Bayushi Oroki stared at the monitor curiously, pondering this new development. The screen before him displayed an image of a thick man in a business suit and rubber elephant mask. It was his chief Enforcer and bodyguard, Bayushi Zou, prowling the underground access tunnels of the Labyrinth as was his usual habit this time in the evening. Behind him, however, followed a thin man with bright orange armor and a jacket with feathered sleeves. Obviously a Phoenix, but who? Oroki could swear he had seen the man before.

The Scorpion sat in the central control room of Bayushi's Labyrinth, a wall of closed circuit television monitors before him. Many were keyed into the concealed security systems throughout the park, but a few more displayed choice locations throughout Otosan Uchi. Oroki's libraries made him a master of the past. Isawa Saigo made him a master of his future. This room made him a master of his present.

"Zou, Zou, what are you up to?" the Scorpion remarked to himself. He'd assumed the bodyguard was absolutely loyal. He'd served Oroki unquestioningly for three years, and seemed the sort who could keep a secret. Not that Oroki shared many secrets with Zou, at least not the important ones, but he often told him just enough to test him. So far, Zou had performed admirably.

So far.

The two men stopped at a blank section of wall.

"Zou, you're being bad now," Oroki chuckled, "Don't be bad."

Zou looked back and forth for cameras. Of course he saw none of the obvious ones. Even the Enforcer didn't know about this room or how extensive Oroki's security and defense system really were. The bodyguard placed his hand on a section of the wall and drew open the passage to the armory.

Oroki clicked a dial beneath the screen and changed the camera angle, switching to a vantage point between two rocket launchers within the armory. Zou entered with the astonished Phoenix a step behind.

"This is incredible," the Phoenix said, "I had no idea you needed this sort of armament to keep an amusement park running."

"Master Oroki prepares for every eventuality," Zou replied.

"I certainly do," Oroki said to himself.

Zou walked directly to a small black shelf against one wall, and opened the large metal box sitting upon it. He drew his gun and began loading it with cartridges from the box, then took a pistol from a nearby rack. He loaded it with more of the cartridges, and handed it to the Phoenix, who was still looking around the well-loaded armory in disbelief.

"Thanks," the Phoenix said, "but I already have my void-pistol."

"Tetsukami peashooters aren't likely to put much of a dent in this thing," Zou said, "These are special bullets. Just take it."

"Ah," Oroki said, "So that's what you're up to. Hachami meant much more to you than you let on to disobey me like this, my friend." He had given specific orders to Zou and to all of his men. The creature that was stalking the Labyrinth was to be reported, but not approached or attacked. Oroki wished to face it himself, and if possible, capture it alive. The cartridges in the armory had been quite expensive, especially on such short notice. They were explosive tipped, and filled with a dense core of sedative powerful enough to put down a roc. The Soshi who had provided them had claimed they would do the job admirably.

The two men left the armory and shut the door behind him. Oroki noted that Zou had not allowed the Phoenix to linger in the armory or to take anything besides the pistol. So he was disobedient, but not traitorous. It hardly mattered in the end, but it was good to know. "Who is that Phoenix?" Oroki asked himself again, "and why do you trust him so much that you disobey your master, Zou?"

Oroki settled in to see what would happen next. Before he could switch the camera angle again, he saw another blur of movement in the armory, and his hand hesitated. The shadows in the corner of the room rippled and took shape, forming into the beast that Oroki had met atop the ferris wheel the day before.

"What in Jigoku?" Oroki cursed. He despised surprises. It seemed bigger than before, it's arms and legs thick with muscle and black chitinous plate. It lurched across the room to the shelf with the box of cartridges, leaned low over the shelf, and flipped the box open with one claw. It drew out a handful of cartridges, the feelers and antennae around it's mouth sniffing at the ammunition. After a few moments, the creature turned to face the screen directly, locking eyes with Oroki.

"And what will you do with me when you catch me, Scorpion?" the creature cackled. It crushed the bullets in its fist, and the camera suddenly went dead. Oroki fiddled with the dials, but he already knew the picture wasn't coming back.

He glanced to the intercom. He could warn Zou now, let him know that the creature was behind him.

"Aren't you going to tell them?" a voice said from behind.

Oroki spun around and dropped off of his chair, falling into a crouch and pointing his pistol with both hands across the seat. A tall man stood in the doorway to the monitor room. He wore a tattered green trenchcoat, and his clothes were covered in blood and filth, and he held a pair of swords in his hands. The Scorpion laughed.

"Kitsuki Hatsu," Oroki replied, "This is certainly the day for surprises."

"Are you going to contact your bodyguard or do you plan to let that creature ambush him?" Hatsu asked, his voice calm despite his haggard appearance.

"I plan to let that creature ambush him," Oroki said, standing and steadying the gun at Hatsu's face. Policemen sometimes wore body armor. "Call it a final test. He has been disobedient. If he can survive a battle with that thing then he deserves to live, and with any luck it will kill that Phoenix for me. Now, Hatsu, perhaps you'd like to explain what in blazes you are doing in my monitor room?"

"I assume you've seen the news," Hatsu said.

Oroki chuckled, "Yes, I have. You're a conspirator in the Emperor's assassination. It's getting so you just can't trust the police these days."

"We both know the truth here, Scorpion," Hatsu said, staring past the gun and into Oroki's eyes.

"Who cares about the truth?" Oroki replied, "There's a new Scorpion daimyo in town, and she's quite loyal to the Emperor. I wager it would do much to put me in Shiriko's favor if I brought you in. Dead or alive. Now how did you find this room?"

"I just took the most direct route through the Labyrinth, figuring a devious mind like yours wouldn't be monitoring that way and that your lesser minions wouldn't recognize me; I hardly look like myself. Once I got to your office, I simply told your secretary I had an appointment and drew my swords. I didn't intend to hurt her, but she was so flustered she let me in just so she could call security. They're probably stumbling around your office right now, wondering where I went. I noticed the secret door when Sachiko and I visited your office over a week ago. The outline was well hidden but there were still streaks of your fingerprints on the switch. I suppose that's what you get for covering every square inch of your office in mirrored glass. "

"Clever," Oroki said, "I can only imagine what I could accomplish with a perceptive brain like yours on my side. A pity I shall have to put a bullet into it now."

Hatsu shook his head and sheathed his daisho. "I'm not afraid of you, Oroki."

Oroki's eyes narrowed, his voice taking a slight edge of irritation. "Excuse me, I'm pointing a gun at you, Detective Kitsuki. You happen to be the man who sent my brother off to his execution, and has now waltzed into my most private and secure security center. Why should I not kill you? What have I to gain?" "I know you, Oroki," Hatsu replied, "I spent months tracking down the head of a certain Daikoku's Milk cartel. The criminal mastermind behind that was fluid, highly reactive, highly adaptive and resourceful. Above all, however, he was curious. The sort of person who needs to know everything, to be the master of his own environment. That was you, Oroki. You don't care a whit about your brother's death or you wouldn't have framed him. What you do care about is information. There's something sick and evil going on in this city. It's even managed to get its claws into your precious Labyrinth, from what I saw on that screen just know. You don't know what's going on any more than the rest of us and it's driving you insane. I'm the only one who can help you figure this out and we both know it."

Oroki released the trigger on his gun and placed it back in his jacket. "Such a marvelous enemy you make, Kitsuki," he laughed wickedly.

"Well, we'll have plenty of time to kill each other later, Bayushi," Hatsu replied, "Right now we need information. Are any of these monitors linked to the offices of the Imperial Guard?"

"Yes," Oroki replied, pointing to one on his far left, "That one there. I hardly ever use it, though. It doesn't overlook Kyo's office itself; the security scanners in there are much too tight to bother. Besides, the camera in your own office is so much more entertaining."

"My office?" Hatsu retorted, giving the Scorpion a fierce look.

Oroki nodded, and flipped on another monitor, giving a perfect view of the Dragon's desk. Hatsu quickly figured out the angle of the camera.

"My mother's fan!" Hatsu exclaimed, "You hid a camera in my mother's fan!"

Oroki shrugged. "A very tiny tetsukami affair, shrouded to invisibility with Scorpion magic. A great expense, but well worth it in my estimation, if only for the amusement value. You hardly ever move that fan, and you're not likely to throw it away. That's what my man on your janitorial staff said, anyway."

Hatsu scowled at the Scorpion.

"Oh, come on, Hatsu," Oroki sighed, "You fully expected to walk in here and see this sort of thing. Otherwise, you never would have come here looking for me."

