The Shadow of Issu

The Roads of a Warring Country

The scent of ash was hung faintly in the air. The remains of a camp were evident by the neatly patched array of dry grass, chippings from nearby unfinished carved wood, and other numerous residues that were no longer noticeable by the ordinary eye. But the eye that scrutinizes the cave belonged to no ordinary man.

Their names have known to have struck fear in the hearts of men, regardless whether they be common folk, or men acquainted with the sword. Even the Tenshando of Ogana, and all the others in the clans of Issu, steer clear from crossing paths with them. There had only been nine of them, not a single one more or another less.

The person moved his palm across the cave walls, and he knew instantly who was here, and who had come here.

“I was expecting to find a withered orchid in a pathetic display,”

 He took in a lungful, and emptied his breast as it moved through the dust on the campfire, revealing a piece of paper that had not been completely reduced into soot. He took it in his hands, thinly and veined they were, and held that blackened object to his nose

“An Imperial parchment,” He spoke. “From Ogana. Carries a scent of a woman. Interesting.”

The wind was blowing inside the cave, the wooden idol that lay on top of a makeshift table from the farthest corner began to roll. The man’s eyes flinched, his ears twitched, his hand made its way to the hilt of his sword and caught the figure mid-air. It balanced on the tip as he observed it.

“Kaikhu, of the Raikano Shrine.” He whispers. “Four—No—Maybe five years. This is of no doubt, the Orchid’s. Perhaps I am in the right place after all… just in the wrong time.” He spoke, furiously.

He tips the blade and tosses the idol into his hand.

“It seems they have not gone too far. That sweetly scented blood will soon wash the very ground of which I stand on, it is only a matter of time.”

---------------------------

On the roads leading north, Akane and Akha had travelled a full day’s length from Kobeka and had now reached to the other side of the valley. The journey was set to span more than a month before they reached the first border of Ogana. The far shores of southeast Kobeka that faced to the Gray Seas was a hundred leagues far from the capital of Issu, and was considerately distant from any form of civilization. The scenic deep green planes of multiple hills that were constantly blanketed with mists of the white-bleached shorelines of Kobeka was instantly replaced with the colors of auburn, red, and gold from the myriad trees that was set on the common road. Akha knew a better, noticeably shorter, road from Kobeka to Ogana.

“We can’t take the Katen roadside, the valley has become a ghost town, perhaps it would be better for us to avoid it.”

“Mhmm.”

Akane looked back, and the stoic expression that Akha wore was something that sparked a mischievous spirit inside her.

“They say the man that does not speak much, is a man that brings misfortune.”

Akha’s face turned confused, and just as quick as it had been surprised, they turned austere without a change of shade. “The man who talks a lot, is misfortune himself.” He answered.

“Is that so?” She smiles. “Perhaps what I should have meant was a man that harbors the shadow of misfortune, should that make more sense?”

This time, Akha did not entertain her question.

“But I do not think so. I believe you just don’t speak because you choose not to.”

The two continue in silence,

“You mentioned we could not take the road to Katen.” He spoke.

“The rebellion that has known to become the Teyan is set to retake Orel from all of northern Issu. The coup’s motives have not been transparent until of late, when the warlord that was behind the rebellion staged a mass from all the eastern clans, who harbored a grudge against lord Yukono, to join with him and retake the Valley of Katen—as it proved to be an extremely strategic vantage point due to its topographical aspect. Now Katen is nothing more than a place of death and crows. Lord Shida is set on his mind to withhold the Teyan this opportunity and has been warring against them from the northeast side. He believes it would cause a massive military deterrence once the troops reach the Beitan Pass.”

Akha came into a deep quietness. It was frankly difficult to tell if he had been listening deeply to Akane’s tale, or was busy ignoring them. The woman sighed, she knew it would be a pretty long journey guessing the two’s relationship. But she had to make the most of it.

Akane figured that she had to at least keep Akha informed, to an extent, of the happenings in the capital and against this budding extremists from the northeast side, so she continued to speak.

“This unification that lord Shida has taken up was that from his father’s endeavors, it seemed that it was too late for him to withdraw from completing the late minister’s plans. What future of Issu that awaits from this has already been weighted, and so have its consequences. Let us see, the plan begins with you meeting lord Shida in Ogana. There, we would be able to… discuss about how you would deliver Yuko from the Tsagari, and perhaps other tasks that lord Shida might bid of us. The Kobuke clan has been extremely magnanimous to the dealings of the Kuzaemon clan for a long time, and since Yuko is the only one left to preserve that bloodline, lord Shida deems it almost as essential to take back the young lord as it was to unify Issu. I believe I can count you on this.”

Akha nodded, following behind her.

