Destiny of the Dragon

By Shawn Carman

Quiet Wind Plain

Mirumoto Masae sat atop a large boulder and meditated, basking in the soft breezes that stirred her hair as she drank in the warm sunshine. She had never felt so much at peace as she had here, in this place. The Quiet Wind Plain was well named, she thought with a smile. Or at least it had been until the Keepers had arrived.

Masae opened her eyes and sighed. She smiled at that thought, too, but it was a wry smile. She could hear Sugimoto and Tsuken. Their discussion of Hida Kisada’s return and its portents for the future had devolved into an argument over whether it was the place of the dead to interfere in the affairs of the living. Masae hardly heard the words; they were unimportant. Their argument was a mere clash of ego, with the arrogant young Tsuken and the stubborn old Sugimoto each seeking to impose his opinion on the other. The Keepers of Earth and Fire spent a great deal of time bickering with one another. Masae distanced herself to seek peace rather than embroil herself in their squabbles, but sometimes not even that helped.

“What was it that Rosoku’s challenge said?” Doji Jun’ai’s voice was even, but with a hint of doubt. “Something about those who found the books would already possess the knowledge contained within?”

Masae nodded.

“Strange, they do not sound enlightened,” the Crane said with a small laugh.

“And how should that sound?” Masae asked, looking at her pointedly. “I cannot deny that their bickering can become tiresome, but is it not a relief that they did not fear to express their opinions to one another?”

Jun’ai smiled, but there was an edge to it. Jun’ai was a woman used to command, but as the first of the Keepers to be chosen, the others often deferred to Masae. Masae knew Jun’ai was not jealous or resentful by nature, but no doubt finding herself under the authority of a cryptic Dragon was a bit of an adjustment for the practical, grounded Crane. Masae did not mind. Jun’ai was flexible and adaptive by nature, like the element of water she represented; she would come to adjust in time.

“Are they still arguing about the Great Bear?” Masae asked.

“No,” Jun’ai said. “They found common ground so they had to move on to something else. They’re discussing which clan is most likely to give rise to the Keeper of Void. Sugimoto believes such a soul could only be Phoenix, an Ishiken.”

“And Tsuken, of course, disagrees,” Masae said.

“Of course,” Jun’ai answered.

“It stands to reason,” Masae said with a smile. “While one might associate Earth and Fire to the families that give rise to their Keepers, one would hardly expect a Mirumoto to represent Air, or Doji to become Keeper of Water.”

Jun’ai shrugged. “Tsuken has made the argument personal, declaring that Sugimoto’s preconceived notions will not serve us well in our new roles. Sugimoto was predictably appreciative of Tsuken’s diplomacy.”

Masae shook her head. “I would not judge them too harshly. The old Crab and your lover possess greater wisdom than their behavior sometimes reflects.”

Jun’ai paled at Masae’s candor. “Tsuken and I…” she said, hesitating for a response.

“I have seen how you and Tsuken regard one another. There is no shame in the truth, Jun’ai,” Masae said.

“Some things need not be spoken of with such carelessness, Dragon,” Jun’ai said, the heat rising in her voice.

“You are both correct,” said a man’s voice, and both women looked up. A small man sat atop the rock where Masae had perched only a few moments before. A small crow sat upon his shoulder. “Find no shame in your love, Doji Jun’ai. It was Tsuken’s love that built his faith in you, turned Yoritomo Naizen’s army aside, and brought about your enlightenment. But do not assume such familiarity, Masae. Though you are all Keepers, your trust for one another must be earned – or it means nothing.”

Jun’ai bowed her head and nodded. “Thank you, Rosoku.”

“Thank you for coming, Keepers.” The prophet hopped down from the stone and bowed to the two women. Tsuken and Sugimoto appeared nearby, as if they had sensed the descendant of Shinsei’s arrival. “I regret that I have spent so much time apart from you, but time is of the essence, and there is much to be done.”

“We are ready to help, Rosoku-sama,” Kakita Tsuken said. “Though to tell the truth, I am uncertain what exactly we Keepers are supposed to be doing.”

Rosoku smiled wistfully. “Fearless but uncertain,” he said, “like a flickering candle in the darkness. Such contradiction within is only proof that you need more time.” Seeing the Crane’s crestfallen expression, he chuckled. “Do not be discouraged, Tsuken. Your time will be here soon, perhaps too soon, but I know you will be ready. You ask what purpose the Keepers will serve? In truth I cannot say – for you will determine your own destiny and how you must serve Rokugan. Until then, do not hasten toward the waiting trials. They will find you soon enough.”