"True," Hatsu admitted. He looked over the many screens, bewildered by the extent and audacity of Oroki's web. He didn't expect anything this pervasive and well organized. No wonder he'd been having such trouble putting the Scorpion away. "It's a lot to take in at once," he admitted, "I admit I haven't a clue where to start."

"I have a suggestion," Oroki said, "You can start in the bathroom, Kitsuki. You need a shower and some new clothes. You smell like you've been running through a sewer."

Kameru straightened his tie and gazed up at the great doors of the Otosan Uchi Museum of Natural History. In the twilight of the setting sun it was a foreboding place, its tall spires and sweeping arches reflecting the blood red of Lady Sun.

"Sir?" said a man in green armor, stepping up behind Kameru, "Do you need assistance?"

Kameru shook his head, and the bodyguard stepped back with the others. "Come on, Kameru," he said to himself, "For Daikoku's sake, you're going to be the Emperor someday. Little things like this shouldn't bother you. Just go inside and meet her."

Steeling himself, Kameru smoothed his dark green jacket and khaki slacks, took the bouquet of flowers from one of his bodyguards, and started up the steps.

Kamiko sighed. The museum was empty, but brightly lit. She threw herself back onto one of the overstuffed chairs in the cavernous lobby. A granite statue of the Thunder Dragon spewed water into a fountain behind her. She leaned her head back on the cushions and closed her eyes.

"Something wrong, Kamiko-chan?" Maseto asked, stepping out of a shadowy archway.

"It's so empty," she said, looking around the lobby.

"I had thought you were well used to coming into the museum after hours," the yojimbo replied.

"That's different," she said, "This is too early. They closed down and chased everyone off so I could meet Kameru here, away from the reporters."

"Standard operating procedure," Maseto replied, "It cannot be helped. The paparazzi are the least of the Emperor's problems right now. Yoritomo has many enemies."

"Is this what being Empress will be like?" the girl asked softly, tossing back her silky white hair, "To be protected from those I am supposed to serve?"

"It cannot be helped," Maseto replied, "We must all bear our own destiny."

"Maybe," she said. She stared up at the stained glass windows above the entrance to the medieval section. They were in a gaijin style, but they depicted the Seven Thunders of the Clan War. Just to the left of center stood a tall man with flowing white hair and blue eyes gazing off into the distance, her noble ancestor Doji Hoturi. What was he looking at, she wondered. Was his destiny laid out for him like hers seemed to be?

Yoritomo Kameru coughed softly. Kamiko returned to herself with a bright laugh and rose to her feet. Maseto bowed and receded into the darkness without a sound. Kameru returned the bow, being careful to keep the flower hidden behind his back.

"Hello," Kamiko said with a short bow, "You have to be Kameru. You look like your father."

Kameru said nothing for moment, stunned. The young Crane girl was dressed in a short white dress of fine silk, buttoned down the right side with two silver swords crossed over her heart. Her white hair was tied back with a sky blue ribbon, matching her silk forearm gloves and simple shoes. She was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. He noticed with a start that she carried a katana on her belt.

"Nice sword," he said awkwardly.

Kamiko smirked. "Of course it is," she said, "A samurai can't be without her blade." She stole a glance at Kameru's own hip, and shook her head with mock disdain.

"I must have left it in the car," Kameru said in pretend shock. He patted himself down with one hand, as if looking for the sword. "Well, too late to go back for it now. Do you think you could cover me if we get into any trouble in here?"

"What's in it for me?" she teased.

"This," he said, and held out the flower, "A gift from the Imperial Gardens. I'm sure it's nothing to the ones Asahina Munashi grows at Dojicorp, but it was the best I could do." It was a large chrysanthemum with petals of pure white, the stem tied with a golden thread.

"A red chrysanthemum means love," Kamiko said, sniffing the flower with a little smile, "Yellow means slighted love, and white means truth. What sort of truth are you looking for, Kameru?"

"I don't know," he said with a lopsided grin, "I just picked it because I heard it matched your hair."

"Oh, no, now that will never do," she said, tying the chrysanthemum into her ponytail, "You have to consider the symbolism. After all, if I my hair were yellow, you'd have brought me a yellow flower, and I'd have thought you were stalking me."

"If your hair were yellow," Kameru said, "I'd have brought you a doctor." Kamiko laughed. Kameru shook his head with a grin. "Yellow chrysanthemums mean slighted love? Really?"

Kamiko nodded. "You didn't know that flowers have meaning?"

"Had no idea," Kameru said, "Whose job is it to make rules like that?"

"It's tradition, I suppose," Kamiko replied, holding out her arm for Kameru to take, "We Crane are indoctrinated with all the finer points of Rokugani culture from an early age."

"Well, I'm a Mantis," Kameru replied, "We sail and we fight. That's all we've ever done. Oh, yes, and for the last century we've been learning how to rule the Empire. I nearly forgot about that part."

The Mantis and Crane stepped off into the hallways of the Museum, looking over the relics of the Empire's history as they spoke. Kameru had never been in the museum before. He was amazed to see such relics as the original Jade Hand, corroded by centuries of rest at the bottom of the sea, the Mask of Ninube, and the fabled Sword of the First Toku.

Kamiko had seen all of it before, but she was no less amazed by Kameru. He looked like his father, with his old fashioned topknot and shaven scalp. He walked like his father, his thick shoulders strong with authority. His voice even held a bit of the mystery of the Son of Storms. However, she saw none of the arrogance or bravado of Yoritomo the Sixth in his son. He had a dry, self deprecating humor and a slow but steady smile.

This irritated Kamiko to no end. She had walked into the museum today determined to hate Yoritomo Kameru, determined to spite Doji Meda and fly in the face of tradition. Now she didn't know quite what to think. She by no means wanted to marry Kameru, but she found it hard to hate him, as she had intended.

"So what is this one?" Kameru asked, gesturing to a silver katana driven into an anvil of jade in the center of the room, sitting on a high pedestal.

Kamiko was surprised. She had not even realized what room they were in. "That's Yashin," she said, walking close to the gleaming blade and gazing into its surface, "The sword wielded by my ancestor, Chomei. He called it Ambition."

"A fine blade," Kameru said, standing silently beside her for a moment. "Tell me," he said suddenly, "Is being the daughter of the Emerald Champion as bad as being the son of the Emperor?"

"I don't know," Kamiko replied, her laugh bright as she met his eyes, "What's it like to be the son of the Emperor?"

"Frustrating," the young man replied, "Sometimes I think that I don't even have a father. Sometimes I feel like just another one of his subjects. And you?"

"I know how that feels," she said, looking away and down. Kameru squeezed her arm comfortingly. "So what do you do about it?" she said, looking back at him.

"Not much I can do," Kameru said, "He doesn't even want to come halfway. If Ryosei didn't love him so much, I don't even know if I'd bother."

"Ryosei's your sister, right?" Kamiko asked.

"Yeah," Kameru said, "Since mom died last year, both of them seem to be drifting away. His moods are getting darker and darker, and she's trying so hard to anchor him that I think she's drifting away, too."

"And you?" she asked.

"I don't know about me. I've got Osano-wo's blood like my father, I'm probably destined to be a war-crazed fool," he chuckled. "Someday, I'll be Emperor and it hardly looks like the Empire I'll be ruling over will be a land of peace."

"When you're Emperor, you don't have to carry on your father's war," she said.

Kameru shifted slightly, shook his head. "I don't know," he said, "Forget I said anything. He may be a terrible father, but as Emperor it's my duty to serve him. My feelings are unimportant."

"That's what you think," Kamiko said, and she kissed him.

Kameru tensed, surprised, then relaxed and kissed her back. For a time, they both forgot about their problems.

And above them, Ambition gleamed brightly.

The Temple of the Elements was not a large building, but to the Phoenix Clan its importance was unequaled in Otosan Uchi. The five-tiered pagoda stood in the midst of a rare patch of open grass, a large natural park in the midst of the bustling metropolis. The Temple was dedicated to enlightenment through the mastery of the five elements, and each tier of the temple was dedicated to the study of a particular elemental ring.

It was here that the shugenja of the Phoenix manipulated the kami and spirits of the earth in their most sacred rituals. In fact, the building was so sacred that the interior was rarely used or even visited by any besides the Elemental Masters themselves and the Caretakers, an order of shugenja dedicated entirely to serving the maintenance and beautification of the Temple and its park.

