Shadow of the Taira
Excerpt of book 2 of Legend of the Bell Flower. Full story on Kindle.
The sun was rising the following day before Aki had stabilised enough for Mitsuhide to step back. He never felt so exhausted in his life. Sweat rolled off his body, and his vision was blurred by the fatigue.
Somehow, he had been able to retrieve Aki’s spirit himself and hold it in her body, maintaining it there when the body could not.
Additionally, Mitsuhide took the pain and suffocating struggle Aki’s body suffered by transferring those sensations to him, because he was strong enough to endure as his own body was not damaged. It allowed Aki time to heal enough so that when Mitsuhide eventually let go of her spirit, it stayed in place.
It was a feat Mitsuhide was only just beginning to understand was impossible. He’d never even heard of his mother and father speaking of such a skill wherein it was possible to a hold a spirit in someone’s body for them, and to take their sufferings for them to make it easier to bear.
But Mitsuhide had done it. He had played God.
And he felt its price on his body and mind.
He was too tired to move, nor did he want to move, paranoid that if he so much as took his eyes from Aki, she would disappear from him. And so Kenji – who took over from Ishida when Ishida needed some respite himself – urged Mitsuhide to rest where he was.
Mitsuhide did not argue, by resting his head on his arm on the treatment table, and he allowed himself an exhausted sleep for one hour. It was an empty sleep, and while not entirely deep enough, it was sufficient for Mitsuhide to feel his energy when he raised his head again. Again, another benefit of being Oni.
Ishida came back at the same time, tired, but used to it. A physician had to be both mentally and physically strong for their job role.
But like all humans, he needed rest. Ishida did what Mitsuhide had just done, which was essentially a very well utilised nap. Aki called them ‘power naps’.
“Yoshitatsu-sama wishes to speak with you, Mitsuhide-sama,” Ishida informed him when he came back.
Mitsuhide was reluctant to leave Aki’s side. Her face was was wan and grey, and even though she breathed again now and her heart pumped of its own accord, her breathing was rattled and wheezed, and her heartbeat was unstable and erratic.
Mitsuhide feared that if he left her side, she may let go again. And having discovered it from his own experience, indeed the spirit went far into the first stages of death within seconds of the body physically dying. The longer he was away, if she gave up again, it would be even harder to retrieve her spirit and hold it.
But, Mitsuhide had also been listening to Yoshitatsu’s pacing all night, his discussions with the officers, and had already tried to see if he could speak with Mitsuhide at midnight. He remembered Yoshitatsu’s comment yesterday regarding the need to tell him something important.
Amongst the troops, Mitsuhide even heard amazement, as well as confusion over Aki’s combat prowess against such a giant, as well as similar amazement and confusion regarding Mitsuhide’s appearance, and how superior he was to the giant still whom none believed could match Aki, given her remarkably superior performance against the beast.
There’d been worry, and concern over Aki’s wounds, as voiced by other samurai. But it was merged with the same overall concern for everyone else who was wounded, and generally overshadowed by the key fact that they achieved victory against the Oda. Nobumitsu had managed to escape, which was not ideal, and Dousan would not be too impressed.
However, the battle was won and the Oda forces had been repelled. The news of the Oda’s defeat would return to the masters in Owari, and it would be some time before they attempted another attack, wary of the Saito’s military strength.
However, in the same way the Saito-Akechi forces spoke of Aki’s surprising agility and ability on the battlefield against a foe too great for her, that would also be forwarded back to Owari and the Oda. And the Oda – like the Akechi – were an ancient Oni bloodline as well. If it was them who sent such a beast to the battlefield against Aki, then news of her ability to hold her ground would also return.
She did not win, but her endurance and green eyes would not have gone unnoticed. It was no secret that she had emerged from a lake in foreign clothing. Even now, the samurai in the camp murmured about the old rumours again that she was a water spirit sent by the Gods to help them.
In the night just passed, Aki had gone from an unusual mixed blood woman, to a lake spirit and deity, as her eyes, her combat prowess, her intellect, unusual appearance and lack of ageing, all welded together.
Spirit of the Lake.
Mitsuhide sighed to himself. He knew he needed to speak to Yoshitatsu, but it was so difficult to move from where he was. The fatigue from magically holding her spirit and taking her pain, was still there, just not as strong.
But also, having actually lost her yesterday, made the terror of the same thing happening almost too much to bear. His heart wanted nothing but to stay by her side, to watch her every breath, to count every beat of her heart.
“Mitsuhide-sama,” Kenji said with a bow. “I will stay with Osamu-sama and assist Ishida-isha if anything goes ill.”
