[Senkumo Saga: Book of Blossoming]: How It Always Ends in Blood

In almost six hours, the combined force of the Senkumo and Ikko-ikki managed to push Masachika and his forces into his castle. The massive army of peasants, lower nobility samurai, and monks encircled Masachika's beautiful, white castle, adorned with blue, slanted pagoda roofs. If anyone dared step outside of its walls, the vicious crowd of Ikko-ikki would be sure to tear them apart.

Only a few dozen of Masachika's elite troops survived all of the fighting. Those that remained guarded their commander with their swords and lives, anxiously peering over the walls and out of the windows for any sign of enemy advances. The waiting alone was enough to make them all sweat in their armor.

The sun was cloaked and concealed by the thick sheets of dark, gray clouds above. It looked like it could rain at any moment. Everyone could smell it in the whistling wind. Tsukiakari stood atop a hill with a good view of the castle from the distance, observing the activity below with Renko. The monk-turned-warrior sat on the saddle of his horse, petting its neck as he spoke to war goddess.

“The order has already been given out. The Ikko-ikki shall surround, but not advance on the castle. Can you get in?” Renko asked.

“Yes," Tsukiakari assured. “I'll do it right now and end this.” 

“Very well then. As we agreed, you have full rights to Masachika's corpse and we shall encourage the veneration of Shinto gods within the province. I expect you to keep good on your promise of self-governance.”

“As long as the other terms are met, I don't care what you do to this region," Tsukiakari put bluntly. 

She discarded her heavy, colorful armor, chest piece and all, stripping down to her black kimono. Her body felt incredibly lighter and more agile, perfect for speedily clearing out a heavily defended castle. She grabbed hold of her blade and withdrew it from the scabbard by just a few inches, checking on the condition of the base of her sword. 

“Are you all right,” Renko questioned, staring at her eyes.

“Why do you ask?”

“Your eyes are bloodshot. You’re wearing the expression of a woman gone mad.” 

“I'm just tired, is all. I exerted myself a little too much today. The effects of that are only just now starting to wear off.”

Renko smiled and turned his horse the other way. With a wave, he parted farewell to Tsukiakari.

“Happy hunting, war goddess," he saluted.

Tsukiakari filled her lungs with a breath of the fresh, cold air around her. She could feel her hands and knees steady themselves and all worries vacate her mind.

“Now," she shouted, rallying herself for battle.

With earth-shattering speed and power, Tsukiakari lunged off of the hill and slammed right through the wall of the castle's third story like a cannonball. Her impact knocked away two soldiers standing guard in the hall, killing them immediately. Almost the entire floor was saturated with the smoke and dust from her impact, forcing Tsukiakari to cover her mouth with her sleeve as she stood up and calmly navigated the halls.

“Damn it...I got splintered wood in my arm..," she groaned beneath her sleeve.

Blood dripped down in hot, red streaks down her arm, but it was no matter to her. As she walked, a sudden and powerful force pushed her shoulder forwards. An arrow had pierced her from behind. The Togashi guard that fired it behind her immediately discarded his bow and unsheathed his blade, charging in for the kill. The rush of being in battle dulled the pain of the arrow in her arm, replacing it with fiery tingles in her neck down to her hips. Battle had become a pleasure so deep that Tsukiakari could barely understand it. She could only lose herself in its blissful oblivion.

“Die, you wretch,” the guard screamed.

Tsukiakari swung her blade as his sword came down vertically, deflecting it upwards. The force of her parry sprained the guard's hand and left him wide open for her jaw-breaking kick that planted his face through the wooden wall of the hall. For good measure, Tsukiakari drove her blade through his armored back, her sword exiting out of the center of his chest.

More guards alerted by the sound of the crash converged on her position from both sides of the hall, armed with swords and spears.

“Kill her,” one of the guards commanded.

Tsukiakari quickly released the sword's handle and performed three, kuji-in hand seals. Her right hand radiated with a deep scarlet glow. She drove her glowing hand through the neck of the man she had planted into the wall, cleanly separating his head from his body. Her hand went through his flesh and bone like a hot knife through butter, with putrescent steam flowing from the cut. Even as the body was removed, the guard's head stayed planted in the wall, blood gushing out of its exposed flesh.

With the body now free, Tsukiakari propped it up with her sword, still lodged in the guard's chest. She used it as a meat shield as the guards to her left came rushing in first. Their slashes and swings cut through their comrade instead of her.

That's right...cut through your friend, idiots! She thought.

Tsukiakari planted her foot against the impaled guard's back and kicked it with all of her might, sending it flying from her blade and into one of the guards. When the guards refocused their sights ahead, Tsukiakari was nowhere to be found.

“What? Where did she go?”