Today, the Temple of the Elements was relatively crowded. A little over a dozen figures stood on within the fourth tier, the Tier of Fire. Snow swirled gently about the windows, catching the light of the Temple's lantern's as well as the dim light of the setting winter sun. Isawa Sumi hardly noticed the weather; she was too nervous. It seemed like her life was passing by so fast. Just yesterday, she was an ordinary girl and now today she was to become the Master of Fire. The Masters intended to waste no time initiating her, calling the bare minimum of witnesses necessary so that the ceremony could be performed quickly.

Sumi kneeled in the center of the room, bowing almost to the floor in supplication. Along the left wall stood the Phoenix Daimyo, Shiba Mifune and four samurai in fiery orange armor, elite members of the Shiba House Guard. Mifune looked old and tired, his hand shaking slightly on the pearly handle of Ofushikai, the ancestral Phoenix katana. Along the right wall stood three simple monks in saffron robes, Caretakers. Their arms were folded in their sleeves, and their eyes were closed in deep and serene meditation. In the front of the room, before the Shrine of Fire, stood the Elemental Masters, Asako Ishikint, Isawa Kujimitsu, the Master of the Void, and Zul Rashid. In the rear of the room waited the Naga girl, Zin, who toyed with her pearl necklace anxiously.

"Isawa Sumi," the Masters called out as one.

Sumi sat up, regarding the Masters with her clear green eyes. "I am Isawa Sumi," she said, "Daughter of the Phoenix."

"Whom do you serve, Isawa Sumi?" Zul Rashid asked in his harsh voice.

"The Fortunes. The Phoenix. Rokugan," she replied.

"What path do you walk, Isawa Sumi?" Ishikint asked, leaning heavily on his ornate staff.

"Hitsu-do," she said, "The Way of Fire."

"And will you serve us now, Isawa Sumi?" the Master of the Void asked in his odd, hollow voice.

"For the rest of my life," she said, falling back into a deep bow.

"Then rise, Isawa Sumi," Kujimitsu said with a grin, "New Master of Fire."

Sumi rose gracefully. The Master of the Void came forward to hand her a pouch of scrolls, spells of immense power for her new position. Ishikint placed a red crystal ring on her finger, the Seal of Fire. Kujimitsu approached to bestow her ceremonial robes, winking at her as he did so. And Zul Rashid came forward to place a tiara of fiery topaz upon her head. He had an odd and inscrutable smile on his face, and his eyes seemed slightly moist as he kissed Sumi on both cheeks. The room broke into fierce applause. Outside, the elements seemed to echo the ovation as hail began to pelt the windows. The Phoenix broke their ceremonial postures and began to mingle amiably.

"Congratulations, Sumi," Zin said softly to her friend, "A gift." She handed Sumi a bracelet of silver as thin as thread, with three perfect pearls strung upon it.

Sumi looked at Zin's necklace, and noticed a few of the pearls were missing. "Oh, Zin," she said, touched, "You didn't have to do that."

"You are my true friend, Sumi," Zin replied, "My people value loyalty and friendship."

A slow breeze ran through the Tier of Fire, prompting one of the Caretakers to begin adjusting the thermostat on the wall. "Is something wrong, Zin?"

The hail rattled against the glass. "Something..." Zin said, "Something is... different."

"Is it cold in here?" Mifune asked loudly, "Or is it just my old bones?"

"The thermostat seems to be malfunctioning," the Caretaker replied. Her two assistants stepped over to assist.

A sudden wind whipped through the Tier of Fire, causing the lanterns and candles to flicker. "Kaze...." it whispered.

"This is most abnormal," Zul Rashid said, frowning.

The row of windows to the right of the Shrine of Fire suddenly exploded, showering the three Caretakers with glass and hailstones. The Caretakers screamed and fell to the floor.

"Shiba, to arms!" Mifune shouted, his voice unsteady as he drewing tetsukami pistol. The five samurai formed a defensive ring around Zin and the Masters, their weapons at the ready. Hail and wind tore at the confused Phoenix, howling through the tier of fire with a cackling laugh.

"Kaze!" the wind cackled, "Kazekaze-KAZE!!"

A flock of tiny dark shapes swarmed into the window on the wind, winged black figures with red eyes like coals. The creatures swirled about the ring of Phoenix, slashing and tearing with their claws.

"Fire!" Mifune ordered, though the Shiba had already opened up with their pistols. Tetsukami bullets of pure fire and void ripped into the little creatures. Rashid and Kujimitsu began throwing missiles of lightning and ice as well. The Master of the Void shielded Zin and Sumi with his massive body, while Ishikint fell into a deep trance.

Many of the little demons were struck and fell to the floor, twitching, but some pierced the Shibas' ring, clawing at the samurai and the Masters. Mifune drew Ofushikai and slashed at the creatures at close range, severing three at a stroke from his fantastic gleaming blade. Two of the other Shibas followed his example while the remaining pair continued maintaining a crossfire at the window to prevent more from entering.

"Minor oni," the Master of the Void moaned, snatching one from the air and crushing it in his fist.

"Ishikint!" Rashid shouted, "What are you doing, ratling?"

"Not ratling," Ishikint said with a chortle, "Nezumi. WITH THE POWER OF THE EARTH, LET EVIL BE STRUCK DOWN!" The rodentine shugenja rose his staff high into the air and drove it into the floor with a strength that belied his age. Cracks buckled through the orange and yellow tiles, rippling outward and tracing the sacred kanji symbol of Earth across the floor of the temple. A fierce blue light erupted from the symbol as Ishikint threw his arms out to his sides, and the minor oni burst into flames and died in the air.

The room fell silent, save for the howl of the wind and the soft chanting of Ishikint. The hail seemed to be gone, and now only snow swirled into the Temple of the Elements. One of the Shiba lay in a pool of blood on the floor, his throat torn open by a minor oni. The three Caretakers lay scattered about amid the broken glass, moaning in pain. "What is going on?" Mifune asked, his voice quavering as he stared in horror at his fallen yojimbo, "What were those creatures?"

"Servants of the monster that is looking for me," Zin said, "Servants of Kashrak. I know him now. I remember him. We cannot stop him."

"Kaze..." the wind whispered again. Dozens and dozens of little black shadows with glinting red eyes appeared outside the shattered window, hovering just beyond the range of Ishikint's ward.

"The wind said Kaze," Rashid said, "That could mean Oni no Kaze, the Elemental Terror of the Air, my evil opposite number. Remember, that Crab said that he ran afoul of Oni no Jimen just last week."

"And if it is this Kaze?" Kujimitsu asked.

"Then our fight has just begun," Zul Rashid replied, a scimitar of lightning and wind appearing in his hand.

"How long will your ward hold, Ishikint?" Mifune asked.

"Longer..." Ishikint said, his gaze lost in concentration, "If you stop.... talking to Ishikint, human."

"Oh," Mifune said, "Sorry." The Nezumi nodded.

One of the samurai drew a radio from his belt and clicked a button on the side. "This is Shiba Katsumi requesting immediate assistance in the Temple of Elements," she said, "Respond." She paused a moment. "Can anyone hear me?" Another pause. "Please respond."

"Kaze..." the walkie-talkie hissed, "Kaze hears you just fine..."

Then a larger shadow appeared among the minor oni, hanging in the air as its green eyes glinted murderously. It emerged from the darkness and alighted on the window ledge, crouching low on its haunches. It was a thin, birdlike creature with pale, splotchy skin covered with hints of crawling black circuitry. A pair of skinless wings unfolded from its back with a metal snap; they were clawed and fingered like a bat's but without skin, just a series of sharpened metallic fingers.

"Shibas, fire!" Mifune ordered, pointing his Void pistol at the thing.

"NO!" Rashid screamed, realizing the truth too late.

The weapons of the House Guard exploded in their hands, consuming their wielders in magical fire. Mifune's own pistol erupted in a sphere of pure void, and he fell to the floor with the right half of his head and torso simply gone. The remaining three samurai screamed and fell to the ground as Oni no Kaze held his taloned fingers over his beak and laughed.

"Seven Thunders!" Kujimitsu gasped in horror, "Die, Monster!" The Master of Water punched the air, releasing a bolt of pure ice toward the oni. Kaze cocked his head and gestured with one finger, causing the spell to turn in mid-air and strike Kujimitsu in the chest, hurling him against the Shrine of Fire where he collapsed limply.

