Mojo sat at his table and took another drink. He looked around the bar calmly, wondering what would possibly be taking so long. The small waitress approached the table once more, her pretty face pulled into a frown.

"Hi," Mojo said with a grin, leaning back in his chair, "any luck?"

"I am sorry, sir," the waitress said, keeping her eyes low, "Hachami will be indisposed for another hour."

Mojo shook his head. "That's no good," he said, "The park will be closed by then."

"I am sorry," the waitress replied, "Perhaps you could try back tomorrow?"

Mojo set his glass down with an irritated sigh. "You've told me pretty much the same thing every day this week. When will Hachami not be indisposed?"

"I do not know, sir," the waitress said calmly, "Would you like another drink?"

"No," Mojo said flatly, "I guess I'll just leave."

The waitress nodded and produced Mojo's check; she had it all ready to hand to him. Mojo produced a twenty hyakurai bill and handed it to her. "Keep the change," he said, standing, pulling on his jacket, and picking up his bag. He made his way out of the sake house and back out into the street. All around him, the bright lights of Bayushi's Labyrinth twinkled and sparkled against the darkness, and somewhere he could hear the music of a carousel. At one in the morning there were few others in the park, and they huddled in groups as they scurried down the street toward the parking lots and home.

Mojo noticed a Bayushi guard standing on the rooftop across the street, his red-black armor gleaming dully in the neon. Out of curiosity, he stepped out into the street and glanced quickly up at the roof of the Parlor. Another guard was standing there, watching carefully. Mojo surveyed the other buildings and rides in the area, and a Scorpion stood on the roof of every one.

"Something's not right here," he said to himself. The staff in general had seemed to have an aura of dread about them lately, a forced edge to their polite and friendly service that had not been there before. Add to that the heightened security, and something definitely seemed wrong in Bayushi's Labyrinth. He sat down on a nearby bench with a clear view of the Parlor, to think.

Mojo realized, deep down, that it was none of his business, whatever it was. He was, after all, a Phoenix with important duties of his own to attend. Asa's murderer had still not been brought to justice. That bothered Mojo greatly, but he had no time or resources to investigate. Most of his daylight hours were being spent trying to keep up with Isawa Asa's willful and adventurous daughter, Sumi, who didn't seem to understand why she particularly needed a bodyguard.

The Scorpion on the roof of the Parlor nodded limply, asleep. Mojo was in the alley behind the Parlor before he even realized what he was doing.

The second window from the left on the top floor was Hachami's. There were no fire escapes on the rear windows for him to climb, probably to prevent just this sort of thing. That was fine, he was a Phoenix. He could adapt. Mojo opened his bag and strapped on the light metal harness inside. As soon as it was secure, a metal post rose straight up from the back and extended into a trio of propeller blades a foot above Mojo's head.

"Up," he said simply.

The mini-gyro whirred into life, the blades spinning and chopping the air, gently lifting the samurai off the ground. He floated up to the window that was Hachami's, and peered inside. It was dark. Mojo pulled a pair of goggles out of his belt and slipped them on, waking the kami within the lenses with another whispered word. The darkened room flared into eerie green light to Mojo's eyes.

The room was empty. Entirely empty. There wasn't even any furniture.

"I can't believe it," Mojo whispered.

"Funny," said a voice from above him, "That's just what I was about to say."

Mojo looked up. Six feet away on the roof, a large figure in a black suit was pointing a very large pistol at his face.

"Hello," Mojo said, uncertain of what else he could say without being shot.

"Get the hell up here and turn that stupid gyro off," the Scorpion ordered.

Mojo quickly complied, flitting up onto the roof and commanding the gyro to fold up onto his back once more. The Scorpion still pointed the pistol at his face. Mojo noticed he was wearing a smiling rubber elephant mask.

"Nice mask, Scorpion," Mojo said dryly.

"Nice feathers, Phoenix," the Scorpion said, taking in the plumes of yellow feathers trailing down the arms of Mojo's jacket, "What did you think you were doing down there?"

"Just looking around," Mojo said, "I'm Shiba Mojo, a friend of Hachami's. I haven't been able to see Hachami in over a week and I was just worried about her. Guess she moved out."

"I'm Zou, Chief of Security here," the Scorpion replied, "I don't think I need any of your help."

"Really?" Mojo replied, smirking, "The way you've been beefing up the rent-a-cops around here, it looks like you could use somebody's help."

"Phoenix, I've had a hard day," the Scorpion growled, clicking back the hammer of the pistol, "Don't tempt me."

"Wouldn't dream of it," said a voice behind him.

Zou hesitated, realizing he'd been had. The figure in front of him, the one he had thought had been the Phoenix, wavered and disappeared. The true Mojo filtered into being next to him, like an old television flaring to life. The Phoenix's katana lay across the nape of Zou's neck.

Zou smiled behind his mask. "Do you think you can cut cleanly enough to kill me before I can shoot you?" he asked, "You'd better be sure."

"Actually, I don't want to kill you," Mojo replied, "I just find it annoying to try to hold a conversation when the other person is pointing a gun at you. You're the one that always sent Hachami the flowers, right? She spoke very highly of you."

Zou released the hammer on his pistol. "You knew her?" he said.

Mojo lowered his katana. "She's a good friend," he said, "I used to visit her every week. She's the only person I know in town who I can talk to about Shiba Opera."

"Opera?" Zou asked, bewildered.

Mojo shrugged. "I have eclectic tastes. Where is she?"

Zou holstered the pistol. "Dead," he said sadly, "Murdered."

Mojo's face went pale. He couldn't imagine such a thing. Hachami was the kindest and most intelligent person he'd ever met. She broke the stereotypical Scorpion mold. Everyone seemed to like her. And she'd been one of the few people who actually knew Mojo well enough to know he wasn't half the fool and the lecher he let people think he was.

"Why?" Mojo said simply.

"I would like to know that myself," Zou replied, walking to the edge of the rooftop and staring out at the great ferris wheel. Mojo noticed that one of its cars was missing. "I come here often, hoping her killer will return and I can deal with him myself. I heard you had been asking questions in the Parlor, so I waited until you walked outside and feigned sleep hoping to draw you up here. But I know the eyes of a killer and you are no killer."

Mojo stood at the edge of the roof, next to the Scorpion, quiet for a moment as he thought. "Do you have any other leads?" he asked, "Have you called the police?"

"Police and Scorpions don't mix," Zou chuckled, "I'm afraid that the Unicorn would be too interested in other things they may find in the Labyrinth to ever bother looking for Hachami's murderer. My master prefers not to give them the excuse. This is a Scorpion matter. Increasingly so, as five more besides Hachami have been killed. My master claims he has seen the killer, and that it is not even human. I do not know what to think. I have seen many strange things, but a monster?"

"I wouldn't leap to conclusions if I were you, Scorpion," Mojo said, "I was in the middle of the Phoenix Mercy bombing yesterday and you wouldn't believe what I saw."

"What do you mean?" the enforcer asked, turning to scrutinize the Phoenix.

"Tsukai," Mojo spat the word, "They summoned a beast from Jigoku to kill the patients. It hasn't been announced to the media because of the public outcry, but I know what I saw. The thing nearly killed me."

Zou stared at Mojo for a long moment. "You speak the truth, Phoenix?"

Mojo just nodded.

Zou stared off into the park again, folding his big arms across his chest. Finally, he spoke again. "If this is true, then I must kill this thing. It is my duty to my master, to the park, and to Hachami's memory. Shiba, I haven't been trained to battle such things. If I hunt it myself, I am likely to die." He said nothing else, but continued to gaze gravely out over the Labyrinth. Mojo knew the enforcer would be too proud to ask for help, and would do nothing to draw the Scorpion into a position where they owed a favor.

"You wouldn't mind if I tagged along, would you, Zou?" Mojo asked with a grin.

The Scorpion nodded. "Just stay out of my way," he replied.

In the clear winter sky of Otosan Uchi, the silver and sapphire spire of Dojicorp twinkled coldly. The old man imagined Doji Meda somewhere within, in the highest levels, looking down at him with contempt. He cursed Doji Meda. He cursed Dojicorp. He cursed the Crane Clan. And he cursed... he cursed himself. As much as he would like to blame Kamiko, he couldn't bring himself to do it. After all, if she was too brave, too reckless, to rebellious for her father's liking, then who had he to blame but the man who had raised her?

But that was over now. Jinwa turned his back on Dojicorp and shuffled down the street, hands thrust deep into his coat pockets seeking warmth. The last week had been a nightmare. A simple nightmare. Dojicorp had wasted no time in reducing the former sensei's reputation and assets to nothing, evicting him from his home and his family, expelling him from his home and casting him alone into the winter. He was a ronin now, with no more than the clothes on his back. His katana lay shattered in his former chambers, a reminder of the price of failure for his replacement.

Meda had forbidden even seppuku, forcing Jinwa to live with his shame. Not that Jinwa would have necessarily killed himself, regardless. A bit of Kamiko's pragmatic bushido had rubbed off on him over the years, and somewhere, deep down, the life of a ronin had always had a certain appeal. He had always particularly enjoyed the adventure stories of Ginawa, the ronin who battled against all odds not for reward or honor. A man with a checkered past and an uncertain future. A man who began a path of blood and vengeance and in his quest found honor, became a hero. There was a certain seductive purity to that. Well, at least there would be if Jinwa wasn't old and freezing to death. He wasn't quite sure how seductive it was to be old and homeless. What use was he to anyone now? Who would want a washed up ronin?

The scream of sirens resounded from around the corner, and a phalanx of purple Otaku motorcycles roared down the street toward some distant crime. Jinwa smiled a little. They were so driven, so dedicated, so young. In his own youth, he had been a soldier, eager to leap into the breach, willing to strike down the enemies of the Crane. His youthful zeal had faded but it had been replaced with an unswerving, steadfast loyalty. Or what he thought had been a steadfast loyalty. It was amazing how something like that could dwindle away so quickly, gone now. Now he hated the Crane.

Or did he? If Meda came to him right now and offered him his old position, Jinwa wondered if he'd even hesitate to take it.

