The Kuroi te Clan

 

 

 

            The full moon shone in the cold ink of the sky, hovering above the jagged monoliths of the Kakogan-meiro Mountains. Through the open fusuma wall, Isajin felt its power, a living thing, wiser than men. On this night it was surely aware where their actions would lead. Mists from the gorges ascended like ghosts from the beds of their crypts, touching the face of the moon in silvering wisps. No light infiltrated the dojo other than that afforded by the luminous orb. Shadows cast by four rows of wooden pillars reached across the smooth floor. From a half dozen bowls spaced throughout the chamber, incense smoke curled into the moonlight shafts, meandering, as if searching for something.

            Swathed in impenetrable black, Isajin stood at the head of the row formed by the members of his satsujin Order - the Yurei Wolves. At midnight, at this elevation, winter had not released its grip. Nonetheless, Isajin, like his comrades, was unaffected by the cold. They had trained mind and body to undergo extremes of environment far harsher than this. The Yurei Wolves had become one force; even their uniforms were virtually identical, all black, clasped with light-weight karuta armor guards for shins and forearms. Solely exposed were their pale fingers and the narrow band for their eyes. Examining his men closely, Isajin noted the faint amethyst tinge in their eyes. It has been some time. A draught of the elixir would do them well.

            In mirroring echelons, the other Orders had assembled. Several hundred shadows were present; more filed into the dojo, joining the close-tiered formations. Master Gorosai had summoned them to execute an assignment of utmost importance. Isajin received the directive in meditation, and without delay launched back to the stronghold. Everyone had. What equipment they did not bring, they had availed themselves from the weaponry vaults.

            Each ninja bore a straight katana, strapped to his back, and coiled rope and grappling hooks. Beyond this and the array of concealed weapons, some wielded long-bladed naginata staffs, sais, or crescent sickles. Nigh half the men possessed a short-bow. Isajin had thoroughly practiced his Order with the use of the bladed chain-whip, making it prevalent choice.

            Only Takasura and the Hagane-ryu Order had arrived before Isajin's men. That snake, ever licking after our master's steps. No matter. If things proceed as foreseen, soon enough Takasura will be eating my commands. This was the opportune occasion for Isajin to solidify rank. He could not remember the last time the entire clan had been mustered. Had they been mobilized to counter a threat from neighboring warlords? Was a contingent of Southern samurai marching against their domain? Isajin doubted it. No outsider had ever located Gashodokuro Castle. To reach the Kakogan-meiro range, first ri upon ri of pathless forests must be traversed. If surviving that, a maze of ravines and sheer rock faces awaited; a domain where one could find starvation many times over before gleaning a trace of the castle. In the entirety of Isodoro, surely another location more hidden and secure did not exist.

            Nevertheless, of late an increasing number had tried to find their stronghold. Before receiving the directive, Isajin and the Yurei Wolves had been patrolling the borderlands. The daiymo of Shinrin and Eruku were escalating efforts; with Shenobi supplying troublesome sword-rangers. Those foolhardy expeditions had given Isajin and his Order frequent hunting practice. Poisoned, bound and gagged, he'd brought dozens of trespassers back so they behold the legendary satsujin castle at long last. After tortured for information, it was the final thing they saw before being hurled off Kakogan-meiro's loftiest cliffs.

            No. The outside world could never espy their headquarters. So then, if not due to an extraneous threat, the summons could signify but one purpose ... the hour to unleash cataclysm had arrived.       

            The rest of the ninja were filling the dojo's peripheries. Although the chamber was vast, their ranks extended to the far entrance, which opened to the courtyard. They all stood, like shadows stretching to infinity. Isajin was impressed. Though they bore weaponry and gear, the dojo was quiet as a forgotten cave. Those in position did not move; the condensation of their breaths the sole evidence that life inhabited them. We are on the cusp of attaining transcendence, of becoming one with the Akuma no Yona.

