Legions, Part VII

Legions – Destinies
Hitomi

The Dragon looked down at the obsidian hand Kachiko had given her with some measure of uncertainty. A Scorpion's gifts were never to be taken lightly, but if what she offered was sincere… vengeance upon the man who had killed her brother, the man who had taken her hand… then was this not worth the risk?

But was such risk truly her decision at all? No one else seemed to care about Satsu's death. Her father had been too worried about displeasing the Great Bear. Her brother was wrapped up in his idealism; he believed there was no need for vengeance because Satsu had died in a manner befitting a samurai. If she did not avenge her brother, no one would. If this item was trapped or poisoned or cursed and she died, then she would fail and Satsu would never know peace.

Then again, what did Kachiko truly have to gain by deceiving her? Hitomi had not lifted a sword against her clan during the Scorpion Coup; she was too young. They were kindred spirits in a way, both seeking vengeance against those who had wronged them and used honor as a shield to justify their despicable acts.

She weighed the Obsidian Hand in silence for a long time. Suddenly, she felt a presence in the room around her and the shadows deepened. A pair of burning red eyes lit in the darkness. When Hitomi looked into them, she remembered the goddess she truly was. This was an illusion, a dream woven by the Realm of Thwarted Destiny… and she recognized the creature that faced her now.

“Shadow Dragon,” she said in a menacing tone. She made to reach for her sword then realized her right hand was still missing. The power of a goddess was still not hers to claim. She was still in the dream, yet still herself. The Obsidian Hand still weighed heavily in her left hand.

“Peace, Lady Moon,” the Shadow Dragon said in a sibilant voice. “I offer you no violence, only clarity. This Realm demands that each soul relive their moment of destiny, to either choose as they did in life or choose anew.”

Hitomi looked around the small chamber of the Imperial Palace in bewilderment. “Why this moment?” she demanded. “Why not the Day of Thunder? Why not the Battle of Oblivion's Gate? Why not my duel against Onnotangu? Are those not more important than this?”

“Where one arrives is not so important as where one begins,” the Shadow Dragon said. Its eyes tipped downward, focusing on the black glass hand she still held. “This Realm will be born anew, a realm of boundless potential or a realm of eternal uncertainty.”

“Onnotangu's hand was a tool of the Lying Darkness,” Hitomi whispered. “The source of all uncertainty, the embodiment of Nothing. Have you come here to influence my choice?” Hitomi demanded, eyeing the Dragon suspiciously.

“I have come here to complicate your choice,” the Shadow Dragon replied. “Think on this, Hitomi. By denying your destiny, you increase the uncertainty that festers in this realm. By accepting the Hand, you acknowledge the Darkness' power and accept it into your soul once again. For you, Lady Moon, there is no correct choice. That is why I have given you back your memory. So you could suffer. Were it not for you, the Lying Darkness would not have risen to power. Were it not for you, I would not have been corrupted and become the blasphemous thing I am now. Whether I succeed or fail here, I take joy in the fact that I have brought you some measure of pain. How does if feel, Hitomi, to fight so strongly for the cause of good, yet be eternally doomed to serve the whims of evil?”

Hitomi glared at the Shadow Dragon and did not say a word. Slowly, she lifted the Obsidian Hand to the stump of her right arm. With a searing flash of pain and light, she was whole once more, restored in all her glory as Lady Moon.

“Good?” Hitomi replied, advancing on the Shadow Dragon. “Evil? There are no such things.” She drew her twin swords. “There is only this.”

The Shadow Dragon's eyes widened, and it quickly retreated into the darkness whence it came. Briefly, she wondered if she had chosen unwisely.

If she had made the wrong choice, she would deal with the consequences when they came.

As she always did.

Legions – Destinies
Mirumoto Satsu

Satsu knelt before the polished wooden stand where his twin swords rested. It was said that a samurai's soul dwelled within his blade. These particular blades had been wielded by countless Mirumoto daimyo throughout the centuries. Satsu's father had given him the honor of carrying these blades; they resounded with the strength and honor of his most glorious ancestors.

