Chapter 13

Miyamoto Musashi had his back pressed against the heavy iron gate that closed off the corridor of the dungeon. The seven dead samurai had him surrounded like a pack of wild dogs would the moment before they attacked their prey. Musashi was out of ideas. He looked over at Itto Isamu and pleaded for his help.
“Isamu, I’ll do whatever you ask of me. I’ll return to the Kensai order, I’ll devote my life to them. Just stop what you’re doing and call off these demons!”
The old Kensai master was grimacing in pain and despite the freezing cold temperature of the dungeon, beads of sweat formed on his forehead. “Like I said before,” he strained. “This is your final test. But rest assured this is not a game. If you fail, you will die, as will thousands of innocent people.”
“Why? Why should I be responsible for innocent lives? I did not choose this, you cannot force it on me!” The tone of voice surprised him. Never in a million years should he talk to the Kensai master like this. But considering the circumstances, and the weight of what Isamu was saying, Musashi couldn’t help it.
Isamu remained perfectly still and his eyes were closed. Only his lips moved. “Why you? I cannot say. It would seem destiny has a plan.”
“Destiny? Stop talking nonsense. Don’t tell me you meditated on it, I don’t want to hear it. It’s all horse shit!”
Isamu’s hand steadied and in turn the dead samurai seemed to halt their advance. “One day you will see what I see. It will torment your dreams and haunt your days. But you will learn to burden this great responsibility. To perceive, to sharpen your sight and your minds eye you must let go. You must empty your cup. A cup is made from clay or wood. Tangible things. But it is the emptiness of the cup that we desire. You must empty your cup, Musashi, then you will see."
Musashi shook his head; he did not believe the master’s words. “ Oh yeah? What will I see?”
“You will see things no one else can. You will see into the very hearts of men, their fears, their ambitions. Eventually you will be able to see through time. Your mind will be your greatest weapon, sharper than any sword, more devastating than any army.”
“Well, if your mind is such a great weapon, how did Goda defeat you? Why didn’t you know he was coming for you?”
Isamu took a deep breath; the dead samurai remained still. “Do not underestimate Goda.”
Musashi did not understand. Why did men fear The Red Ninja so much? Wasn’t he just a spy, an assassin for hire?
“You must be careful, Miyamoto. He is no longer a man,” Isamu warned. “He has become something else. I knew this the moment I looked into his eyes. He has changed.”
“What do you mean? How has he changed? Changed from what?”
For a long while, Isamu said nothing. The sound of his breathing seemed to get louder, deeper. Finally he spoke.
“ There is no denying it, Musashi. You cannot change your destiny,” he said ignoring Musashi’s question. “You will be the saviour of the Kensai. You will stop the Clan. I have foreseen it.”
Musashi lowered his head. “I’m not ready. I’m not the man you think I am. I can’t stop the Clan. How do I fight an enemy that has no honour? They strike from the shadows; they kill men in their sleep, they sneak up on them when their backs are turned. How do I fight an enemy like that?”
“Always lure your enemy with something to gain.”
“What… what can I lure them with? What do they want? You said before Goda was in search of absolute power. Just what exactly is absolute power?”
“The Clan or any opponent for that matter will fight and die for wealth, land, power. The Clan are in search of the Sword of Souls. The sword will deliver what they desire. They will come out from the darkness to seize it. There, you will make your stand.”
It all started to make sense. The Clan had only revealed themselves to the world for one reason. They were after the legendary Sword of Souls. But wasn’t it just that, Musashi thought? Wasn’t it just a legend, a story about a sword with special powers? Musashi had heard the story a hundred times as a child. The sword could only be wielded by a true master, the power of the sword increasing the more lives it ended and the more souls it collected.
“The sword is real,” Isamu said, once again appearing to have read Musashi’s mind.
“How do you do that? How can you hear my thoughts?”
“Empty your cup, Musashi. Then you will see.”
Musashi realised he still had so much to learn from Isamu. His feeble skills were no match for the power possessed by the Kensai Master. He found himself wanting to learn more, to master all of his capabilities. He wanted to see what Isamu could see.
“How long have the Clan waited for this moment?”
“It is difficult to say. They conceal themselves extremely well.”
“Where is Goda now?”
Isamu took several deep breaths, as if mustering the strength to talk. “He is close. I can feel it.”