There was a sharp tap at his shoulder, and Jinwa turned to stare into the blade of a wakizashi. A lifetime of experience with blades told him it was a fine sword, of Shinjo make. Holding the blade was a grinning young man with a shaved head, a Bishonen. The old ronin could tell that the boy had much confidence, but little skill.

"Wallet, grandfather. Now," the youth said with mock politeness.

Jinwa nodded, drew his billfold from his pocket, and handed it to the young man. The Bishonen popped it open with his free hand and looked inside distastefully. "Only ten?" he spat. Jinwa shrugged. The Bishonen punched him on the side of the head with the hilt of the sword and Jinwa went down on the sidewalk.

Jinwa waited until the man was gone, then sat up on the cement, staring up at Dojicorp. He cursed his cowardice. Ten years ago, he never would have buckled under like that. Fortunes, ten minutes ago, he never would have backed down. He would have defended his life and his honor. But now he had no life, he had no honor? What was worth defending? He wondered if Ginawa ever asked himself the same thing.

Jinwa eased himself to his feet. He was still quite limber in his old age, in excellent shape for a man of forty-six, but he was careful. He touched his forehead, and found no blood though the man had left a nasty lump. His wallet was laying on a trashcan nearby, and he put it back in his pocket and kept walking, away from the mocking specter of Dojicorp.

"Help!" cried a girl's voice.

Jinwa turned toward the alley, where the Bishonen had fled. He hesitated. This was none of his business. How could he make a difference? He stepped into the alley anyway. The old ronin carefully made his way between the buildings, and peered around the corner. The same Bishonen who had robbed and struck him was there, shoving a young girl to the ground in the alleys shadows and tearing at her clothing as he gripped the wakizashi in his free hand.

Jinwa didn't know how the pipe had gotten into his hand, only that it was there, and that it was about the same length and weight as a katana. He was angry.

"Stop!" he said in a voice a little louder than he'd intended.

The Bishonen glanced back. "I already took care of you, grandfather. Go away." He turned back to his victim.

"You have not even begun to take care of me, whelp," Jinwa roared. He struck the drainage gutter with his pipe, producing a loud crack of metal.

The Bishonen turned with a start, his sunglasses slipping from his face. He shoved the girl aside and advanced on the old ronin. "Okay, old man. That's what you want."

Jinwa's face was cold, steady, but he was inwardly afraid. He was old enough to be this boy's father, and he had no proper weapon. He surrendered himself to void and instinct, in the manner he'd always taught and practiced. The old man took a graceful step back, no longer appearing old at all as he spun the pipe in a fluid arc and laid it across his hip, in the manner of a sheathed sword. The Bishonen paused a moment, surprised with Jinwa's quickness.

And in that moment, it was over. The old ronin's heart was Fire, his muscles flowed like Water, his blade held the strength of Earth and his strike held the quickness of Air, save the crudeness of the weapon it was one of the most pure and perfect strikes he had ever drawn. The Bishonen fell in a heap among the garbage, both forearms broken as the wakizashi spun out of his hands and Jinwa caught it in the air.

The Bishonen shrieked and cried in pain, scrabbling among the metal cans and plastic bags. Jinwa ignored him, tucking the wakizashi under his belt and helping the girl to her feet.

"Are you all right?" he asked her.

"Yes," she said nervously. Her makeup was running from tears, and her clothing was in shreds. Jinwa gave her his coat to cover herself, and then walked her the rest of her way home to insure her safety.

As he emerged from the apartment building minutes later, the sky seemed brighter. He folded his coat over his arm, as the cold no longer bothered him. It made him feel alive. He looked for the spires of Dojicorp, but could not find them.

"It's nice to be able to make a difference, isn't it?" a voice said.

Jinwa turned, curious and unafraid. Two men stood waiting for him on the sidewalk. One was short and stocky, with a thick growth of stubble and a strange metal eyepatch on his right eye. The other was tall, pale, and thin, with long braids in his hair and mirrored sunglasses. Both of them wore long black jackets, with an odd symbol on the sleeve, a howling wolf. They both carried swords on their belts.

"Who are you?" Jinwa asked.

"Friends," the tall man said in a smooth voice, "We'd like to buy you lunch. And don't be proud," he chuckled, "People in our position can never afford to pass up a free meal."

"All right," Jinwa said, and a few minutes later he was enjoying a greasy hamburger in a shabby cafe nearby. The one-eyed man was digging into a basket of cheese covered onion rings, but the tall man simply sipped at a cup of tea.

"So what do you want?" Jinwa said. Years of living as a Crane had taught him to conduct his business plainly and to the point.

The one eyed man chewed and swallowed. "Peace," he said, "Justice. Excitement. Whatever," he smiled, a dangerous smile, "The streets are a deadly place for normal people, friend. Desperate times indeed, when the Great Clans can't even look out for the common people they claim to protect."

"Hai," Jinwa replied, "I am learning this."

"And with the Locust Clan and the Bishonen becoming stronger and stronger soon the streets will be safe for no one," the one-eyed man added gravely.

"Tell me," the tall man said, still wearing his sunglasses and gazing distantly at nothing, "How much do you know of history? Have you studied the Clan Wars and the Day of Thunder?"

"A bit," Jinwa said.

"Then you will remember that it was also a time when the problems of the Clans became more important than the problems of the people, yet the common man was expected to shoulder the burden."

"You're not suggesting some sort of revolution or something, are you?" Jinwa asked warily.

The one-eyed man laughed, his mouth full. "Nothing of the sort," he mumbled, then swallowed before continuing. "Just suggesting that history repeats itself. We need now what we had then. A band of misfits to stand against the chaos. The forgotten, the underestimated, the last hope."

"I guess you're talking about Toturi," Jinwa said, recognizing the wolf on their sleeves at last.

The tall man smiled. "We like to think so. Of course, we're nowhere near as large or well organized as the original Toturi's Army, but it's the example that we live by. We follow in the footsteps of the original, even taking our names from the heroes that rode with the Lion Thunder, Toturi. I am Tokei and my friend here calls himself Dairya."

Dairya smiled his dangerous smile again. "We saw what you did earlier with the Bishonen," he said, "We were about to step in ourselves, then we saw that you had it under control. You have the skill and the spirit we're looking for. We'd be honored if you'd join us."

"Eh, I don't know," Jinwa said, looking away, "It sounds very wonderful, and it'd be marvelous to have a purpose again. But I'm far too old."

"Sure you're too old," Dairya replied, "And I'm too crazy and Tokei's too drunk." Tokei blinked, shook his head in disdain, and drank some more coffee. "Nobody's perfect. So are you in or out?"

Jinwa thought about it for about a second. "I'm in."

Tokei and Dairya nodded at each other, satisfied. Then Tokei spoke, "We never asked you, my friend. What is your name?"

Jinwa smiled. "Call me Ginawa."

Daniri sat at the window, adjusting the camera so it would have a clear view of the street without itself being seen. He had a perfect vantage on the Locust Clan's secret hideout from here. Ironically, the techno-terrorists had set up shop in an old abandoned appliance store.

Daniri opened the brown bag and took out the last of his sandwiches. As sleepovers went, this stakeout was not so bad. He'd been on location shoots in worse neighborhoods, and had long since learned not to trust in the caterers and bring his own bag lunch. He made a pretty damn good sandwich after working in that sushi bar for so long, too.

He glanced at his watch and cursed, wishing he had more time. He had to leave for his morning shoot in an hour, and still hadn't seen any sign of his brother. He'd have to pop a tape into the camera and leave it running. His pocket rang softly, and Daniri took out his cellular phone and extended the antenna. "Yes?" he answered.

"Hi, Daniri," a woman's amused voice said, "This is Kochiyo. You called me?"

"Yeah, about that," Daniri said with mock annoyance, "I go to all the trouble to find your phone number, and you don't even answer the phone."

"All what trouble?" she said back, "Daniri I'm in the phone book. Besides, I'm a busy girl."

"Phone book?" Daniri asked. "Akodos can't read. Didn't you know that?"

"Hey, what are you doing tonight, Daniri?" she asked suddenly.

"Um..." Daniri glanced down at the appliance store. "I'm not too sure. Why?"

"Well that was lukewarm," she snickered, "Daniri, I get the feeling there's someone else in your life."

"Well, there's mom," he said, "And my director. Oh, and the Daidoji Steelboy Cheerleaders of course."

"Of course. Well, did you want to go out to dinner tonight? My treat."

Daniri hesitated. If he said yes, he'd miss a night watching the street, perhaps miss his brother. If he said no, she might wonder why... not to mention the fact that he didn't want to screw things up with Kochiyo despite his secret. He checked the camera. He had plenty of tape. He'd just try to get back early so he wouldn't miss much and would have time to review the tapes.

"Sure," he said, "I'll pick you up at seven."

"Great," she said.

"Where should I pick you up?"

"I'm sure you can figure it out," she said, and hung up.

Saigo sat back on the couch and let the waves wash over him. The sensations weren't as strong, as intense as they were the first time long ago, and the effects were getting weaker every time since. He wondered what he would do after the drugs ceased to affect him altogether. He didn't know how he'd be able to face himself then.

Saigo's room was very small and rather cluttered. The decor was generally dark and gloomy, with posters of heavy metal bands leering down from the walls. Candles burned on the small endtables and a small portable stereo churned out a painful, haunting melody in the corner.

Saigo leaned his head back and rubbed his eyes with two fingers, letting the needle fall out of his hands and clatter on the floor. He forgot about the future for a little while, forgot about the past, ceased to care about the present. The young prophet's soul was at peace.

"I hate to disturb you, son," said a harsh voice, "after all, you seem so content in this world of addiction. However, we have much to do today and little time."

Saigo's head snapped up. The room was empty. His landlord was supposed to be gone for the evening and Saigo lived alone. Where had the voice come from? Could it be the drugs? Daikoku's Milk had never made him hallucinate before. Could Oroki have given him a bad batch?

"The Scorpion is not to blame for your own foolishness, son," the voice said again, full of dark malice and judgment, "In the end the only one to hold account for your misery is yourself."

