Misaki watched from the deck. The Samurai Lord had just sliced a boat in half. Misaki heard of freak accidents at sea.
A wind so fierce it cut one sailor’s face. A cannon ball that was going to hit a ship with certainty disappearing before a sailor’s eyes. But upon further digging, Misaki usually found that these stories were made up, or had less fantastical explanations.
But not this. Misaki couldn’t hallucinate the waves that rocked Jin’s little cutter. He blinked once, then again, and a third time for good measure. He didn’t imagine the ship being cut in half as a plea of his own desperate mind.
The sun played in blue and gold along the edge of their captor’s blade. For a moment, his subordinates stared at him, dumbstruck. But the one who drove his knee to pin Kotaro’s forearm, rose, reaching for his ax on the floorboards.
Misaki watched, as there he flitted through his emotions like the shadows of leaves in the wind. Denial, confusion, anger and back again.
“Young master…” There was something mournful in his voice as he gripped the haft of his ax.
“Why did you-”
But the samurai lord cut him off with a single smooth motion as he reached into his robes and pulled out a weapon Misaki had only heard off. There was a crack so loud Misaki thought he was going deaf. A bright crimson hole is formed in the samurai’s chest. Steel armor caved in like parchment.
He clutched the hole in his chest. The Blood welled through his fingers, and his eyes flitted a final time. From sorrow to hatred.
But the Juushiki lord never wavered.
“I’m sorry.” Is all he muttered as he let a tube fall to the deck with a clatter.
The other two raised their weapons and charged their lord.
Now’s our chance. Misaki thought. He let a silent prayer of thanks to whatever god put this freak coincidence in their path to spare them. He scrambled, frantically looking all over the deck to find The Map fragments.
He imagined that no matter how skilled or how freakishly powerful this Samurai lord was, two men against him was at best a death sentence, and at worst a distraction. But He couldn’t find the map pieces. He thought they would stick to the still blood soaked wood. His stomach dropped. The only thing that could mean is that when the Samurai lord sliced the Warship in half, the only thing that could mean was that the shockwave blew the fragments into the water beneath.
Misaki panicked. He pushed his curly, oily black hair out of his eyes. Blinked a few times, he couldn’t panic now. Not now. He needed to focus. He needed to make sure he didn’t miss anything.
However, the thumping of his heart in his ears told himself something else. He turned back to the fighting between the Samurai lord and his two former men. Though Misaki’s own training with a blade was rudimentary at best, he could tell that two men were good. Really fucking good. They backed their lord into a corner, pincering him between two attackers and two wildly different rhythms. Where however where their lord parried one, he would usually weave the other before letting his own counter attack snake out and force one of them back. Misaki could tell the lord was holding back too. There were a few openings that he chose not to take.
However, the fight dragged on for what felt like an eternity. He saw that gray steam rise from the Samurai lord’s body. He knew the end was coming soon. He felt the air grow cold as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. His palms grew cold with sweat in the boiling heat.
As one of the samurai brought his sword down, his lord caught the blow edge on. There was a visceral sound of steel against steel. The screeching as the soul of a blade as it died. After a few moments, the Samurai’s blade was in two pieces. But the Juushiki lord didn’t kill him. He touched him, and pushed him back gently. Like a mother holding a toddler back from a fire.
But the samurai flew as though his lord struck him and shot a cannon ball at him. His limbs splayed out as he cleared the railing, flailing as though he would sprout wings and he would fly.
The water was deep enough. Misaki thought. He concluded as though to tell himself again, The water was deep enough.
The samurai wielding the ax broke his weapon against the man’s arm. The man’s arm wasn’t thick with muscle. But when the head connected with it, it shattered as though it was made of porcelain. The haft splintered as thick metal fragments clattered onto the deck of the ship.
There was a gust of wind as the man drove his fist into the Samurai’s gut. Sweat flew off his body like sparks of fire fed fresh kindling. He collapsed like a heap. Twitching spasmodically like the Juushiki lord took his head off.
“Try not to hold it against me.” He said finally.
He turned to Misaki. Lead and ice. That’s what was in him. Lead and ice. Froze his blood and weighed him down. It weighed Kotaro down too for he watched frozen in fear too.
The Juushiki lord walked back toward them. Misaki motioned his comrade with his eyes to the Kanabo one of his men left. Slow, heavy and methodical.
His white robes were still immaculate. There wasn’t a single blood stain on it. But somehow that made Misaki even more terrified.
His eyes were vacant as gray vapor danced around him. Until he released it. He was scarcely a few paces from them now.
Misaki was already trying to stall as Kotaro began circling, close enough till he could make a dive for the Kanabo.
“Hey listen we were not trying to-” Misaki tripped over a floorboard and fell. He didn’t feel the ground beneath his feet as the earth tumbled. He put his hand out.
“Listen, we don’t want to-”
“Enough-” The Juushiki lord growled. It sent Misaki’s arm limp out from under him.
The tiger was licking his ear.
Kotaro raised the Kanabo over his head and yelled as he brought the weapon down on his head.
His arm snaked out; a flash of steel as his sword bit through the Kanabo. As though it was little more than wet paper.
Kotaro’s eyes widened. The Juushiki lord took another step forward.
Blood poured from his nose. His eyes were bloodshot. “Enough I’m not-”
He fell flat on his face.
***