Chapter 12

Ichiro held Toyotomi Kimiko in his powerful arms. He led her into the House on the Volcano where she would be safe. She was the Shogun’s daughter, yet she was frail and delicate. He breathed in her sweet scent and wished he could hold on to her for longer.
“Lady Kimiko I will place you under the protection of Lord Sato’s best warriors. I would take care of you personally but I have other matters to attend to.”
Kimiko wriggled free from Ichiro. “I need to speak with Lord Okinaga immediately.”
Ichiro knew this was not an option right now. Okinaga was in the dungeon speaking with an apparently dead Kensai Master. No place for a woman, even if she was the Shogun’s daughter and probably accustomed to getting her way.
“I apologise Lady Kimiko but Lord Sato Okinaga is busy and I need to get you to safety. The observation room is the most secure room in the residence.”
Ichiro placed a hand on Kimiko’s back and try to direct her towards the stairs but as predicted Kimiko did not respond well to being told No.
“I must speak with him,” she demanded as she pushed Ichiro’s arm away. She staggered through the front door. Her legs were tired from riding all night. Her head was light. She struggled to breathe as her chest tightened. Gasping for air she collapsed on the ground.
Ichiro rushed to her side and lifted her head. Her face was pale and her lips were dry. “Lady Kimiko!”
“Please, I need to speak with Lord Sato,” she whispered as she opened her eyes.
“You need water and a physician. Stay still.”
Ichiro looked around for help but amazingly he found no one. All the men were on patrol or guarding the front gates, which left the front door eerily deserted.
He was just about to call out when he heard the heart-stopping cry of one of his men.
“Ninja!”
It was shouted from somewhere upstairs, possibly the third floor.
He felt Kimiko’s body tense up and then realised his own body had become tense. He had even stopped breathing. A split second passed before he heard more shouting. Another second passed and then there was silence.
Ichiro couldn’t believe it. Someone had managed to get inside the House on the Volcano. Every muscle in his body burned for him to run up the stairs and join the fight but he couldn’t leave Lady Toyotomi. She needed his protection.
The other samurai began to run past him, their swords in hand. He fought the natural reflex to join them and stayed with Kimiko.
“Lady Toyotomi, we must leave.”
Kimiko did not respond. Her gaze was directed towards the staircase. Ichiro then noticed the other samurai had frozen in their tracks. He was about to reprimand them for hesitating, for taking so long to apprehend the intruder when he looked up and saw why they had stopped. The Red Ninja was calmly standing on the last step of the staircase holding Akira, in an awkward and painful arm lock.
The rumours were true, Ichiro thought to himself. The Clan had returned and Goda had joined their evil crusade.
The assassin’s eyes were scanning the crowd of samurai, sizing them up, anticipating their next move. The ninja then focused on Kimiko. Ichiro knew at once he needed to get the Shogun’s daughter to safety.
He looked at his men. He understood why they had paused. Goda was a dangerous enemy, even for a small army of samurai. The mere mention of his name was enough to make grown men nervous, and the site of him was enough to scare them stiff. Regardless, Ichiro needed his men to defend the residence; he needed them to attack the intruder and to protect Lady Toyotomi. He needed them to do what they had trained all their lives to do. And since that meant going up against the Red Ninja, he needed them to sacrifice themselves. He needed them to die.
As if the samurai had read Ichiro’s thoughts they all raised their swords and readied themselves for battle. The samurai shouted as one. The hairs on the back of Ichiro’s neck stood up. He had never been so proud of these men. They were true warriors. Warriors who he had grown up with and trained with.
More guards rushed from upstairs and paused on the first story landing only a few steps away from Goda. The Red Ninja did not even turn to acknowledge them.
Ichiro picked up Kimiko and carried her back outside. The samurai attacked with single-minded fierceness, each moving on his own, but with the same goal. Goda reacted with such speed it appeared as though he was predicting the samurai’s every move and he did it all one handed. He was slicing through the fiercest warriors Ichiro had ever known all the while still holding Akira in an arm lock.
Ichiro began to run but realised he didn’t know where to take Lady Toyotomi. He didn’t know what to do. Maybe he should get her horse and tell her to ride to the next town or as far away as possible or even all the way back to the capital. Maybe he should go with her. The Shogun’s daughter cannot ride unescorted, unprotected. But Ichiro knew he couldn’t leave. He was Okinaga’s personal bodyguard. There was no way he could leave his lord.
Ichiro’s indecision was tearing him apart. Never before had he been so clueless as to what to do.
He quickly searched the surrounding area for answers, something that would give him a sign. But all he saw were the guards at the front gate looking as anxious as ever and just as torn as he was. High atop the sentry towers the archers had their bows drawn and their arrows loaded but they had no target to shoot. None of this helped. The men were all poised and ready for an all out war but Ichiro needed to get to safety.
Inside the residence he could hear the battle intensify. The samurai were dying with honour but they were dying quickly. Suddenly the clash of steel ceased and shouting ended.
In a matter of seconds Goda had cut down the samurai.Ichiro began to run again, he ran like the Red Ninja was right behind him, ready to strike. He wasn’t use to running away and he didn’t know where he was running to, but he didn’t care. In his arms, Kimiko held on to his thick muscular neck as tight as she could. All that mattered now was her safety.