Saigo squinted toward the direction of the voice. With horror, he found he could make out the hazy features of a face, hanging in midair. The eyes were narrow and cruel, glowing with a hint of red. The mouth was a thin, lipless line. As Saigo stared, the face became more solid, and a body faded into being around it. The stranger had a shaven head, topped with a crown of red crystal. Ancient robes of red and orange hung from his body, tattered and blackened as if from a fire. The symbol of the Phoenix glowed on his left breast, but in deep indigo rather than its standard fiery color.

"Who are you?" Saigo gasped.

The spirit sneered. "I have the rather dubious distinction of being your ancestor, Saigo. I have come to bring you guidance. In life, I was called Tsuke."

"Isawa Tsuke!" Saigo said with a laugh. He must be hallucinating. Isawa Tsuke was a monster, a boogeyman, a story told to frighten little Phoenix boys and girls. He wasn't real. "Okay, who's behind this?" he glanced around, "Is this some kind of a joke?"

Tsuke snarled, revealing blackened gums and perfect white teeth. "Fool," he spat, "You disgust me. As does the rest of your decadent Empire. This is not the Rokugan I know. How can you possibly expect to prepare for the future when you can not even remember your past?"

The spirit moved to Saigo's single, tiny window and gazed out at the streets of Otosan Uchi. "For your information, son, I am indeed Isawa Tsuke, I am indeed your ancestor, and I am indeed very, very real."

He turned back to meet Saigo's gaze, his red eyes glowing intensely. "In my time, I was the Master of Fire. In my time, I was one of the greatest maho tsukai ever known. Oh, I had the best of intentions and I hardly acknowledged it as maho at the time, but I wielded black magic just the same. In the time of the Clan Wars the Elemental Masters all studied the Shadow with the hope of destroying it, but we all fell to the darkness, even the Phoenix Thunder himself, Tadaka. I was the first to fall to Fu Leng's madness. I killed my brothers and sisters. I slew my own daimyo with my magic, and I struck down the Elemental Masters with the praise of the Dark One on my lips." Saigo huddled close to the couch, fearful.

"I murdered millions of my own clansmen," Tsuke said, drifting across the floor toward the prophet, "Millions. I did so with great glee, and without remorse. I am one of the most feared and hated figures in the history of Rokugan, and rightfully so."

Saigo's mouth was dry. The spirit was full of repressed hate and fury. The young prophet knew that this was for real. Though the spirits of ancestors were purportedly benevolent and helpful by nature, Saigo couldn't help but fear for his life.

"But then, Tadaka..." Tsuke's gaze became unfocused, distant, and sad. "Tadaka did what no one else could do. He struck a blow against me that not even Fu Leng could shield me from. Saigo, do you know what he did?"

"No," Saigo mumbled.

"He forgave me," Tsuke replied, "As my life drifted away, he took my charred and still burning hand, the hand with which I had hurled the flames that slew Uona, Tomo, and Ujimitsu just moments before. And as my tainted, maddened soul ebbed away, Tadaka had the courage to remember me as I had been, and he forgave me for my weakness. With that selfless act, my soul was wrenched beyond Fu Leng's grasp." The spirit's eyes became again clear, sharp, and focused on the younger Phoenix. "Do you understand now why I have come?"

"Is it because of my prophecy?" Saigo asked.

Tsuke smiled, slightly, and only for a moment. "Correct. You are perhaps my descendant after all. I have come to bring you perspective and perhaps make amends for my own crimes in a small measure by doing so. Had I known then what I know now, I would never have strode the path of darkness. I can perhaps now prevent you from making the same mistake."

"Is this about the drugs?" Saigo asked.

Tsuke glanced at the half empty box of needles on the floor. "In truth, no," Tsuke said distastefully, "Though I disapprove, I sense much pain in you, Saigo. You must do what you can to find the strength to continue. In truth, the drugs have made it possible for us to communicate, expanding your perceptions in a way I do not quite understand. But the lesson I bring is much more important." He held out one hand, covered in a light dusting of black soot. "Now take my hand, Saigo. Come with me."

Saigo stood, nervous and uncertain. He reached out tentatively, his hand shaking with the tremors of the Scorpion drug, and touched Isawa Tsuke's hand. To Saigo's surprise, the spirit's hand was warm and solid, like the hand of a living man. The room around them swirled and became indistinct, and the two suddenly stood upon a rocky ledge, the wind howling and whipping about them. They overlooked a barren wasteland, covered with an army of shambling, misshapen figures. Their columns stretched forever back into the west, as they marched toward the rising sun.

"Where are we?" Saigo said with wonder.

"The Shadowlands," Tsuke replied, "One hundred and four years ago."

"The Shadow Wars?" Saigo asked.

Tsuke turned toward the west and pointed. A line of soldiers marched upon the twisted army. Some wore the armor of samurai, green and golden. Others were bald and barechested, their bodies swirling with tattoos. In the forefront strode a massive beast, a dragon from the waist down and a huge man from the waist up. It was encircled by a circle of chanting priests in robes of red and green.

"The Dragon Clan," Tsuke said, "Now making their first and last appearance in the Shadow Wars. Many considered them cowards or worse because of their reluctance to assist in the conflict. Till now, they have been silent and unreachable within their mountain fortresses, and have ignored all pleas for help. The Great Clans have given up on them, and now assume they have gone mad to attack directly now that all seems hopeless."

"But I thought the Dragon were heroes," Saigo said.

"Exactly what the Ikoma want you to think," Tsuke said with a shake of his head, "The other clans will later realize the Dragons' sacrifice and write the histories to accord them the honor that they never deigned to give them in life. Posthumously, of course. Now watch what happens, this is important."

The earth began to rumble as the Dragons advanced upon the army of darkness. The wasteland's surface cracked and shifted, and unholy beasts of every shape and variety issued forth from the fissures. In the very center of the evil army, a great chasm suddenly yawned and a mountain rose up from within. No, not a mountain but a mass of writhing tendrils that quickly resolved into a gigantic three-eyed demon. It towered above the army larger than any living creature was meant to be, and it's roar shook the earth and sky.

"Akuma!" Saigo said, stumbling and falling to one knee in petrified fear.

Tsuke nodded, unaffected by the spectacle. "Originally a minor demon of no note whatsoever. He took the name of Isawa Akuma, a wizard skillful and foolish enough to summon him. The demon began at his summoning to draw power from the evil and hatred of humankind, and has never since lacked for strength. It has grown for nearly two millennia from such feeding, and is now absolutely unstoppable."

"But the Dragon--" Saigo said.

Tsuke laughed sharply, a rasping, humorless sound. "The Dragon have always thrived from making the impossible commonplace. Observe."

The two armies clashed, the Dragons striking with steel and fire against the claws and shadows of Akuma. At the very heart of the battle was the half-dragon. He hurled aside the denizens of evil with little effort, all the while clutching to his side a silver metal cone the size of a small boulder. His eyes were only on Akuma, slashing aside the lesser minions of the Oni Lord and making a line through the ranks straight toward the demon. The Agasha priests brought down the heavens upon their foes, slashing rain and burning lighting striking many of the tainted men and monsters to the ground. The Dragons battled valiantly, but Akuma's minions stretched on forever, to the western horizon and beyond. The samurai were thousands against millions.

"What is the man-dragon carrying?" Saigo asked.

"Hope and chaos," Tsuke replied, "The Dragon have not spent the Shadow Wars in idle cowardice. They have been working the long years, learning the secrets of binding spirits into technology and protecting those secrets at all costs until the proper time."

"Tetsukami?" Saigo asked.

Tsuke nodded. "Though more then just kami could be bound by the Dragon. Kansen could be bound as well, taking great delight in haunting machinery and turning it to evil. Even dragons, the true dragons from which the clan took their names, could invest their power into technology. That canister Hoshi carries, and a few others now being carried into strategic places in the Shadowlands, carry the essence of the Fire Dragon."

"The Fire Dragon?" Saigo replied.

"Yes," Tsuke replied, "A creature of purest fire, whose magic is unmatched and unimaginable by human minds. In moments, that canister will release the Fire Dragon's power in a fury of nuclear flame and destruction. Though Akuma will not be killed, he will be greatly weakened. The Phoenix Clan will detect the shift in power from their distant outposts, for they have long awaited such an opportunity. They will strike without hesitation, binding the weakened Oni Lord and sealing him away forever in the depths of the earth."

"Will we stay to see?" Saigo asked.

"We had best not," Tsuke replied, "Even in spirit forms, I am uncertain we would survive the power of the Fire Dragon." The spirit held out his hand. "But worry not about the Dragon. They know well what is required of them."

Saigo took his ancestor's hand, sparing one last look at the battlefield behind him. But as he faded, he swore he saw some of the Dragons begin to fade away as well.

Yasu stood in the hospital gift store, feeling like a bull in a china shop. The store was small and cramped with shelves; everything on them seemed fragile and or fluffy. The magazine racks were full of Crane fashion magazines and Lion movie fanzines, nothing that interested Yasu.

The elderly clerk watched the big Crab carefully as he clanked about in his armor, examining the coffee mugs. Yasu noticed her staring at him and smiled as politely as he could manage.

"May I help you?" she asked in a wavering voice.

"I'm looking for something for a friend of mine," Yasu replied.

"Is your friend sick or is he injured?" she asked.

"Yeah," Yasu replied, "That's why he's in the hospital."

The old woman blinked, "No, I mean is your friend sick or is your friend injured?"

"Oh," Yasu laughed, "Sorry. He's injured. Broke his leg when he blew up a gas main and didn't get out of the building in time."

"Oh, my!" she said, covering her mouth with one hand.

"Oh, he's okay!" Yasu said reassuringly, "We do this sort of thing all the time. We're Seekers." He pointed out his belt buckle, a large black crab with one eye, the symbol of the Seekers.

"Oh," she said, "Well, that's... er... nice," she decided to change the subject. "Perhaps your friend would like some nice flowers?"

Yasu stared for a moment, his grin unchanging. "That was a joke, right?"

The old clerk smiled warmly. "Flowers can do a soul a world of good," she said.

"I'm sure they can," Yasu replied dryly, "That's okay but he's not that sort of friend."

"How about a nice card?" she suggested.

