The following morning, the party rose early, settled their payment, and then departed Mizokuchi in a northerly direction. It was a cool, rainy morning, and the moisture of the air hung near the ground in pockets of fog, which dotted the landscape. The farmlands gave way to woodland, and once they had passed the extent of where the timber workers had felled trees, it had become midday. Gintaro had been quieter than usual that morning, though Saru and Nō had gotten into one of their usual quarrels.

  “I’ll tell you one thing,” Nō insisted, “I shall never be married.”

  “I thought you cast aside your saintliness when you took up with us,” taunted Saru. “What is wrong with marriage anyway? I am not going to pretend like I know everything on the subject, but it irks me that some people forbid themselves from love. It seems strange.”

  “I do not see any reason for it,” Nō stated, with a tenor that approached haughtiness. “And just because I can control my desires, does not make me strange. Many think as I do.”

  “You, my boy, were strange well before this revelation,” Saru said with a laugh.

  Nō’s face reddened. “Sensei is not re-married,” he retorted, “And he’s had plenty of time to do so if he wanted to. It is because he understands that to be a swordsman, one cannot distract oneself with love.”

  Saru frowned, and then both looked over at Gintaro, expecting him to judge the matter.

  “Ah, well…” he started with some apprehension. “The boy is right; love does little to help you to become a better technical swordsman.”

  “See!” Nō exclaimed, seeming quite pleased with himself.

  “At the same time, “Gin continued, “Love gives you something to fight for, which is just as important. For what makes you any different from, say, a ninja? Ninja are skilled swordfighters too, but they are taught to disdain love. They merely obey. Love means you have something to protect. I am not talking about marriage specifically, though that might be a part of it...”

  “Ha!” Saru vocalized, raising herself a little taller in her saddle. Nō shot her an ugly face with his tongue sticking out.

  Gin merely shook his head and chuckled. He moved his lips as if to speak but then stopped suddenly. They had just entered into a clearing. The clearing was spotted with the remnants of an old town that seemed to have long been abandoned. There were roofless husks of buildings, decomposing wooden frames, vines, and overgrowth that had invaded the village. A few structures were made of stone, but even those were crumbling and falling apart. There were many such places still in existence after the war, especially this far out in the wilds, and it should not have been so surprising, but Gintaro’s sudden pause disquieted the others.

  “What is it?” Saru asked in a soft voice.

  “I am not sure,” Gin responded, prodding his horse forward. He wore a look of uneasiness, and Saru and Nō glanced at each other nervously. They passed slowly through the abandoned village, glancing about in search of oddities. The rain had slowly increased as the day wore on but had recently stopped so that a wet, earthy smell enveloped them. It was growing colder, likely due to the subtle change in altitude, and each person was chilled from the rain. They pulled off the road to warm themselves with a fire.

  The camp was made inside a small, abandoned storehouse without a roof. They ate quickly and quietly, huddled by the fire as their breaths turned to vapor if they wandered too far.

  “Entire villages like this perished in the war,” Gintaro reflected, as they began to repack their belongings. “I was brought up in such a place.”

  His companions said nothing, partly because they did not know what to say to him and partly because even if they did, he would rarely respond when he was in these ominous moods. They set out again as the sun waned in the murky sky. After only a few moments, Gin paused once again and looked around.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Gin-san?” Saru asked again, this time with clear agitation in her voice.

  “We are being followed,” he whispered, as his eyes drifted across the remnants of the old town. “Do not change your postures but be on your guard. We should stay on our own feet for now.” The three strode out of the storehouse and returned to the main road. They walked along for several minutes, one hand at the reins, the other upon their weapons. Each had a heightened sense of awareness and anxiety and it seemed to grow by the moment. Before completely departing the abandoned town, they could see upon their right a myriad of rectangular grave markers carved of stone.

  Gintaro stopped and inspected the graveyard, but there nothing stirred. He was utterly silent, but his body was tense as if drawing up before springing into action.

  “Saru!” he suddenly cried and lunged in her direction. A flash of steel split the air, but Saru could do nothing but raise her left arm in defense. Her right hand gripped the shaft of her spear, but it was not drawn in time. A razor-sharp edge pierced her leather bracer and drove hard into her left forearm. She let loose a cry of pain.

  Another flash of steel shot through the air, but this time the blow did not land. Saru’s eyes were pried open by an earsplitting clang that echoed throughout the cemetery. Gin was now standing before her, his sword held out before him. A metallic triangle was lodged firmly into her forearm, which had begun to bleed down her elbow, but the other had been deflected by Gin’s sword and was partly sunken into the ground at her side.

  “Throwing stars!” cried Nō.

  “Shuriken…” Gintaro grunted, drawing out his second sword as he stepped forward. “A device made for stealth and surprise. Only the most deceitful find use for such tools.”

  As if to answer his insult, a solitary figure rose from atop one of the grave markers in the distance like an obelisk. The figure was garbed in black from head to foot, and in their hands, two cruel daggers emerged like fangs.

  “Ninja…” Gintaro breathed, his eyes beginning to glow with wrath.

  The hooded figure bowed disingenuously and then pointed one dagger out towards Gintaro. “I have been watching you for some time,” the voice came out like a hiss. “You had not sensed me until just now. If you are who I believe you to be, then you have indeed grown old, and your glory has set like the sun overhead.”

  “And who do you think I am?” Gin returned.

  “You are the father of the unfortunate girl held captive by the Shōgun,” the ninja answered with a tinge of malice evident in the words.

  Gintaro’s teeth flashed with rage. “How do you know my daughter?”

  The ninja began to twirl the two daggers playfully. “I was her guardian for a time. Though, a poor guardian I turned out to be…”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I have little else to say to you now, Gintaro,” the ninja answered coldly. “This will not be our last meeting unless you come to a sooner demise than I have planned. I intend to watch you suffer before the end. The shuriken I threw were coated in a special poison that I made myself. Though two would have been better, one should be enough to do the job. I want you to know the pain of losing someone you care about, Gintaro. Once you have suffered as I have, then I shall return, and my vengeance shall be fulfilled.”

  “Wait!” Gin cried, but the ninja suddenly stepped backward and disappeared into the gloom.

  “Ah!” cried Saru, dropping to her knees.

  Gintaro whirled around, his face full of despair. He instructed Nō first. “Grab the pack on the back of my horse, there are supplies there that will be helpful. We will need water and sake to clean the wound, and bandage to bind it.”

  Nō did as he was commanded without hesitation, while Gin gently removed the leather bracer from Saru’s wounded arm.

  He was relieved to see that the bracer had mostly succeeded in stopping the shuriken, as only one of the several edged tips of the throwing star had penetrated her flesh. He carefully removed the steel weapon, so as to not slip and cut his hand, and then studied it for a moment before casting it aside.

  “This is a poison of the Shin-Shadowhand. You received a small amount, so it will not be immediately fatal. We may have enough supplies to keep you going for a few days, but after that, we will need more powerful ingredients.”

  “I am sorry,” Saru said quietly, looking down at her injured arm mournfully. “I should have been faster.”

  “It was an ambush,” said Gin, but spoke nothing more.

  Nō returned with the items and then the swordman began to tend to Saru’s wounds. When all was completed, he rose once again and peered around. There was no sign or lingering trace of the ninja, but he felt that eyes were still upon them, watching them with wicked malice.

  “We will need to change our plans,” he said to his companions. “We must go into the lands of the Ryū and seek aid. They should have healers there that can help us, and their capital is not so far.”

  “But Yuki…” Saru began.