“In my experience, waiting for trouble only gives it time to grow,” Sugimoto said harshly. “The boy’s questions should not be ignored. What purpose do the Keepers serve? With Clan Champions and Emerald Magistrates and Elemental Masters and the Shogun’s soldiers, why would anyone care what wisdom we have to offer? We are just four samurai.”

Rosoku shrugged. “And yet already the four of you have sown peace from the mountains of the Phoenix to the barren plains of the Badger,” Rosoku said. “And two more Keepers remain to be chosen.”

“I mean no disrespect, Rosoku-sama,” Masae said, “but your challenges have already been placed. The Keeper of Void and Keeper of the Five Rings will be found with or without your presence. Would it not be safer for you to return to solitude?”

“Better than skulking about in disguise and helping peasants in secret,” Sugimoto grumbled.

Rosoku smiled wryly at the Crab. “Safer, yes,” Rosoku said with a distant look, “but it is difficult to stand aside when I feel that I can help. I know how important it is for my bloodline to persist, but to stand idle does not sit well with me.”

“But is this not why we were chosen?” Jun’ai asked, her tone faintly irritated. “If you wish to help the people of Rokugan, then fulfill your role – survive. If there is good you feel that must be done, then rely upon us to do it.”

“Well said, Keeper of Water,” he replied. He paused for a moment. “There is a village to the south,” he finally said, “called Takatsu Mura. I wish for you to travel there. It is just within the Crab border.”

“Why do the sons of Hida require help protecting their own lands?” Sugimoto demanded.

“Everyone requires help, Sugimoto-san,” Jun’ai replied. “Is that not our purpose?”

Sugimoto shot the Crane an arch look, but his sour look quickly broke into a thoughtful grin. “I suppose you are correct,” he said. “I suppose it will be a welcome change, to return home.”

“Then let us hurry,” Tsuken said tersely.

“What would you have us do, Rosoku-sama?” Masae asked.

Rosoku’s answer was vague. “You can only do that which you feel is right.”

Takatsu Mura

The three day journey to Crab lands was uneventful, offering Masae a great deal of time to reflect. The Keepers of the Elements were not forming quite as she would have expected. Individually, each of her fellows was deserving, she felt, but as a group it was rare they all agreed on anything. Perhaps that was simply the nature of the elements, expressing itself through them. Yet if that was true, then why was Sugimoto her closest friend when the powers of Earth and Air usually opposed one another? And how could Tsuken and Jun’ai love one another so deeply when one represented Fire and the other Water? It made little sense, but perhaps that was the point. If she was meant to understand, she must first let go of her preconceptions. That was proving far more difficult than she had imagined.

Takatsu Mura was not a large village, one of many like it that dotted northern Crab lands. Sugimoto claimed that the villages were so spread out in order to make maximum use of the Crab’s little arable farmland. It was still odd, however. Masae was accustomed to life in the mountains, where people tended to cluster. Odd that here, where travel was so much easier, it seemed so much lonelier.

At Rosoku’s insistence, the Keepers dressed as ronin. Even Sugimoto, who would be quite welcome in Crab lands even were he not a Keeper, wore no symbols of family or clan. Their work, the prophet claimed, would be easier if they were anonymous.

The village’s lone teahouse was not particularly elaborate. In fact, it did not even have a proper name. The fare was passing, but not remarkable. Masae and Sugimoto sat on one side of the room, and Jun’ai and Tsuken on the other. The serving girl who came to offer them tea seemed nervous, so Masae made sure to pay generously for their drinks and let her come and go a few times before offering conversation..

“I have never been to Takatsu Mura,” Masae said after the girl returned. “How is the village faring? Do the spring crops look favorable?”

“Ah, yes, sama,” the girl said anxiously. “The crops are doing well.”

“We do not mean to distract you from your work,” Sugimoto said. He arranged his food and ate with one hand, leaving his lame arm folded in his kimono. “Is there a magistrate or hetman to whom we might speak?”

The girl paled visibly, and Masae saw her hands shaking. “Our… the… the magistrate has left the village.”

“Unfortunate,” Masae said. “Perhaps we can wait for him. Do you expect him to return soon?”