"Everyone, stop using magic!" Rashid commanded, his scimitar vanished, "The damn oni is turning our spells against us!"

"Stop using magic?" Sumi replied, terrified, "Then what will we do?"

"We die," Rashid said, snatching Ofushikai from the floor, "We meet again," he said to the blade, smiling wryly.

"Ishikint," the Master of the Void said, "Will your ward hold it back?"

"Ishikint feel that Kaze is resistant, but not immune," the Nezumi said hoarsely, "Ishikint's spell strikes directly at Kaze's corruption; not much Kaze can do to avoid that. But Kaze will try to draw closer, try to weaken Ishikint so that Kaze's minor oni can enter, too. Ishikint will hold ward as long as he can..." The Nezumi coughed, sagging a bit under the heavy burden of his spell.

Kaze stepped one foot off the ledge, and the blue light of the ward flickered.

"I will strike from the right," Rashid said, "Master, strike from the left. Sumi, Zin, remain here with the ratl--" Rashid arched an eyebrow, "with the Nezumi."

Kaze entered the room completely, the ward's light dimming noticeably. His fleshy beak curved open in a smile. "Come, little Phoenix," he taunted, "Come to Kaze."

Zul Rashid and the Master of the Void struck as one, charging from both sides. Rashid lashed out with the Phoenix katana, as the Master clubbed at the oni with his mighty fists. The sword bit deeply into Kaze's leg, unleashing a stream of white blood, and Kaze's neck was snapped back by the Master's blows.

"He is weakened!" Rashid exclaimed, "We have him!"

"Kaze only tasting Phoenix," the oni laughed, "You have nothing." The oni's wings carved outward in a wicked hemisphere. The Master's right arm flew free in a stream of blood, and Ofushikai went spinning from Rashid's hands. The oni grabbed the Master of The Void's head with one hand, and threw him against the ceiling, where he struck hard and cracked the tiles when he fell.

Rashid glanced at the lost sword, his face confused. His eyes fixed on Sumi, and he suddenly smiled. The oni folded its left wing into a blade and stabbed it into Zul Rashid's chest. The khadi sorceror's face went pale and he dropped to his knees. The wing creaked and broke off in the wizard's chest, dropping his body with a thump. The wind howled all about as the Master of Air breathed his last.

"Rashid!" Sumi screamed.

Zin reached for her necklace, pulling free a large pearl and scowling at the oni.

"Please, forego that, my dear," a hissing voice said as a thick scaled arm grabbed Zin from behind, "It probably won't kill Kaze, but I'd rather not find out until he's finished killing Phoenix."

"Kashrak!" Zin screamed, remembering the monster's name as it took her.

Sumi gaped in terror as a huge creature appeared from nowhere, holding Zin in its massive arms. It had the scales and head of a snake, though its skin was mottled with black scabs and blisters. Its waist split into three thick tails and a half dozen cobras emerged from its torso, swaying in the air. Sumi burst into flames as she summoned the fire spirits.

"I think not, little girl," Kashrak said to Sumi, and vanished as a Sumi's fire punched a hole in the wall where he had been.

Kaze took another step. The light of the Nezumi's ward went out completely for a moment, and Ishikint leaned heavily on his staff to support himself. The old shugenja's breath was ragged, and a single thread of blood dripped from his muzzle.

"Ishikint, we have to go!" Sumi shouted, "We have to run."

Ishikint coughed, shaking his head. "Cannot go. Kujimitsu, the Caretakers, not dead yet..." he said, his breath a rattle, "Cannot leave them... Ward must hold..."

"Too old you are," Kaze said in mocking tones, taking another step, "Much pain it must be to hold this spell. Death it will be for you if Kaze breaks this spell. Run now while you can."

"Demons not welcome in temple," Ishikint gasped, a spray of blood erupting from his mouth, "Go back to Jigoku."

"Silly rat," the oni replied, "Kaze do as he pleases."

"Not rat," the Nezumi said, his eyes suddenly bright, "Nezumi..."

Asako Ishikint slumped to the floor, the light of the ward finally vanishing.

"Death without meaning," the oni said with a snort, smiling at Sumi as the minor oni swirled around him, "That is the best kind, what you say, fire-girl?"

"No death is without meaning!" the Master of the Void bellowed, tackling the oni from behind. The minor oni scattered in the air, taking to the rafters, confused and broken by their master's humiliation.

"You!" the oni rasped, rolling across the floor in the Master's grasp, "You are a Nameless One! Kaze can smell it!"

Sumi gasped. The Nameless ones. That rare variety of shugenja who swallowed the taint of evil into themselves in order to combat it. It had been widely rumored that such a fate had befallen the Master of the Void, but to believe it and to know it were two very different things.

Kaze slashed the Master's back with his remaining wing, breaking the huge shugenja's grip as he took to the air several feet above. "You cannot run from me, demon," the Master of the Void shouted, an odd purple smoke rising from behind his bandages. Blood streamed from the stump of his severed arm, but he ignored the injury. "I may be damned, but I will pull you into hell in my wake."

"We shall see, Nameless One," Kaze said. He gestured, and the minor oni swarmed from the rafters to engulf the Master of the Void. The huge man fell to his knees beneath their onslaught, his screams echoing eerily as the creatures tore at his bandages and flesh.

Kaze chuckled again, folding his arms across his chest. Then the Master suddenly leapt high into the air, ignoring the demons crawling over his body, and wrapped his one arm around Kaze's throat. The two tumbled to the ground again. Sumi shrieked, unleashing her own magic into the cloud of minor oni, frying many of them to cinders before they could rejoin the battle. There was a sudden thickening of the air in the temple, as if a powerful spell was about to be unleashed.

"NO!" Kaze shrieked.

The Master chanted. "BY THE WILL OF AMATERASU LET EVIL BE UNMADE," he rumbled, squeezing the demon's neck.

Kaze reached out for whatever weapon he could find, and came back with the Master's own severed arm. He began beating the Nameless One about the head and back, but the shugenja ignored the pain as his bones were broken. The minor oni began spinning about the room and shrieking, ignoring the Master, Sumi, and Kaze.

"LET WHAT IS DONE BY EVIL BE SWALLOWED BY GOOD," the Master shouted. The Minor onis began popping like large firecrackers. Kaze began stabbing the Master's remaining arm desperately with his dull beak.

"LET HELL'S DOOR SWING WIDE FOR US BOTH!" Kaze shrieked as the Master's body burst into brilliant red flames, but the oni tore free with a burst of desperate strength and rolled across the floor, dousing the holy flames as he rolled to his knees.

"Silly mortal," Oni no Kaze chuckled painfully, leering as he hunched over the slumped and burning body of the Master of the Void, "Death without meaning." He turned away from the Master to finish of Sumi.

"No death is without meaning," Sumi said, and a thousand Phoenix spirits flowed through Ofushikai as she brought down the blade on Oni no Kaze's neck.

The head skidded across the tiles and came to a stop, a look of impossible surprise on its burned face. The oni's body kneeled where it was for a moment, then toppled to the floor. Sumi glanced at Ofushikai, wondering how the sword had suddenly appeared in her hand. A mystery for another time.

"Master!" she shouted, running across the Temple to where the Master of the Void lay. She called out to the fire spirits, dousing the flames that covered his body, and rolled him over to see his face. The bandages had fallen away, revealing the ruin underneath that he had hidden for so many years. Sumi did not look away.

"Sumi," he said, his once strong voice now weak and cracked in pain, "You did it..."

"Master," she said, choking back tears.

"Hashin," he said, "Please... Now I am Moto Hashin again, Nameless One no longer..." Though his face was torn and scarred by his final battle and his life of torment, the Master's eyes were clear and full of peace.

"Hold on, Hashin," Sumi said, "Help is coming. They'll heal you."

Hashin shook his head. "The deal has been made, Sumi. The price has been paid. My life is forfeit," Hashin's breath rattled in his throat. "But Kaze's goal has been won. Zin has been taken. Only you can find her, Sumi. Only you can save the Akasha before all is lost. Only you..." the Master closed his eyes a final time, "can lead us..."

"No!" Sumi screamed, "Hashin! Master!" She cradled the dead shugenja's head in her lap, "No!"

"He's dead, Sumi," Kujimitsu said, holding his left arm tight against his body as he leaned against the fallen Shrine of Fire. "The Moto Family designed their spell well."

"How are you, Kujimitsu?" Sumi asked, running across the room to kneel at the wounded man's side. She noticed that the Caretakers were finally beginning to gather themselves to the feet. The three elderly shugenja stared in wonder at the carnage within their temple.