Tsukiakari's sandals hitting against the ceiling made them realize she was right above their heads. Before they could react, she dropped down from the ceiling and sliced her blade through their spines in one, circular swing, sending their heads flying into the air and back onto the floor along with their bodies.

A sudden shout startled the war goddess. “Fire!”

The other end of the hall was still blocked by soldiers as multiple arrows swiftly ripped through the air. Two of them struck her in the stomach, but even as she flinched from the pain and force of their impact, she was able to snatch one of them out of the air with her bare hand. The arrow’s tip glimmered with a hellish, red light, and a burning fury welled up in her eyes as she bled through her kimono.

“Go to hell,” she screamed like a wrathful banshee.

She threw the arrow faster than a bow could launch or an eye could see. The arrow exploded like a bomb, leaving only their bones, teeth, and flesh to be scattered around the halls.
While this chaos unfolded in his own castle, Masachika, now stripped of his armor, sat alone in his personal room. He wore a white kimono as he finished writing on a piece of parchment in black ink. The kanji were in cursive, with all of the strokes beautifully connected together. A warm cup of steaming tea sat by his side, as well as a sheathed, bloodied tantō decorated with a silky, white ribbon.

As if trying to savor these moments, Masachika took a deep breath of the aroma of tatami mats and tea that filled his room. This way, he drowned out all of the screaming and explosions that shook the tea in his cup. His bloody, battered armor sat in the corner of his room, the helmet staring at him like a vengeful phantom.

“So this is it. We’ve utterly lost," Masachika sighed.

Being the noble commander he was, he always noticed silence more than he did noise. Because of that, he noticed immediately when his castle suddenly fell quiet.

“I know you're there. I know what you've come for. Come inside. Meet the man you want to kill.”

Masachika waited in mellow anticipation for that sliding door to open, for the rebellion to finally end. Finally, at long last, after moments that felt like an eternity, the sliding door did open. Tsukiakari, in her tattered, bloody kimono, stepped inside of the room with still lips. Masachika could barely make out her appearance. No candles lit the room, and the clouds outside blocked too much of the sun's glare for the indirect light pouring in through the windows to be sufficient.

However, one thing he did see was the glow of her ominous, crimson eyes, and the several arrows that protruded from her shoulder and stomach. That was all he needed to see. That was all he needed to truly feel as if defeat was an unstoppable certainty now, and that the crimson-eyed bringer of his demise was Death itself.

“Masachika Togashi..," Tsukiakari calmly growled.

“And you would be," he asked.

Tsukiakari caught he breath and sheathed her blade. “You know exactly who I am, don’t you?”

The doomed Masachika, finding the circumstances of his demise somewhat funny, erupted into laughter. Tsukiakari helplessly joined him, her laughter intertwining with his. She laid her eyes on the steaming teacup sitting beside him.

“So...that was you that sent lightning down upon us. Divine assistance is the only way the Ikko-ikki could've decisively won this battle. Of course. It all makes sense. This was the work of the gods. What grave sin have I committed to be on the receiving end of your fury, Tsukiakari?”

Tsukiakari took a few steps forward, stopping right in front of Masachika, who kept his eyes shut. “This castle is completely surrounded. You have no reinforcements. The noble families in this province have all turned against you, and the shogun is busy in the field. So then, Masachika Togashi...what will you do now?”

“Take a good look...Tsukiakari," Masachika said, nodding over to his side.

Her eyes again returned to the floor, where the letter and tea lied. This time, she noticed the sheathed tantō lying next to him.

“If you're here, then it's even more of a reason to do this. We men of this earth...how can we ever dream to match the glory of the god of war. We cannot. We never could. However, we have tried to achieve this through Bushidō. Frugality. Loyalty. Rectitude. Calmness…”

“Fairness. Courage. Compassion. Duty. Self-control. And honor until death," Tsukiakari finished, knowing full well the values of a warrior.

Masachika smiled as he took a final sip from his tea, savoring the spicy taste and bitterness on his tongue.

“Such values are our way of inching just a little closer to providence," Masachika explained. “But our position is an ironic one, isn't it? Our jobs involve taking other lives, and as such, the idea of an afterlife is lost upon a warrior. The very nature of our profession precludes any spiritual reward for our deeds.” 

“Well, then, accept the only reward a good warrior is entitled to," Tsukiakari calmly hissed.

“A good death..," Masachika finished.

Masachika gently slid his kimono's sleeves off of his arms and shoulders, exposing his torso, which was spotted all over with purple and black bruises. The quietude of the castle had grown even heavier in the moment of Masachika’s decision. Every distant roar from the battle outside, ever little creek of wood or booming heartbeat was like thunder in the silence.