Yet if any remnant of their souls remained in these blades now, Satsu could not hear them. He was uncertain if that was a blessing or a curse. His was not truly a soul in need of guidance – if anything he had an excess of it.

When he awoke this morning, his course had been clear. Today, he would face the upstart young Crab who had insulted Satsu's wife in a duel of honor. Hida Yakamo would die, all assembled would see the glory of the Mirumoto technique, and life would move on. Then things became slightly more complex.

Togashi Yokuni had visited Satsu in these same chambers, and revealed a great and wondrous secret. He was not truly the man he claimed to be, but rather the original Kami Togashi – founder of the Dragon Clan. Though Satsu did not doubt his Champion's word, Togashi proved his identity by granting a brief vision of the Celestial Heavens. He saw the Sun and Moon in all their splendor. He saw the unimaginable majesty of the seven dragons of heaven.

Yokuni also showed Satsu a reflection of the future that might be, of a day when Fu Leng escaped from his prison. That time was swiftly approaching. The descendants of the Seven Thunders would stand against him and save Rokugan from the foul corruption of Jigoku.

Hida Yakamo was one of them.

Togashi Yokuni gave no command; he left the choice to Satsu. The only true option was clear – Satsu must allow Yakamo to kill him so that all of Rokugan could be saved.

As he continued to meditate upon his blades, strange images flickered at the corner of his vision. Satsu turned quickly, and caught his breath as he saw twisted images form from the shadows. He saw the bright, happy spirit of his sister crushed by his death. He saw a deep wedge driven into his family from the vengeance that consumed her. He saw her face Yakamo in battle, only to be hideously maimed. He saw a terrible darkness take root within his sister's soul, consuming her with madness. He saw the Togashi monks murdered by the hundreds. He saw the madman, Kokujin, reign over the High House of Light.

He saw the Dragon Clan suffer.

“What is this?” he demanded.

A shape wove itself from the darkness. Satsu recognized it from the earlier vision Yokuni had granted him – the Dragon of Air. The dragon looked at Satsu with sad eyes. “Yokuni means well, Satsu-san, but he has not shown you the entire truth. This vision is no less real than the one Yokuni offered. He wished to protect you from this.”

Satsu sensed no deceit in the creature's words, but he was uneasy nonetheless. “But if I kill Yakamo, will not all of Rokugan suffer?” he whispered.

“Perhaps,” the Air Dragon replied, “but do the Crab not have other heroes who share the Thunder's blood? Even if Yakamo fell surely his brother, Sukune, would be able to fight in his stead?”

“Why would Yokuni not mention such a possibility?” Satsu demanded.

“Because it is uncertain,” the Air Dragon admitted. “Togashi knows only that Yakamo is Rokugan's best hope... If Yakamo lives, Fu Leng stands a good chance at defeat – though even then nothing is certain. If Yakamo dies, the Thunders may yet defeat Fu Leng without him… but your death will transform your sister into a monster and wound your family in a way that cannot heal. This I promise.”

“The choice you offer is impossible,” Satsu replied. “Risk the Empire or damn my family?”

The Air Dragon bowed its head sadly. “Yet I could not, in good faith, allow you to make the choice without knowing everything. I have faith that you will do what must be done.” The Air Dragon vanished into darkness with a mournful sigh.

Satsu stared at the blades of his ancestors for a long time without movement or sound.

At last, his decision made, Mirumoto Satsu took up his swords and made his way to the courtyard to kill Hida Yakamo and save his sister's soul.