"Eh..." Yasu said, glancing over the greeting cards, "No thanks. He'd just read it and throw it away. That's what I always do."

The clerk rolled her eyes when Yasu couldn't see. Difficult man. "Well, then what sort of thing do you have in mind for your friend?" she asked.

Yasu's eyes lit up with inspiration. "Got any beer?"

"Oh, you did not," Hayato laughed out loud, "You did not ask the cashier to get you some beer." The scout was laying propped up on his pillows in a white hospital bed, his left leg in a thick cast and hanging suspended from the ceiling. His entire midsection was wrapped in bandages, and he still had a few small bandages on his face.

Yasu shrugged. "I don't spend a lot of time in hospitals. How was I supposed to know?"

Hayato looked disappointed. "So I guess they didn't have any?"

Yasu shook his head in profound sadness. "No, they didn't. But luckily, there's a convenience store right down the street." The Crab produced a grocery bag from behind his back and took out a six pack, pulling one can for himself and tossing the other to his friend.

"So where have you been, man?" Hayato asked, popping open his can and drinking, "You haven't visited me since the night we killed Jimen?"

"We?" Yasu asked with an arched eyebrow, popping open his beer with a hiss. "I'll let that one go, cause you're hurt. Anyway, between helping Uncle Toshimo with the new truck and getting the runaround from the Emperor I haven't had too much time for myself."

"Any more news from Downtown?" Hayato asked. Yasu could tell that the scout was becoming quickly irritated with his injured leg and was eager to get back into the heart of the action.

"Nothing," Yasu said, "I've led a squad in there every night myself in addition to the usual scouts. Haven't seen an oni or even a goblin. Quiet as a tomb in there."

"Not good," Hayato said thoughtfully, "There's always some sort of activity. That almost worries me more than if you'd found another oni."

"Me too," Yasu agreed, sitting in the visitor chair with a creak, "Then again, maybe they're scared. I mounted what was left of Jimen's head on the front of my new truck and set big pieces of jade in where the eyes used to be. Damn thing's uglier than I am now."

Hayato laughed out loud, then winced and clutched his chest. "Don't do that, Yasu. My ribs are still sore."

"Whining Hiruma," Yasu snorted, "So when do they let you out of here, anyway? You've been lounging around in here for a week."

Hayato sneered. "Stupid doctors," he said, "I feel fine. Give me a pair of crutches and I'll walk right out of here. They say they're worried about my internal injuries though. Apparently I nearly punctured a lung or something. I dunno." A nurse entered, bringing a tray with Hayato's dinner. She took a look at the beers, shook her head with a rueful smile, and left.

"She likes me," Hayato said.

"Whatever," Yasu shrugged, taking a drink, "You hear about what happened at Phoenix Mercy?"

"Yeah, I heard about that," Hayato replied, shaking his head in disbelief, "So who was behind all that? Was it terrorists or what?"

"They never said," Yasu finished the rest of the beer and threw the can at the garbage, missing by a foot. "The Elemental Masters are keeping the whole deal bottled up pretty tight."

Hayato scowled. "What's with that? We're supposed to be their allies and all. We can't exactly help them if they won't let us."

"I said the same thing to Toshimo," Yasu replied, turning in his chair and putting his feet up on the one beside him. "Hm. Maybe there's something about it on the news." Yasu grabbed the remote control from the bedside table and snapped the television on. The sharp young face of Ikoma Keijura, roving reporter for KTSU, appeared on the screen, the steps of the Diamond Palace rising behind him.

"Treachery," the reporter said, "That's what the Imperial Guard are calling this latest revelation. And a starting revelation it is. New information has been discovered in the case of last week's startling Imperial assassination attempt, evidence that paints a dark new portrait of Detective Kitsuki Hatsu. In a press conference this morning, Captain Tsuruchi Kyo had this to say..."

The image changed to the gaunt captain of the Imperial Guard, standing behind a podium full of microphones. He looked angry and sinister with his black goatee and sunglasses. "Apparently," he said slowly and carefully, "Detective Kitsuki has developed a problem with answering to authority. He has absconded with evidence critical to this case, evidence that would have led to the capture of the ringleader of these assassins if it had not been so abruptly stolen."

"Why would the detective do such a thing?" called out a reporter in the audience.

"Unknown," Kyo replied grimly, "I know Hatsu. I believed him to be a man of great courage and impeccable character. I am afraid at this point, however, he has turned his back on the Emperor's justice and we must assume the worst. He may be acting in compliance with these assassins, and may well have been working with them all the while."

"Bull," Yasu said, crushing his second empty beer can in his fist, "Whatever it is, Hatsu's not in on it. This is a set up."

"You sure?" Hayato asked, "You only met the guy, what? Like once?"

Yasu shrugged. "I'm a good judge of character."

"Yeah, right," Hayato laughed, wincing again. "You weren't such a good judge of Kuni Hojo's character."

Yasu feigned innocence. "I had no idea that was his sister. Or that he would take it so badly." Hayato chuckled. "Be quiet, I'm trying to watch the news," Yasu turned back to the screen, folding his arms before him.

The image flashed back to Keijura, on the steps of the palace. "Kyo went on to say that Kitsuki is now considered a dangerous fugitive. He is armed and at large. If you see Kitsuki Hatsu-" a photograph of the young detective appeared floating over Keijura's shoulder, "please do not approach him. He is armed and possibly dangerous. Call the police or the Imperial Guard immediately."

Hayato sat up a little straighter. "I know that look, Yasu. That particular look led to about ninety-five percent of the ridiculous situations we ended up in the middle of back at the Hida Academy. What are you up to?"

"I'm going to find him," Yasu replied simply.

"Who?" Hayato asked, "Hojo? I'm sure by now he's forgotten all about the --"

"No, not Hojo," Yasu said, "Though it's not a bad idea. I was talking about Kitsuki Hatsu."

"Yasu, the Imperial Guard can handle--"

"If Kyo's rear end were on fire, he couldn't find it with both hands," Yasu replied. "Besides, if Hatsu's gone bad, I'm thinking maybe he got hit with one of those tetsukansen implants, right? And that's maho. Seeker territory."

"Actually, maho is under Phoenix jurisdiction," Hayato corrected, "Or the tsugasu, even."

"Eh, semantics," Yasu waved a hand dismissively, "We can sort out the paperwork later."

"Well, you do what you have to, Yasu," Hayato stared at his shattered leg helplessly, "Wish I could go along. Sounds like fun." He turned to his friend. "Have you got any idea where to find him?"

"Not a one," Yasu grinned, "Not that that's ever stopped me before."

The ground was flat and clear as glass, dark as midnight sky, and glowing here and there with bright pinpoints of light. Far in the distance, a great brilliant white fire burned.

"This is incredible, Tsuke-sama," Saigo said, kneeling on the clear ground and staring into its depths.

Tsuke frowned angrily, the mists of their travel still swirling about him. "This demonstration is not intended to entertain," he said quietly, "It is intended to save the Empire."

"I am sorry," Saigo said, shocked, bowing his head as he stood, "I did not intend offense."

"Those drugs have addled your wits," the spirit hissed, spreading one hand in the air before him, "Look," he said, pointing toward the bright light. It quickly came closer, and Saigo realized that his ancestor was moving them toward it. A dark shape suddenly moved before the light, dimming its brilliance. The young prophet soon saw that the light came from a single female figure made of light, and the dark shape that eclipsed it was a man made of shadow.

"Where have we come now?" Saigo asked in wonder.

"Heaven," Tsuke replied, "Do you not recognize it? All mortal souls sprang from this font and it is here they will all return."

"Who are those figures?" Saigo asked, refusing to believe his eyes, "Are those gods?"

"To say the least," Tsuke replied, "Onnotangu and Amaterasu, Lord Moon and Lady Sun. The mother and father of all creation, at least in Rokugani belief."

Suddenly, there was a loud explosion behind them and Saigo was thrown to his feet. A brilliant silver comet streaked over his head, hurtling into the back of Lord Moon and throwing him to Heaven's ground. The comet resolved into the shape of a tall young man with a golden sword held in one fist, standing over the prone god.

"Get up!" the young man howled in an angry voice, "Get up and face me if you dare, father!"

"Who is that?" Saigo asked, crawling to his feet again.

"Hantei," Tsuke said, detached from and unaffected by the scene. "The first Emperor, come to avenge his brothers and sisters. You know the tale. Lord Moon swallowed them all in fear that they would supplant him. Only Hantei managed to escape."

"Whelp!" Lord Moon retorted in a thunderous voice as he rolled to his feet and drew a blade of inky blackness, "Your mother has deluded you. This path leads only to destruction."

"Your destruction, perhaps, father," Hantei replied, a haughty smirk on his face.

The two clashed, their blades showering the sky with brilliant sparks. Heaven shook with the battle, and Saigo felt the invisible eyes of many suddenly fall upon the duel.

"I see you sense them," Tsuke said, "Some are others like ourselves. Some are gods of distant lands, come to see what will occur. Some are minions of evil, looking for opportunity."

"But why?" Saigo asked, "Why have you brought me to see this?"

"A lesson in absolutes," Tsuke said, "Keep watching."

The two divine duelists circled, each probing for an opening. Hantei was stronger and more energetic, but Lord Moon had the power of experience and skill to draw from. They were evenly matched. They circled, and soon Lord Moon had turned his back to Lady Sun. Amaterasu's glowing face turned in doubt as she watched her husband and son struggle to slay each other, and she struck, blasting the ground at their feet with terrible fire.

"I don't remember this from the story," Saigo gasped. Tsuke said nothing.

The surface of heaven cracked at the feet of Hantei and Onnotangu, and the first thunder rolled all about them. Through the cracks in Heaven the young earth could be seen turning, the familiar outline of Rokugan far below. Onnotangu dropped his weapon and reached out for his son, but Hantei's face was still burning with youthful outrage. He slashed with his sword, and cut open Lord Moon's stomach with a single stroke as he fell and caught himself with one hand on a shard of protruding sky. The dark god fell back a single step, as glowing balls of colored energy tumbled from his abdomen and through the cracks in the sky. Blue, grey, red, green, gold, orange, violet, and black. They transformed into men and women as they fell to earth.

