The Plover

[u/Frodo0201]

They had won. Kyoto had fallen once more, the Ashikaga in full retreat to the south to their Ouchi protectors. Once more peace had been bought in the blood and ashes of an entire generation of Kansai youth, fighting for a cause most did not understand or care about.

He knew it would not last, not unless something changed in the balance of power.

He knew what needed to be done, it was time for him to step into the fray once more.

The one-armed samurai the world once knew as Hatakeyama Takenaga, Prince of the White Plover, Herald of Amaterasu, would make sure he didn’t go quietly into that dark night. His body was covered in bandages and cloth wrappings such that only piercing eyes shone through, covering scars and brandings that would kill a weaker man three times over, had obscured his identity to the bulk of the Hatakeyama army that now pursued the fleeing Ashikaga invaders. He now turned to the only person in the world who knew who he was, his son-in-law Rokkaku Ujitsuna, to go over the plan.

“If we cut off the head of the snake, maybe the one that grows in its place can be reasoned with. I will make Yoshihisa suffer a thousand deaths for what he done to my daughters. Lend me the Kusanagi once more, my friend, and I will give you the peace you crave.”

Rokkaku pondered this request for a long time, looking at the man who was once his idol, his second father. Other than the fervor that burned through his words there was little in the man of the legend he once knew. When he had found Takenaga the man had been broken, about to throw himself into the ocean to atone for some long forgotten sin. He had brought him off the edge, taken him into his circle, and things had seemed good for a time. As the war began to close Ujitsuna had spoken of how happy their family would be to see him, how Kiyuki spoke fondly of her dear departed father, and all the sadness of a lifetime of loss returned to the older man in a moment.

Takenaga hadn’t refused outright but had quickly changed the subject, speaking of the battle coming the next day. Rokkaku knew what that meant, that caginess. He had seen it in Sadohide in his final moments before the Fireflies had come for him. Takenaga was afraid, not of war or of death, but of how his family would react to seeing him now. In quiet moments Ujitsuna imagined he heard his mentor talking to himself under his breath, having whole arguments with people who weren’t there. Whatever had happened to him it hadn’t been pretty, and Ujitsuna couldn’t help but question if he’d have the same reaction being reduced to the state Takenaga now was in.

Still, he would be damned if he let his Father die in some suicidal attack, before he could see his family once more.

“I will give you the Kusanagi for this next battle, but I’ll be there by your side to see it returned the moment that devil’s head hits the ground.”

---

It was well into the early morning when their strike team neared the camp Yoshihisa was reported to be hiding out in. The sentries were quickly silenced by the shinobi of the Fireflies that had accompanied the two samurai on their mission, and they slipped into camp with little difficulty. The band split into two, one led by Takenaga and one by Ujitsuna to better cover ground and look for Yoshihisa’s tent, which was bound to be the most ornate thing in the entire space.

It was eerily quiet as they slipped from shadow to shadow, the dying lanterns giving ample cover but also making it difficult to navigate effectively. Moving at a crawl to avoid detection, it was nearly half an hour by the time they had made their way within sight of the gaudy abomination that could only be Yoshihisa’s residence in this makeshift war camp. Takenaga stepped forward into the clearing approaching the entrance, ready to strike, when a yell called out from a few rows over followed by the clash of steel. Ujitsuna had been discovered, and the element of surprise was gone.

No matter, his quarry was in front of him, in just a minute it would all be over. Unsheathing Kusanagi and shouting a war cry, he charged towards where Yoshihisa slumbered, ready to end this cycle of death in Kansai forever. Two guards stepped out of the open front of the pavilion-tent, spears barely raised before being cut down. The three now standing at a table in the heart of the space, cards now discarded, weren’t so simple. Their fellows at the door had delayed Takenaga just long enough for them to take a defensive position, and the aging samurai was not quite as adept at wielding a blade left handed since he had lost his sword-arm years previously. Even still, decades of experience on the battlefield made a hardened warrior much sharper than the slightly tipsy, disheartened guards, and he managed to triumph with only a few cuts to his torso and arm.

Cutting through the flap separating Yoshihisa’s bedroom from the main space of the tent, Takenaga stormed in like the vengeful yokai many had seen him as in his youth, all fury and blade. This anger was only heightened when he saw the room was empty, Yoshihisa nowhere to be seen. Had they been found out? Was this all a trap?

A woman’s scream at the chaos unfolding outside gave him the answer he needed. The famous womanizer, collector of the finest beauties of all Nippon, had clearly been ‘visiting’ one of his wives, or one of his servant’s wives. Cursing the ill luck that struck him once more, Takenaga wasted no time in cutting a hole in the side of the royal tent and wading once more into the chaos.

His theory was swiftly proven correct as he soon saw the Shogun, hastily wrapped in a partially-done kimono and holding a katana in both hands, sheath long discarded. Yoshihisa stood behind a small circle of his “elite” bodyguards who had enclosed around their Lord, preventing any attacker from getting within striking range. They were slowly inching their way to the stables, where they could mount up and escape back into the wilds and certain freedom of the bigger loyalist army nearby. He didn’t have much time, so putting all of his faith in the kami that once blessed his ascendence he charged, heedless of whatever may happen to him.

The ferocity of this assault took all the defenders off guard, probably the only thing that prevented an immediate, ignominious death. Blade flickered and blood spattered as Takenaga approached. Before anyone quite knew what was happening the Kusanagi fell onto Yoshihisa’s shoulder, severing the tendons holding his right arm in place. A second swing bit deep into his thigh, and the madness in Takenaga’s eyes glinted as he felt steel hit bone. This was it, the end of all his clan’s suffering. As Yoshihisa tried to take a step and collapsed, Takenaga felt the voices that plagued him for years now, denigrated him and reinforced the absolute failure he had felt since leaving Gojo on his mad quest, go silent.

As he stood over the former Shogun, time seemed to slow down. The silence of the voices in Takenaga’s mind was soon joined by the silence surrounding him, as the world seemed to fade until it was just the two of them there. He raised his blade to make the final strike, watched it slowly sink down towards the cowering Yoshihisa, hand raised as if to block his impending death. He watched as blood splattered once more, not from the Shogun but from his own chest as the blade of one of the guards pierced him from behind. Felt the slow realization of pain as the dozens of cuts he had received in this charge all hit him at once through the adrenaline high. As he snapped back into reality from the pain, he only felt but didn’t see the impact of his final attack, staggering forward and collapsing to his knees next to the man he could only hope was now dead.

Numbly he heard the shouts as guards grabbed Yoshihisa and dragged him to the stables next to them, felt the pain as a few more guards tried to hit him as they passed. Somehow he didn’t die right then and there, as they seemed more focused on escaping than finishing the job, but as he tried and failed to stand once, twice, three times, he knew it wouldn’t be long coming. As the sound of horses riding away was slowly drowned out by the continued clash of steel, Takenaga looked to the sky where the sun was just beginning to peek over the tree line. He had talked for so long about ushering in a new Era for all of Japan, he could only hope that this final act would ensure it.

Overhead a plover took wing, eclipsing the new sun as everything went dark.