Kenji had not been able to look at Mitsuhide directly, and Mitsuhide could sense the shame wafting from the man in waves. As Aki’s retainer in battle, Kenji had no doubt blamed himself for her fatal wounds.
Mitsuhide would speak to him soon enough about it, about what had happened, but also to let Kenji know that Mitsuhide did not blame him. From what Mitsuhide saw of the duel, Kenji probably would have actually been a hindrance, despite his incredible skill. No one could have helped Aki during her duel except for Yoshitatsu, but he had been engaged with Nobumitsu.
No, Kenji was not to blame, and Mitsuhide would tell him so soon enough, and Aki would say the same thing. The one Mitsuhide blamed, was none other than himself. He should have been on the battlefield with her from the beginning. They could have delayed the meeting in Yomi for a few more weeks until after this skirmish and its politics had been dealt with. He should have ignored all concepts of keeping a ‘human image’ to portray to others, and darted across the field as fast as a flash of lightning.
He could have been there long before Aki had been strangled, as he noticed the purple finger marks blossoming around her neck throughout the night. He could have been there before the giant Oni had shattered her wrist and disabled her use of the katana for the rest of her life. He could have been there before the enemy had run an arrow deep into her chest.
He could not help but draw similar parallels between the last fight his father fought, and that of Aki’s duel yesterday, and Mitsuhide’s role in both of them.
In the fight against the Hayato assassins, Mitsuhide had been pulled into the forest under an enchantment and even though he had been able to fight, he had been very young. His mind had not been strong enough to resist. He had wanted to blame Aki back then, for his father’s death. Because if Aki had not been there, then maybe his father would have survived. Mitsuhide would not have had to protect her.
And in some ways, it had been true. As a human, she physically did not stand a chance. But because she had been there in the first place, she had been able to snap him out of his trance, otherwise he would have walked unknowingly into certain death. Instead his father had taken his place.
But maybe his father would never have died at all if he had not been taken by the enchantment, if his mind had been stronger.
In this case, Aki had been wounded and died for a brief moment because Mitsuhide had not been quick enough, being too afraid in case someone noticed his inhuman speed if he had cross the field as the Oni would run and fly, instead of the horse.
"All things happen in threes. Three bad things followed by three good things,” Aki had always said.
"Why three?” Mitsuhide remembered musing in return.
She had shrugged but said, “Something my father always said. And it turns out he is always right in that regard. You’ll find out the same as you get older and you start spotting the patterns.”
Mitsuhide took a deep breath, his body tensing. He would be damned if he let this happen again a third time. Even as he stood, he felt the hate wash from him, hatred against his enemies for besting him two times already in taking away and harming those he loved, and hatred against himself, for having failed to protect his loved ones on both of those occasions.
Mitsuhide stood up, and left the private tent without a word. How could he even hope to ask her to be his wife, or to even tell her how he really felt, when he could barely protect her?
It was a thought which clenched his heart so tightly that he struggled to breathe, and a turmoil of confused and dark emotions thrashed within his mind. For a moment, he forgot what he was supposed to be doing, but when he saw Yoshitatsu nearby speaking with another officer, Mitsuhide remembered.
He swallowed his emotions back down, and let the ice settle over his heart to cool his emotions. He straightened his back and remembered his uncles’ lessons, which was to always appear strong and collected, unaffected, regardless of what may have happened, or what was about to happen.
It was a hard thing to do, especially now, when all he wanted to do was to run through the forests and over mountains, to clear his mind and to find a way to exhaust himself some way, to find a way to punish himself for his failures.
Reality was not so kind.
When Yoshitatsu noticed Mitsuhide striding over to him, he finished his conversation with the officer and dismissed him, before turning to Mitsuhide.
“Mitsuhide-sama,” Yoshitatsu greeted with a nod of his head.
“Yoshitatsu-sama,” Mitsuhide returned the same. “My apologies for keeping you waiting.”
Yoshitatsu shook his head. “No need. Osamu was badly wounded. I hope she is in stable condition?”
“For now,” Mitsuhide said, feeling the concern mingle with the cold again. “She has not regained her consciousness since yesterday.”
“I will not keep you for long then. Officially you are not here, so you may do whatever you please. However, there is something I must urgently discuss with you. If you may, we will discuss this in my tent?”
Mitsuhide nodded, wondering with apprehension what was so important to discuss when – as Yoshitatsu said – Mitsuhide was not officially here so he could do as he pleased.
Once inside the tent, the two men approached the table, which had weapons laid out across it. Mitsuhide frowned as he surveyed them.