Legions: Destinies
Iuchi Karasu

The shugenja reached up and gingerly touched the bandages that were wound tightly around his head. He could feel that they were somewhat moist. It would be time to change them again soon, an excruciating process that he had little choice but to endure. The damage done to his face and body by the corrupted general Moto Tsume had been overwhelming. Many told him he should thank the Fortunes he survived at all. Iuchi Karasu did not feel particularly grateful, and would not have minded terribly had the Fortunes permitted him to pass into the next world.

“How is the pain?” a whispery voice demanded, interrupting Karasu's maudlin thoughts.

“Yori-san,” Karasu croaked through the bandages, the movement of his jaw causing him exquisite pain.

The Kuni daimyo seated himself at the low table across from Karasu. The Iuchi bowed his head respectfully despite the pain. He would not have survived his escape from the Shadowlands if not for the timely arrival of the mysterious Kuni daimyo. Yori's reputation spoke for itself and many men feared him; it was said that his curiosity regarding the Empire's dark enemies was a bit too intense. Karasu could not fault Yori, for it was his own curiosity which had led him to the Shadowlands. If anything, Yori had proven himself the wiser man as he had not been captured and tortured by the enemy. “There is no pain,” Karasu managed through cracked lips. “I think that disturbs me more than anything.”

“A side effect of the medicine,” Yori replied. “Give it no further thought. I am more concerned with the state of your mind.”

Karasu laughed bitterly. “You suspect I am mad, like the others do?”

“No,” Yori replied. “I know that you are mad, but it bothers me not. It would be impossible for you to be sane. Much as your flesh is now riddled with scars, so must be your mind. It is a natural thing… Much like your scars, you must learn to deal with your madness. It is how we survive such ordeals.”

“We?”

Yori smiled.

“What do you suggest I do?” Karasu asked. “Tsume's power was incredible. He will come for me one day.”

“Then I recommend you be prepared,” Yori replied. “You know that I hold a certain curiosity for your clan's gaijin traditions, much as you hold curiosity for my own research.”

Karasu nodded.

“Then I have a gift for you,” Yori said, drawing a silk-wrapped bundle from beneath the table and pushing it toward Karasu. “I hope that you recognize it.”

Karasu unwrapped the silken bundle; his eyes widened at the sight of the smooth steel mask that lay within. It was a vaguely familiar sight, something spoken of in the ancient histories of his family.

“This is a Doomseeker's mask,” Karasu said. “Where did you get this?”

“That is unimportant,” Yori replied. “You know the responsibility such a symbol offers?”

Karasu nodded. “But I do not deserve this,” he said. “I fled Tsume. I barely escaped with my life.”

“And thus you have triumphed where countless others failed,” Yori replied. “A weapon must be tempered in flame. A Doomseeker must be tempered in madness.”

Karasu looked up at Yori again. For a brief instant he saw another image imposed over his friend's face, a leering mockery of stitched flesh and exposed bone. He sensed that the depravity within his friend's soul was greater than he had ever imagined. He was tempted to push the mask away. Whatever Yori's plan, whatever his intent, it was part of something so vile he could not accept.

Yori frowned, seeming to sense Karasu's suspicion. Karasu quickly looked down at the mask again. He sensed only simple steel, no trace of magic, nothing more… Yet there was much more. It offered hope, and Karasu was surprised to find he did not desire hope. Every day since he had escaped the Shadowlands he was uncertain why he had bothered.

Why fight on through the onslaught of misery his life had become?

Was it not much easier to die?

Karasu closed his eyes, stunned by the very thought. What had he become? He would not allow Moto Tsume even this victory.

With unsteady hands, Karasu lifted the Doomseeker's mask and placed it over his bandaged face.

In an instant, Iuchi Karasu found himself on the plains of Thwarted Destiny once more. He recognized the disturbance in his vision, and he knew immediately the malevolent power that was to blame.

He knew what he must do.

Legions – Destinies
Daidoji Uji

A full moon hung in the sky, casting the abandoned corpse of Kyuden Bayushi in a strange, otherworldly light. It was at times exactly like this one that men could look upon the eerie, forsaken palace and know, without question, that there were forces in the world beyond what could be seen, things that man did not know or understand. When dawn came such fears would be dispelled and forgotten, but for now they were all too real.