            The last members took their places - bringing the clan's number to six hundred. Everyone knelt. Heading their Orders, the twelve leaders formed a crescent facing the dark-wood platform. Beyond was a recess, its shoji doors open. There, in a state of inert meditation, sat an armored figure wearing a vicious red mask. On the wall behind him was a gong flanked by two lengths of mitsumata paper with the main tenets of the satsujin creed written. From two bowls rose smoldering mists, writhing about the motionless figure, which resembled a demon, scowling into the void.

            While waiting, the rows of ninja entered into a trance-like state, gazing through the shifting tendrils of ice-vapor. Minutes passed, suffusing into timelessness. Isajin contemplated the moon, his thoughts roaming the lapping shores of hypnotic consciousness. The only sound was the iterant breeze sifting the wind chimes, stirring whispers dangerous as knives. It was said their master listened to voices through the chimes, voices carried by the wind across great distances, and that he could eavesdrop a myriad of conversations at once, ... even thoughts ...

            Through the crimson mask's sockets, a pair of eyes opened with a bolt of power. Master Gorosai's breath rasped, puffing out of the mask's flaring nostrils. He stared across the room, into nothing; a burning amethyst tinge in his eyes. Isajin wondered what nether realms his master's serpent-vision had navigated. Communing with powerful forces surely.

            "Ninja of the Black Hand." Gorosai's words reverberated.

            Six hundred chanted: "Stealth, Blade, and Shadow." And six hundred subsequently bowed, palms and brows touching the matted floor.

            "I have summoned you to deliver what will be my final mandate from Gashodokuro, indefinitely." Whilst Gorosai spoke, the snarl of the mask remained, and his motionless body was akin to an iron-cast sculpture. He never blinked. "In preparation I have submerged myself in meditation through the cycle of eight days. Beneath dark waters I dredged the answers. The path is now clear.

            "For centuries we have hired our services to manifold lord, yet none has rewarded us so richly as Shogun Kage-maru. The kurai-ikiryo elixir has consummated our strength, quickened us, and honed our shadow-senses. Thus tonight I can state, without reservation, that perfection of the satsujin ninjitsu style has nigh been attained." Gorosia turned his head almost imperceptibly, fixing them with his scowl. "Nonetheless, our purposes are far from fulfilled. Verily, weighed against what is at hand, our past accomplishments are chaff. What comes will shake every quadrant of Isodoro. So I ask, what role will the Black Hand play?"

            "Stealth, Blade, and Shadow!" the ranks rumbled.

            Yes. Isajin beheld his master's red mask as if he were staring into a fire. The great game will begin. And there is no deadlier player than the Black Hand, and no order which rivals the Yurei Wolves.

            "Among our restitutions we shall secure an unlimited supply of elixir," Gorosai's words were calculated, as a giant cat stalking closer, "Before setting upon the path of the night, remember, our work for Kage-maru is not for reward alone. We will prove once and for all that the our ninjitsu style is superior. More importantly, I have seen the truth of who the Shogun is, of what he has become. Portals to Jigoku have been opened. Yes, our power is derived of the same source. Kage-maru has waxed powerful through the Akuma no Yona, for he serves another, ... the same to whom we bow ... the Kyojin Okami."

            The clan chanted the Wolven Devourer's name. Isajin gazed absently at the dark mirroring surface of the gong, sensing the beast, fallen from the stars to deepest underworld, growling, ripping through the void which fueled its monstrosity.

            "The flux of events has moved the Black Hand and Fumei-noyorou unto the same horizon, entwining our aspirations like coiled serpents." Gorosai forged on, graver than before. Admist the storm that will descend on the South we will seize our greatest opportunity to exact revenge against the daiymo families that destroyed our homeland and persecuted us through the ages. For what, if not for this purpose, have we undergone the tests? For centuries, sacrificing everything, dedicating ourselves, mind, body, and soul?"

            The question billowed on a swell of wind that whipped the incense like cringing ghosts.

