The Way, Part 2

The sound of taiko drums thrummed through the air. Youths from the nearest town had come to receive blessings for the drums they’d just finished building. Seiyuu-sensei had overseen the final stages of the work, blessed the drums, and given the young men permission to spend the day practicing in the front courtyard. The raps and thrums of the drums echoed off the walls of the Temple of the Way and rose to the sky, audible to anyone within several miles. Used originally as signals to warn neighboring villages of danger, they were now mostly entertainment, though with obvious ritual significance. Rituals to call the gods’ attention, blessings and annual festivals all rang with the thunderous percussion of assembled taiko drums, their players dressed in minimal uniforms so they could play all day without sweating to death in the hot sun.

“Good luck, Nao-chan!” Rya called. Next to her, Hiroko sat dressed in the red and yellow kimono of The Way of Redemption, arms folded in her lap, legs crossed before her, smiling softly at Rya’s breaking (yet again) of the traditional silence before a great test was to be completed.

On the practice field not far away, Naoko offered only the faintest of nods in acknowledgement. Seiyuu-sensei stood nearby, his back turned to the young student’s sisters, eyes fully on the young woman about to try to break through a thick board with a single, focused strike. Naoko was intent on the board, her mind focusing on the grain of the wood, the strength of her fist, viewing the after-effects of her strike – a broken board, her fist on the other side.

“Do not view the board as unbreakable,” Seiyuu-sensei had taught her. “Nothing in this world is unbreakable if you believe it so. Everything has a greater element. Your will is stronger still. Find the weakness, strike with will, and find the path through.”

Today was a test of that will.

Naoko’s fingers flexed as she examined the wood, gathering her focus. “Mine is the greater force,” she told her fist. “Wood is but fiber, grown imperfectly. Even the strongest oak can break if proper pressure and placement is applied.”

She had broken several boards up to this point. Each time, Seiyuu-sensei gave her a stronger board, followed by more strength, balance, and concentration training. Last week, it had been a board one finger’s width wide. This time, it was two.

“There is no difference between the body and the board,” Seiyuu-sensei had taught her. “Each is but a separate part of the Way, which is all one. You and the board are one and the same. Your will can match that of the board, and overcome it. Yours is the superior path, the superior strength, if you but will it so.”

Focusing intently, ignoring Seiyuu and now her sisters sitting beneath the cloth shade set up for them, and letting the sound of the thrumming taiko drums enter her body through her feet and connection with the ground, Naoko began to feel the connections running through her. Seiyuu, standing only three feet away, was a part of things. Her sisters, excited and pensive, hoping she could do it but fearing she couldn’t – she could feel them, too. The temple, standing just at the edges of her vision, majestic and floating above the walls, a vision of grace to all within miles of the compound – it too, was a part of things. The drummers on the other side of the temple, the rhythms of their pounding and shouting, a part and parcel of all that was The Way. The board, two-finger-spans thick and seemingly unbreakable, was only a part of the world, a mixture of reality and the mystical world that enveloped it all. Seeing the path before she struck, watching her fist shoot forward, her fingers clenched, the board breaking, splinters flying, the board snapping…

It all seemed natural; meant to be. She prepared to strike…

Naoko looked up suddenly. Hearing the shouts of excitement and seeing Seiyuu-sensei’s congratulatory smile, she was confused. Only then did she look down and see that, while she’d imagined it, she’d apparently done it! Her fist still hung in the air, inches behind where the board had stood, the wood shattered and lying on the ground, snapped at the point in the grain where her eyes had stopped seeing the board and started seeing The Way.

“In study,” Seiyuu-sensei said, smiling, “there are three stages: ‘I will strike’ – the thoughts of the beginner. ‘I am striking’ – the thoughts of the proficient. ‘I have struck’ – the thoughts of the master.” Seiyuu-sensei bowed at the waist. “You have reached mastery of The Way of the Fist, student of mine. You have struck without realization, broken that which could not be broken before.”

Naoko withdrew her fist, staring at it even as her sisters shot from their shaded enclosure to run to her side and offer their excited congratulations. She had done it!

Seiyuu-sensei smiled faintly and stepped back. They were complete. The tri-fold path of The Way was now full in these three sisters. And just in time. The letter he’d received was troublesome news. They would be needed…

In the background, the taiko drums continued to thrum, a war-like tune echoing off the walls and rising into the heavens. Seiyuu-sensei listened for a moment and then wondered how soon those drums would be needed for such a purpose.