“I do not know, sama.” The girl’s voice was barely a whisper. “Look at me, girl.” Sugimoto’s voice was stern, but not loud. The girl looked up at him fearfully, meeting his eyes. Sugimoto’s unflinching gaze appeared to calm her. “We mean you no harm,” he said. “Tell us, what is happening here?”

“Several people have gone missing. The magistrate, Hiruma Hitaken, attempted to investigate, but did not return. He has been seen in the woods, but they say he is mad now. We have sent a message to Lord Hitoshi, but we do not know when help will arrive.”

“Worry not,” Sugimoto said. “All will be well.”

The girl smiled weakly.

“I mean it,” Sugimoto added.

She looked at his eyes again, and a look of hope seemed to dawn in her own. She bowed deeply and retreated from the table.

“The Bloodspeakers have wrought chaos throughout the Empire,” Masae said. “Hitaken may have been one of Iuchiban’s servants, driven to madness, or he may be their victim.”

“Or it may be some other threat,” Sugimoto said. “There are other evils beside Iuchiban, especially in these lands.”

“How did you calm that girl?” Masae asked. “It was like magic.”

“No magic,” Sugimoto said. “I simply helped her find focus by sharing mine. Merely a trick I have learned since my enlightenment.”

Masae smiled. “It was impressive.”

“If you say so,” he replied. “We must find this Hitaken.”

The Dragon’s smile faded. “We are not warriors, Sugimoto. Not any longer. Our path is a path of enlightenment.”

“Yet there is no enlightenment without conflict,” he answered. “In any case, I do not wish to kill Hitaka. I hope that we might help him escape his madness.”

“And if we cannot?” she asked.

Sugimoto drank deeply from his cup, and did not answer.

Takatsu Mura was surrounded on three sides by vast plains. To the northwest stood a forest, the only real place for someone like Hitaken to hide.

Masae and Sugimoto had chosen to delve into the forest in search of the missing Hiruma Hitaken. Jun’ai and Tsuken had learned of another, equally curious account; it seemed that an unidentified monk had been seen in the fields on numerous occasions, each time disappearing without a trace. None in the village knew the man; his identity remained a mystery. Combined with the disappearances, it struck the Keepers as quite odd.

Sugimoto had been of the opinion that the monk was Rosoku, skulking about on his own looking for those who needed aid, as he sometimes did. Tsuken insisted that they could not make assumptions, and that the matter must be investigated. Grudgingly, Sugimoto had relented, and the Keepers had parted ways for the moment.

The old Crab stopped and knelt, examining the ground. He looked for several moments before shaking his head in disgust. “There are tracks, but I cannot say how old. The Hiruma are trained to disguise their trails, when they leave a trail at all.”

“What does that mean?” Masae asked.

“If he is an enemy, then that we have found tracks means that he seeks to mislead us – and he is dangerous.” Sugimoto rose with a disgusted expression. “If he is a harmless lunatic, it means he has not been here in a long time. In either case, I cannot find him. My hunting days are long past.”

Masae nodded. “I believe I can find him.”

Sugimoto nodded. “Do what you must. I am ready.”

Masae smiled at the old Crab, grateful for his unquestioning acceptance. She took several steps away and stood amid the trees. She spread her arms wide, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, letting her conscious thoughts go. She thought of nothing, instead allowing the forest breeze to wash over her.

There were so many scents and sensations on the wind. She was the wind. She could smell the acrid scent of pine, and the fresh, earthy odors from the forest floor. There were animals as well, their musk strong but not overpowering. She could smell the familiar scent of Sugimoto, like stones wet from a summer shower. And she could smell something else.

Without opening her eyes, Masae pointed to the top of a tree, several hundred feet father inside the forest. “There,” she whispered. “He is there.”

Sugimoto nodded. “How do you wish to handle it?”

“He is panicked,” Masae said. “His breath comes too fast. He will attack, or run.”

“Draw him out,” the Crab said. “I will detain him.”

Masae nodded. She withdrew her blades and handed them to Sugimoto, walking across the forest toward the tree in an unconcerned manner. Perhaps she needed a moment of privacy, or perhaps the two were parting ways. To an observer, it would be impossible to say. What anyone would see, however, was a diminutive samurai-ko with no apparent weapons. She walked to the base of the tree and stood for several moments, waiting. When nothing happened, she took a deep breath to center herself, then leapt upward.