Daidoji Uji was aware of the disquiet among his men, but paid it little attention. They would fulfill their duty, as they always had. It was the duty of a Daidoji to obey. To sacrifice. To succeed. There was no other choice.

Or was there?

Uji stared intently at the scrolls upon his desk. On one side, a stack of reports from his scouts of oni marching among the Lion armies. The madman Okura, it seemed, had finally succumbed to his darkest impulses. On the other side, a single scroll bearing the chop of Doji Kuwanan, the Crane Clan Champion. It commanded Uji to hold Kyuden Bayushi until Kuwanan returned from his engagement with the Mantis armies. Despite the evidence suggesting Shiro no Yojin, the castle his ancestors had sworn to reclaim, lay all but undefended by the Matsu, Uji had no choice but to obey his lord's command.

Or did he?

Uji felt a stirring in his soul, the voice of his ancestors demanding that he fulfill their ancient vow. He felt a lifetime of preparation and experience come to the fore, demanding action as surely as he felt the blood coursing through his veins. He clenched his fists, furrowing his brow in anger. Must he choose between duty to his ancestors and duty to his Champion? There was no true victory in such a choice. There was no honor.

There was a shimmering to his left, just outside his vision. In an instant, his blade was drawn and he had assumed a defensive posture, but his sword arm fell heavily to his side when he saw the visage of a ghostly samurai before him. “Yurei-sama?” he whispered, recognizing the image from the paintings and tapestries that adorned the walls of Shiro Daidoji.

“You have called me, Uji,” the ghost whispered. “I have sensed the disquiet of he who is most loyal to the Daidoji line, and I have come to offer you guidance if you would accept it.”

“Of course, Yurei-sama,” the Daidoji daimyo said in a reverent tone. “But how is this possible?”

The specter faded in and out like a fever dream. “There are certain events taking place deep within the Shadowlands that make it easier for those who have passed on to reach their descendants,” he answered, “but time is short.”

“What should I do? What course is the true one?” Uji asked. “Both paths are betrayal.” He lowered his head in shame. “How can I choose who to fail?”

“If you choose to retake Shiro no Yojin, the Lion may yet reclaim it, and you will have betrayed your Champion,” Yurei answered. “If you obey Kuwanan's order, the day may come when Shiro no Yojin is yours for the taking. On that day, you will have your Champion's support. The choice is difficult, I must agree, but do not damn yourself to fulfill a vow I made centuries ago. Let Shiro Yojin go. The Unicorn have already been commanded to punish the Lion for their crimes; the Crane can win this battle another day.”

Uji closed his eyes and nodded.

No.

“Who are you?” he demanded, looking up at the ghost.

The ghost looked slightly surprised. “Do you not believe I am who I claim to be?” it said in a surprised voice.

“I cannot believe that Daidoji Yurei would encourage me to make a choice simply because it was the easier path,” Uji said.

“Please, Uji,” Yurei said in a sad, distant voice. “You must acknowledge my counsel. Do not allow your suspicions to overwhelm you.”

Uji chuckled. “You damn your cause further, false one,” he said. “I cannot believe that Yurei would beg for my ear so pathetically. A true lord of the Daidoji would force me to listen through action, logic, and example. If you are truly Yurei, then I pity you for what you have become since your death. Perhaps when I take Shiro Yojin you will look down upon my example and learn what it truly means to be Daidoji.”

With that, the surrounding chamber faded away. Daidoji Uji found himself fully armored once more, standing on the plains of Thwarted Destiny. Yurei, however, remained.

Yurei shook his head slowly, a smirk spreading across his features. “You are an incredible individual, Daidoji Uji. That is twice now, once in life and once in death, that you have seen through the power of Nothing where others did not. I commend you. You are wiser than the others realize.”