"The kami," Tsuke said, "Doji, Hida, Bayushi, Togashi, Akodo, Shiba, and Shinjo. They will become the founders of the Great Clans."

"And that one?" Saigo pointed to the final pulse to emerge from Lord Moon, the black one. It had already transformed into a pale young boy in black robes, clutching the edge of the sky, refusing to fall.

The boy's face was etched in terror. "Father," he begged, "Save me!"

"Fu Leng," Tsuke said.

"My son," Onnotangu said, as he reached for the boy and took his hand, pulling him back into Heaven.

The shard of sky holding Hantei began to crack. "NO!" Hantei shouted and darted out with his sword, severing Onnotangu's right hand at the wrist. The hand tumbled through the cracks along with Fu Leng, who reached out desperately and seized Hantei's leg. The shard of sky that held Hantei, already weakened by Hantei's weight and movement, could take no more and broke free, sending Hantei and Fu Leng plummeting to the earth.

"Now," whispered a quiet voice, and something moved in Heaven, reaching out for Fu Leng.

And Fu Leng began to fall in a different direction, away from the others.

Lord Moon kneeled helpless at the edge of the hole in heaven, gazing down upon his falling children, his face inscrutable. He ignored his bleeding arm, his eyes only upon his loss. He stood, turned to the obsidian blade laying at his feet, and kicked it through the hole, sending it spiraling down to earth. Amaterasu turned to Onnotangu, her face full of regret, but he ignored her, walking his own way and never turning back.

"What happened?" Saigo asked.

"Difficult to say," Tsuke replied, "After all, who are we to know the minds of gods? But Lord Moon and Lady Sun never came seeking their children. It is said that the touch of earth made them mortal, though some were less mortal than others."

"It's different than the stories," Saigo said, "Hantei might have pulled himself back up instead of attacking. And why did Lord Moon try to save Fu Leng? And why did Amaterasu strike at them both?"

"Call it a lesson in absolutes," Tsuke said, "Nothing is absolute. There is good and evil in everything. Remember that. It may save you someday."

"Did it really happen this way?" Saigo asked, staring at the broken hole in heaven.

Tsuke shrugged. "You will have to decide that for yourself. As I said, nothing is absolute. You must decide for yourself how much you trust the images of a dead and broken madman."

And Tsuke smiled again.

Kashrak squatted in the sewer as the cobras danced and bobbed all about him. His reptilian face cracked into a wide grin, his sharp teeth and scales illuminated by the blue glow of his clawed fingertips. The samurai cringed before him, and wished he would wake up soon.

"This is no dream, Shiba Kenshojo," Kashrak laughed, "And you will not awaken."

"Please don't kill me!" Kenshojo begged, clutching his hands over his face.

The cobras hissed and flared their hoods, snapping about as they extended from Kashrak's hips and spine. "Your desires are unimportant," he laughed coldly, "I need only your knowledge, Phoenix."

Kenshojo risked a defiant glance. "Well, if you're going to kill me anyway, then why should I tell you anything?"

Kashrak shrugged, his tails thrashing in the murky water behind them. "Not necessary," he said, turning his hand so the glow became a dark purple gleaming on his scales, "I shall take the answers to my questions from your feeble human mind. You work at the hospital, correct? The Phoenix Mercy."

Kenshojo just huddled on the floor and whimpered.

"Ah. Good. Your mind is as weak as I predicted. There was a patient in your hospital for a time... a woman..." he sifted through the images in Kenshojo's brain as the cobras wove and tasted the air about their prisoner. "No, not that one," Kashrak shook his head, "No, no, that's not the right one either. Ah. Exactly. That's her. My, my you were a fool to come so close to Downtown, samurai. You've given me everything."

"What are you?" Kenshojo screamed, clutching at his throbbing skull. The monster's mental probes had not been gentle.

"An Abomination," he chuckled, proud of the title. "For whatever that name is worth to you in your final moments. Now, think... where did they take her after the bombing?"

Kenshojo struggled, trying to fill his head with thoughts and resist. "A good attempt," Kashrak chuckled, "but too little, too late. I see that she is..." The monster hissed in fury. His tails crashed against the wall and one of the cobra's struck, biting Kenshojo on the leg. "The Masters!" Kashrak growled, "The Elemental Masters!"

"Good luck," Kenshojo laughed as the poison drew away his consciousness.

"Foolish pet," Kashrak said, stroking the head of the cobra that struck the Phoenix. "He is no good to us now. His life ebbs... But still he can be of use..." Kashrak reached for the long knife on his belt and drew it swiftly across Kenshojo's throat, releasing a stream of bright blood into the dark sewer water. "Now, let us see if I remember the ritual... third time, as the humans say, is the charm."

The monster reached into his pouch with one claw, drawing out a perfect black pearl between his glowing talons. He began to chant, slowly, as the pearl threw strange shadows all about the tunnel. The goblins watching in the shadows skittered and ran for safety. Kashrak drew his fist shut, crushing the pearl in his fingers and scattering the dust to mix with the blood, water, and filth. Kashrak opened his eyes, and whispered a single word.

"Kaze."

The air stirred, gently at first. Then faster. The winds whispered, softly at first. Then louder. The mists grew, slowly at first. Then the fog thickened and a murmur built from Jigoku.

"Kaze," it echoed as if speaking from behind a wall, "Kaze, kaze.... kazekazekaze..."

"Kaze," Kashrak repeated, slicing the air with his bloody knife and tearing a hole in reality.

"Kaze," the voice said more clearly, drawing close to the opening. And then it arrived.

"Kaze," Kashrak said with a fiendish smile.

The creature hung awkwardly, impossibly in the air, the mists clinging to its emaciated body. It had the head and neck of a vulture, and it's skin was bald and pale with hints of glowing circuitry growing here and there like fungus. It's eyes sparkled with mischief and malice as it regarded Kashrak.

"Oni no Kaze, Terror of Air, Destroyer of Magic, am I, and I have come," it cackled, wringing its long fingers together in glee. "You are the one who summoned Jimen and Akeru?"

"Yes," Kashrak said.

"I come to avenge Jimen, yes?" Kaze leered hopefully.

"Perhaps in time," Kashrak said, "For the time being I have a greater errand for you, demon."

"Yes?" Kaze replied, cocking its head curiously, "Yes yes? Oni no Kaze ready to make mischief, seed chaos, spill blood."

"Then my task for you is perfect," Kashrak said, "Go now, Kaze, and kill the Phoenix Elemental Masters. And then bring them to me."

"Done," Kaze said without hesitation, and vanished without another word.

Kashrak laughed as the glow from his hand faded. The cobras began tearing eagerly at the remains of the Phoenix as he settled back on his tails.

"Soon," Kashrak said, closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep, "Soon, Zin, you will return to my side."

Zin toyed nervously with the pearls of her necklace, staring forward with trepidation. Her little chair stood before a great table, with six chairs placed behind it. The chair to the far right was decorated with a pair of crossed, flaming swords, which Sumi had said was the symbol of Shiba, the first Phoenix. The other five chairs were each marked with one of the symbols of the five elements. Behind the council table rose the great mon of the Phoenix. The fiery bird rose its wings in triumph, its beak turned out to the side in a fearful scream. It looked very powerful, very confident. Zin wished she felt half as much of either right now.

"Don't worry, Zin," Sumi said, laying a hand on her friend's shoulder, "The Masters just want to talk to us about what happened in the hospital yesterday."

"I know," the Naga said, still distracted, "That's not what's worrying me."

"Really?" Sumi asked, concerned, "What's the problem?"

"My memory," Zin replied, releasing her necklace and wringing her hands in her lap, "Ever since I performed the pearl magic, it has begun to return. It is fractured, incomplete, but what I have remembered does not bode well. Something is... hunting for me, Sumi. I don't know what it is, but it is very powerful and very evil."

"You have to tell the Masters!" Sumi exclaimed.

"I cannot involve them in this," Zin replied, "They have enough worries of their own. Besides, I am not even certain what this thing is." The door at the side of the chamber opened. Zin rose to her feet to greet the Elemental Masters. "I will tell you if I can remember anything else, Sumi, I promise."

"Okay," Sumi said, standing beside her.

Five figures entered the council chamber. Isawa Kujimitsu, Master of Water, led the way, resting his big hands across his broad stomach and shooting a smile and a wink to Sumi. Asako Ishikint, the Nezumi Master of Earth, followed, leaning heavily on his staff as his tail switched back and forth with his hobbling walk. Third was the gaijin sorceror Zul Rashid, Master of Air, dressed in his usual turban, vest, and flowing breeches and tunic. Next followed an older samurai in red plastic armor, nervously tugging at his long mustaches. Zin did not recognize him, but Sumi had told her that the council was to be visited by Shiba Mifune, the Phoenix daimyo. The last to enter the room was the nameless Master of the Void, eerie and inscrutable behind his thick white bandages and dark hood.

The council quietly moved to their accustomed positions at the great table, leaving the sixth seat, the seat of the Master of Fire, empty. Sumi bowed low before the leaders of the Phoenix Clan. This meeting must be very important indeed, Sumi thought, to fly the daimyo in all the way from the south lands.

"So this is one of the fabled Naga," Mifune said in a rough voice, placing a pair of spectacles on his nose so he could see Zin more clearly.

"Yes," she replied, rising from her bow, "I am called the Zin."

"Amazing," he said, simply amazing, "and you said 'the' Zin. So what's all that about?"

"Naga have no names as humans understand," Ishikint explained, "They call each other by position in the Akasha, family of body and spirit. So she is the Zin."

"And what does a Zin do?" Mifune asked.

"I am sorry, Mifune-sama," Zin replied, "I do not remember. I seem to have some sort of memory loss."

"Luckily," Rashid said, "She managed to retain enough of her memories to save us in Phoenix Mercy yesterday."

"Yes, which brings us to our first order of business," Kujimitsu replied, "When I told our esteemed daimyo of the situation yesterday, he felt it was important to come to the capitol and assess the situation personally. Sumi, Zin, if you can share with him whatever you can recall about what happened yesterday. And please, lets keep this meeting brief if possible. Mifune has just arrived from a long flight and has not yet slept."