Chapter 11

The temperature inside Lord Sato Okinaga’s dungeon had dropped to below freezing. Miyamoto Musashi tried to remain as calm as possible as seven samurai who had previously been slaughtered by Itto Isamu slowly advanced on him.
The first dead samurai approached Musashi, his arms outstretched. Somehow it still had all its limbs and even its head. Its expression was inhuman, its eyes were bloodshot and saliva drooled from its mouth. Musashi sidestepped, avoiding its grasp, pushing it into the iron bars of Isamu’s prison cell. Another unsheathed its short sword and sliced wildly at Musashi. It missed by mere inches.
If the dead samurai had attacked with its Katana it would have been a direct hit.
Suddenly Musashi realised the samurai would have dropped their Katanas earlier. He quickly scanned the ground for the nearest sword. But all he found was shuffling feet.
The dead samurai with the short sword attacked again, this time in a stabbing motion. Musashi reacted instantaneously grabbing its forearm and snapping its wrist back into a totally unnatural position. Normally this would cause the person so much pain they would drop the sword immediately but the dead samurai did not let go, it didn’t even flinch.
Confused and more than worried he gripped the hilt of the short sword and planted a thrust kick square on the chest of the dead samurai. Musashi yanked the sword free as the samurai was sent flying into the far wall from the force of the kick. Using the short sword, Musashi decapitated the nearest samurai and punctured the neck of the next closest.
His movements were fast and effortless.
He slid the sword out of the samurai’s neck and waited for it to fall to the ground. But again the dead samurai did not react; it didn’t even flinch.
Musashi dropped the sword and began to panic.

On the other side of the iron gate Lord Sato paced back and forth like a caged animal. He had tried with all his might to open the gate but it would not budge. There was no way he could reach Musashi.
“Isamu! What are you doing?” Lord Sato shouted.
The Kensai Master did not answer. He was kneeling in his prison cell in deep meditation, his hand outstretched as though he was controlling the dead samurai, the dead samurai who used to be Lord Sato’s best men. Isamu had sliced them to bits when he had arrived here earlier. Lord Sato had never seen anything so scary as a completely out of control Kensai Master. He knew it didn’t matter how many of his men he had thrown at Isamu, he would have disposed of them all. Luckily Isamu seemed to be hell bent on getting down into this dungeon. Okinaga couldn’t figure out why. Was it for their protection or was their another reason?
Okinaga unsheathed his katana and sliced at the iron bars of the gate. Sparks flew but the sword barely made a scratch. He then attempted to cut the hinges of the gate, but again nothing happened. He was running out of time.
“Musashi, take my sword,” Okinaga offered as he slid the katana through the gate.
Musashi shook his head as he kept a close watch on the dead samurai slowly shuffling forward. “I don’t think a sword is going to stop them.”
Okinaga swore. He needed to get Musashi out of there. Itto Isamu had lost his mind,
“Musashi, you have to get out of there!”
“I don’t think that’s an option right now.”
Okinaga looked around frantically for anything that could unlock the gate. He found nothing. There were no keys, no tools, absolutely nothing, only whips and chains and other instruments of torture. He looked down the corridor at the stairs. He had sent Akira for reinforcements but the servant had not returned. What was taking him so long?
Lord Sato reached through the gate and placed a reassuring hand on Musashi’s shoulder. “I am going to get help. I will open this gate.”
Okinaga ran down the corridor and suddenly realised there was no light coming from the top of the stairs. When he reached the top he saw that the trapdoor had been closed. When he tried to push it open, it did not move. Lord Sato Okinaga was a prisoner in his own dungeon.