---

Those peasants who lived near the Sakamoto clan’s ancestral fortress would later report that the still night air was broken by a primal scream that seemed to emanate from that bastion of security. The sounds of shattering metal were mixed into the sound, followed within minutes by the thrum of war drums echoing into the air. It was as if the Sakamoto clan had suddenly gone from the pensive insecurity of losing a war with the Hiranuma to a warlike readiness that should take months to prepare.

Within hours, a red glow appeared over the castle, rising into the night sky, blotting out the stars for any who lived within a mile. Many who saw it feared for their lives, thinking the Sakamoto fortress had been laid low and set aflame. Some ran, telling stories of the Hiranuma rampant in Sakamoto lands, setting off a panic among those of Yoshida as they feared the eastern defenses had fallen. Others, especially those who knew the old stories, feared for their very souls.

Sakamoto Hiroshi stood in the center of his ancestral shrine, kimono opened to expose his chest, arms out to either side as he chanted a call he’d been taught but told never to use. A chant of desperation, a chant of summoning, it would bring the Sakamoto ancestors out of their wood and gold reliquaries release them into this world and revive their ancient anger.

The three hundred candle flames rose as he chanted, seeming to take on a life of their own, flickering in a wind that could not penetrate into this, the bedrock of the Sakamoto fortress. As the chanting continued, they grew, flaring into a roaring blaze that set fire to tapestries, burnt the wooden shrines that held the Sakamoto ancestors, and melted the gold urns containing the ashes of some of the most revered Sakamoto warriors. These melted, spirits spiraling out of the flames, roaring their frustration and pent up fury into the world; a blast of wind with no source, further feeding the consuming flames. The daimyo of the clan stood calmly in the midst of the fire, untouched, his skin showing only the faintest of pinking from the heat as he chanted.

The spirits spiraled about the room, evanescent wisps of light that flickered as they passed through the flames, blowing each individual flame, pressing it on to consume even more of the ancestral temple. Those who built up sufficient energy flashed outwards until they ran into the Nio-sama, standing just outside the entry to the shrine, where they recoiled, hissing in anger at the terrifying guardians who protected their own path into the world and returning to the roiling mix of spirits and fire.

Hiroshi felt the spirits flickering about them, felt the cold touch as they passed through his outstretched hands, blasted through his body, leaving him chilled despite being surrounded by flames that threatened to cook him alive. I seek only one, he told the spirits. Where is the one who would lead you? HE is the one I seek!

The roaring of the fire dimmed, and a figure rose out of the tiny wooden temple at the core of the shrine. Curiously, it had resisted the conflagration, its outermost beams turning only faintly black as the flames around it rose higher and higher. Hiroshi stared into its double doors, willing them to open. Spirits flashed about, whispered fury echoing in his ears as the flames continued to burn.

Finally, the doors slammed back, opening outwards as a figure began to materialize in the flames themselves.

“Who dares!?” a voice echoed in Hiroshi’s head. Domineering, commanding, and filled with a furious presence that made the scholarly lord wince in sudden fear, the voice carried weight and power; power Sakamoto Hiroshi had hoped to contain and focus.

“I, Sakamoto Hiroshi, 23rd daimyo of the Sakamoto dynasty, call upon you, Tsuyoshi, to serve your clan as you once served. Defend our lands, destroy our enemies, and continue to serve as you would have in life!”

The figure seemed to stare through Hiroshi, body composed entirely of fire, brilliant glowing motes of light where his eyes might be. Behind and through the body, Hiroshi could see the temple Tsuyoshi had escaped was beginning to succumb to the flames, collapsing in a manner that said there would be no going back. A rough, dark chuckle emanated from it. “Who do you think you are to command ME?”

Despite the roaring heat, a blast of cold air emanated suddenly from the flame-formed figure. Hiroshi’s skin rose in goose bumps, chilled nearly to the bone.

“I… I do not command,” Hiroshi replied, bowing his head suddenly. “I request! Your family needs you!”

“My FAMILY!?” Tsuyoshi retorted, loosing another chortle as the spirits in the room continued to whip about. A moaning began that grated on Hiroshi’s nerves. “My family is DEAD, daimyo of the Sakamoto. If you are the twenty-third daimyo, they have been gone for over eight generations! Do you even know what that means!?”