"I shall live," Kujimitsu said, "We're safe for now, for what it's worth. The Master of the Void is dead. Ishikint is dead. Rashid and Mifune is dead. Zin has been taken. And we are without a champion."

"Wrong," Zul Rashid said. The Caretakers gasped as the Master of Air rose, blood covering his clothing, the broken wing of Oni no Kaze still protruding from the center of his chest. The khadi smiled. "We are the Phoenix and we are not dead yet..."

The little red Equestrian pulled up silently in front of the townhouse. The suburbs outside the capitol were quiet and cheery. Two old men set on the porch next door, swaying in their swing and shooting the breeze. A small plastic statue of a kenku stood in the midst of the front lawn, holding a small lantern aloft. A white cat quickly trotted out of the way of Daniri's car.

"Nice neighborhood," Daniri said, a look of amazement on his face as he shifted the car into park and turned off the engine, "Somehow I didn't imagine you living in a place like this, Kochiyo."

"And why is that?" she asked, folding her hands across one knee and tossing back her long hair.

"I thought you'd be closer to..." he fumbled.

"The action?" Kochiyo asked, "Actually, Daniri, I'm a simple girl. I like the quiet. I get enough of the city escorting the rich and boring to parties the Scorpions think are important enough for me to appear at."

"So am I rich and boring?" Daniri asked, leaning one elbow on the car door.

"Definitely not boring," Kochiyo said.

Daniri shrugged. "Give me time. I'm a pretty dull guy. Sure, the TV show and the movies aren't boring, but those are mostly my stuntman anyway."

"You don't use stuntmen, Daniri," she said playfully.

"Oh, yeah," he replied, feigning astonishment.

She laughed, a light fresh laugh that went through her whole body. Daniri found himself laughing along with her, his arm around her, and they kissed. After a moment, they parted again, and Kochiyo raised one eyebrow.

"Who are you, Akodo Daniri?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" he replied, still hugging her slim waist with his hands, "If you don't know me by now, I'm not sure if I can help you."

"That's not what I mean," she said, her arms light around his neck, "I mean you're not like a Lion. You're not brash, you're not arrogant, you're just..." "Human?" Daniri said teasingly, "Yeah, we Lions surprise a lot of people that way."

"Exactly," she said, smiling wryly, "You're everything I didn't expect from your stereotype."

"That's the thing about stereotypes," Daniri said, "They're just convenient lies and generalizations. Look at yourself. You're a Scorpion, Kochiyo, and a geisha. Most people would think you were manipulative, murderous, and seductive, because of stereotypes."

"Well, two out of three..." she said.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," Daniri replied.

"Really, though, you have more room to talk," she said, "It's easier for you to break your mold. You're not really a Lion, after all."

"What do you mean?" he asked, suddenly tense.

"Well, you're an Akodo, right?" she said, her face noting his tension, "That's not a true family; you don't inherit that name. All the Akodos come from other samurai families."

"Oh, yeah," Daniri said, trying not to show his relief, "Okay."

"So where did you come from, Daniri?" Kochiyo asked, "Who's responsible for bringing up the hero of Rokugan?"

"I really am a Lion," he replied quickly, "I was an Ikoma before Ayano discovered me. Of course, I was sort of a black sheep back then, so all the older movies I did I was just 'Daniri.'" He felt terrible lying, but there was no way around it. His identity wasn't really his own to divulge. Akodo Daniri belonged to all of Rokugan; a nobody peasant like Genju Danjuro had no business ruining his name.

"And why were you such a black sheep?" she asked, cocking her head a bit, "Did you do something... bad?" Her mouth was pursed in a teasing little smile.

"Sure I did," he said, leaning closer to her and whispering, "I couldn't act worth a damn."

They both burst into laughter again, then kissed some more. Kochiyo pulled away, a serious look on her face.

"So," she said, "It's still pretty early. I rented some of your older movies. Would you like to come inside and watch them?"

"Oh, Seven Thunders you didn't," he said, covering his face and blushing.

"Oh, yes," she said, a merciless glint in her eye. "I've got Urban Ninja," she counted them off on her fingers, "Death Master, Warrior of Carnage 3 -- you weren't in the first two Warriors of Carnage, were you? and... oh, yes, Sanzo's Quest."

"Sanzo's Quest?" he scoffed, "But I was hardly even in that one! I played one of the thugs that Sanzo punches out in the first scene!"

"That's the whole point!" she said, "What's funnier than a movie where Akodo Daniri gets knocked out in the first scene? And you've even got dark hair in that one!"

Daniri shook his head, covering his hands, but when he looked up he was grinning. "Actually, Kochiyo, that sounds like a lot of fun."

"I've got popcorn, too," she persisted, "Be careful, Daniri. Give me popcorn and action movies and I turn into a wild woman."

"Ha!" Daniri laughed. Kochiyo was amazing. She was beautiful, witty, and actually seemed to see him as just a person, not as a media phenomenon. Which made it that much harder. "Well, it sounds like fun, I was saying, but I have to say no."

"Why not?" she asked, disappointed, "I went to a lot of trouble, Daniri."

"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head, "I have some prior commitments tonight."

"Another woman?" she asked.

"No," he said meeting her eyes sincerely, "I have to help my brother."

"Your brother?" she asked, "I didn't know you had a brother."

"Well, my family stays out of the spotlight," he said, gripping both hands on the steering wheel and looking away. "I'm sorry Kochiyo. Maybe tomorrow."

"Well, okay, Daniri," she said with a sigh, sitting back in the seat and folding her arms. She shook her head, then got out of the car.

"Good night," he said through the open window.

"Good night," she said, leaning down to look back at him, "And good luck with your brother. Just one word of advice."

"What's that?"

"With a little mystery, a woman finds a man intriguing," she said, "but with a lot of mystery, a woman finds another man." She smiled as she said it to take away some of the sting, then turned and quickly strode down the walk to the door of her townhouse. Daniri watched her go.

"Damnit, Jiro," he said under his breath, "Couldn't you have joined the Locust Clan next week?"

"Lord Yoritomo," the young samurai said boldly, clicking the butt of his yari on the floor.

The Emperor looked up from his desk, his flinty eyes flicking toward the Mantis guard.

"The Jade Champion and your daughter seek audience with you, Your Highness," the Mantis said with a fluid bow.

The Emperor pored over the papers on his desk for several moments, paying the guard and his announcement no mind. The Mantis waited dutifully for a response, holding his bow for nearly a minute. "Send them in," the Emperor said, and the guard left without another sound.

Yoritomo Ryosei entered the room, her black hair flowing out behind her in a wave. She was a young girl, but already a beautiful example of young womanhood. She smiled brightly at her father. An older woman followed Ryosei, resplendent in the dark green mantle of the Jade Champion and the matching emerald robes of the Fox Clan. She was an elegant, middle aged shugenja with a hard face and sharp eyes, very much resembling an older, wiser version of young Ryosei. This was perhaps only fitting, as Ryosei was Kitsune Maiko's niece. The two women bowed.

"Maiko, my daughter, greetings," Yoritomo said, folding his large hands before him as he nodded his head in greetings, "Please, take a seat."

The two women seated themselves quietly in the velvet chairs before the Emperor's large green marble desk.

"I trust the winter finds you well, Maiko," Yoritomo said, "I have not had the pleasure of your conversation in some time."

"My studies keep me very occupied," Maiko replied, "but I found I could remain in the library no longer."

"Oh?" the Emperor said, "And why is this?"

"The Fire Dragon," Maiko said, "The Agasha have told me you launched it upon Medinaat-al-Salaam. I beg you to reconsider."

Yoritomo laughed. "The Agasha," he said, "They are remarkably verbose for a family that takes such pride in its own nonexistence."

"Their very nonexistence serves to insure such weapons as the Fire Dragon will never be used again," Maiko said, her eyes intense and angry, "The Imperial Family and the Jade Champion are the only ones trusted with the knowledge that the Dragon Clan yet lives. Your brash actions against the Senpet have threatened that trust. I beg you to listen to my advisement on this matter."

"Your advisement is not necessary," Yoritomo said flatly. "Our mind has been made up. The Burning Sands must be made an example for others who might violate the Imperial Will."

"You plan to annihilate a city of seven million," Maiko said, falling back into her chair in shock, "You cannot tell me that there is no other way."

