Chapter 15: Prologue 1

 

Daimyo Kottada was not a runner. Running wasn’t dignified, so he at least had the excuse of having to preserve his image. After all any ruler with true power should not need to run to accomplish their will. Still, as his lungs began to burn and his vision began to swim these excuses seemed rather lacking in explaining just how far he’d let himself go. Had it been ten years since he last exercised his cardiovascular system? Fifteen? Surely not more than twenty years… 

Screams echoed up the hallways behind him, spurring him forwards towards the last sanctuary of his estate. The hallway seemed to go on and on forever but eventually he burst into the living area around which the Royal Family’s bedrooms were situated. Too out of breath for verbal communication, he had to settle for gesticulating frantically at the corridor behind him. After a few seconds of gasping one of the retainers stationed there hesitantly asked, “My lord? Is there something you need help with in the lower quarters?” 

“Assa—“, huh “—ssins.” Daimyo Kottada finally managed to gasp out between breaths. As if on cue another shriek floated up towards them ominously. “Well?! Are you,” hah “going to go attempt to stop them or,” hng “continue staring at me like peasants?” 

Daimyo Kottada’s sharp tongue was well known throughout the palace, but something about having to gasp on hands and knees every few words made his anger for the first time seem rather childish. Still, a few guards bowed and began making their way down the hallway solemnly, ready to die as duty demanded. The rest were nervously fidgeting but staying where they were. The Daimyo’s eyes narrowed dangerously at them, before the lone shinobi of the group stepped forward. 

“My lord, to properly protect you and your family we must stay by your side.” He bowed low and spoke curtly, as if trying to draw as little attention to himself as possible. 

“HAHAHck-hagh.” The Daimyo’s laugh became a coughing fit, as his lungs were still not ready to provide the levels of air needed for it. “As—as if you could possibly protect me where 30 members of my royal guard couldn’t.” His voice became harsh and mocking, “If your hidden village could create ninja like that purple and black demon maybe we wouldn’t be on the verge of economic collapse. Get out of my sight, maybe you can give me an extra few minutes to escape before you’re cut down.” 

With that he swept away towards his quarters, leaving the soldiers to certain death against the whirlwind of death he’d just witnessed. He’d been the target, that much was certain. Only those interposed between the creature and him had been killed, and they were killed… efficiently. It was not the gleeful killing of a madman. It was as if the assassin was trying to find the most efficient way to walk through a cluttered basement. 

And on top of it all he interrupted my time with Lady Aika! As he entered his personal chambers, he snapped his fingers at his manservant, who was already paying complete attention to him. 

“I assume you have some inkling of what is happening?” He demanded. 

“Of course, my lord, however I only learned of it a few moments ago.” He quailed under Kottada’s gaze. “But I have prepared for such things! I have a bag prepared my lord, we can go at once.” 

“We?” The daimyo asked incredulously. “You shall of course cover my escape. Think up an excuse and cover the secret passage when I am gone. Give me that.” 

His manservant shrugged off the pack that he had been carrying and gave it to the Daimyo. The Daimyo, in turn, nearly fell to the floor when he felt the weight of the thing. 

That’s strange, my servant didn’t appear to be burdened in the slightest. Well then it should be no trouble for me. 

He staggered a bit as he got it on his back, muttering some excuse about how it should have been packed better, before trudging out through a hole that had appeared in the space his bed used to occupy. As he left, he heard, “It has been an honor to serve you my lord.” He didn’t respond. 

The passage had been built by his great grandfather and had only been used twice. Both times had just been extra safety precautions; none of his forbearers had ever been so close to death. Further proof that the state of worldly affairs is worst for me. None of them had to deal with the things I’ve had to deal with. 

In actuality, the issue was that despite the Daimyo being allowed consorts, he still preferred the thrill of sneaking around to secret meeting spots; a habit that his officers nagged him about incessantly. It had been a close call that evening. Luckily some of his retainers had heard a rumor from the servants preparing a certain guest room for use and had been there to intercept the attacker. 

After five minutes of walking Daimyo Kottada decided that he didn’t really need whatever was in the pack that his servant had given him. In fact, now that he considered it, maybe his servant had been trying to slow him down with the load to increase the assassin’s chances. 

Hmph, I’ll have him interrogated about it tomorrow. He thought idly, as he shrugged off the pack and left it in the middle of the tunnel. There would be an armed escort awaiting him outside anyways. His officers and servants were always much more careful than they needed to be, a complete waste of resources as far as he was concerned. 

Moonlight illuminated the field of silvergrass at the end of the tunnel, and as he drew closer he snuffed out the torch that had at some point appeared in his hand. It was gorgeous, he thought, as he began to take in more of the field. The waist high sprigs of white shone brightly in the light of the moon, swaying back and forth in waves. It was so beautiful in fact, that it took him a moment to realize his armed escort was nowhere to be found. 