“I know that you are a Sakamoto,” Hiroshi replied, meeting the glittering gaze of the spirit. “I know that you cannot leave this shrine without the blessings of a daimyo of the Sakamoto clan!” As he spoke, he gained more strength, buttressed his uncertainty with the knowledge that he was ultimately in control of whether the Sakamoto fury would be unleashed. Behind him, the Nio-sama guarded the entrance, keeping the angry spirits from escaping. Even Sakamoto Tsuyoshi could not hope to pass them.

“You are wrong,” the spirit said, smiling wickedly.

Hiroshi’s eyes widened, the figure before him waving a hand toward the archway leading in. The Nio-sama were beginning to sag, the intense heat in the shrine beginning to leach away their strength, melting the bronze they were made of; bringing down the only defense the world still had against the Sakamoto fury. The spirits in the chamber whipped around in a frenzy now, rushing at the Nio-sama on occasion as if to test their defenses.

“It is only a matter of time, now,” Tsuyoshi said calmly. “You have unleashed us, and we will not be contained a second time.”

“But you do more damage than is necessary!” Hiroshi said, suddenly in fear for his lands and his people. “The Sakamoto clan depends on you! We have given you proper respect ever since you were…” He faded off, knowing that the proper word was ‘imprisoned.’

“Forgotten,” Tsuyoshi said harsly. “The Sakamoto clan has brought us offerings and kept up the rituals, but they forgot what was we did for them! They forgot what it was that happened to us! They forgot!”

“You are wrong!” Hiroshi said back. “We have NEVER forgotten!”

“Perhaps,” Tsuyoshi said, his visage seeming to loom large suddenly in Hiroshi’s vision. “We shall see.”

“What will you do!?” Hiroshi asked suddenly, panicked at the passing of time. He turned to glance at the Nio, seeing that their powerful arms were beginning to sag, the spiritual blades they held to keep the ghosts at bay having softened so much that the arms were falling and the blades were elongating as they melted.

“We will destroy those who oppose us,” Sakamoto Tsuyoshi said simply. “Any, and all.”

“But the Inori…”

“Will be the first of many. There will be no interference from PRIESTS, this time!” The word echoed throughout the chamber, the moaning of the spirits building to a crescendo. A grouping of spirits rushed the door, flashing at the wilted Nio-sama.

Hiroshi turned to watch in horror, even as Tsuyoshi moved forward. The daimyo felt a sudden heat throughout his body, replaced nearly instantly by a freezing chill that held him in place.

Thank you for your offering, Tsuyoshi said within Hiroshi’s mind. “While physically weak, you will serve as a capable shogun for me…”

“No…” Hiroshi uttered, feeling his control slipping away.

In response, he felt more than heard the guttural rumble of deep laughter coming from within his own lungs as his view of the world spiraled down into darkness…

Sakamoto Hiroshi eyed the Nio-sama through a red haze, his expression darkening into a bloody smile before waving his hands at them and whispering a word few could pronounce. The bronze statues behind him exploded backwards into the hallway, smoking bits of metal burying themselves in the walls and floor, defacing the paintings of celestial guardians lining entrance hall and spattering them with droplets of melted metal. The following rush of wind as the pent up spirits escaped splattered the hall with melted candle wax, spattered the walls with flickers of flame, and started a blaze that somehow only ate the celestial spirits’ images. Moaning echoed down the corridor as the spirits escaped, roaring up the staircase into the middle of the castle grounds, the red-painted roof of the shrine that sat above them exploding into splinters that rained down on the stunned servants who happened to be passing by. A fountain of spirits gushed forth, spiraling up into the sky before twisting around and heading back into the castle, to rush through the halls, seeking one kind of man…

In his office, the captain of the guard nodded, his expression settling into acceptance. Sakamoto Hiroshi had warned him of what might happen should he fail to contain the fury. As the spirit of Sakamoto Tsuyoshi’s taisho, or captain of the guard, the spirit responsible for the defense of the castle at the time of the terrifying magical attack, entered his room, he nodded, seeing the twin sparks of terrible fury marking his eyes in the human-shaped cloud. The men exchanged looks, the captain’s expression settling into one of fury as the cloud rushed at him, dissipated, and took control. Another living being felt his soul torn free of his own body and discarded like so much refuse…

An hour later, in the red glowing light of the Sakamoto compound’s front courtyard, the ancient taisho oversaw the gathering of three hundred samurai, a hand already set on their katana, ready to wage war. Each bore skin that had turned a faint pink, as if exposed to a fire that had partially cooked them. Each bore stern expressions that barely restrained the maniacal light in their eyes. Inspecting them, he nodded. Armor was perfectly worn, weapons were properly stored. Sakamoto flags hung on the backs of the unit leaders, each a variation on the Sakamoto symbol of the mountain with a fortress at its base. Satisfied that his warriors were ready, he turned, bowing to the figure on the balcony.