"Excuse me," Yoritomo said, raising a single finger, "but why have you chosen to invite my daughter to a discussion of such sensitive and classified matters of state?"

"I was studying in Maiko-sama's libraries when the Agasha arrived," Ryosei said, "When I overheard what they were talking about, I insisted on coming along."

"You overheard?" Yoritomo repeated. He shook his head, smiling wryly. "Sometimes you remind me much of your mother."

"Father, you can't do this!" Ryosei said, jumping up out of her seat and planting her hands on the edge of his desk, "You can't let this happen."

Yoritomo looked away, his face weary and doubtful. "Ryosei," he said, meeting her dark eyes with his own, "We are sorry. We do not care if history remembers us as a madman and a murderer. We do not care if the entire world rises against us for what we do. All that matters to us is Rokugan. If the nations of the earth will not stand with us in the next Shadow Wars, we will be destroyed. "

"Syllogistic nonsense," Maiko scoffed. "You seek to stop Armageddon by causing it!"

"Perhaps," Yoritomo said, "but if we must choose, we would rather burn this world to the ground than hand it over to evil, and a darkness seeks us now that is greater even than Fu Leng, Ishak, or Iuchiban."

"What evil?" Maiko replied, "As Jade Champion, I am your main advisor in all magical matters, Yoritomo. I demand you tell me what you are trying to 'defend' us against."

"Would that I could," Yoritomo replied, "Now, both of you, leave me. Ryosei should return to her studies and I am sure the Jade Champion has more important duties to attend."

Maiko and Ryosei moved to the door of the large office. The Jade Champion turned in the doorway. "Yoritomo, I beg you to reconsider," she said, "The Fire Dragon has not yet reached its target, and can still be remotely destroyed if you choose. Its power is unimaginable. Should it ignite, you may begin a conflagration that will consume us all."

Yoritomo said nothing, looking past them as if they were not there, an expression of troubled sadness on his face. The doors closed.

"Your father has gone mad," Kitsune Maiko spat as soon as they had passed out of the guard's earshot.

"He hasn't been the same since mother died," Ryosei said, hugging herself with the arms and staring at her feet as she walked, "He's been getting colder, angrier, more distant. I'm worried about him. I think I'm probably the only one who is."

Maiko laughed. "Oh, believe me, Ryosei, you're not the only one in Rokugan who's concerned about your father's state of mind. And if I can't issue a warning in time, there are seven million people who will never get a chance to wonder how mad he is." Without another word, Maiko turned and mounted the stairs to her tower, leaving Ryosei alone in the hallway.

Nearby, the wall opened up into one of the Palace's many courtyards. The Diamond Falls churned majestically into twin ponds of water lilies as the snow drifted gently down all around. Ryosei entered the courtyard and primly seated herself at one of the benches, gazing thoughtfully at the rippled surface of the water. That was when she noticed the trail of dark red splotches in the snow, leading away from the edge of the pond. She stood and approached the trail, leaning down to brush one of the dots with one finger.

"Blood?" she breathed, astonished.

"I'm af-f-fraid th-that would b-be mine," said a voice nearby.

Ryosei glanced up in surprise to see a thin young man huddled behind the bushes, clutching his left shoulder. His long black hair was dripping with water and his black shirt was stained with blood.

"Who are you?" Ryosei asked.

"Isawa S-s-saigo," he stuttered, shivering in the chill air.

"How are you hurt?" she asked, rushing to his side and sitting on the ground.

"Shot," he said, "Tsuruchi K-kyo..."

"Why would Kyo shoot you?" she asked, pulling away his hand and glancing at the wound. She winced. There was a lot of blood, but it didn't seem too serious.

"G-g-good question," Saigo said bitterly.

"Hang on," Ryosei said. She pulled off her scarf and wrapped it tightly around the young man's shoulder, then clenched his hand over the wound. "Hold that there," she said, patting his hand.

"Th-thanks," Saigo smiled.

Ryosei pulled off her thick green cloak and draped it over Saigo's body. That would keep him warm for the moment. She shivered a bit as the winter wind blew across her bare shoulders.

"What do we do now?" Saigo asked, "You're not going t-to turn me in, are you? They'll k-k-kill me."

Ryosei bit her lip, considering her options. Between the assassination and the war and her father's behavior, there seemed to be so many odd things going on in the Palace these days. So many things she had no control over. Here was one more. Another problem she was unsuited to face. She could hear someone shouting orders far away down the hallway.

"They're coming!" Saigo said, his eyes full of fear.

"Come on," Ryosei said decisively, rising and pulling Saigo's good arm around her shoulders.

The two of them quickly jogged out of the courtyard as three Imperial Guard entered from the other direction. They began curiously searching the lily pond, oblivious to Saigo's escape.

"Where are we going?" Saigo asked, his eyes wild, "We'll never get out of the Palace! It's too heavily guarded."

"We're not leaving the palace," Ryosei replied, and they entered the stairwell to Maiko's tower.

Behind them, the air blurred. An ancient spirit appeared, dressed in tattered robes of orange and black. He released a long sigh of anxiety as he straightened the red crystal tiara on his head.

"Saigo, my son," the spirit said with a grin, "You are indeed a lucky bastard."

Tsuke gestured, and the door to Maiko's tower closed with a thud.

The Jewel of the Desert was the center of the ancient land of the Burning Sands both literally and figuratively. Since time immemorial it had stood as a cultural fulcrum for the barren desert kingdom. It was here in Medinat-al-Salaam that the various factions and minor kingdoms of the desert worked to gain advantage on one another, traded their wares, created their art, and lived their lives.

The sun set on the city as the Fire Dragon arrived. A pinpoint of terrible white light broke in the center of the skyline, soon eclipsed by a churning sphere of swelling destruction. Fire rose in a pillar above the city, as skyscrapers of modern steel and temples of ancient stone were blasted into dust by a shockwave faster than the sound of the explosion itself.

Flame as bright as the sun and as black as death seared the sky, blinding those foolish enough to look upon it, those unlucky enough to survive. The thunderous roar of the Fire Dragon's power shook the earth, cracked the rock deep beneath the desert, sent the sand flying into a mighty storm that tore the flesh from the bone. People burned like cinders in an instant. People choked slowly on sand and dust. People died over days, crushed under rubble and debris. The fires raged for hours before relative silence returned to the injured desert.

A ring of skeletal towers and half-buried stone temples stood in mute horror around the cracked and burning crater that was once the heart of the Burning Sands, as storms full of the fury of nature and the anger of the dead swirled eternally over the carnage. What had been the wonder of the world, the Jewel of the Desert, was no more.

In the Diamond Palace, Yoritomo the Sixth watched through his satellites until magnetic interference destroyed the image. He turned off the small monitor and prayed that the Fortunes would forgive him. Somehow, he knew that they would not, but he prayed regardless.

The lights in the small bunker hummed fitfully, the backup generators coming on-line. A group of six stared unbelieving at the horror their city had become.

"Ahmed, casualty report," the Pharaoh said, her green eyes flickering red in the darkness.

The minister coughed and adjusted his spectacles. "Difficult to say, my lady," he replied, his voice cracking, "It is very early to be certain, and the electromagnetic pulse generated by the explosion has deadened our sensors."

"The Jewel was a city of seven million," the Pharaoh said flatly, "If you would not mind, I would appreciate your estimate of how much blood is on my hands." Her red eyes pierced the minister's mind, pinning him to his seat. He blinked and looked away.

"But, my Pharaoh, I--" he stuttered.

"GUESS!" she roared.

Ahmed dropped his clipboard; it clattered from the table of the small council chamber to the floor. The other four ministers stared at Rujdak-hai in shock. The Pharaoh's power was implied; her threats were always subtle, never overt. Such an outburst put fear in even the heart of the khadi representative.

"I would say..." Ahmed removed his spectacles, and his voice was thick, "I would say that a minimum estimate would be three million, six hundred thousand dead, with a loss of another one point two million over the next week due to radiation, dehydration, and exposure."

"Rokugani bastards!" the Senpet general shouted, pounding his thick gauntlet on the table.

"This is not Yoritomo's fault, Naref," Rujdak-hai said, her gaze slightly distracted, "This is my own. He warned me, but I foolishly underestimated him, goaded him into attacking us."

"If a bull kills your child, it is the fault of the man who released the bull," said Khalifah, an elderly priest with ebony skin and a pristine white shirt.

"I cannot believe we are blaming ourselves for this!" Naref exclaimed. The large man rose quickly, his seat toppling over in his rage.