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Aaaand of course. My incompetent soldiers once again fail in their duties. More than ever he felt assured that his recent dealings with old enemies were the only way forward. His own soldiers and ninja were so incompetent that he’d had to rely on outside help to save his crumbling nation. Disgraceful. But he would not be the Daimyo that let the nation of the wind fall, even if that meant sacrifices had to be made. 

In retrospect he’d smelled the blood before he saw it, but with so much death that evening he had started to become desensitized to it. Reality came crashing back as he nearly stepped onto the blank eyes of one of his men. Looking around he saw five other depressions in the grass, presumably the rest of his armed escort. Instinctively he fell into a crouch and began scanning the field. Left, right, straight ahead, all clear. That just leaves... 

He felt the pit of anxiety in his stomach harden into dread. Part of him wanted to just keep pretending; to begin walking towards the safe house like nothing was wrong. Instead, with leaden feet he slowly began to turn around. Behind him stood a lone shinobi. Where once they had been in black and purple they now were a mess of brown and red as a result of the blood and gore that covered them. And then there were the eyes. The pure, solid black eyes. Eyes of creature with no soul. The eyes of a demon. 

Again he felt the same unsettling feeling he felt when he had first seen the assassin. It was the feeling people get when they see snakes or spiders, a strange subconscious aversion to dangerous things that is similar to fear but somehow more primal.

Those eyes would haunt the dreams of any who saw them. Unnaturally dark veins spiderwebbed away from them. Stranger still was their surface; they seemed to have fractured like a pane of glass, still held together but with inner edges glinting whenever the figure moved its head in its mechanical way. 

They stood there staring at one another for what could have been 10 seconds or 10 minutes. Daimyo Kottada couldn’t meet the creature’s unnatural gaze for long, but the sight of the beautiful field around them and his palace behind it was worth seeing one last time. 

“So, which pathetic rival has stooped so low as to hire scum like you?” He eventually called, surprising himself with the strength and scorn in his voice. The only sign that the assassin had heard him was a slight glint as different planes of its fractured eyes caught the moonlight. 

“And what is it that they are paying you? Do you kill with blind loyalty? Or can I tell you of the pain and suffering my death will cause? What of the thousands of people who will starve in the ensuing chaos?” He tried, again to no avail. “What do you want in life? Money? Women? Fame? I will make you the captain of palace security tonight, as it is clear you would have been better at protecting me than the entirety of my royal guard put together.”  

The Daimyo had always been a proud man. Too proud, some had criticized, and he could not continue groveling for long. “Very well. I see you are just like the rest of the ninja scum that plague this world. You kill dozens of husbands and fathers and then suddenly baulk when someone tries to pay you to stop murdering, claiming that you are honorable. Hah! You care not about the lives ruined in the wake of your passing. Some day the world will rid itself of your kind, and until that day we shall never know peace.” He cut himself off and took a steadying breath. Still, the creature in front of him made no movement. 

“But perhaps you at the very least won’t be a coward. I would see the face of the man who has brought this nation to its knees tonight; the face of the man who is about to kill me and leave my country to the wolves.” He finished with his best piercing stare, which he maintained for all of about two seconds before becoming lost in the creature’s void-like eyes. 

But then everything about the figure changed. The dark veins receded slightly, and it’s eyes brightened ever so slightly. More importantly it lost the strange, alien-like quality to it’s movements that sent shivers up his spine. A strangely high-pitched laugh emanated from the shinobi as they removed their cowl. Daimyo Kottada watched in shock as a long cascade of silky black hair flowed down the woman’s shoulders. 

“It’s a shame you’re such a deplorable lecher Kottada, or that speech might have worked on me.” The anomaly in front of him said, chuckling to herself. “No, maybe not. The only thing that could have saved you would have been to be a better ruler.” 

Dimly his brain made two corrections: girl, not woman, and a pretty young one too. And her hair wasn’t black. He’d never have been able to tell if not for her black eyes. Instead the fluid curtain of hair was a deep shade of purple. It matched her purple shinobi garb, or at least it had before she had been covered in blood and guts. 

The laugh came again, more sinister this time. “Do you like it? It’s a new color I’m trying out; it really brings out my eyes, don’t you think?” 

Her tone was so casual, her face so young, none of it was making sense. There were further oddities he was picking out now. He could see discolored veins on her neck and parts of her face, standing out against her pale skin except for where they intersected with strange war-paint-like markings. As he stood there, mouth agape, his mind tried to make sense of it all. It couldn’t. Truth be told if he had seen a painting of her he would have instantly assumed the artist was painting a demon. 

Apparently a mind reader too, she responded, “Not a demon Daimyo Kottada. Purple is the color of royalty is it not? So that would make me a princess.” Another laugh, as if she’d made a witty joke, this time matched with a dazzling smile. It was a horrifying sight on her mutated face. 

“Although I could never be a normal princess…” She continued. “I could not show a face like this to the adoring crowds or lead a parade through the streets.” She had begun walking towards him, smiling a different smile, but he found himself too mesmerized to move. “But twisted or not, I am still a princess.” 

Then she was gone, and he heard her voice whispering in his ear as his vision went black. 

“The princess of the night.”

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