Sakamoto Tsuyoshi looked down upon his men and, as he’d done during their rampage so many years back, he smiled.

Below, three hundred immortal samurai cried out their readiness before turning and heading through the gates and down the road leading to the Sakamoto fortress. Behind them, servants lay dead, most of heart attacks when they’d realized what was happening. Some had gone insane, throwing themselves off the high balconies of the upper stories. Still more had fled into the night, screaming in terror as the red haze that had started in the shrine below filtered like a miasma out of the defaced shrine and enshrouded the entire fortress.

The Sakamoto fury had returned, and this time, there would be no stopping it.

---

The day was growing late, and the buzz of cicadas filled the warm air. Hiroko looked back at her sisters further along the trail, dressed in their travel outfits and wide-brimmed straw hats, and smiled. Her legs burned from the day’s worth of walking and her limbs felt heavy from fatigue, but the first day’s travel from the Temple of The Way had gone by quicker than she’d thought it would.

They had awakened just before dawn, as always, and gone about their duties. Naoko went to prepare breakfast while Rya made the first rounds of the morning, opening the gates, sliding the many doors to the temple open so that visitors could see the gleaming gold urns and carefully polished woodworks that had been donated over the centuries the temple had stood. Hiroko, tasked with making certain that everything was proper throughout the temple, saw to it that the chambers were cleaned and ready for visitors, plumping pillows, dusting altars, and seeing to it that the appearance of the temple in general was perfect. Only after the morning’s work was done were the three girls allowed to break their fast.

They would sit down in a quiet side chamber overlooking the ornamental Koi pool, gazing at the slow movements of the gold, white, and spotted black fish while they supped. Seiyuu-sensei would find them there each day, greet the morning with them, partake of the soup, rice and broiled fish that Naoko prepared, and then lead them in their first meditations of the day. Each meditation would be on a different subject, giving the three girls an idea as to what their day would be like.

“Keep this thought in your mind,” he would tell them. “Focus on all of the paths it can mean and offer to you. Choose that which best suits The Way. Live that, this day.”

Some days, it was “Peace.” Others, it was “Determination.” Still other days would deal with issues such as piety, submission, justice, redemption, and guardianship. Each was an integral part to the paths the three girls were taking to ultimately reach their understanding of The Way. Each would go about their duties throughout the day with that one thought in mind, trying to find ways of incorporating such thought into everything they did. In the evenings, Seiyuu-sensei would eat dinner, after the sun had set and the temple closed down for the night, and invite each to speak on their thoughts as to their day and how the thought had advised, directed, and guided them throughout whatever they had done.

Hiroko looked back down the road, in the direction of the Temple, hidden behind an evening haze. They had come far in a single day, but had much farther to go. Rya looked up at her where she stood, facing the path they’d taken, and grinned, turning to gaze back as the sun began to touch the hazy, distant skyline. Seeing them, Naoko turned, to let her face be bathed in the fading orange of the sky.

After a few moments to ponder on the beauty and to take in the scenery around them, Hiroko sighed softly and said, “Come. If we press on, we should reach the next village in an hour.”

“Think they’ll still have any food left for us? I’m hungry,” Naoko asked, grinning.

“You’re always hungry,” Rya retorted, snickering.

“That’s because I’m always doing things, unlike some of us…”

“Are you saying I don’t do my chores?” Rya asked, mock insulted.

“Oh, never,” Hiroko said, starting to walk again. “But may I ask how it is that you are always the first one finished with chores and are always the one sensei is reprimanding about not doing them properly?”

Naoko giggled. “Rya! You missed this spot! Rya, you left that door closed! Rya…”

“I get it,” Rya said, shrugging and smiling. “But I don’t understand why he is so picky about everything, anyway. I made my tours of the complex regularly, didn’t I? I caught thieves when they tried to break in. I did what I was told to do!”

