears that flowed down his face flowed of their own accord.

. . . .

The iron shackles snagged at Yuki’s wrists and ankles. She adjusted her hands and legs, trying to bear with it. The thick smell and heat of so many bodies packed together filled the air.

The shackles on her wrists and ankles were tightly bound together, not allowing her to even pinch her nose to get a bit of respite.

With a heavy breath, she looked outside once again. To see the scene she had been avoiding.

Under the near-perpetual night sky, a procession was moving. Multiple large wooden carts with bars on the sides and wheels on the bottom moved in sequence.

On both sides, the people of Tengoku District had gathered. This was a new tradition. The Send-Off. Some did it to see their loved ones again, maybe for the final time. Some did it for respect. Others didn’t do it at all.

Yuki herself had been to these Send-Offs. She didn’t blame anyone who didn’t participate. Even those who came to see their loved ones often went back having accomplished nothing.

All carriages were packed to the brim, so much so that the bodies acted as a mass. Yuki was in this situation. She continued to look outside, hoping to see her father.

An alternate thought began to surface in her mind. Did she even want him to see her? Squeezed with others like this. On her way to a functional slaughterhouse where so few had returned from.

It would shatter his heart, whatever remained of it.

Alone. That was the best way. She would do this alo-

What?

Yuki’s attention was suddenly drawn outside. For a split-second she had seen a figure on one of the rooftops. Was it figment of her imagination? It had to be.

Surely. The figure she had seen was clearly human. But no human was agile enough, or quick enough. It couldn’t be anyone.

But deep within her, her heart stirred. It couldn’t be anyone. Except a Shaman.

Him. Ichiji.

Could it be? Had he come to enact his plan?

Yuki’s mind drifted to when Ichiji had first told her about everything.

“That’s crazy. Totally crazy. Shouldn’t you use this time to regain your strength?” she had asked. “Yes, but I’ll be fine. At least I’ll be strong enough to carry out my part,” he said. “You’re strong, Yuki. Let’s be strong together.”

A bright smile bloomed on his face.

Faced with his optimism and confidence, she couldn’t help but smile in return. Even now, in this cramped cart, she smiled.

Suddenly, a loud boom was heard from somewhere in front of her. Soldiers from the back shouted orders, moving quickly towards the commotion.

A great plume of dust had risen into the air from where the sound had been heard, the same dust plume the soldiers were rushing towards.

Soon, shouts of fighting and clashing began to erupt. Scared civilians ran in the opposite direction, heading to their homes. Those within Yuki’s cart strained their necks, trying to see anything about the situation in front.

Seeing as she was next to the bars, Yuki stretched her neck, looking out at the scene with difficulty.

Once she got a clearer picture of the scene, her eyes widened in shock.

Grown men, clad in armor, were being thrown about multiple feet into the air and away into the ground.

As the dust cleared, she saw more of the chaos. Fully armored samurai gathered, weapons drawn, pointed towards a singular target. And at the center of their attention: Ryomen Ichiji.

. . . .

“We have three major objectives. One, find more men and solve our numbers problem. Two, find out if Omake has a weakness and what it is. Three, find the sealed Shaman and reawaken him. We need to do all this in 8 days before the ceremony starts, then strike when their guard is down.”

The objectives were clear to everyone, Ichiji was just repeating then because it made them easier to organise and plan for in his head.

“The men are discouraged, they’re dead inside. They think their enemy is invincible, if we can show them that’s not the truth, then we’ll bring a lot of them over. And I have just the idea. I want to attack the Tribute procession,” Ichiji said.

Sumida paled at this news. Everyone in the cave was shocked. Ichiji had expected this reaction.

“The men need a big display to rile them up. To show them there’s a chance. To show them we can win,” Ichiji explained.

“You do know the enemy also has a shaman, right? Maybe multiple,” Shinzo asked.

 “Sure.”                                                    “Then how are you going to escape?”   “That’s the best part, I’m not.”

Shinzo’s face fell even more as he heard this. “What?” he asked, confused.

“Truth is, I’ve thought about it. Yuki can’t do all of this on her own. She’ll be under some form of monitoring and won’t have that much freedom, if at all. It’ll be better if we have multiple people on the inside. Going from different angles.” 

He stroked his chin as he spoke. “Plus, she doesn’t have the abilities that I do. A lot of info gets passed among prisoners, which will go through me, helping us further. I think this is the best way for us to proceed.”

“And what will stop them from killing you once they capture you?” Shinzo asked. “From what I’ve heard, Omake and Mori are totally evil. But curious. They’ll want to know more about me. Where I came from, who I am. Things like that. And besides, shamans are very rare. I would be too valuable of a potential asset to them,” Ichiji said.

“And if something happens to the two of you?” Shinzo grumbled. “I’ll do my very best to help her whenever I can. But nothing is a guarantee now. Especially when the stakes are this high. We need to take any chance we can.”

The members of the Resistance nodded as Ichiji finished explaining his plan.

“Alright then. I’ll believe you, Ichiji,” Shinzo said. Ichiji nodded, happy that the leader had agreed.

He turned, looking at Sumida. “I’ll protect her,” Ichiji said. “Don’t promise anything. Just do your best. That’s enough,” Sumida responded. Ichiji smiled and nodded. The plan had now been accepted. Now to put it in motion.

. . . .

Yuki looked on as Ichiji stood in the center, surrounded by a maelstrom of blades.

Most broke into pieces on his body as he moved like a storm in human form.

His body seemed to shift in and out of reality, disappearing and reappearing, his sheer speed shifting and shaking the air itself.

Shouts and cries filled the air as Ichiji’s limbs struck out. Like a conductor of violence, he destroyed the soldiers with ruthless precision. Arms, legs, chests, his arm and legs bent and broke armor as if they weren’t even there.

His kicks always struck true, accompanied by the flying of flailing bodies through the air. Bones shattered and shards flew as he kept incapacitating his opponents flawlessly.

Yuki was transfixed by this display. She couldn’t move much normally, but her entire focus was now on the battle, no, the domination happening before her.

She began to cough and choke violently, realising she had been holding her breath without realising it.

Gods in human form, she realised. Shamans. In this world dominated by deities and their avatars, what place did normal mortals have?

Suddenly, a great earthquake shook the ground. The carts were shaken to their core as the ground continued trembling.

The people within were tossed side to side as the world shook with tremendous force. Startled, Yuki gasped as she realised what was causing this. It was her! Mori’s right-hand!

In the distance, Ichiji stood surrounded by limp and squirming bodies, unaffected by the trembling. He looked behind him.

There, large trees were sprouting out of the ground, their leaves sporting different arrays of colours.

In the middle of all the trees, a woman of average height stood. She was beautiful, with flowing black hair and a smooth face. She stood in the middle of a circle, green light emanating from the ground beneath her.

A beautiful melody began to play with no apparent source. The woman began to dance to the melody, her steps graceful and light, almost impossibly elegant.

Not even a step was out of place. It was a perfect dance, in every sense.

Ichiji immediately knew who she was. Omake wasn’t the only supernatural force supporting Mori. Most daimyo usually had one or two shamans that they kept in their personal court. Just like Takeda Shingen and Akagi, Mori Terumoto was no different.

The woman in front of him was Mori’s right-hand, a Shaman of Ame-no-Uzume, the Kami of the arts.

Stories had reached the White Order about her, the Shaman who could destroy armies with her deadly kaguras. 

Kaguya Kokuju, the Dancing God.