Ronin's Revenge

Taking advantage of the break in the weather, Ryoma and the others made haste off of the mountain and continued west in the direction of the shogunate. Ryoma felt elated to be back on the trail that he originally set the troop on in search of assistance with the emperor. Himiko, meanwhile, felt ecstatic to have found and fused with the new ofuda, feeling her chest and smiling. And Tetsuo seemed much calmer following his discussion with the woman in the depths of the cave. The only negative one in the group was Yuki who wanted more rain.

The quartet came across a broken cart along the road. Ryoma said, “We should investigate and look for anyone that needs help.” The others agreed and made their way over to the vehicle. There, they found a woman lying in a puddle of mud, looking quite disheveled. Himiko didn’t hesitate to race to and try and assist her.

“Madam,” Himiko asked, “are you alright? Can you speak?” She brushed the caked hair away from her face, trying her best to clean up the poor lady to be more presentable. The shrine maiden noticed a manacle around one of the woman’s wrists, the other end connected to the cart itself. The woman, half delirious, whispered a word that Himiko couldn’t quite catch. Leaning in, the shrine maiden asked, “What did you say? Can you repeat that?”

“Trap.” The woman whispered. Himiko raised her head away from the downtrodden woman’s mouth with a puzzled expression. “Trap?” She repeated. Tetsuo, unsure of his own perception, asked, “What was that you said, Himiko?” He instinctively reached for his nunchakus despite not yet sensing danger.

True enough, from behind them, weapon-clad warriors started appearing, blades drawn. “Alright,” one of them said, “drop your weapons and hand over any gold or jewels on you. Oh, and we’ll take the girl, too. We’re ronin, so don’t think we won’t stoop to such levels to get what we want. Don’t bet against that, you hear?” Another one snickered and exclaimed, “Yeah, we’ll have her one way or another! And I get first go-around!” Another dissented and exclaimed, “Hey, you had the bitch on the ground first, let me have this one!”

Playful yet haunting infighting continued amongst the ruffians. Himiko groaned at the comments they made. Tetsuo and Yuki were motionless, unsure of how to react to the declarations. That was, until, the woman on the ground, now more cognizant, began crying and said, “Please, I beg of you, don’t let them take me again. Please help me!”

Hearing the cries of the downtrodden woman reinvigorated Himiko who readied her gohei to battle. Tetsuo and Yuki looked to one another as well, nodded, and moved to either side of the shrine maiden, prepared for a brawl. The trio, in unison, yelled, “Come on!” The nefarious ronin took the challenge head-on and began charging.

Meanwhile, Ryoma stood stunned. Physically, he was capable of fighting back, of course. Mentally, however, the sting of hearing such horrid statements shook him to his core as he remembered Orochi’s words. “Well,” the demonic snake had said, “now that you have no lord to serve, I suppose that makes you a ronin; a lowly, wandering warrior with no purpose in life. How pathetic! What filth could be further from respectable than a worthless ronin?” Such statements shook the once proud warrior to the core all the same as they had in the palace that night. He simply couldn’t refrain from comparing himself to the wicked warriors charging toward his friends. He normally felt relatively secure in his sense of self, yet the one thing he couldn’t shake was the new reality that for all intents and purposes, he had lost Hiro, and his own identity in the fallout.

While not altering his personality or resolve in any fashion, Ryoma’s dignity, he felt, was at stake in the process of escaping the imperial palace. The way of the ronin, simply put, was seen by society as beneath all else, as if they were the scum of the earth. They were thieves, murderers, rapists, and any other slanderous names one could dredge up. Those surrounding the quartet served as the perfect example, in fact; their cold-blooded nature befitting an oni was surfacing, even more so in this new era of tragedy, and they were ready to do whatever it took to achieve their sick and twisted goals.

As Ryoma contemplated the seemingly fractured nature of his being, the remaining trio rushed forward to meet their opponents. They clashed with the enemy, the battle swiftly ensuing. Himiko and Tetsuo both intercepted oncoming blows with their respective weapons while Yuki sent forth ice upon the ground to trip his opponents. Fiercely, they fought to protect themselves alongside the woman by the cart.