Masae moved with incredible speed, leaping from one branch to another in the span of a heartbeat. It was neither magic nor any gift of her enlightenment, merely natural agility. She rose through the tree’s canopy swiftly, coming to a stop on a thick branch, facing the recessed shadows near the tree’s trunk. Something moved within the shadows.

“I mean you no harm,” Masae said quietly. “We want to help you.”

There was a blur of motion from the shadows, and a form darted out. The man moved quickly, faster than Masae had expected. He shouldered past her and leapt, hitting several branches on his way down to slow his descent. Masae easily recovered her balance and followed, marveling at the agility the man possessed. He struck the forest floor amid a shower of leaves, rising quickly to run deeper into the forest.

Sugimoto was there. He appeared seemingly from nowhere and seized the man in a one-armed embrace. The old Crab weathered the other man’s frenzied blows without any sign of discomfort.

Masae landed nearby. “Be still,” she whispered, her tone soothing and even. She thought of Sugimoto’s calm back at the teahouse, and tried to summon the same aura of serenity. “Be calm. We want to help you. There is no reason for alarm. Tell us what has happened to you.”

The Hiruma’s eyes were wild and tinged with red. His ceased struggling and stared directly into Masase’s eyes. He gurgled something inarticulate, but Masae only shook her head. “Shh,” she said, soothing him like she would an infant. “Stop. Still your nerves. Find your center. You are Hiruma Hitaken. Come back to us.”

Hitaken’s struggles ceased, and some vestige of clarity blossomed in his eyes. “Who are you?” he said weakly. “Where are we?”

“I am Mirumoto Masae, Keeper of Air,” she said, her voice still even and calm. “This is Kaiu Sugimoto, Keeper of Earth. These are the woods beyond Takatsu Mura. You are the magistrate of that village.”

“Takatsu,” he murmured. “The village. Are the people safe?”

“There have been no more killings since you left,” Masae assured him. “We need to know what happened. Can you remember what happened to you?”

“Please, no,” he whispered. “I don’t want to remember.”

“I will share your pain,” Masae insisted. “I will take it from you as best I can. You will not be alone.”

“You can do it, son,” Sugimoto said, releasing him. “You are Crab.”

Hitaken nodded mutely. “There… there had been killings. We had found the bodies of three woodsmen. Their eyes were black and burned from their sockets. I assume that there must be Bloodspeakers. I went to hunt them.”

“A reasonable assumption,” Masae interjected. “You only wished to do your duty.”

“I followed a pair of men into the forest. They were the only ones bold enough to continue harvesting wood. I shadowed behind them for four days in a row, waiting for any sign of the Bloodspeakers. On the fourth day, a man approached them. He was dressed as a monk, but there was something… wrong.”

Sugimoto glanced at Masae. His discomfort was obvious. If the monk that had been seen in the fields was responsible for the murders, then Jun’ai and Tsuken could be in grave danger. “The monk spoke to the men,” Hitaken continued, “then he batted one aside like a moth. The monk grabbed the other and held him close. I hesitated only for a moment… it was too late. The monk drew in a deep breath. Bloody light spilled from the woodsman’s eyes and mouth. He tried to scream, but the monk swallowed the sound as well… then discarded the shell left behind.” Hitaken stopped, shaking from the memory.

“It is over now,” Masae said soothingly. “He is not here. Nothing can harm you.”

Hitaken nodded again and drew a shaky breath. “I rushed in, hoping to kill the demon. I plunged my blade into the monk’s chest, but he only laughed. He seized me by the throat, and I could feel everything falling away. My entire life was being stolen. Everything that was me was being drawn into him.”

“How did you escape?” Sugimoto asked.

“The first woodsman, he threw a rock and hit the monk in the head.” The Crab lowered his head in shame. “I slashed at his hand with the finger of jade I wear around my neck. Then I ran. But I feel as if part of me was devoured… I have trouble thinking clearly. I cannot face the demon alone.”

“You will not,” Masae said. “We will stand with you. But rest first. You are exhausted.” She looked up at Sugimoto. The two walked a short distance away, but the magistrate did not even notice. He had slumped to the ground, asleep.

“You did well,” Sugimoto said. “You learn quickly.”

“I hope that it was for the best,” Masae said. “Something is very wrong with him. There is an emptiness inside him. Can you sense it?”

The old Crab nodded. “He is… incomplete. It is strange. I have never felt anything like it.”

