Soul of the fallen by Ree Soesbee
His swords, once light, an easy weight to bear, now felt as heavy as lead in his hands, covered in the blood of a Crane. The Blood of a brother.
His name had been Doji Kuyamu, son of Doji Utso, Lord of the Hainen Provinces. His white hair spilled across the ground in a tousled wave of spider web, stained red with the blood that trickled beneath him. His eyes, a pale blue, stared up at a matching sky as if searching for something he had lost. His hands were sheathed in golden gloves that matched his elaborate armor, still held tightly to his yari.
The general knelt beside the corpse, looking over its features, the pale cheek drained of color. he saw the blood that stained the grass at their feet. As if he had not been the one to kill the Doji, the general looked once again at the wound, a vicious cut that cursed the metal plates of his do, the enameled breastplate parted as if made of cloth.
"I have done this," Daidoji Uji mourned. "By my hand, his death."
Around him in an ever widening spiral, Crane fought Crane, cursing the day their brotherhood brought them together. The Daidoji, Uji's men, followed the will of their ancestors, determined to claim Matsu lands in revenge for Lion slaughter of the Crane during the Great War. Against them, Doji soldiers marched to defend teh Champion's command: Cease all attacks against the Lion.
One side, ordered by mortal man. The other, led by immortal duty.
Both torn apart by honor.