“Ninja weaponry? Had you been planning on assassinating Oda Nobumitsu?” Mitsuhide queried, picking up a shuriken. He turned it in his fingers, feeling the sharpness of the edges.
“No, we did not bring any ninja with us for this battle,” Yoshitatsu said. “A ninja made an assassination attempt on the eve of battle against one of our own. I killed him, and these are his belongings. He had a tattoo however. I cut it out to show someone when we return to the castle. But since you are here, that is considerably better.” He picked up a piece of skin which was beginning to dry, and he held it out to Mitsuhide. “Do you recognise this emblem?”
Mitsuhide frowned, alarmed that there had been an assassination attempt two nights ago. He put down the throwing star and looked at the tattoo on the cut away skin.
His skin turned cold and his body stiffened as he followed the lines of the emblem tattooed into the flesh.
Yoshitatsu sensed his recognition. “You know it?”
Mitsuhide’s mouth went dry. “Yes,” he said hoarsely.
“Who’s house is it?” Yoshitatsu asked.
Mitsuhide swallowed. It was an uncomfortable action from the dryness. “The assassin bore this mark?”
Yoshitatsu nodded. “And so did the Oni on the battlefield.”
Mitsuhide’s eyes flashed to his cousin, his awareness focusing to a searing clarity. ”What?"
“Both attempted to take Osamu’s life. The assassin shot her with an arrow but she dodged it and I killed him before he could try again. On the battlefield, the Oni attempted as well, but you arrived and killed him instead.”
Mitsuhide’s heart thundered like a hammer against an anvil in a blacksmith’s workshop. Two assassins? Both targetting Aki? And the emblem . . .
“Who are they, Mitsuhide?” Yoshitatsu pressed urgently, his own voice tight with tension.
Mitsuhide braced his hands against the table and leaned against it. He let his breath out, slowly and controlled.
The calm before the storm.
“It is the emblem of the Taira clan,” Mitsuhide eventually said, his voice low.
Yoshitatsu cocked his head. “The Taira? But I thought they were extinct.”
Mitsuhide shook his head. “They suffered a defeat at the naval battle of Dan-nou-ura which destroyed their power, but their bloodline still exists, in the same way the Minamoto clan do after centuries have passed. The Oda are the remaining direct bloodline of the Taira clan, just as the Toki and Akechi clan are the direct remaining bloodline of the Minamoto clan.” Mitsuhide clenched his fists and he laughed bitterly. “To think the Taira would show their face again like this.”
Yoshitatsu exhaled heavily, frowning as he stared at the table, his eyes narrowed. “I know of the two clans and their legendary rivalry. If the Taira are back, then this is a serious concern for us.” Then, after a moment’s silence, he asked, “Why did they send assassins against Osamu, though? What threat is she to them? Has she offended anyone as far as you are aware?”
Mitsuhide clenched his fists tighter and his knuckles turned white. His fear returned, but so did his fury. It almost erupted from him. It took every fibre in his being to not break the table and to not make his way for Yomi immediately.
He knew exactly why Aki had been targetted. The giant had said so. He knew she was a Seer. And she was a Seer who served the Heir himself – Mitsuhide. With her at his side, he would become invincible, and his enemies – it appeared – had worked this out.
The first assassination attempt had failed, and so they tried again with a foe they knew she did not stand a chance against.
Luckily, Yoshitatsu had been there to thwart the first attempt, and Mitsuhide had arrived to incapacitate the second attempt. But the second attempt had come far too close. It had actually succeeded, and regardless of the fact Mitsuhide had been able to bring her back, he could not ignore the reality he had still been too late.
Aki had died.
If the Taira really did know of Aki, then she was in far greater danger than Mitsuhide was.
He straightened and his heart pounded in his chest as his senses shot out, reaching for Aki and for any possible threat which may be close by.
“We must discuss these attacks with Omi-no-Kata and my uncles and mother when we return,” Mitsuhide said coolly. “I will accompany Osamu back to Inabayama with the army.”
He made to turn, but stopped, and faced Yoshitatsu. Mitsuhide then bowed.
“Thank you for protecting my retainer against the assassination.”
Yoshitatsu was surprised at first, but then nodded his head in acceptance, and allowed Mitsuhide to leave the tent.
With this newfound information, Mitsuhide felt his muscles coil and tense, ready to leap into combat, alert to everything around him. His heightened senses were almost painful.
But he embraced the overwhelming information which crashed into his senses. He strode, tall and strong, and with determination fuelled by boiling anger which had replaced his fear.
Under no circumstances was he going to let Aki out of his sight until she was safely back at the castle. And under no circumstances was he going to let the resurrecting Taira – the Oda – get away with this crime.