For the most part, the trio were able to repel the assault; however, the ronin who acted as the de facto leader managed to slip by them and headed straight for Ryoma. The samurai thought to unsheathe his katana yet couldn’t will his hand to move to its hilt. When the ronin reached the cart, he sliced forward and Ryoma, thankfully, jumped backwards by instinct to avoid the strike.

Again and again, the ronin attacked but failed to land a single blow onto Ryoma. Growing frustrated, he stopped making attempts on the samurai’s life. Then, he thought of the woman, and a wicked grin grew across his countenance. He rounded the cart before Ryoma could regain his composure.

Himiko, meanwhile, bested her opponent and looked back to witness the drama unfold by the cart. The ronin raised his blade and said, “Alright, samurai, if you won’t fight me, I’ll gratify my need for bloodshed elsewhere.” He began to laugh maniacally. The shrine maiden turned around and yelled, “Don’t you dare hurt her!”

The ofuda in Himiko’s chest began to surface and started glowing. Himiko, without hesitation, raised up her gohei to face the ronin, and lightning sprung forth from the tip. It raced across the battlefield and landed directly onto the madman’s upright katana. Instantly, it traced along the metal and leapt to his hand, cascading down into his body. He screamed in agony as he convulsed until the bolt dissipated and he fell to the ground next to the woman.

Everyone stopped and stared at Himiko who started breathing heavily. She fell to the ground due to fatigue, yet the surviving ronin began moving back away from the trio. “Monster!” One eventually yelled. “She’s a monster! Run while you can!” All at once, the ronin ran from the scene until they had successfully fled from sight.

Tetsuo walked to Himiko, knelt beside her, and exclaimed, “That was wonderous, Himiko! Was that the power of the ofuda?” Himiko nodded, suddenly fully aware of and in tune with the powers of her embedded talisman. Yuki came to her next, chuckled, and said, “They called you a monster, Himiko. They didn’t even say that about me!”

The trio began laughing together until Himiko looked over to Ryoma. He had fallen to his knees as well, looking down into the murky waters surrounding his lower half. He looked hollow in some way. Himiko couldn’t abide by such self-pity, and so she started lifting herself up from the ground until her legs gave out beneath her.

Tetsuo caught Himiko before she hit the ground. “Careful,” he said, “that newfound power of yours seems to have taken a toll on your physical well-being. It may take some time to accustom yourself to that ability.” Himiko, using Tetsuo’s arms, lifted herself to match his stance, and said, “That doesn’t matter now. Ryoma needs our help.” Tetsuo looked over to the samurai and felt pity for him as well, though also mixed with a tinge of jealousy in the fact that said pity was getting more of Himiko’s attention.

Yuki joined with Himiko and Tetsuo, and together, the trio made their way to where Ryoma was wallowing. Once within earshot, Ryoma said, “I’m sorry I was of no use in the battle. Seeing those ronin, those fellow vile creatures, troubled me ever so deeply. It was as though they held a mirror up to my soul. I feel trapped in this label, a moniker devoid of redemption.”

Himiko knelt beside Ryoma and slapped him across the face to the shock of everyone present. “That’s nonsense, Ryoma.” She said. “You’re better than those animals and you know it.” Ryoma, still reeling from the sting of the hit, gazed at the shrine maiden with a most inquisitive expression. “But I am indeed a ronin, Himiko.” He said. “Tainted is my legacy.”

Another slap connected to Ryoma’s still burning cheek. “Listen to me!” Himiko yelled. “You are a ronin in name alone. Don’t allow that to define you. Ever since I met you, despite being a ‘low-life warrior,’ you’ve shown me the utmost kindness and respect. You only lost your status due to the demons abound, yet you still abide by bushido, the code of honor. You’re still worthy of being known as a proper samurai, Ryoma.”

After her statements, Himiko hugged Ryoma. Whether it was the warmth and affection he felt from her or simply the mental fatigue he imposed upon himself, the samurai began crying into the shrine maiden’s shoulder. Gone for the moment were his reservations about remaining strong and bold. He saw himself as a broken man who had been given a sliver of redemption and cherished it so. He hugged her back tightly and wished the moment would last forever. Knowing that it couldn’t, though, he eventually broke the connection so that he could look her in the eye and said, “Thank you, Himiko.”