"Thank you, Kujimitsu," the old samurai said with a grateful smile."

"Phoenix Mercy," Rashid repeated, "Everyone, what are your thoughts?"

"A mere terrorist attack, no doubt," Kujimitsu replied, "A misguided attempt to break our morale."

Ishikint chittered, scratching at his whiskers. "Terrorists with maho," the Nezumi said, "Nothing to sneeze at, Water Master. Black magic not to be sneezed at. Ishikint suggest extreme caution."

"Agreed," Kujimitsu replied quickly, "I simply suggest that the terrorists attempted to show us their power, and to a great extent they failed. We may not have any more trouble from them, though to ignore the problem would be foolish."

"And cowardly," Rashid added with suppressed anger, "They killed Asa. The death of a Master demands a return in blood."

Mifune coughed nervously. He was not a violent man by nature, and Rashid's frequent emotional outbursts tended to disturb him. He changed the subject, turning to Zin and Sumi. "I understand that we have you girls to thank that the hospital is still standing."

Sumi blushed and said nothing. Zin shrugged. "Master Rashid and Sumi's yojimbo both fought just as bravely. Even the doctor acquitted himself well in that battle."

"Bah," Rashid said with a dismissive smirk, "My own magic was worthless against the flames, as powerful as it is. Sumi here doused the entire hospital as if it were a mere candle."

Sumi's face was a dark red, and she stared at the floor. "Well, it wasn't exactly that easy, Master Rashid..." she mumbled.

"And Zin's pearl magic," Rashid added, "Simply extraordinary."

"So I have heard," Mifune said, "Such magic could be of great use to our shugenja if these terrorists attack again. Especially if they are in league with the masterminds of Yoritomo's assassination attempt, who I understand also used maho."

"This is correct," Kujimitsu replied, "Doctor Asako Jemonji reported such shortly before he was killed in the explosion."

"That certainly implies a connection," Mifune said. "Well, Zin? Could you teach your pearl magic to the Phoenix?"

Zin faltered, looking away.

"That could be a dangerous undertaking," the Master of the Void said in his hollow voice, "The Naga's memories are incomplete. She acted from instinct yesterday, but perhaps next time will not be so lucky. Unknown magics are the most dangerous to trifle with, believe me in this." One of the master's hands rose to touch the bandages covering his ruined face.

"Wise advice," Kujimitsu agreed, "Zin, we thank you whole-heartedly for your assistance yesterday, and pray that your memory returns swiftly, but we must recommend that you limit your attempts to use the pearl magic until you are certain such studies are safe."

"That won't be difficult," she replied, "I'm still not sure how I did it."

"Stress," Sumi suggested, "I think that must be how I managed such control over the fire kami. That, and I believe my father is watching over me."

"Which brings us to our second order of business," Kujimitsu said, "Sumi, Zin, if you will excuse us, we need to confer in private."

"Of course," Sumi said. She moved to the door and exited the council chamber, Zin following close behind.

"The new Master of Fire," Rashid said once they had left, "Now that Asa is dead, we have no choice but to choose. Let us not delay, but put it to a vote today."

"A difficult choice," Mifune said, "Since the time of Isawa Tsuke, the position has held the Master's curse. A strong mind is required to resist the call of the Dark One."

"I suggest Asako Nitobe," Kujimitsu said, "He has proven himself to be a man of strong will and character, and his wealth of experience as a doctor and shugenja will prove useful to us."

Mifune tugged at his moustache. "Agreed," he said, "I have worked with Nitobe before. He is extremely opinionated, but perhaps such self confidence will do this council good."

Rashid shook his head. "I resent the implication that we are indecisive," he said flatly, "I also disagree with the notion that blind zeal is a positive character trait. Further, I confess that I do not like Asako Nitobe."

"Have you another recommendation, Rashid?" Kujimitsu asked.

"No," Rashid replied, "I fear that there is no one currently qualified for this position. Normally, I would recommend a tournament, but I fear there is little time to organize or plan."

"No, we have no time for such nonsense," Mifune snorted, "Besides, we need only a majority vote. Ishikint? Master? What do either of you think of Nitobe's nomination?"

Ishikint scrubbed at his whiskers, uncertain. The Master of the Void folded his arms before him and his eyes glowed in the darkness of his hood, just for a moment. "Sumi," he said.

"Sumi?" Rashid repeated, "Isawa Sumi? She's just a girl! Doubtless one day she will be a great shugenja, but she has no experience."

"Sumi," the Master repeated, "She is the Master of Fire."

"Ishikint must agree," the Nezumi said with a chuckle. "High time this council had some young blood. Crabs starting to think we a bunch of doddering old fools."

Kujimitsu sighed. "Then we are deadlocked," Kujimitsu said, "We needed a majority vote and Rashid seems to be abstaining."

"We need a Master of Fire," Rashid said, "Is Nitobe here?"

"He is waiting outside," Kujimitsu said, "Mifune wanted to ask him a few questions about the hospital."

"Send him in, with Sumi," Rashid said, "I will decide now."

Kujimitsu pressed the intercom switch on the table before him, ordering Nitobe and Sumi to be admitted. The young girl and the doctor entered the chamber to stand before the Masters. Sumi straightened her skirt, and Nitobe adjusted his necktie anxiously.

"Sumi. Nitobe," Rashid said, "Come here."

"What is this about?" Nitobe asked as he stood before the Master, with Sumi to his right.

"Two questions," Rashid said, "Answer them well."

The doctor and the girl glanced at each other, then turned back to Rashid.

"What is more important?" Rashid asked, "Justice or mercy?"

"Mercy," Sumi said.

"Justice," Nitobe replied, "Mercy is not always appropriate, but true justice will always carry a measure of mercy for those deserving."

Rashid nodded. "And the second question. Twenty years ago, I came here from the Burning Sands. Do either of you know the details of that story?"

"No," Sumi said. Nitobe shook his head.

"I fled my land like a thief in the night. I had killed my own brother and abandoned my wife and children to the heartless sorcerors I once served. All this to help a lone samurai far from home to retrieve her ancestral sword, the sword Mifune now carries. In return, I was acclaimed as a hero in this land and given refuge. Now I ask you. Did I do the right thing?"

"Of course!" Nitobe laughed, "You returned the soul of Shiba to us!"

"Sumi," Rashid said, "Did I do the right thing?"

Sumi's eyes were wide, her mouth drawn tight. She paused a long moment. "That's... that's a terrible story, Rashid," she said, her voice thick with emotion, "How could you do things like that to someone you loved?"

"Pray you never find out," Rashid said sadly, "Congratulations, Sumi. You are now the Master of Fire."

Nitobe's face fell in shock. Then he scowled, nodded, bowed briefly to the council, and left.

"How illuminating," Mifune said, sparing Zul Rashid a sideways glance, "I suppose it is decided, then. Congratulations, Isawa Sumi. I suppose this chair beside me is yours now."

Sumi fainted.

"Where are we now?" Saigo asked. They seemed to be in a small stone hallway, with a light burning around the corner at one end. Behind them, he could hear the sounds of a great battle.

"The Emerald Palace," Tsuke replied, "One thousand years ago. The last day of the Hantei Dynasty." He advanced down the hallway. An explosion shook the walls of the palace from somewhere outside.

"What's making those explosions?" Saigo asked, staring at the dust sifting from the ceiling, "It sounds like a bombing raid."

"Me," Tsuke said sadly, "I am on the battlements, killing my people. Soon I will be dead."

They turned the corner, entering the Imperial Throne room. A giant emerald throne stood at the end of the chamber. Dead and dying men lay everywhere, and a dark figure sat in the throne, his eyes burning with an inner light.

"Politicians," the Emperor said, sounding as if he spoke with two voices at once, "I have never had any use for them."

"Emperor Hantei XXXIX," Tsuke said, "Now possessed body and soul by the power of Fu Leng."

Suddenly, the Emperor shifted in his throne and turned toward Tsuke and Saigo. Saigo began to tremble, thinking they had been discovered, but realized he gazed upon the man behind them. It was a tall samurai in green and golden armor.

"This is not important," Tsuke said, striding past the first Dragon and back down the passageway.

Saigo quickly followed, as the furious battle began behind him. He stopped suddenly as he saw the seven figures waiting in the passageway. A thin Crane in ragged blue armor, a massive crab with a glowing green right hand, an intense young Unicorn Battle Maiden leaning on her naginata, a beautiful Scorpion woman in a low cut kimono and thin mask, a bald Dragon woman with a gleaming black hand, a wounded Phoenix shugenja with a wide straw hat and green eyes, and a tall warrior with no markings on his armor save a wolf on his breastplate. All looked as if they had seen battle today, and all looked fearful of what was to come.

"The Seven Thunders," Tsuke said, "Every one thousand years evil comes to haunt Rokugan. Every one thousand years, it is the duty of mortals to destroy that evil. Togashi sacrifices himself now to give them confidence, to show what is possible, nothing more. The true battle is their responsibility."

"Well said, Master of Fire," said a voice.

Saigo and Tsuke both glanced sharply to their left. A small man stepped from the shadows, his face covered with a simple brown hood, a black crow sat upon his shoulder.

"Tsuke, I thought you said they could not see us," Saigo said.

"Believe me, son, I am just as surprised as you," Tsuke replied, staring at the man warily.

"I am sorry, Tsuke," the man said, "I do not believe we ever had occasion to meet in life." He pulled back his hood to reveal a smiling face, with hints of dragon scales on either cheek. "I am called the Hooded Ronin."

"The descendant of Shinsei!" Tsuke exclaimed, dropping to his knees. "Bow you idiot!" he barked at Saigo, "Don't you realize who this is?"

"Do as you will, prophet," the ronin said, "I don't require anyone's servitude. I don't have much time to talk though. I have an appointment in the next room. Saigo, now that you are here, I have a favor to ask of you."

Saigo nodded, finding himself unable to speak.

"The Thunders," the ronin said, "Forces of darkness you cannot begin to comprehend have designs upon your world. Their power is incomprehensible, but so are the laws that bind them. These forces test your kind every millennium. If your people are found wanting, you will be destroyed. The Seven Thunders are the means by which you are tested. They represent the best and brightest that mortals have to offer, and if they succeed your safety is insured for another ten centuries."