            "Karma has ordained that everything coalesce to this point," said Gorosai.

            Isajin leaned forward, eager for the decree. His comrades' anticipation joined, becoming a cauldron beneath a cold surface. Isajin's wanted to howl.

            What Gorosai stated next carried more weight than all of Kakogan-meiro's monoliths. "We shall join forces with Fumei-noyorou. Verily, I have already sent a hawk east with writ testifying our allegiance. Thereby, as of now, we obey the Shogunate." Gorosai turned his neck, taking them all in. "Any among you not of accord, this is your final chance to speak - or to abscond from Gashodokuro Castle forever."

            The proposition defied the silence. Save for the listless mists, the dojo was inert. First were isolated whispers, then murmured exchanges, subtle currents, nothing more, for Gorosai's decision had been expected by most. Although Isajin had foreseen it, now that it arrived, the significance felt vaster than anticipated. The Black Hand had never been under an authority other than a satsujiin master. This path would be irreversible. Yet if anyone wished to diverge from Gorosai's decision, it signified exile, perhaps death, and final separation from the Akuma no Yona.

            Though some still murmured, Isajin would never turn back. This was the chance he had long awaited, and he was ready to charge headlong into it. During the precarious interval, he wondered however, if a leader from another Order might rise. An insurrection? Would the dojo erupt in madness? Isajin had instructed the Yurei Wolves what to do in such a contingency. Their blades would be drawn in a flash to slay the usurpers, ... and in the confusion, perhaps Isajin would accidentally kill Takasura, ... maybe even Gorosai himself?

            As the minutes transpired, none of the shadows rose. Gradually, the wintry quiet reigned anew, save for the whisper of chimes in a lone gust.

            "There is no cause worthier of our skills than to support the East," said Momochi, leader of the Zugaikotsu Order.

            "It is true," spoke Ishoemon. "I and the Karasu ninjas shall follow you across the earth and into the realms of the Senshin, into the halls of the gods themselves if need be." He affirmed the oath by touching his brow to the mat.

            In swift succession, the remaining leaders pledged their blades to the Shogunate. When Isajin's turn came, did likewise, and concluded by saying, "Death to the South."

            The words rippled among his ranks, spreading throughout the dojo in a proclamation of doom: "Death to the South! Death to the South!"

            Gorosai permitted the proclamations to continue until they ebbed away. "Excellent," the pleasure in his voice made the mask look like it was grinning rather than scowling. "Vengeance bids us. And Kage-maru has gifted us the honor of delivering the first blow. Operations will commence anon this meeting. The Orders will be dispatched to the marchlands of Shinrin and Eruku, and there strategize against a series of targets."

            Next, victims were listed: prefectural daiymo, magistrates, and commanders, including members of Shinrin and Eruku's royal families. Isajin nodded. As the magnitude of the plan was unveiled, several of his comrades muttered hungrily. The clan had never been so strong, a primal force of darkness.

            Gorosai overlooked the tiers, focusing their attention to him. "We shall unleash a wave of coordinated attacks unlike anything the South has witnessed. But the targeted outposts, strong-house estates, and castles, will require scrupulous study," Gorosai forewarned. "Our prey are nobles of key position. Fortifications will be stauncher, security tighter. The comings and goings of inhabitants and guards must be recorded. And you need be prepared within three weeks, for the New Moon. It is then we will initiate phase Nightfall.

            "Through the month of tall-grasses operations will continue. Our aim is to destabilize the South, to let the daiymo know they are not safe in their highest towers. We will be wraiths. They will not know which clan is responsible. Fear of treachery will spread like a disease, plunging their kingdoms into disarray, forcing them to respond against Fumei-noyorou - perhaps even each other." Gorosai chuckled cryptically. "When they cross the Silver River, Kage-maru will obtain the perfect pretext. Once war begins, we shall be called upon to execute our greatest function yet."