Hiroko frowned at the mention of the thieves. Two months prior, the villages of the region had started reporting things going missing in the night, always increasing in value as the rogues grew braver. It was only a matter of time, it was said, before they tried to steal something from one of the temples in the area, and the Temple of The Way had the finest things in the region. By working with the local town leaders, they put out the word that there would be a number of ancient artifacts worth a lifetime’s worth of food in the courtyard for the local population to see it. It was also let drop that the only guardian for the artifacts would be a single student at night.

The student, of course, was Rya, a practitioner of The Way of Defense. When the thieves clambered over the wall (which had been set up with a ladder left there after some rather suddenly-required plasterwork), Rya had given them the chance to get close enough to the artifacts to show their intent before stepping out of the shadows and disabling both of them with a pair of carefully orchestrated chops to their legs. The subsequent howling both rogues let off awoke her sisters and Seiyuu-sensei alike, and they were roped and sent off to the local headsman in the morning.

Rya had never let anyone live that down. It was proof, she said, that she had learned what she’d been meant to learn.

Seiyuu-sensei had only smiled and walked away. Hiroko knew his point – Rya had been given the opportunity, knew they were coming, and had been ready. How would she react when the foreknowledge was not there?

“If I am correct, the inn is just beyond this hill. And they should still have a meal prepared, Nao-chan. It is not so late that everything will be gone.”

“Yeah,” Rya commented, “I’m sure their servants don’t eat like you do…”

“What are you saying!?” Naoko asked, indignant. “I’m not fat!”

Hiroko smirked, turning and putting her eyes back on the road. Rya and Nao-chan went through this almost regularly.

Rounding the hillock, they saw a large farmhouse sitting close to the tree-grown hill. Stuck into the ground in a line starting perhaps 100 paces from the entrance to the farmhouse were guidons directing the traveler to the house and beyond it, to the temple partway up the hill. This was the only hill in several miles, the temple near its top seeming to float in the haze above the plowed rice fields that stretched off in every direction. The deity who lived here was called upon for blessings of the crops, marriages, and other events. The priest who lived in the house took offerings to maintain the shrine, used his calligraphy skills to write an ornate sutra into small books carried by pilgrims, and housed and fed visitors who had nowhere else to stay. He was expecting the trio from the Temple of The Way.

He opened the door when the three sisters arrived, staring out into the darkness of the new night at the white-clad pilgrims on his doorstep. “Welcome! Welcome!” he cried, bowing and backing into the house to let them enter. As they took off their walking shoes and set them into the wooden cabinets set aside for storage, he backed into the main chamber of the farmhouse, moving carefully around the low desk where he did his writing and collected donations for the shrine. The smell of miso and fried fish floated on the air, and none of them could miss Naoko’s stomach grumbling, causing smiles all around.

“You are hungry, yes?” the priest asked, smiling. “Good! There is plenty left! We only have two visitors tonight, from the mountains! There is plenty left!”

Hiroko listened to Naoko’s sigh and then smiled, stating, “We are the students from the Temple of The Way. You were told to expect us, I hope?”

“The Way?” the priest asked, raising his graying eyebrows. “Girls? I did not know! And so pretty, too…” He smiled and then waved for them to follow. “Preparations have been made for your arrival. There is a room upstairs set aside for the three of you, yes.”

“You are most kind,” Rya said quietly, bowing to the old priest.

The priest reflexively bowed back. “It is an honor to work with students of the Temple of The Way. Our guests will likely wish to speak with you!”

“We would rather eat and make our way to bed,” Rya said, eyeing her sisters. “We have a long journey tomorrow and are quite tired. A bath and sleep call to us.”

“Yes, yes. The bath is ready anytime, but I think you will wish to speak to these visitors. They come bearing word of fighting that has broken out in Sainoyama!”

Hiroko’s brow knit, matching the concerned looks from her sisters. “Yes, we would like to speak to them, in that case.”

“Yes, yes! Come!” The priest led them across the old tatami mats of the main chamber, into a sunken room near the back. Here, steps led to a hard packed dirt floor, and a large free-standing charcoal pit, over which had been hung a large kettle on a long chain descending from the roof. A copper fish decorated the chain just above the kettle. Fish on slender sticks hung over the coals, some thrust into them to cook. The room was quite warm after the cool night air. The beams were open to view, the rushes roofing the building visible to anyone who looked up. A square opening at the top of the vaulted ceiling let the smoke from the cook fire out. The room smelled heavily of years and years of roasted fish.