“Ulterior motives are also not out of the question. I cannot completely trust the Orchid, yet, and if you plan to leave me here to die, or kill me yourself, then you are welcome to do so. Just know that what desire it is that brews in your mind right now, would equal to lord Yuko’s fate. If you wish to go to the Tsagari and take matters up to your own devices, then you are also free to do so. But it is ill-advised, and I suggest that you leave the planning to me. It is why I am here for after all.”

 Akha nodded again.

“Such an interesting conversation, it almost seems enjoyable” She spoke.

“Also, I forgot to mention. The warlord that controls the Teyan, he is not—.”

“Quiet,” Akha whispered. The wind rippled through the canopies softly, the sound of the leaves rustling in the quiet breeze was subtle enough to throw any trained ear to notice any form of sound that came to show itself from the tranquility of the roadside forest. Akha began to hear movement, and it was fast.

The swordsman took upon a stance, his right hand readied upon the handle of his blade. He glanced toward Akane, and she caught the message.

There in front of them, a man emerged from the crowns of red and gold and landed on the road on his two feet. Clad in rather brightly colored clothing— an apparel of lavender, jade, and pale white, worn over a tight black cloth that draped him from collar to toe— his presence was quick to overwhelm the peaceful and undisturbed roadside scene.

On his chest hung a necklace suspended with a plethora of strange things. Ranging from gold coins, to jeweled rings, and even pieces of human teeth and bone. Strapped to his back were two curved blades, ornamented with a strange hilt, and fitted inside a wooden sheathe, though a portion of the blade was revealed from the middle to the tip. The blade had taken on a viridescent hue, a color unlike the refractive color of jade, but rather a sickly, pale green that strained the eye of any onlooker that dare gazed upon such a weapon for too long.

His ashen hair was almost the same to Akane’s, and flowed in the wind tied behind him.

The man turned to their direction with eyes that were unpredictable, and undeniably dangerous. “Yet, again, I am unmistakable.” He chided, his laughter echoed in the nearby trees like knives brushing against each other.

“I did ponder of how it would not be much fun to simply strike the Orchid down,” The man’s eyes twitched, they were that of a madman’s, a seeping insanity something unsettling. They gazed towards Akane, but she did not felt bothered. Rather, she walked in front of Akha, with a chest raised high and a fearless demeanor.

“You,” She spoke in a high voice. “Do you think you can just deter the path of Togoma Akane of the Fourth Shin of Issu, threaten her escort, and simply be pardoned for such?”

The man stared dumbfounded, and his shock was soon replaced with a gawking laughter.

“Joy, Oh, joy! It has been quite a while since one has been amused. Firstly, I thank you, Tomoga Akane of the Fourth Shin, for without your intervening, one would not be so amused. I was willing to settle with witnessing such a pathetic display in a lonely cave in the shores of Kobeka, but fate come what may.”

"Turn back now, before you regret anything else."

The man replied in laughter. "I would be pleased to have a... conversation with you, lady Tomoga, but it is not you who I seek,”

The man revealed his weapons in full glory. “Set your eyes upon, Wakasuburo, and despair.” And began to brandish the twin blades.

 Now that all of its sheen was taken into full sight, Akha had become more cautious with his opponent. This was no ordinary sword— this was the fabled Wakasuburo, and Akha knew that he was not simply witnessing upon a fake. His father had once told him of swords that took on divine strength, garnered through heretical means. The Wakasuburo, which had meant ‘Pale Faced’, was a blade rumored to have slain a thousand men, with each one felled with but a single strike. The legend goes on that the blade had been poisoned with Issu’s most potent ingredients. These toxins, whether from herbs, putrid oils, or toxic stones, were said to have infused into the blade itself, taking on a greenish hue that attests to the godly power imbued to it.

The Wakasuburo contains a poison that stops the heart fifteen seconds after a single scratch, and there is no known antidote for it. If there was one thing that Akha had remembered from his father—it was that the only thing more dangerous than a sword, is the bearer itself.

Akha had known of the sword, but he was yet to familiarize himself with his opponent. But as each moment passed by, something inside Akha reminded him of an event too painful to ruminate by choice. The strange manner of speech, the draping clothes, a pair of curved swords. The scars had dug too deep, and his defeat that time was evidently swift before the battle had even started.

It was raining, the clouds have draped over the springs of Tsugan, pouring over a mild shower in the small forest that was called to be the Spring of the Moon. The place was a hallowed ground for the Bladesworn who would partake of the Rite of Blades, a test of spirit amongst all of those who wish to follow the code of the Kinu. What he had noticed first, was the scent of the air heavy with a miasmic stench indescribable. It was during his final rite that he was interrupted.

“Nuro,” He spoke.

“So the Orchid does not forget,” The man smiled. “I was disheartened to think that you have already forgotten me, it has already been four hundred and fifteen nights since…”

“The Rite of the Blades.” Akane spoke. She glanced towards Akha, who’s breathing was slightly rougher than his normal pace.