            With everyone hearkening intently, Gorosai held back, letting them peer toward the unseen vista to which he was guiding them.

            "What must me do?" asked Nagato, head of the Sasori Order.

            "Launch the ending offensive," said Gorosai, "phase Eclipse."

            Their master halted again, allowing them a respite. Isajin surveyed how far they had come. A mountain breeze palpated the melancholic wind chimes. Through his deranged mask, Gorosai stared across the dojo, to the courtyard, and somewhere far beyond. At length he spoke, with a certain relish, "The systematic extermination of the Southern daiymo families."

            The ensuing silence became part of the castle, the mountains, the sky, too immense to fully appreciate at first. In his mind's eye Isajin saw the horizon of oblivion. Awed, he experienced a rare moment of satori, an awareness in everything. He'd perceived it in the clarity of the moon. After centuries, the clan would deliver their foes a most grievous blow. This was the dream Isajin had aspired to his entire life. I will ride this chaos. It won't be long before I'm named Gorosai's successor. But why stop there? Isajin had everything he needed. Within the dojo a determination and fervor grew, howbeit motionless, tempered by self-discipline in the way an expert blade is forged in flame, over and again, then cooled in snowmelt, until as ice to the touch.

            The twelve leaders and their orders formally praised the plan.

            "Master," said Oda, head of the Keiryo-ka Order, "I appreciate the excellence of this strategy. However, I see not why we should hold back until Eclipse. My men have confirmed that Daisuken Kasainotora rides with a host of Hiryu through the wilderness bordering Eruku."

            "It is true," said Isajin, seizing the chance. "That is one elk long marked. I ask for permission to lead the Yurei Wolves against the prince when he departs Eruku."

            Most of the leaders nodded, while several, including Takasura, protested, asking that they be granted the honor.

            Gorosai silenced them. "I am aware of Daisuken's presence. But events must unfold according to predetermined steps. Shenobi and the Kasainotra Dynasty are the final prize."

            "Master," started Oda, somewhat hesitantly, "is not writing an end to the prince the greater quarry? If it is a part of Kage-maru's eventual plan, why hold back?"

            Gorosai seemed to consider this, before grudgingly admitting, "If it fell to me, we would take Daisuken's head and dispatch his limbs to the reaches of the peninsula. The time is not ripe, however. The Shogun's acumen is keen on this matter. The hour to deal with the prince will come, but at this stage, assassinating the most revered Southern leader would consolidate the support of the other houses. For now, we let Shenobi's little councils play out. They are a ruse to gain time." Gorosai lapsed into silence, as if weighing something. "Howbeit, if Daisuken grows overbold and roams further east, I deem Kage-maru would be unable to stay his hand, neh? Who is to say what mishap might befall the prince ...? For now though, we wait until orders are given."

            "If that is yours and the Shogun's will, so be it." Nagato nodded submissively, "However, it is unfortunate to let another prince slip through our grasp." Nagato gave Oda a hard glance.

            "We were not prepared to deal with Ryusako or Akihiro," Oda retorted hotly. "No one could have anticipated either of the princes would attend that cursed festival, let alone both. We had no assassins in the city, only spies, and those two sons-of-a-thousand-w****s were always guarded by a company of retainers."

            "Yes, it is true," reflected Ishoemon. "But what of the young woman?"

            "Who?" asked Isajin.

            "The noblewoman our spies sent reports of," Ishoemon replied. "Several weeks ago, prince Daisuken was spotted with her on numerous occasions."

            "None of our spies have known what to make of it," said Shingen, the leader of the Mamushi Order. "Albeit, she cannot be a courtesan. And even if she were daiymo, it is unprecedented for Daisuken to be seen in public accompanied by a single woman in such a fashion."

            "She is no one," Nagato threw in. "Do we now care who the prince beds?"

            "You all speak much, but see little," Gorosai spoke coldly. "More shadows than you know have been at work, and intriguing information has recently been brought to my attention. The young woman is daiymo, and more. Her name is Ayaka Soranoyume, and she is the princess of Gurinhiruzu."