"Calm yourself, Naref," the khadi said, stroking the heavy iron box on his lap, "This is not a time to give in to foolish emotion."

"I beg to differ, Al Judar," said Khalifah, polishing the tip of his ivory cane, "This is a time of emotion. We all have dead kin this day. Our hearts scream for revenge. Even yours, heartless one."

Al Judar glanced nervously down at the iron box, then back at the Ebonite. "But what was that talk just now, then, of punishing the man, not the bull?" the khadi spat.

"What use is punishing a mindless animal?" the priest said coolly, "You simply kill it so it can do no further harm; worrying about its motives is most pointless."

"I agree," Rujdak-hai said. "We cannot blame all of Rokugan for this atrocity, only one man. After all, it was one of his own aides that communicated to us what was to happen in time for us to make our escape and attempt what evacuation we could. I will yet atone for what I have done to the Jewel of the Desert, but not until Yoritomo the Sixth is dead."

"Bah!" spat the sixth member of the council, "None of you know anything of revenge!" All eyes turned to him. He was an ancient man dressed in voluminous black robes and a turban of the old style. He had no name. The Pharaoh had introduced him to the council today, and simply called him the Old Man.

"Have you something to say, Old Man?" Al Judar asked venomously. Al Judar had worked his entire life to become the leader of the khadi. He had committed sins that would darken his soul forever to attain his position on the council, and didn't appreciate this "Old Man," who seemed to have been granted a position overnight.

"I would show more respect with your heart so close, khadi," the old man smiled, patting the curved dagger on his belt.

"Enough of that," Rujdak-hai said, her eyes fixing upon the Old Man, "You know why I brought you here."

"Yes," the Old Man replied, "You wish to strike your opponent at its heart, to strike down Yoritomo himself. And you need to do so in a manner which will lay no suspicion upon you."

The Old Man snapped, and the door to the council chamber opened. A small woman entered the room. She was very slight, but moved gracefully, and was dressed in black with a veil covering all but her eyes. She stood at the Old Man's right side, her quick brown eyes taking in everything.

"This," the Old Man said gesturing to the woman, "Is my most special agent. Her name is Fatima."

The Old Man snapped again. A young man entered the room to stand at the Old Man's left, smirking with his hands on his hips. His head was shaved and he bore twin scars upon his cheeks. He wore a patchwork suit of body armor and chains, with a belt of knives across his chest.

"This fellow," the Old Man said chuckling, "Needs no introduction."

Naref rose from his chair, his face white and angry. "Omar Masaad, leader of the Jackals!" he spat in a rage. He drew his silver pistol and pointed it at the man, who just as quickly drew a wicked knife between two fingers and grinned.

A bright flash of light erupted over the council table, and both Masaad and Naref fell to the floor clutching their eyes. The Pharaoh stood, holding her smoking cobra-headed staff of office in one hand. "Restrain yourselves, both of you," she commanded, "There is a greater enemy to be fought this day."

"Assassins!" Ahmed said, his mouth dropping open in shock, "You have hired assassins to murder Yoritomo!"

"And I recommend you quickly adjust to the idea, Ahmed Saleem," the Old Man said, giving the young minister a frown that could darken stars, "The world is a very different place now than where you woke up this morning. I am here to provide you with the revenge you require. As a Senpet, the Pharaoh herself can attest to my credentials."

Omar Masaad chuckled lewdly. The other ministers shifted uncomfortably in their chairs, uncertain how to react. At the head of the table, the Pharaoh's face was grim. The price had been paid; the deal had been made. Now all that was left for her was revenge.

And in a dark crater many miles away, where one of the greatest cities in history once stood, something detached itself from the darkness and spread inky black wings upon the wind.

It headed for Rokugan.

Ikoma Keijura stared at a single point on the mirror, not seeing his own face, not seeing anything. Around him, makeup artists flitted like moths, applying powder and base to his face, dabbing away the sweat and combing his hair. Keijura sat still and hated himself.

Medinaat-al-Salaam. The report had only come in minutes ago. Matsu Shingo was out on assignment, so it would fall to him, Ikoma Keijura, junior reporter, to deliver the news to Otosan Uchi and the world. If he could bring himself to do it.

Not that he was too nervous. No, he was certainly nervous but nervous was good; nervous kept your wits sharp. Foruku had taught him that. Nervous wasn't the problem. Keijura, in his short career, had reported on high profile cases before. By the Thunders, he'd even been in the room when Ichiro Chiodo unleashed his fury on the Imperial Guard and he'd stood his ground while other reporters fled.

This was different. This was just wrong. He glanced at his notecards again, ignoring the makeup artists as they danced out of his way.

"The city of Medinaat-al-Salaam, capitol of the Allied Senpet Nation, was destroyed today by the power of our Fire Dragon warheads after their open defiance of yesterday's Imperial ultimatum. The Burning Sands have learned a hard lesson in the price of defiance. Yoritomo the Sixth has announced that he is now open to the Pharaoh's pleas for surrender, and is prepared to be merciful. If the Senpet see the wisdom of this request, this could be the dawn of a great new era for the Diamond Empire."

He couldn't read that. It was blind jingoist propaganda, nothing more. The Emperor had murdered a city of seven million people and it was supposed to be good news! And he had to report it that way. After all, the Lion served the Emperor just like everyone else. If not more so.

Keijura sighed. It was a shame seppuku was no longer in fashion.

"Keijura, one minute," said one of the producers, popping his head into the dressing room as he jogged down the hall.

The makeup artists scattered. Keijura pulled away the white sheet about his shoulders and gazed at his reflection once more. He was young and handsome, with perfect blonde hair and a heroic chin. Everything a Lion should be, from appearances. But inside? Kitsu Foruku had seen promise in him, promoted him to work for the network from his shabby little anchor job in Mamoru Kyotei even though he was younger than any junior reporter ever hired to KTSU. The old man had always said that Keijura had "moral strength" as well as a good face and voice.

Not that moral strength had done Foruku much good. He was out of a job now and rumor had it that it had been by Imperial request. Foruku hadn't exactly been subtle about his opinion on the Emperor's proclamations.

Keijura stood and briskly headed for the studio, nodding to one of the writers as he passed. He moved automatically, robotically, the notecards forgotten in his hand. Soon, he was sitting behind the anchor desk, all the cameras trained on him, all the eyes of the world. To one side stood Ikoma Yakamura, the director, who gave him the 'wait' signal.

Keijura looked at his cards again, then away. Could he really bring himself to read them? What would he say if he couldn't? In the shadows of the studio he saw Kitsu Mizutoki, the studio's sodan-senzo, staring at him inscrutably, his arms folded in the flowing sleeves of his robe.

The director signaled Keijura. He was on the air across Rokugan.

"Greetings, people of Rokugan," he said smoothly, his face serious, "We interrupt this broadcast to bring you this latest breaking news."

He paused, uncertain. In the shadows, Mizutoki arched one white eyebrow curiously.

"The city of Medinaat-al-Salaam," Keijura said, "capitol of the Allied Senpet Nation, was destroyed today by the power of our Fire Dragon warheads after their open defiance of yesterday's Imperial ultimatum..."

Keijura went on to read what he had been given. He did so with poise, his voice giving the words meaning as if he himself believed them. After all, he was the voice of the people. That was what he was supposed to do.

"More information as the situation develops," Keijura said, "This is Ikoma Keijura for KTSU news." Yakamura gave him the 'cut' signal and the cameras turned off, returning viewers across the Empire to the Steelboys-Berserkers playoff game. In the shadows, Mizutoki was gone.

Keijura left the studio, feeling like coward.

Jiro wondered when Sekkou would return for him. He'd been in his room, or rather his cell, since Inago Sekkou had dropped him off here yesterday. It was a rather small chamber, with a cot, a television, a toilet, and a sink. The only sign of life he'd seen was the TV dinner that slid over the door last night and this morning. Sekkou had claimed the Locusts needed to do some background checking on him before he was inducted. Not that Jiro had anything to worry about from his background. He hardly had any.

Really, it was a test. Hiroru had told him they would do something like this. They'd leave him alone for a while and see if he freaked, if he broke, if he revealed something. That was how they were really checking up on him. It didn't matter. Jiro could wait. He could wait all week, if it got him a chance to get inside the Locusts. It would be worth it.

"Genju Jiro," said a voice from behind the door. It opened with a metal creak and a tall man wearing a black trenchcoat and bulbous motorcycle helmet strode into the room. Sekkou.