Sitting in the rearmost part of the room were a pair of men, one dressed in the undercoat that a warrior would wear in ashigaru armor. The other was an elderly man, his threadbare yukata looking out of place. Both looked up in startled surprise as the three women and their host entered the room, looking as if to bolt, should the situation arrive.

“Do not fear!” the priest said, raising his hands in a peaceful gesture. Behind him, Hiroko had stopped on the threshold while Naoko was heading for the nearest skewer of fish. Rya had stepped into the vaulted chamber and was examining the place. “These are the travelers I told you about! They are heading into the mountains!”

Hiroko’s gaze jerked to the priest, wondering just how much Seiyuu-sensei had told him about their mission. It was not widely known just what part the Temple of The Way had held in the original Sakamoto clan’s downfall, and if word were to get out that students of The Way were once again headed into the mountains, their trip would quickly become more complicated.

Still, the priest’s words had a calming effect on the travelers and they seemed more relaxed when Hiroko and Rya finally entered the room. Swatting at Naoko’s hand as she reached in for another fish (he never made contact, Hiroko noticed absently), the priest set about preparing more of the succulent meal for the trio.

“You are from the Temple of The Way?” the younger man, evidently a deserting soldier, asked uncertainly.

Hiroko nodded. “We are, yes.”

“You are heading into the mountains to deal with what is happening there, yes?”

Hiroko eyed him curiously. “Yes, we are. Why do you ask?”

“We have just come from there,” the soldier said. “We ran when it got too bad. I did not wish for my father to stay where there was nothing for him.”

“What do you mean?” Rya had stepped to Hiroko’s side, her expression having grown curious, just as Hiroko’s already had.

The soldier eyed his father, who sat staring absently into the glowing coals of the smoke pit. “Sakamoto forces have destroyed the Inori invaders within their borders, but they have not stopped there. They attacked the border guards in Yoshida! No one survived!”

“They attacked Yoshida?” Rya asked, startled. “But Yoshida is a friend!”

“I know! My father and I had a farm in Kami-Yoshida, but the Sakamoto’s burned it to the ground. There were no forces in the valley where we lived! We had no defense!”

“No defense?” Rya asked, growing more concerned by the moment. Already, her analytical mind was at work. “Where were the Yoshida soldiers?”

“At home! In their castle in Yoshida! Kami-Yoshida has no resources! There has never been an attack there! Everyone just went through in the past. There was only a tower in the northernmost reaches, to watch the mountains!” The soldier looked distraught. “My family has lived there for as long as Kami-Yoshida has been. Generations of our ancestors were worshipped in our family plot. Now, everything is lost!”

“You have the look of a warrior,” Rya said sharply, hoping to snap him out of the quickly descending spiral of emotions. “Why didn’t you fight?”

“One against a hundred?” the soldier asked hopelessly. “In the middle of the night? They fired flaming arrows into our homes! Slaughtered those who ran outside! My wife and children! My mother!

“My father and I were returning from a trip into Yoshida to find out what was happening and to purchase supplies. When we came back, that is what we saw. Our entire family was killed that night. We have nothing. Nothing…”

Hiroko moved to sit beside the man, hesitating a moment before reaching out to take the soldier’s hand and cup it in her own. The horrific loss he’d suffered had come to the surface, and he fought to contain tears. “To lose one’s family, home… one’s ancestors…” she said quietly, meeting the man’s pain-filled eyes, “I cannot imagine what you are going through. But I can listen if you wish?”

With a last anguished look around the room, at Naoko, holding her fish midway between her plate and her mouth, at the priest, who was studiously ignoring the entire conversation, at Rya, who was so lost in thought that she may as well not have been there, and at Hiroko, whose pained expression nearly matched his own, was too much. The dam burst, and the tears came. For a long time, there was no sound in the room but that of the soldier’s sobs. Hiroko did what she could, but her presence said more than words ever could accomplish.

The soldier had done enough. The last time, Sakamoto fury had led to the destruction of those who had attacked them and nothing more, giving time for the priest of The Way to make his way to their castle and banish the angry spirits into the shrine there. This time, it seemed, the Tsuyoshi Sakamoto wished to take out his fury and frustration at having been locked up for several generations on everyone he could find. The sisters knew that, this trip, rather than a peaceful march through friendly territory, had just gotten far more dangerous.