"And if they don't?" Saigo asked.

"I don't think you want me to answer that question," the ronin chuckled.

"What do you need me to do?" Saigo asked.

"Watch," the ronin said, "Traditionally, it is the duty of my bloodline to find the Thunders, to gather them and see that they are prepared for the final crisis. I have had the good fortune of having plenty of time to do so. But I fear for the future. It is dark to me. Perhaps, in your time, there will be no descendant of Shinsei."

"No Shinsei?" Tsuke gasped, finally rising to his feet, "Then we are doomed."

"I don't think so," Shinsei said, "My line has never given anyone anything they did not already possess. The road may be more difficult without guidance, but not impossible. Now if you will excuse me, I need to attend to this battle. Your future is not necessarily my future and I must see that my Thunders are prepared." The ronin turned to leave.

"Shinsei!" Saigo called out.

The Hooded Ronin turned back, his face curious. "Yes, prophet?"

"Will Fu Leng be returning?" he asked.

"Unlikely," the ronin said, "If he dies today, he will die forever I think."

"Then what have we to fear?" Saigo asked.

"There are worse things than Fu Leng," the Hooded Ronin said, "Fu Leng was just a frightened little boy before he fell through the earth. It is the darkness we carry inside that made him what he is. And that is what you have to fear." And the descendant of Shinsei turned to lead the Seven Thunders into battle.

"No," Sachiko said, "Just no."

Kojiro shifted uncomfortably behind his desk. "I'm afraid this is an Imperial matter now, Sachiko. My hands are tied."

"This is ridiculous, captain," she said, "You know that Hatsu wouldn't have anything to do with the assassination. Shinjo's Breath, he stopped the damned assassination!"

"I know that, Sachiko," the fat magistrate replied carefully, "But regardless, this is now under Tsuruchi Kyo's jurisdiction. He claims that Hatsu shot two of his men and stabbed two more when he tried to speak with him about the assassination."

"That's just it, captain!" Sachiko said, "Why would Hatsu carry a gun? He hates guns. He wouldn't even pick up a gun against the assassins!"

"That worried me, too," Kojiro admitted, "It must have been the a tetsukansen implant, like the Badger daimyo. Hatsu's actions aren't his own. Leave this to the professionals, Sachiko. You're not involved in this case. Am I clear?"

Sachiko scowled. "Yes, sir," she said and stormed off toward the elevator.

"What was that all about?" Chikafusa asked, standing next to her as they waited for the car.

"I don't want to talk about it," Sachiko said, not looking at him.

"Excuse me for living," he whistled.

The elevator arrived with a ding, and Chikafusa waited for the next one, letting Sachiko get on alone. Tetsukansen. Was it possible? Could Hatsu be possessed like Ichiro Chiodo and the Doji House Guard? Well, if they could get to Chiodo they could get to anyone, she supposed. Still, something didn't set right. Something was wrong. She decided to head out to Hatsu's house and have a look around for herself. It would be disobeying orders, but it wouldn't be the first time. She slammed on her helmet, revved up her cycle, and tore off into the streets.

Hatsu's apartment building looked dead. She parked her cycle in the alley across the street and took a look through the scope on her naginata. No one inside. But there, on the roof. An Imperial Guardsman, watching the road. And there, parked down the street. An unmarked van with two more, watching the house. She knew she should probably let them know she was here, but her instincts screamed against it. She had to find a way inside.

"There's no way in," grumbled a voice behind her, "Then again, you look pretty quick. I guess with armor that tight, you have to stay in petty good shape, huh?"

Sachiko spun around and pointed the barrel of her naginata at the face of the huge Crab behind her. He leered back and touched the tip of his hat. "Good morning," he said, "I'm Hida Yasu."

"A Seeker," she hissed, glancing at the badge on his belt buckle, "Where hell did you come from?"

"Oh, I'm from Otosan Uchi originally," he replied with a grin, "Though I spent a lot of time in the islands."

"No, you goon," she retorted, "I mean how did you sneak up on me in that scrap heap suit of armor?"

"Sound dampening joints," the Crab grinned, "New addition. Plus, I took ballet for six years."

"No you didn't," she laughed.

"No, I didn't," Yasu answered, "Who started that ugly rumor?"

"You're the Crab who helped my partner," she said, looking him over, "I'm Otaku Sachiko, Battle Maiden. Yeah, Kitsuki told me about you. He didn't say you were so big, though."

Yasu shrugged and smiled.

"Or so ugly," she added.

Yasu nodded and smiled again. "So, you don't think he's really gone bad, either, do you?" he asked, suddenly serious.

"No," she answered. "The story doesn't add up. I thought about it a lot on the way over here. Kyo said he killed four of his men. But if Kyo was just going to his apartment to talk to him, why did he take a whole squad of men with him in the first place? Something sounds fishy."

Yasu nodded. "Thanks," he said.

"Thanks for what?" she asked.

"I had a feeling he was being set up, but couldn't come up with any real proof," he said, "Now I have a reason. Thanks."

"Okay," the Battle Maiden smirked, "You just let me know if you need me to do any more thinking for you, okay, Crab?"

"Will do, chica," he said, "By the way, you do realize that the only reason I'm letting you talk to me like this is because you're so cute. If you were a man, I'd have pummeled you unconscious by now."

"How flattering," she said dryly, looking back at the building. "So, have you thought of any way inside?" she asked.

"Several," he said, "Unfortunately, they all involve killing the guards. I guess that's out."

"Yeah, I think so," she said.

"Well, there's the front entrance," he said, "and then there's another door on the side, in the alley. The guy on the roof is watching the back and those two monkeys in the car are watching the front. We can't get in without somebody noticing."

"We need a distraction," she said.

"Hey, good idea," Yasu said. "You get on your bike. I'll go distract them. When I give you my signal, get your butt in that alley, hide your bike, and get inside."

"What's the signal?" she asked.

"You'll know," he grinned broadly.

"How will I get out?" she asked.

"Good question," he said, "We'll figure that one out later." He turned and trotted off through the back of the alley.

Sachiko shook her head. This was insane. That Crab was insane. Still, it was a chance. She got on her bike and put her helmet back on. She waited several minutes, wondering what the Crab's signal would be.

Suddenly, a monster semi truck tore onto the street at full speed, horn blaring. The front of the truck was replaced with a gigantic green ram and topped with a fiendish scowling head. The truck swerved, just narrowly sideswiping the unmarked van. It blared its horn again and rumbled off down the street.

"Good job, Crab," Sachiko sighed, "Very subtle."

Regardless, the van suddenly sprung to life, with a flashing light on its dashboard and sirens wailing as it chased off after Yasu. The guard on the roof stared off after the truck in total disbelief. Sachiko revved up her bike, shifted the engines into quiet mode, and zipped into the alley across the street before the guard could even notice. She leaned her bike against the wall behind the dumpster and quickly darted inside the building.

Sachiko found herself in a room full of crates and cardboard boxes, with the stink of a sewer rising from somewhere. She noticed two chalk outlines on the floor, and two splotches of blood. "Where is that smell coming from?" she whispered. She followed it to its source and nearly fell into the large open sewer grate in the corner, behind a row of boxes.

"Weird," she said and shone her flashlight into the depths. As she began to turn the light away from the grate, something glinted back in the darkness below. Sachiko leaned down for a closer look, and saw a broken shard of plastic at the foot of the ladder. She dropped down into the tunnel and picked it up. It was unmistakable. She took out her own portable radio and examined the battery cover. The pieces matched exactly. She looked around for more pieces, but they were gone.

"Hatsu's radio?" She put the shard in her pocket. Where was the rest of it? This part of the sewer was dry, unused in years, the pieces couldn't have gone far. Kyo had said nothing. She climbed back up the ladder. The rest of the storage room and the cluttered shop beyond revealed nothing, so she headed up the spiral staircase into Hatsu's room.

"Shinjo's Breath!" she exclaimed as she entered. Bullet holes were strewn across the walls, and the couch was torn to shreds. The cabinet in the corner lay open and one of the windows was completely shattered, with dried blood spattering the windowsill. She nearly slipped on a rubber dog toy that rolled underneath his feet. Staring at the wall, something bothered her. She glanced back at the windowsill.

"The bullet holes all came from the window!" she exclaimed, "Doesn't exactly look like Kyo came here to talk." Satisfied, she turned to leave. As she exited the staircase and headed back for the storeroom, a sharp bark rang out behind her. She spun about to find a small puppy sitting on the floor before her, wagging its tail.

"Akkan?" she said. Its ears perked up.

"How come they didn't find you?" she asked, kneeling down to pet the dog.

"I rescued him," said a voice.

Sachiko glanced up, naginata extending to full length in her hand.

"Calm yourself, Sachiko," the old man chuckled, pacing softly across the floor toward her, "I am a friend."

"Who are you?" she asked, "How did you get in here?"

"I have been in here," he replied, "I am Hisojo, owner of this shop. This building is very old, you see. There are passages and openings here so cleverly placed not even Hatsu's keen eye could find them. When the assassins came, I hid myself away and have been here since. Luckily, I was able to rescue little Akkan as well. Hatsu saw to her safety before his own. Such a good boy, that Hatsu."

"Assassins?" she asked, "Don't you mean the Imperial Guard?"

"One name is as good as another," the old man said.

"Kyo came to kill Hatsu?" Sachiko exclaimed, "Why? Because of what he knew about the tetsukansen? The whole force knows about that now so their whole assassination was pointless."

"Not for what he knows. More likely for what he is. I do not know," Hisojo replied, "but I have my suspicions." The puppy ran over to Hisojo, who picked him up and scratched her ears. He looked back at Sachiko, his old eyes golden in reflected sunlight. "Find him, Battle Maiden, and quickly. Forces move against Hatsu that you cannot understand. He needs you."

The tattered unmarked van rumbled past the store again, parking some distance away. Sachiko knew she didn't have much time. "Come on, Hisojo," she said, "I have to get you out of here."

"Posh," he said, "I am safer here than in Shinjo Tower itself. Go now. I have attended to the guard on the roof."