“And you are a fool,” Uji said darkly. “You masquerade as one of my most honored ancestors… yet you do not run from me.”

Uji drew his sword.

Yurei looked at Uji intently. “Do you believe you can kill me, samurai?”

“I will find a way,” Uji replied, advancing.

The image of Yurei vanished, replaced for a single moment by the sinuous shape of the Shadow Dragon. Uji ceased his advance, staring up at the massive creature with an unflinching gaze. He showed no fear or concern.

“What will happen to a dead man's soul if it is slain again in this place, Uji?” the dragon asked, looming over Uji, baring its teeth in a crooked smile. “Even I do not know…”

Uji smiled behind his mask and began to back away from the dragon. “There are many ways to win a battle, dragon,” he said. “Every moment you chase me is a moment you waste not fulfilling your plans. But if you fail to catch me, I swear I will find a way to destroy you for insulting my ancestor.”

The Shadow Dragon sneered. “Do you think that either your escape or my destruction are within your power?” it asked.

“It will not be the first time you have underestimated me,” Uji answered.

And Uji ran.

Legions: Destinies
Yoshi

Chaos reigned in the Dragon mountains. Hitomi, Lady of the Dragon and wielder of the Obsidian Hand, seemed to have gone mad. She had driven the Togashi before her like the wind, expelling them from their lands for no discernable reason and slaughtering them when they failed to flee swiftly enough. None could find logic in her actions, and yet many had chosen to obey. She was their lord – and such was the duty of a samurai.

Togashi Yoshi clutched his travel sack and stood on the winding mountain path. He glanced back up at the High House of Light, now simply called Kyuden Hitomi. Once it had truly lived up to its name, and had seemed to radiate a serene radiance from within. Now, it stood strangely shadowed in the midday sun. There was an ominous presence there, a feeling of foreboding that even the most obtuse, unenlightened mind could not help but feel pressing against their soul like a cage of iron.

Yoshi turned from the castle and stared down the path to the foothills below. They were likewise ominous, but with uncertainty rather than a sense of imminent doom. Yoshi's true masters, the Ten Masters, lay somewhere in the world beyond, though he had not seen or spoken directly to them in many years. They would doubtless have many questions for him, and possibly a new assignment. Could he cast aside all he had accomplished and come to know over the past decade? He was uncertain. He was not a young man, and he no longer believed so strongly in the Kolat cause as he once had as a youth.

Yoshi stared at the tiger tattooed upon his inner wrist. Among the ise zumi, such an image was completely unremarkable. None had any notion as to the allegiance it signified. Not for the first time in recent days, Yoshi wondered if there was any true allegiance left within him. He had been forced to cast aside the name Togashi, just as he had cast aside another name long ago. Now, he could choose to remain and serve a master whose cause might well be insane, but who would allow Yoshi to achieve his own destiny. Or he could leave, and accept whatever destiny came to the pawn of his powerful, enigmatic masters. Was uncertainty worth the risk of death? Was certainty worth the price of emptiness?

If Hitomi was truly mad, then did it benefit the Empire to rob her of the guidance he might offer? What if he could steer her back to clarity? And what of the Kolat, who believed that mortal men could come to wield the power of gods? Was not Hitomi's example a warning of the dangers of such a philosophy?

Togashi Yoshi died then. The shugenja dropped his travel sack on the mountain path beside the golden haori bearing his family mon.

Hitomi Yoshi ascended the mountain and pledged his loyalty to the Dragon Champion once more.

The mists parted, and Yoshi rose stood on the Plains of Thwarted Destiny again. He could sense that he had been given a second chance, a chance to face his destiny once more.

This time, he had not failed.

He looked up into the eyes of his goddess, and Hitomi nodded imperceptibly in approval. It was more than he deserved, and he felt overwhelmed by the gesture. Hitomi Yoshi bowed deeply before his Lady and rose to rejoin the Legion of the Dead.