“This monk, whatever he is,” Masae said, “he took something from Hitaken. If we cannot help him recover it, he will lapse back into madness and die.”

“Then that must not happen,” Masae said.

Lady Moon was at her peak when Masae, Sugimoto, and the weary Hitaken arrived at the hills far northeast of Takatsu Mura. Masae had a terrible feeling of dread, like a cold weight in her stomach, that she had not felt since her days before becoming a Keeper. She had no idea what to expect, but knew that something terrible was taking place.

Their destination was a cluster of ruins amid the hills. There had been a monastery there once. The tale Hitaken told her of the monastery chilled her. For whatever reason, however, the monks had supported the Steel Chrysanthemum during the War of Spirits, spying on the Crab in return for generous bribes. Such avarice attracted the sort of wicked spirits that haunted Crab lands. One monk, a man named Musaboru, had become seduced by whispering kansen and granted his name to an oni. The demon destroyed the monastery and threatened Takatsu Mura before Musaboru finally slew it and took his own life. Masae could not be certain what the story meant, but if the area was in any way connected with an oni, no matter how long ago, then the threat of its return could not be disregarded.

“Wait.” Masae held up a hand. “Someone approaches.”

Sugimoto held his staff ready. Hitaken drew his blade, but looked as likely to flee as to fight. Whatever had happened to him had destroyed his sense of self, leaving a shell of a man. “Who approaches?” Masae demanded, her soft voice carrying easily on the wind.

“Tsuken,” a familiar voice returned. “Jun’ai and I are here.”

“Good,” she breathed a sigh of relief. All differences aside, the four Keepers were stronger when together. “How did you find this place?”

The two Crane glanced at one another. “We could find no trace of the monk,” Jun’ai said, “but we both had a sense that something was amiss in each place that we visited. We spoke to those who had seen him. One villager found a strange symbol burned into the ground, and made a copy on a scrap of parchment. It was the symbol of this monastery.”

Sugimoto shook his head. “This makes no sense whatsoever. We should find this demon, kill it, and be done with this place.”

“For one, I agree,” Tsuken said. “Though I feel as if there is a mystery here that demands to be resolved.”

Masae frowned, but before she could reply a sudden explosion of light from the ruins silenced her. The Keepers all turned as one, drawing their weapons as the silent explosion came again, brighter than before, a strange mixture of gold and green. Masae glanced at the others, then ran toward the ruins. The others followed, if a bit reluctantly in Hitaken’s case.

The flashes of light came more often, casting the entire hillside in light so bright it was like the middle of the day. The Keepers and the maddened scout ascended a short hillock to overlook what had once been the monastery’s courtyard.

Two men stood within the courtyard, locked in a mortal struggle. Even from this distance, Masae could see that they were identical in appearance. The only noticeable difference was the look of deep sadness on one’s face, while the other bore a look of unmitigated hatred. The two men did not speak, only fought, striking at one another with bare fists as well as blasts of magical energy. Neither seemed to do any true harm to the other, though neither relented.

After a moment’s observation, Tsuken turned to the obviously captivated Hitaken. “You must go down there,” he said in a strange, distant voice. “You have to go down.”

“He cannot!” Jun’ai insisted. “He will die!”

“No,” Sugimoto said. “He is right. The demon has not fed since Hitaken injured it, and he retains some connection to it. Perhaps he can tip the balance.”

“And he will surely die regardless if he does not reclaim what he has lost,” Masae added. She turned to Hitaken. “I know you’re frightened,” she said, “but you must go. It is the only way. Do you understand?”

Hitaken nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving the two combatants. Slowly, he stood descended toward the courtyard. Masae saw him slip into the winding network of ruined stone around the courtyard, then lost him. She turned to Sugimoto. “What can we do?”

“Nothing,” he said. “We wait.”

The two figures in the courtyard continued their struggle, but now they were beginning to look less and less alike. The one whose expression had been full of hatred had begun to expand, growing fatter by the moment. His flesh had turned a hideous, rotten color and his face had begun to deform into a terrifying mass of mandibles and maws. The other man, conversely, was growing taller and more serpentine, his form and face lengthening until he resembled nothing so much as…

“A dragon,” Jun’ai said flatly. “What madness is this?”