"How?" she asked.

"Magic," he replied, and was suddenly gone.

Sachiko felt uneasy. It was too much to see, too much to take in at once. Who was that old man? Could she trust what he said? Could Kyo really be trying to kill Hatsu? Why? Her instinct took over, driving her long legs to carry her back to her motorcycle. She revved the engines into quiet mode again and scooted out of the alley the back way. Glancing back, she saw the guard sitting slumped on the roof, asleep.

Suddenly, a horn blared behind her, and Yasu's truck drove up alongside. The Crab waved gave her a smile full of mischief. She shook her head ruefully and pointed to a sidestreet where they could park. There was a diner right nearby, and they went inside for lunch while they shared information.

"So what did you say to the Guardsmen?" Sachiko asked, setting her tea back on the table.

"What?" Yasu asked, looking up from the menu.

"How did you talk the Guardsmen into letting you go? I assume they pulled you over."

"Oh. Nah, I lost them."

"You lost them," she said in disbelief, "In that behemoth?"

"She's quicker than she looks!" Yasu said in offense, "Plus, I happen to be an excellent driver."

Sachiko nodded respectfully.

"So what did you see in there?" Yasu asked.

"Hard to describe," Sachiko said.

"Hey, I understand you're a Unicorn and everything. Just take it slow and use small words."

Sachiko arched an eyebrow.

"I know," Yasu said, "You'd pummel me now if I wasn't so cute, right?"

"Not exactly what I was going to say," she replied. "But anyway, it looks like Kyo's men went in with guns blazing and Hatsu acted in self defense. I think he escaped into the sewers. I found a piece of his radio there that they must have missed." She decided not to tell Yasu about the old man. He probably wouldn't have believed her anyway.

"So where do you think he went?" Yasu asked.

"No idea," she replied, "but he's smart. I'm betting he's somewhere safe, and I think he trusts me enough to contact me once he can. I hope he trusts me enough." She stared off into the street, her face a mask of worry.

Yasu knew that look. He abandoned all hope of chasing after the Unicorn; it was pointless. She was deep in love with Hatsu. Oh well, more power to him. He was a good guy, and there were plenty of other Battle Maidens out there for Yasu. Still, that didn't mean Yasu couldn't flirt.

"I have a suggestion in the meantime," Yasu said.

"Oh?" she asked, "What is it Yasu?"

"Heavy drinking," he replied, "Your treat."

Saigo knew now. He knew what he had to do. It had taken him two hours to get to the Palace in the snow and traffic, two more to get someone to listen to him long enough to direct him to the proper office, but he was finally here. Now if someone would just listen to him.

"Hello," he said to one of the secretaries at the numerous tables, "My name is Isawa Saigo, Phoenix Clan prophet. I need to talk to someone from--"

"Phoenix Clan what?" she repeated, giving him a suspicious look.

"Prophet," he said, "I'm a seer. I have a dire prophecy and I must tell the Emperor."

"Security," she said, clicking a button on her table.

Two guards entered the office area from the rear, glancing about. Their eyes settled on Saigo and they advanced.

"Wait, you have to listen to me!" he said loudly, so the entire room could hear, "The Shadows are returning! The Shadow War was only a prelude! The Thunders must be found! Yoritomo has to know!"

The guards grabbed his shoulders roughly. "That's enough of that, kid," one said, "It's time for you to go back outside."

"Wait," said a voice.

The two guards stopped, letting Saigo get back on his own feet. He turned to face an officer of the Imperial Guard, wearing the mantis of the Emperor on his breastplate.

"You are a prophet, you say?" he asked.

"Yes, yes that's right!" Saigo said in excitement. "I have to talk to the Emperor!"

The security guards rolled their eyes behind Saigo. The Imperial Guardsman just winked at them confidently. "Come with me, sir," he said, "I think you need to talk to the Captain." The guardsman began to walk off across the office. Saigo quickly fell into step behind him, shooting a look back at the security guards as he left.

The guard led Saigo to a door and told him to wait inside. Saigo agreed, and stepped into the most marvelous office he'd ever seen. One entire wall was open at the far end. Standing at the edge, he could see down into one of the Diamond Falls, the twin waterfalls that sprang from the face of the Diamond Palace. He was about one hundred feet up. He wondered why the office didn't feel the winter cold with one wall gone. Magic, no doubt. He cast a simple spell, and sensed the magic of the temperature barrier before him.

"Amazing," Saigo said.

"Fool," Tsuke said, appearing suddenly behind him.

"What?" Saigo said, "I thought you were gone."

"Unfortunately, I am always with you," the spirit sneered. "I am your guide. I may only speak with you when you are alone, however. And right now, I suggest you leave the palace immediately."

"What?" Saigo asked curiously, "But the Guard--"

"Are acting very strangely, don't you think?" Tsuke interrupted, "To ignore you for two hours and then suddenly give you an appointment with Tsuruchi Kyo? This reeks of an ambush to me, Saigo."

"Ambush?" Saigo laughed, "but why would they?"

Tsuke suddenly faded, and the door to the office opened. A tall, smiling magistrate entered. He was dressed all in black, with black sunglasses and a goatee. A pair of large pistols was holstered on his hips.

"Good afternoon," he said, "I am Tsuruchi Kyo, Captain of the Imperial Guard. You are the prophet?"

"That's right," Saigo said.

"You stand close to the edge," he said, "Most people are afraid." Kyo removed his hat. His spell still lingering, Saigo saw the faint glow of something magical, something deep inside Kyo's head.

"I'm not afraid," Saigo said numbly, "Should I be?"

"Yes," Kyo said as he drew his pistol and fired.

The Captain of the Guard stepped to the edge and watched as the young prophet's body disappeared into the falls.

Kyo locked the door of his office and seated himself at the computer. After speaking a few words he drew his pen knife across his index finger, dribbling three drops of blood on the keyboard. The monitor crackled into life, revealing a head wreathed in static, with glowing red eyes.

"Oh, great Stormbreaker," Kyo said, "Your loyal lieutenant reports."

"How goes the search for the Kitsuki?" a crackle of static asked.

"Not well," Kyo replied, "He escaped. What is more, your agent in the Phoenix acted slowly. The Crabs and Unicorns learned about the tetsukansen as well."

"The Phoenix agent performed his duty well," the static replied, "Knowledge of tetsukansen only serves to sow discord and fear at this point. Our enemies have no idea how to counter us yet, and they know this. Still, it is imperative that Hatsu is killed."

"Yes," Kyo said, "He knows now that I am not what I seem."

"To blazes with you, minion," the monitor retorted angrily, "Kitsuki Hatsu is more of a danger to our plan than you can imagine. There will be more like him. The Thunders. We must nip them in the bud before they can gather."

"Master, I don't understand," Kyo said, "We have planned this for years. How can a single detective hope to stand against us?"

"Your duty is not to understand, minion. Your duty is to serve me as you once served your Emperor. Until vengeance is at last mine. Find the Dragon. Kill him. And bring me his heart."

"His heart?" Kyo asked.

"His heart!" the static exclaimed, "Intact! Do what you like to the rest of his body, but I need his heart in one piece. It carries a treasure worth more than all of the Crane's tetsukansen put together."

"Consider it done, master," Kyo said, "Our only problem is this: the Kitsuki has disappeared into the sewers. We have no idea where or when he will surface."

"I know where he has surfaced," the Stormbreaker replied.

"Where, master?" Kyo asked eagerly.

"Where he thought we would least expect him to go, where we would least be likely to look for him, a sanctuary where only a madman would seek refuge."

"Yes?" Kyo asked.

"Bayushi's Labyrinth."

"I am Pharaoh Rujdak-hai." The woman's voice was quick and sure, used to the authority at her command, and she did not sound amused. "I wish to speak with Yoritomo immediately."

Meda frowned. He had feared this would happen. "Yes, of course, Pharaoh," he said numbly. He put the Pharaoh on hold and pressed the transfer button.

"Speak, Champion," said the voice of the Emperor after a long pause.

"It is the Pharaoh of the Allied Senpet Nation," Meda said, "She wishes to speak to you at once, my lord."

Yoritomo sighed. "What would the Queen of the Burning Sands want with me?" he asked. Meda knew that the Emperor was out of his offices, either practicing in his dojo or visiting with his daughter. In either case, he would not appreciate being disturbed for any reason. "I will speak with her," he said finally.

Meda connected the call. Then, against his better judgment, he left his own line connected, continuing to listen in.

"Yoritomo," the Emperor announced himself.

"Son of Storms!" Rujdak-hai hissed in her low, exotic voice, "What was the meaning of your so-called ultimatum yesterday? Our telecommunication systems were disrupted for hours because of your pirated signal."

"My meaning was quite clear, Pharaoh," he replied, "Amaterasu demands that her children stand as one against what comes. I can only obey her will."

"Religious foolishness!" the Pharaoh spat, "I should have expected as much from a Rokugani. You would be well advised to cease mixing theology and politics, Mantis. The Senpet worshipped the Pharaoh as an infallible god once, and it nearly destroyed us."

"Merely because your people were weak does not that mine are," Yoritomo replied, "If you had trusted Amaterasu instead of your false gods, your nation would still be strong."

"Listen to me, lunatic," Rujdak-hai said quietly, "I don't know where you're getting these delusions of yours, but let me remind you that Rokugan is a forgotten flyspeck on the map, while the Senpet rule the mightiest alliance of nations in the world. I will not blame your people for your arrogance, but I will not be insulted by you again, wharf-trash."

Yoritomo was silent.

"What's the matter, Yoritomo?" the Pharaoh chuckled, "Realizing exactly how much you've bitten off?"

"No, Rujdak-hai," Yoritomo replied, his voice devoid of all tone or emotion, "I was typing in a launch code. You have six hours to evacuate Medinaat-al-Salaam."

"What?"

"Good bye, Pharaoh." The Emperor hung up.

Meda put the phone back on the receiver, his hand shaking. Now he knew. That was how Yoritomo planned to wage war upon the entire world. He would use the same power that struck down Akuma a century ago, the power that destroyed the clan who created it.

The Fire Dragon.

TO BE CONTINUED