            Silence thickened over the leaders. The name had struck a powerful familiarity in Isajin, but he could not place it.

            "Have your memories withered?" Gorosai questioned them.

            While the leaders murmured, it rushed back to Isajin. It was as if he were there again, that night, stalking Kenkoya Castle. Wandering in memory, Isajin spoke, half to himself, "I know that name. I led the assault on the Soranoyume family's castle. I cut her father down. Akira-sama was his name."

            "He was a lord of small station," said Gorosai, "but stubborn. His unwillingness to bow to Eastern daiymo earned him that death."

            "All the same," said Takasura, "hers is not counted among the eminent Southern families. What would the prince of Shenobi be doing consorting with such a lowly princess?" He scoffed. "Why, compared to the dynasties, this Ayaka Soranoyume is little more than a peasant."

            "A near-sighted appraisal," said Gorosai. "I thought between the twelve leaders, you could puzzle this out for yourselves. But I see you are ignorant regarding the lineage of Isodoro's houses. Lady Soranoyume's direct family may not be of note, but her uncle is Raiju, lord of Ryoshu-kita."

            The leaders murmured solemnly. Isajin wracked his mind for the possibilities. The North Kingdom was a powerful house, but far away, and had never cared anything for the affairs of the South. Could it be? No. Impossible.

            "Can you not fathom?" Gorosai posed them. "Very well, I will make it clear. With her parents, and siblings dead, princess Soranoyume remains the sole heir of Gurinhirizu. Her uncle Tayori, by way of her mother is the kingdom's warden, but soon enough Ayaka Soranoyume will assume complete authority. What more, she is unmarried. Therefore, consider the potential ramifications if her consorting with Daisuken develops into more than fancy. Stronger ties between Ryoshu-kita and Shenobi would not be in the Shogun's interests. Verily, an alliance between the North and the Southern Kingdoms would be a monumental inconvenience."

            The leaders nodded. In the brief lull, a frozen wind sighed into the dojo, scattering the incense like phantom vipers.

            "Such an obstacle cannot take shape," Gorosai stated emotionlessly. "If Ayaka Soranoyume becomes more closely involved with the Kasainotora family, she must be eliminated."

            The leaders coolly integrated this, and nodded. Isajin had begun to espy the strategy's perfection.

            "We cannot murder Daisuken - yet - however, we can wound the Kasainotoras by other methods," Gorosai went on. "The first objective is to isolate Shenobi by severing its support. Killing their leaders would only rally the South to their banner... But assassinating a young noblewoman would cause Ryoshu-kita to suspect the Southern daiymo. There has never been any love between North and South, and such an event would extinguish any chance of an alliance."

            Isajin wanted to volunteer for the mission. What he had done years ago had surely wounded Ayaka Soranoyume irreparably. He had taken pleasure in running her father through, especially since the man had put up a ferocious fight. Any time Isajin took someone's life, it was as if he took their power, devoured it for his own. He could almost taste the memory of blood seeping across the floor in Kenkoya Castle. What could be more perfect than to finish with this young princess the work he had started with her father? Nonetheless Isajin could not foresee what Gorosai had designed for him, and so he chose to hear things out before requesting the honor.

            "Make no mistake. Daisuken is marked by our shadow." Gorosai pointed over them. "For the Black Hand will not merely bring their leaders aground. In phase Eclipse we shall wipe out the major and lesser Southern daiymo families down to the last woman and child. No vestige of their lineage is to remain. Thus, the dream of a Shinseina Heiwa rebirth shall perish, and the ashes of the phoenix be washed into the earth."

            The satsujin leaders grunted their enthusiasm. From the corner of his sight, Isajin noted that the tiers of ninjas had shifted little. Yet Isajin's spirit growled, eager; and he sensed the same contained ferocity coursing among his comrades, seeping into their whispers, kindling their eyes. They were on the threshold of a holocaust. Soon they chanted: "Hail the Kyojin Okami!"