There were no longer two men struggling in the courtyard, but instead a demon and a dragon. They attacked again and again, giving no quarter, but doing no real damage to one another

A distant, inarticulate scream of rage reached Masae’s ears. A tiny form, that of Hitaken, charged onto the courtyard, blade drawn. He charged the demon and buried his blade in its gut. The thing snarled, a sound of irritation more than rage, and batted the Crab away, but the distraction had served its purpose. The dragon sank its fangs deeply into the demon’s arm, coating the ground with thick, black ichor. The demon howled in pain and fury, and grabbed the dragon by the throat, tearing away its scaled flesh. The dragon’s lifeblood, a brilliant, vibrant crimson, spilled onto the ground. The dying dragon plunged forward and raked the demon’s chest with its claws, eviscerating it. Rivers of gore flowed from both, and there was another explosion, this time much brighter and more powerful. There was only a moment for Masae to shield her eyes from the flash before the shockwave knocked her to the ground, and blackness came.

“Masae-sama.” The voice was vaguely familiar. “Are you injured?”

Masae opened her eyes to see the first rays of morning sunshine slipping over the horizon. Sugimoto sat a short distant away, rubbing his head. She rolled to the side and saw Tsuken and Jun’ai, laying unconscious on the ground. She turned back, looking for the one who had spoken to her. A young Crab crouched beside her, his black hair blowing slightly in the wind, his features concerned. For a moment, she did not recognize him. “Hitaken?”

He nodded. “Yes. I have recovered.”

Masae lifted a hand to her head and rubbed her aching temple. “What happened?”

“It is a difficult story to envision,” Hitaken said. “I know now what the two monks were, and why they came to this place. I saw it in a vision when the blast overtook us and I was healed of my madness.”

She met his gaze evenly. “Tell me, if you would. I need to understand.”

He nodded again. “There was a shugenja named Yozo who retired to this monastery and took the name Musaboru, becoming a monk. He summoned an oni, which he later destroyed, as I told you. What I did not know, what no mortal could have known, is that Fu Leng took Musaboru with him when he attacked the Celestial Heavens. The beast consumed several lesser Fortunes.”

“Just as it consumed the woodsmen,” Sugimoto grunted. “Just as it began to consume you.”

“The divine energies of those Fortunes, combined with the regret seeded deep within the demon, created something new.” Hitaken gestured to the courtyard. “Yozo was reborn, as a minor fortune, the divine counterpart to his demonic self.”

“Two beings born of one soul,” Masae said. “Incredible.”

“And unfortunate,” Hitaken agreed. “Yozo spoke to me as I was healed, even as he died. He was a Fortune of Vengeance, an impure entity bound forever to a demon, just as the demon was tainted with a sliver of regret and compassion, deep within its soul. Neither could exist without the other, although they both attempted to do so for many years. When the pain became too great, they returned here, to finish things. Musaboro did not sense me approach; the injuries we did to one another blinded him to my presence until it was too late.”

“And now both are dead,” Sugimoto said. “Even divine beings cannot grasp such simple truths. One could not live without the other. They were the same. Their hatred for one another was only self-loathing in disguise.”

“What does it matter?” Tsuken asked. “The people here are safe now.”

“And you?” Masae said to Hitaken. “How have you recovered?”

The magistrate smiled sadly. “Yozo’s parting gift was to return the fraction of my spirit that the demon had consumed. But I am not unchanged… different. I think perhaps I am inherited some portion of the dead Fortune as well.”

“Or the demon,” Jun’ai said. “Or both.”

“So this man might have powerful good and evil forces in his soul?” Tsuken asked. “How does that make him different from anyone else? When the time came to act the hero, I saw he did not falter.”

Sugimoto gave Tsuken a sidelong glance, a glimmer of respect in the old Crab’s eyes.

“Whatever has happened to you, Hitaken,” Masae said, “you will endure it and persevere. If you were strong enough to endure this trial, then you will endure what comes after.”

“I hope so,” the Crab said. He was silent for a moment. “The dragon recognized you four for what you are,” he finally added. “Even the Heavens respect the Keepers, it seems.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Sugimoto said. “We were little more than witnesses to this spectacle. There was little we could do to even decipher what was happening.”

“As I see it,” Hitaken countered, “you achieved much. I made my choice only because of you. Who knows what might have happened if I hid in those woods forever? You have begun your path, Keepers – as the guides and stewards of the future. For your courage and wisdom, I thank you. The future is in capable hands.”

“I hope that you are right,” Masae answered with a faint smile.