Kaguta - Or, Ankūro - The Warrior, The Thief and The Killer

44

Kō

The past that haunts us,
Is a source of doubt and fear,
Given influence.
- Bushubō.

Dojūru reacted faster than anyone, his sword flashing from his scabbard, sweeping away several of the arrows, their shafts cleaved in two. Kō managed to batter away some, but one thudded into her arm, spinning her to the side. Saiban did not fare so well, though Kō felt certain the big man had moved before either she or Dojūru. Now, he lay upon the ground, three arrows embedded in his back, Imēo kneeling beside him, the sword in her hand tilting from loose fingers.

"Your Imperial Majesty! Do not falter!" With a grimace, Kō snapped the shaft of the arrow in her arm, leaving the remainder to bring her pain enough to focus. The girl had not moved. "Imēo! Do not show weakness! Saiban will ... he'll ... Stand, Emperor! Stand!"

Saiban would not survive. His head moved, but little else. He had proven his strength, he had no more to give. Imēo hesitated, even as the archers nocked more arrows, but, then, she began to rise. Saiban had taken all the arrows intended for her, she knew it, and she would not let his sacrifice come to waste. Her fingers tightened upon the sword in her hand and she faced the Yāttō once again.

The Yāttō had expected that to end it, but he had not anticipated the skill of Dojūru, Kō's luck, or Saiban's compassion. Things a man such as he could never understand, especially the last. All around, feet shifted, murmurs passed among the surrounding soldiers. All these men knew the Seal of Continuation. It was almost as sacred an element of the Imperial Court as the Emperor themself. To the Yāttō it meant nothing but a barrier to his ambition.

"Sansui! Finish them." The Yāttō waved toward the legendary warriors at his back and they began to move without question. These were not the Emperor's Sansui. "Cut them down like dogs."

Of the five Sansui that stepped forward, only three moved further than two steps. The other two turned, as though sensing something behind them, and fell to the ground, blood spurting from their throats, swords falling from limp fingers. Kō had never seen Sansui fall with such ease and she knew it could mean only one thing.

Ankūro was here.

The three remaining Sansui turned in an instant, facing the short, bald, overweight woman with the single, blind, white eye that glared at them as though she could kill them with a look, two short swords held in her hands, blood dripping from the blades. A silent communication passed between the three and one turned away from the old woman, heading toward Kō, Dojūru and the new Emperor. Not a single emotion crossed any of the faces of the Sansui. Emotion meant little to them, only the fight and the victory to come.

Kō did not have the luxury of watching Ankūro fight. The Sansui facing her and Dojūru drew his companion short sword and, bearing two weapons, attacked with a speed and ferocity Kō had rarely faced. With her injuries, and Dojūru's injuries, they were at a disadvantage to the healthy, strong, skilled warrior before them and, much like the duel upon the battlements of the stronghold, Kō and Dojūru had to fight together to have a hope of defeating the man before them.

Even as she caught the Sansui's blade upon hers, held in one hand, she found her mind drifting. Dojūru attempted to push forward, his sword a whirl in the air, parried and blocked, each time, by the Sansui as though he fought a child. No-one else joined the fray, however. The assembled soldiers only watched. The distraction cost her, but, with luck on her side, the cut bit deep into an arm already injured. She could endure that.

Dojūru took the opportunity to spin to the Sansui's rear, aiming to score the edge of his sword along the powerful warrior's back, only for the Sansui to match the spin. What the Sansui did not expect was the twelve year old Imēo to join the battle, slicing her borrowed sword against the back of the man's leg. He did not fall, however. Instead, he dived, tucked and rolled over his swords, returning to his feet a distance away, taking stock of his opponents.