            Amid the onerous din, Isajin foresaw the bloodshed, and underwent an ecstasy, a morbid arousal. This was truly the age for which he had been born. The gods will weep ere this is finished.

            Thereupon Gorsai had bowls of the cold vaporous elixir passed among the ranks. Before drinking, every member held his vessel, swearing fealty to the Shogunate, and committing themselves to the fulfillment of this vision of doom, before giving offering to the Wolven Devourer.

            When one of the bowls came to Isajin, he gazed into the dusky purple liquid, lost. A power therein the faintly glowing waters whispered to him, swirling, with irresistible promise. He drank greedily, wiped his mouth, and passed it on to the man behind him. Within a few breaths the power of the night grew around him, and in him, sharpening his senses, his thoughts. A dim, purplish glow had come to life in the ninjas' eyes, bloodshot with the kami force.

            "Death to the South. May their castles burn," in unison the ranks droned the words like an incantation, "and the void devour the lament of their people."

            Everyone, save Gorosai, rose to stand amid the columns of moonlight and grey shadow. The ninjistu master declared, "I will select ten of our most proven for the honor of forming the Shogun's personal unit."

            Upon naming the chosen, they rose and strode forth from their respective Orders, taking their place by kneeling on the platform to the right of Gorosai. When the fourteenth was called, Isajin's shock and indignation brimmed. Neither he, or any of the Yurei Wolves had been selected. It made no sense. His Order was the most proven of the clan. Where have I failed? What have I done to displease our master?  

            When Takasura turned to lock eyes with Isajin, the gleam of mockery was plain to see. Pray we do no meet in the wilderness. Lest my chain-whip will steal your guts. But Takasura, nor any of the leaders were to blame. This was Gorosai's doing. Seething within, Isajin was plagued with an intrusive thought of taking his master's head. He could not, of course. The clan could fragment. Even if he succeeded - which he gravely doubted - he'd never make it out of this dojo. The ninjitsu warlord had a psychic sense. Better guard your mind this moment, lest he sniff out your treasonous imaginings. Elsewise it will be your head that falls, tumbling before everything goes black.

            The ninjistu master proceeded by assigning the Orders their specific tasks. Lists of locations, corresponding targets, and timeframes were supplied to each leader. Contingent on the nature and complexity of the missions, adjustments were made. Several Orders were divided to work with other Orders, and certain members with particular skill sets were switched under a new leaders' authority to enhance specific operations. Despite the restructuring, the majority remained within their corresponding teams. As Gorosai reviewed instructions a final time, Isajin's anger broiled. Yet again the Yurei Wolves were left un-chosen. Although it was necessary for some to guard the castle's location, it would be a great shame for Isajin if this charge fell to him.

            By and by Gorosai turned his attention to the last detachment. Be careful. He is measuring you. Isajin did his best to veil his indignation.

            "I would not divide a pack as efficient as the Yurei Wolves. "The criticality of this last assignment for which you have been culled supersedes the rest." He spoke harshly then, thrusting the charge upon them. "There is a succession of members in Shinrin's royal family that are marked. Chiefly, lord Ryudono-Omo's only son - prince Ryusako. The young daiymo is said to be overconfident, yet his castle poses the most complicated challenge." Gorosai looked directly at Isajin. "I need someone who has proven a deftness for breaching the securest fortifications. For that reason, I appoint Isajin to lead the Yurei Wolves, to infiltrate Murosaki Castle, and murder prince Ryusako."

            Before the platform, Isajin knelt, inclining his brow and placing palm to fist. "Thank you for this opportunity, master Gorosai. I swear upon the hordes of Akuma no Yona, the prince of Shinrin breathes his last days in this world."

            "I know you will not disappoint me." Gorosai nodded. "That is why, after this task is executed, you and your team are to integrate these ten men and take your place as the Shogun's personal assassin unit. There, your station will be second in authority only to me."