Akane would not have expected to see one of the Ictha Shinu so soon, but it was not much of a surprise. She had been meticulously discreet with her endeavors in delivering Akha to Ogana throughout, so she was confident that there were no leaks of any information whatsoever, but perhaps she was mistaken, since the Ictha Shinu’s most prominent tracker had finally caught up to them.

“Akha,” She called. He stepped up, took out his blade, and planted both of his feet deep into the ground. He was motionless, completely still like an ocean who had known no waves, taking on a deadly stance that spelled death upon any that would be caught with the length of his sword.

But Akane knew their enemy was just as dangerous. She had never seen any of the Nine, but she was not without knowledge. She knew each of their names, and the swords that each one held. From what she had read, one fitted the description best with the Wakasuburo, which was a weapon of two greenish curved blades.

“You have probably known of this,” She spoke to Akha. “but it would be best for you to not get hit, not once, not even a single scratch.” She continued.

The swordsman brandished his blade and nodded. Akha took in a controlled breath, filling his lungs and strengthening his core.

“Well then,” Nuro spoke. “Let us dance.”

The Ictha Shinu dashed. Like a mantis— he held the sword with blade facing opposite to the thumb. He came to Akha with a cross strike from below aiming for his head, who countered the blow with a perfect block. Nuro receded, flipped the blades facing up and attacked again. He was incredibly fast, and astonishingly precise. Each blow did not reflect the young demeanor that Nuro wore, so much as that Akha had almost lost his footing once or twice from such accuracy. These were not the blows of an amateur, these were that of a veteran’s, and that of a murderer’s.

Akha thought of how many victims had fallen from the Wakasuburo for Nuro to have gained this much strength. He did not want to imagine it.

But what Nuro had in sheer agility, lacked in the weight of his strike. Akha kept blocking his attacks, getting thrown backwards with each vicious, unrelenting strike from the Wakasuburo, but it was sufferable as long as he focused his strength to the grip of his sword. If any of his attacks had more force, Akha would not be able to parry them this much.

“He’s playing it safe.” Akane whispered. “I know I said that he should watch out for the swords but Akha seems to be simply be on the defensive, as if he has no intention in returning the blows… Could it be that he is hesitant?” Akane spoke to herself. She continued to be deep in thought while she witnessed the two waltz around in a flurry of blades.

“What is the matter, orchid? Already feeling weak?” Nuro mocked.

Akha did not answer him, instead the ringing of steel from his sword replied as he blocked and parried each of his attack.

“During the Moonsprings, I wanted to personally duel with the renowned Orchid of Kobuke himself, but now that we are here clashing swords, it feels like it would be better to be killing you in such a pitiful state instead! Come, orchid, strike me down!”

A powerful crossing of steel sparked and the two stepped back. Akha was panting, but his sword was held up to his ear without falter. Nuro, on the other side, was without sweat, circling his blades in each of his hand, playing with his weapons. “That night, we thought you were dead. There was absolutely no way you could have survived that fall, but when Master Ioru said that you were still alive, and somewhere in deep Kobeka, I could not feel but be… absolutely delighted! A shame that your death was not carried out in Tsugan, but this was yet another opportunity for us to finally clash blades. Oh Ictha be praised!”

Akane’s eyes were set on Akha, and she noticed his. They seemed to be focusing on something, his glare steady on the sword that Nuro was circling in his hands. Akane could sense it, Akha had brewed a plan in his mind, perhaps this was what he was doing all this time parrying his opponent’s attack. All she had to do was wait for it to come into play.

Akha lowered the hilt of his sword, and sheathed it, suddenly a look of dread flashed in Nuro’s eyes. They were there for a moment, almost mistakable, but Akane knew what she saw. Akha flashed forward, unsheathing and sweeping the blade in almost inhuman speed in front of him, launching his whole body towards Nuro. The Ictha Shinu evaded the sweep, he could not hope to parry something incredibly fast, but witnessing from the move, he noticed an opening—Akha would be in an extremely open position. Nuro launched into the air, and just when a thought of a landing attack brewed in his mind, Akha’s eyes pierced the sky with a deadly cold. He receded from the attack and landed in front of him.

Nuro smiled, but something inside of him was deeply shaken. “So this is the power of the Orchid of Kobuke…” He whispered to himself. Those eyes, they were those that harbored pain, though Nuro had seen them countless times—from the peasants of remote villages he once slaughtered, or those mere passersby that he had tested his blades with—they had all taken on the same shade that was reflected in Akha’s eyes. But something unsettling was mixed in them, they were not afflicted with fear, nor were they burning with vengeance. He knew that a man taken by revenge is a man doomed from the start, but there was none in the swordsman’s eyes.