Legions: Destinies
Ryosei

The Kitsune Mori, Two Years Ago…

Late afternoon was the most beautiful time of day near Kitsune Mori. Lord Sun prepared to disappear over the horizon, caressing the majestic trees with the most vibrant shades of yellow and orange. If the leaders of Rokugan's clans could be meet here to resolve their differences, Ryosei believed, there would be no war ever again.

The Fox Champion rose from where she knelt in the remote shrine's main chamber, wincing as she did so. The past few years had not been kind. She had been fit and able all her life, until her return from the City of the Lost. Although every expert she had consulted assured her that she had not contracted the Shadowlands Taint, it could not be denied that the almost preternatural vitality she had once enjoyed had disappeared, left behind in that dark land. Now, she looked and felt her years. It had been a difficult transition. Sometimes, she would find herself staring off towards the southwest, as if she had left some part of herself in the Shadowlands with her corrupted father..

Still, Ryosei could not deny that some good had come of her trials. The experience had haunted her for a long time, driving her into secluded study at the most remote shrines and temples in her clan's lands. In time, she had found peace. More than that, truthfully. Finally, she had come to terms with what had become of her father. She was ready to return to her duties among the Fox. Others would lead in her stead no longer. She may have a short time left in the mortal realm, perhaps, but that time would be spent putting her newfound wisdom and peace of mind to use for the good of the Fox and all clans.

Shadows stirred at the shrine's entrance, diminishing the sunset's brilliant hues. “Ryosei,” a voice whispered.

“Who is there?” she asked, squinting slightly. Reflexively, she began preparing a spell. She may have achieved peace of mind, but she was hardly a doddering old fool. This Fox still had teeth. “Who calls upon me?”

“The balance of power shifts in the heavens,” the whisper answered. “Heavens and hells shift and move in response to the actions of mortals. I do not yet know what this means, but chaos brings power.”

A nimbus of radiant green energy surrounded Ryosei's clenched fist. “Whoever you are, you will not find easy prey in me.”

“How precious,” the whisper returned, a hint of mockery in its tone. A sea of darkness swelled around the doorway, two glowing red eyes the only discernable feature. It surged forward, reaching for her. Ryosei shouted a fierce kiai and unleashed the jade energy she held in reserve. The shadows opened and allowed the spell to pass through them, then closed ranks again. A blade of purest shadow plunged into Ryosei's heart, and she felt a terrible coldness well up from within her.

“Your soul will serve me now.”

“Who are you?” she gasped. “Why are you doing this?”

The only reply was laughter.

Ryosei slumped to the ground. When her kinsmen found her the next day, it appeared as though she had died from nothing more sinister than age.

Elsewhere…

Ryosei came to herself once more, the vision quickly fading. She could not resist the feeling that she had forgotten something terribly important. Whatever it was, it seemed less important by the moment.

“Ryosei?” Matsu Goemon asked. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” she said quickly, her voice slightly irritable.

Goemon gave her a confused look. She bowed her head in apology.

“Enough of this,” Hitomi said in a sharp voice. “We must gather the wisest who have reappeared in council. It is clear there is more at work here than Iuchiban summoning an army of the dead… if indeed he is even responsible for that.”

Goemon nodded. “The Shadow Dragon.”

Hitomi turned to Ryosei. “Lady of the Fox, you fought in the War Against the Darkness. This enemy is a sort that is known to you. Will you join us? We must determine what will be done.”

“Of course, Lady Hitomi,” she replied.

Ryosei moved to join the greatest of the Legion's heroes. Whatever she had seen in her vision, whatever she had forgotten, surely it could not have been important…

Legions: Destinies
Shiba Tsukune

When the world shattered and faded for all the rest who had ventured into the Realm of Thwarted Destiny, Shiba Tsukune saw no change at all. She stood upon the vast unending plains and watched ally and enemy alike vanish into nothing.