            Seventy men under my command. Isajin restrained the flood of pride, and nodded lower. "Thank you, master."

            "There will most likely be one more charge you need to complete before becoming my right hand." Gorosai's voice crept nearer. "If the Shogun gives the command, it will fall to your Order to deal with Ayaka Soranoyume."

            "Of course, master." Isajin nodded.

            Gorosai leaned closer, imposing his authority, yet speaking personally. "The attempt must not fail. It would be carried out in Shenobi, and thus could give everything away."

            "Rest assured. She will die," Isajin avowed. "I will see to it myself. I have never failed before."

            With that Isajin touched his brow to the floor, then withdrew to kneel at the head of the Yurei Wolves.

            Gorosai addressed the leaders, "Take heightened precautions to avoid detection in the borderlands. Shenobi has deployed an increasing number of sword-rangers to patrol the region. Do not underestimate them. A samurai is lost in the wilderness, but some of these sword-rangers are very elusive. It seems there is one in particular you must be vigilant of."

            Shingen, you fool, thought Isajin. If it had been a unit of mine, we never would've let that mongrel slip past. A great shame upon the clan indeed.

            "This individual was last espied three days ago, near Mitsubayashi. We cannot say what function he serves, though I suspect he is also a messenger of high import. Which means we are like to cross paths again." Gorosai mused, "To evade the Black Hand? A feat no one has managed in decades. A pity. Whoever this sword-ranger is, he would have made a proper ninja. In another life perhaps. Do not let him run again. If you encounter any sword-ranger, slay them at all costs. Stealth, Blade, and Shadow."

            The clan echoed the credo: "Stealth, Blade, and Shadow."

            "While you are in the field, I will relay messages by hawks, yet remain cognizant of what might be disclosed through prescience." Gorosai swept his arm brusquely, encompassing the dojo. "None of you are to rest this year until you have taken at least ten lives. And remember, Kage-maru wants the heads of primary targets delivered to him, unspoiled, so he may confirm the identities. Commit yourselves, body and spirit, to these charges. Many seasons will pass before we meet here again. Perhaps, the next occasion we gather it will be in Shenobi, after cutting down the Kyojin Phoenix."

            The six hundred jet shadows hailed the words as prophecy.

            "Very good!" Gorosai's laughter was guttural through the mask's devilish glare. He waited for the zeal in the dojo to settle, until it grew so quiet the midnight breeze could be heard, severing into the wind-chimes.

            In a booming voice, Gorosai snarled, "Now go! Ninja of the Black Hand! Hunt them down! Murder body and soul! For vengeance! For the Kyojin-Okami!"

            The satsujin-assassins rose and bellowed in one voice: "For the Kyojin-Okami!"

            As of one mind, the rows of ninja turned, streaming out of the dojo, across the pebbled courtyard and into the glaring howl of moonlight. Gorosai's voice slashed to and fro through the misted chamber, "The forces of Jigoku quicken you! The void give you sight! The Akuma no Yona strength!"

            Departing the castle, the ranks of shadows hastened through fog, threading across precarious ridges, and steep granite escarpments. Behind, their master uttered incantations, binding the clan with power, while growling as if he were transforming into a beast.

            Isajin led the Yurei Wolves down from the Kakogan-meiro Mountains. They nimbly administered canyonous paths and crag-studded slopes, ever towards the forests of the inner Misuto. With so much to achieve, his thoughts returned time and again to the princess from Gurinhiruzu. He gripped a vision of killing this Ayaka Soranoyume, of seeing her bleed and weep, and thus completing the circle of her family's demise. The vision urged him forth with a mad strength.

            Like wraiths, hundreds of ninja swooped down from the high passes. Gashodokuro Castle receded and disappeared. Despite their numbers and the equipment they bore, the shadows made no sound in their passage through the slumbering wilderness. Upon reaching the forests, where pillars of darkness and moonlight interchanged rapidly, the fingers of the Black Hand diverged, directing themselves towards the Southern Kingdoms.