“Perhaps, the orchid has forgotten…” A shadow casted over Nuro’s face, his swords were in full view crossed in front of him, the light refracted from the red crowns of the woodlands added a certain menacing appearance. “This is no duel…This is your execution.”

With that, Akha went into offensive, he thrusted his sword and Nuro sidestepped, flicking his blade with a strike of the Wakasuburo. The Ictha Shinu held his footing, handled his blades in a manner, and breathed a deep lungful.

“I will show you what the Ictha Shinu are really capable of!” He grinned threateningly.

“Akha!” Akane called. “He is going to perform a Tensa-Ki!”

“Miasmic Art: Tearing Screen” The twin blades were struck together, a gust of smoke burst forth from the impact and Akha was engulfed in the entire smoke. He was in the middle of the attack, and the scene of a roadside forest was instantly replaced with a dark green fog. His eyes teared, and so he closed them.  

“Consider it a privilege, orchid, to be able to witness a Blade Art from the Ictha Shinu. The Miasmic Art of the Wakasuburo allows me to utilize the poison in more ways than one, it is impossible for a swordsman to be able to open his eyes in Wakasuburo’s Tearing Screen. With this, your fate has been sealed!”

Akha’s eyes were closed, but his ears had given him a clear picture of the landscape, perhaps his days of resolution had allowed him to surpass even those that he could not during his days of being a Kinu. Behind him the Ictha Shinu pounced, the sound of the wind tearing softly gave away the position of the Wakasuburo, the blade was elevated enough to strike him at the nape.

In a manner of seconds, Akha swept his blade to strike Nuro where he was, which he dodged.

“Impossible.” The Ictha Shinu whispered.

The attack was a feint, Akha had disarmed himself from the swing, and caught Nuro’s arm to his direction. Akha was able to hold one of the Wakasuburo and land a deep wound on the bearer himself. The duel ended as Akha’s swords struck the ground. The smoke had begun to clear, Akha and Nuro were standing with backs facing to each other.

 The Ictha Shinu screamed in pain.

“Even the bearer of the Wakasuburo is not immune to its poison.” Akha spoke, as he walked towards his sword and returned it to its sheathe.

His left arm began to grow tortuous veins, a color of reddish-green.

“Bastard,” Nuro cursed. “Bastard! Bastard! Bastard!”

It was only a short cut that ran no larger than a palm across his forearm, but a single strike proved extremely fatal.

“I will not die here. Not now.” Nuro took a short blade from behind him, a Rakatashi, tore a portion of his clothing, bit it, and severed his own left forearm before reaching fifteen seconds. The Ictha Shinu wrapped the piece of cloth over the wound. The veins were gone, his blood spilling over the ground like a crimson bloom, the same shade of the coppices above them as the sky turned the same color, his face pale and drenched in sweat. 

 Akha turned to Akane, his hand placed on the hilt of his sword ready to unsheathe it once again. Akane shook her head and faced to their opponent. “The duel is concluded, I will allow you this mercy, Nuro of the Ictha Shinu. Though, I could not say that you would still be alive have it only been you and the Orchid.”

Even in such a state, Nuro was still grinning, but his eyes were filled with a murderous desire. “You will regret this mercy, Tomoga Akane. You will regret this greatly.”

“Perhaps,” She spoke, in deep thought. “Very well then. Akha,” She spoke and nodded. The swordsman took out his sword and stepped forward.

“No, no, please!”

Akane withheld the Orchid. Akha looked at Akane’s eyes as they were cast over the young Ictha Shinu cowering on his knees, and understood.

“Leave,” Akane spoke. “Before I change my mind.”

With that, Nuro disappeared into the roadside forest, leaving no trace of his presence save for the dried blood that scattered before them. The early evening sky came to greet them from afar as a gust of wind shook the trees in a ripple, specks of stars began showing from the far east and a deep dark began to drape the road once again.

Akha glanced towards Akane’s direction. She was breathing heavily and her hands shook. He walked to her but one of his legs began to lose strength, the swordsman had almost lost his footing.

Akane caught sight and rushed to him. “Were you hit?” She asks.

The swordsman shook his head, and propped himself back up. “It has been quite a while, perhaps my repose has taken a toll on my body.”

“You fought well today.”

Akha scoffed, and a something similar to a smile bore on his face. It was subtle, but it was enough for Akane to notice. Even yet to prove her point, he was trying his best to look at the opposite direction.

“There is a nearby town about a few miles from here. You may be able to rest easily tonight, seeing from what you have had to go through today.”

“I do not mind sleeping outside.”

Akane tapped his back and smiled. “Let us go, before nighttime completely catches us.”

Akha nodded and the two carried on North, yet something seemed to be deeply troubling Akane.