“Goemon?” she called out, holding her blade ready for any sign of the Legion of Blood's return. “Tadaka?”

“Tadaka,” said a soft voice in reply. “You rarely spoke of him, but I know you always thought of him. Since you have been reunited with him, I wonder, do you ever think of me?”

Tsukune whirled about quickly, eyes wide as she recognized the voice. A solitary man in the burnished orange armor of a Shiba warrior stood before her, smiling sadly. He looked the same as the first day they had met. His eyes, intense yet thoughtful… so much like Aikune.

“Kanjiro,” she breathed, eyes widening as she recognized her husband. Though her divine senses screamed that something was subtly amiss with the realm around her, she could tell this was genuinely her dead husband's soul. “How did you come to be here?”

Kanjiro's eyes moved to the point of her drawn sword. He seemed disappointed, but not surprised, to see that she did not trust him. “Souls such as mine are the entire reason this place exists,” he said. “I died far from my true destiny.”

“You died during the War of Spirits,” she replied. “You died a hero. Is that not a glorious destiny?”

“You know my soul did not arrive in Yomi,” Kanjiro replied. “My destiny was to protect the Last Wish, and in that I failed.” He looked at her gravely. “You are the Fortune of Rebirth now… surely you knew I was not reincarnated. Did you never wonder what became of me?”

Tsukune nodded. “Goemon suspected Iuchiban was responsible for the imbalance in the Celestial Order. I came hoping to find out what had happened to you.”

“Iuchiban is not responsible, he has merely taken advantage of the situation,” Kanjiro said. “The Lying Darkness was destroyed at the Battle of Oblivion's Gate, but its legacy lives on. It dealt the Celestial Order a savage wound with the War of Spirits. The dead rose up against the living, and those who had not yet fulfilled their destinies were cast down by those whose time was already done. Many died with their destiny denied… and so we came here, lost, in a realm without definition. But the Celestial Order always seeks definition, lest a force such as the Lying Darkness be unleashed once more. If this realm must exist it must serve a purpose. Look upon the other realms. Tengoku, the Celestial Heavens, represents all that is noble and pure and is ruled by the Sun, Moon, and seven dragons. Jigoku represents all that is corrupt and is governed by Fu Leng and his Oni Lords. This realm must also find a place. Some force, some concept must become its master. So now this realm feeds on your army as it feeds on Yori's, seeking to create itself anew from their memories and choices.”

“And those will choices determine what sort of realm is created,” Tsukune said.

Kanjiro nodded. “I have come to warn you,” he said. “There is something here. It seeks to pervert the growth of this realm. It can enter into the visions of the dead and influence their choices.”

“Kuni Yori?” Tsukune asked.

“No,” Kanjiro replied. “Yori is merely a pawn as well… though if he knew as much he would surely seek to correct the matter.”

“If some evil would seek to twist this realm for ill then they shall soon learn that they are not the only one with power here,” Tsukune said. “I am the Fortune of Rebirth. If this is a realm where souls must face their destinies, it may be within my power to influence their visions as well.”

Kanjiro looked greatly relieved at her words. “I had hoped you would say as much,” he said with a sigh. “I wish you good luck, my love.” He turned and began to walk back into the mists.

“Wait,” Tsukune called out. “Will you not come with me?”

Kanjiro looked back at her in surprise. “Do you wish me to be at your side?” he asked. He did not mention Isawa Tadaka's name, but the implication was clear.

“I need you, Kanjiro,” Tsukune replied. “You know this place.”

“Oh,” he answered. He looked slightly crestfallen, but nodded affirmatively. “What would you know?”

“Anything you can tell me,” Tsukune replied. “If even the Sun and Moon have become consumed by visions of their destinies, then why not me?”

“I would have thought that was obvious, Tsukune-chan,” Kanjiro replied. “You have not met your destiny yet.”

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