Author's Note

I am not sure if I will include this chapter. It seemed to me that the story needed something else at this point, a contrast, something to increase the tension of another kind. I would appreciate your thoughts on whether or not this chapter enhances the story or not. Also the title, and the name of the clan. Right now in the writing itself it is the Black Hand, but in the title it is Kuroi te. It means the same thing. Which name do you think has a better ring to it

Reviews

[C. Rose]

So. I've been avoiding writing out this review. I don't like being negative. But I trust you'll take this as constructive and not just me being mean for no reason.

Your first paragraph is your usual perfection - although "other than that which the luminous orb afforded" felt a bit clunky.

"could be see" should be "could be seen"

The exposition through Isajin's thoughts could be spread out so it feels less like telling.

And now for the negative.
1. Paragraph six (weaponry) is boring. I considered phrasing that wouldn't be so harsh as 'boring', but I want you to see how serious I am. (I was similarly unenthused when Kenjin's weaponry was described - but it was one line so I didn't harp on it at the time.)
While most of your imagery is poetic, when you describe weapons I feel you become too technical. Focusing on where the weapons are and what their purpose is reminded me of how inexperienced writers describe the unusual hair color of their main character and talk about how the desk is next to the door.
It also doesn't feel natural that Isajin would focus this much on what to him would be basics.

2. Nothing happens until paragraph eight.
And then there is an unbalanced amount of dialogue.
I view writing in four parts.
Dialogue. Action. Description. Thoughts.
I suggest you rearrange a bit so there are no 'lumps' or 'lags'.

In conclusion, not my favorite chapter. It felt lumpy, like you were dumping information, and your weak link of describing weaponry is apparent. If this had been the first chapter, I would have been hooked by the beautiful first paragraph, and then have lost interest after a paragraph of who sits where, three paragraphs of thoughts, and then the weaponry paragraph.
On a positive note I look forward to reading more.

[C. Rose]

It dawned on me why I'm not connecting to Isajin. He doesn't make choices that show his personality in this chapter. He feels like a wall-flower used because you want the reader to hear this speech.

[Kuandio]

It's true, that was that main reason for his inclusion, also because this group of assassins will be involved directly in other parts of the story coming into conflict with main characters, and I thought I needed a couple of them to have names for the reader to identify with a bit when things go down. But I need to modify his character and role in this chapter so that it has more direct bearing on what is going on.
Btw, did you reread the whole chapter!!??? Or is this something that just occurred to while remembered it?

[C. Rose]

It occurred to me when I was reviewing "The Council of Rulers" because the scene I stopped at made me feel like it was a "fly on the wall" perspective which reminded me of Isajin, which made me realize that that was the reason I didn't connect with Isajin, which made me start reflecting on if any of my "The Betrayed Traitor" characters are "flies on the wall", which made me late for work, which made me give you half a review.

To answer your question, I didn't reread this chapter. To be brutally honest on the first go around I only read the first ten paragraphs, skimmed the dialogue, and then read the last couple paragraphs because the character and scene didn't hook me like your other chapters do. Looking back at the dialogue now, I do see a bit of Isajin's personality. But the dialogue still feels like its purpose is to tell.

Upon closer reading just now, I blame Gorosai's love of passive verbs and his story burden of explaining a bit of back story, explaining the logistics of the attack, and building up the suspense in regards to Isajin's deployment. It also felt strange "For these reasons" that he was explaining himself - yet threatens death for failure. What kind of leader is he?

On a positive note, Kenjin rejoins the main story line in the next chapter :)

[Kuandio]

Lol, you're first paragraph here! The domino effect!

As soon as the entire book is done (about halfway now), I look forward to revamping this chapter from the bottom up and inside out. I will make Isajin an intriguing bad guy the reader can maybe even come to like in some weird way