“I will say one thing, Tsukiakari. You have made a grave mistake siding with those rebels. I may be the one dying today…but this is your punishment too. Compared to you, my suffering will last but a few moments. You believe you’re building a new future for mankind, don’t you? You believe you can undo the ways of this world and the mode of our government. What you’re asking for, Tsukiakari, is the unleashing of Man. One day soon, you’re going to find that the evils of the state exist to suppress the greater, malevolent passions of Man.”

His hands were steady as he pulled the tantō out of its sheath. His eyes remained closed as he took one final breath of the cold, rain-scented air that seeped in through the windows. But Tsukiakari wasn't as calm as he was.

Her breathing intensified the closer he got to death. Her spine and the lobes of her ears burned hot with excitement as bloodlust and sinful machinations swirled within her. Her face turned a rosy pink as Masachika plunged his blade into the left side of his belly with only a short, loud scream from his bloodied mouth. He dragged the blade across his skin and inner flesh, carving what looked like a deep smile into his stomach.

A gentle grin blessed Tsukiakari’s face as she saw Masachika's intestines spill from the wound. His insides were so warm from the tea he drank earlier that steam was visibly rising from his belly, his bloody, fat-covered innards revealing themselves.

Exhausted from the ritual, Masachika fell over on his face, unable to speak. His breaths turned into desperate wheezing as his body tried to fill his longs with oxygen. It was only making him die faster, until finally, his breathing stopped, and his twitching fingers ceased their movement.
Tsukiakari felt a surge of intense excitement even as Masachika lied dead in front of her. The heat welling inside of her was like a fever at first, but felt more like a funeral pyre burning in her chest. In that moment, this sensation of pleasure continued to travel further down through her hips and body. Alarmed, she traced her hand down her belly and under her kimono. 

“I'm...wet?”

The Kaga rebellion was over, with the Ikko-ikki as the victors. The sons of Rennyo celebrated in the streets with their drunken, cheering men. The Senkumo joined them in the alcohol-fueled festivities, celebrating their biggest victory since the battle of Kyoto. Tsukiakari watched the battle-torn city roar with excitement from the top floor of Masachika’s castle. She sat by the window with one leg hanging over the outside, holding Masachika’s letter in her hand as her men took custody of the dead lord’s corpse.

This victory was nothing like the one years prior in Kyoto. This one felt cold and hollow to Tsukiakari. She, for all of her intelligence and wit, couldn’t tell if a part of her had died in this battle, or if a part she never wanted had been born. Either way, it soured triumph’s sweet taste.

That night, both the Ikko-ikki and the Senkumo counted and mourned for their dead and treated the wounded. The victory did not come without its price in blood. The Ikko-ikki by far lost the most troops. Thousands of bodies had to be carried out of the city and into the mountains to be buried. All who survived celebrated in the restaurants, bars, and even in the streets, drinking and cheering to their heart's content. 

Meanwhile, after checking on her troops, Tsukiakari returned to the rented room that she, Mayumi, Taeko, and Ebina were staying in. It was small, but the girls didn't mind one bit. Ebina was the one who was given the most comfortable futon. She was finally out of her heavy armor and in her black, Senkumo robes. The other girls sat next to her, keeping her warm and making sure she was all right. 

“I can't believe that happened..," Tsukiakari lamented.

“It just came out of nowhere and completely destroyed her hip piece," Taeko recounted. “It wasn't even a particularly heavy arrow, so I don't know how it could've done that. It looked like something even a light-foot soldier could've fired, and yet, no one was there when I turned around.”

“Unfortunately, she can't seem to walk with this injury," Mayumi explained. “We'll have to go back to Kyoto so Bishamon can fully assess the extent of the damage. For now, she’s just going to have to hang on.”

“Everyone…thank you," Ebina said with labored breath. 

There was that smile. Ebina rarely ever smiled, but they all knew she was doing so to keep their hopes up.

“Geez, Ebina...I was in tears carrying you here," Taeko cried. “Don't get hit like that again, all rightt? Next time, your big sis will take the arrow for you.” 

“Taeko, that was oddly mature of you," Mayumi complimented.

“It's like none of you have any faith in me! I really do want to protect all of you," Taeko assured. “Look, I love you guys. So, of course...I'm gonna protect you with everything I've got. I take this seriously.”

Mayumi could only smile at Taeko in that moment. “Well, I suppose we should get to bed," Mayumi suggested. 

“Yes. We'll be moving the last of our bodies in the morning. Then, we'll make our way back to Kyoto," Tsukiakari sighed.

“Understood, commander," Ebina dutifully replied.

“Goodnight everyone," Taeko said with a wave.

Mayumi’s smile wilted as Ebina and Taeko laid their heads upon their pillows. She gave a worried and saddened expression to Tsukiakari before lying down. No words were said, because none were needed. Ebina’s wound was far more severe than they could bear to let her know. They had to get back to base, for her sake. Her very life hung in the balance.