"I thought you'd never get here," Jiro said with a laugh. Hiroru had advised him to play up the nervous, geeky kid angle as much as possible. It'd make him look easier to brainwash.

"Yeah, well, I'm a busy man," Sekkou replied, "It's time for you to attend a meeting."

Jiro followed the thin man out of the room and into the tunnel beyond. The walls of the headquarters were sleek and gothic, all black and silver metal covered with electrical components. Through the walls, he could hear the clank and whir of mechanical devices. Through the floor, he could feel the vibration of some mighty engine.

"Impressive, no?" Sekkou said, his raspy voice echoing through the tunnel as he turned and held out his scarecrow arms to display the dark splendor of his home, "The Hive, as we call our headquarters, is a place of great symbolism as well as function." Sekkou turned and gestured at the walls about him. "Now, more than ever, we are inside the Machine."

"The Machine?" Jiro asked.

"The Machine," Sekkou repeated, "You will understand."

They continued walking. Jiro glanced about surreptitiously, trying to find some sort of window or exit, or any sign of where he was. Sekkou had blindfolded him on the way to the headquarters. They could be anywhere in the city, and he doubted even Hiroru could keep an eye on him in this weird place. He'd have to keep an eye out for some way to escape if he needed to.

"This way," Sekkou said.

He touched a bit of circuitry on the wall, and a pair of doors slid open. Jiro had not even noticed they were there. The thin Locust stepped through the doors and turned, waiting for Jiro to follow him. When he did, he found himself in a very small chamber with buttons along one wall.

"An elevator?" Jiro asked.

"After a fashion," Sekkou said. He pressed one of the buttons, marked 'Arena', and the doors slid shut. The chamber began quickly moving horizontally.

"This is amazing," Jiro said, "I'd heard about you guys, but I had no idea you had this sort of setup."

"The Locusts have quite a bit of influence," Sekkou replied, "I'm certain our friends in Shinjo Tower would be quite distressed if they ever found this place. Not that they could do much about it. Master Inago is quite adept at killing policemen."

Sekkou stared at Jiro for a moment, the young boy's face reflecting weirdly on the silver visor of the Locust's helmet. "Could you kill a policeman, Jiro?" he asked, his voice mocking, "If I gave you a gun, could you level it at one of those pretty Battle Maidens and shoot her in the head?"

"I don't know," Jiro said, taking a step back. This Sekkou was really starting to creep him out.

"Well, you've nothing but time to learn," Sekkou chuckled, "and if you can't, Master Inago has plenty other jobs for young people like you to fill. Our war against the Machine has many levels, after all." Sekkou considered Jiro's shocked expression for a moment, then laughed. It was a rattling, sinister laugh, and Jiro began to think maybe he'd made a mistake coming this far.

The elevator stopped. "Ah," Sekkou said, turning toward the doors and tugging at the lapels of his trenchcoat to straighten the collar, "We're here. Mingle in the crowd and try to pay attention, Jiro, we'll talk more later."

The doors slid open, and the dull roar of a mob washed over them. The room beyond was gigantic, with a vaulted ceiling like a church, but covered with wires and circuitry and moving pistons. It was filled wall to wall with young people dressed in black and silver, wearing the symbol of the locust on their sleeves and chests. At the far end of the chamber was a raised platform, above which hung a massive metal sculpture of a winged insect, the namesake of the Locusts, flanked on either side by twin metal spires topped with large spheres.

Jiro stepped out of the elevator cautiously. Sekkou was already gone, vanished into the crowd. Glancing around, Jiro noticed large men in black and silver body armor posted along the walls. Their armor made no attempt to emulate the samurai armor of ancient times, as the armor of the Seekers and the Battle Maidens often did. It was sleek, black, and functional. They wore bulbous mirrored motorcycle helmets much like Sekkou's, and carried large rifles in their hands. Jiro whistled to himself. That was the sort of armament that would give a Crab pause. These Locusts were certainly a lot more than they appeared.

Suddenly, there was a loud, electric crackle and a flash of light near the stage. All heads in the room turned. The crackle came again, louder, and an arc of electricity stretched between the twin metal spires, arcing over the locust statue. The smell of burning ozone filled the room as the spires crackled and flashed, and the giant locust's wings began to move.

"WELCOME!" boomed a voice from the loudspeakers. A large door opened at the rear of the stage, and tall man dressed in a black uniform with silver gloves and epaulets strode out onto the stage. His eyes were covered by silver goggles, and his nose and mouth were concealed behind a black cloth. His long black hair spilled out behind him.

"Inago!" someone shouted, and the audience broke into cheers. The assembled Locusts held up their clenched fists, and Inago returned the gesture, standing beneath the massive locust sculpture and the crackling electrical field.

"Welcome to the Machine!" Inago shouted.

The assembled Locusts cheered. Jiro cheered along with them, holding up his fist as they did. The amount of energy in the room was intense, frightening. The Locusts' faces, their cheers, were fanatical. Jiro believed they would follow this man into hell. The cheers finally died down, and everyone stared at Inago expectantly. Finally, he spoke.

"We live in a corrupt and vapid society," he said in a deep voice, full of menace and anger as he paced across the stage, "A Machine constructed by our ancestors and set into motion long ago, before our history was taken from us. The few, the samurai, rule with power and oppression over the many. No one knows why, no one remembers why. The samurai hoard all wealth. They hoard all power. They hoard all knowledge. They are better than us, because they were born that way. We are weak, we are stupid, the pawns of a society of chaos and subjugation. We live inside a Machine with no direction, no purpose, except TO DESTROY US!" He rose to a shout with that last sentence, flailing his fists above his head. The crowd howled in anger.

He waited for the cries to die down, standing patiently in the center of the stage, his hands hovering tensely at his sides. "So what can we do?" he asked, "We, the weak. The stupid. The hated. Mere cogs in the Machine."

"We must Know the Machine," he said, holding up a single gloved finger, "for in knowledge comes control over all things. The Machine cannot conceal the truth. Seek knowledge and it will come to you."

"We must Hate the Machine," he said, holding up a second finger, "for in forgetting our hatred we become willing victims. Never forget what the Machine has done to you, and you will never fail in your battle."

"And lastly," he said, pausing and drawing a long, silver rod from his jacket, "DESTROY THE MACHINE!" He pointed the rod at the statue above him. The twin electrical spires exploded brilliantly, showering the crowd with sparks and casting the hovering locust sculpture in a malevolent crackling blue light. The crowd roared in a murderous frenzy for a full ten minutes.

Finally, the smoke, lights, and fury died down, and Inago stood waiting on the stage, watching his people.

"What do we do now, Inago?" someone called out.

Inago chuckled. "You have been trained," he said, "You have been prepared. The time is nigh. We've not much longer to wait, but waiting will be the most difficult part. All Locusts will be confined to the Hive for the next few days, until you are given leave. Otosan Uchi will soon become a very dangerous place, and I intend for the Locust Clan to survive to pick up the pieces. To break them again. Return to your quarters, and prepare for the final battle. The death of the Machine is nigh." Inago held up his fist again, to the cheers of the Locust Clan. He turned and left the stage. Jiro's throat was hoarse from cheering along with them, trying to appear as a loyal Locust. It looked like his hopes of escape were dwindling. He'd just have to ride this particular caper out and hope he survived.

Where the hell was Hiroru?

Daniri briskly jogged up the stairs to the door of the dingy apartment. He glanced at his watch. He should be just in time; the tape in the video camera would be just about out.

Daniri froze. The piece of clear tape he'd placed across the bottom of the door was still in place, but the tile was not. He kneeled down for a closer look. The tile floor in the run-down apartment building was broken and cracked. In many places it was gone. Daniri had used this to his advantage in securing his little stakeout. He had placed a piece of clear tape across the frame - if the door was opened, it would be disturbed. But as a further precautionary measure, he had set a small sliver of broken tile on top of one of the hinges, leaning against the door so it would fall if the door was opened. A clever intruder might be likely to notice the tape, but he might not notice the tile, too.

The tile was laying on the floor.

At this point, an intelligent man might have abandoned the apartment. After all, there was nothing inside that could connect to Daniri, or that he couldn't replace. Without further ado, Daniri kicked in the door.

"HAI!" Daniri shouted, leaping into the room and dropping into a fighting stance.

"Hi," said the man sitting on Daniri's bed, as he drew a pistol and aimed it. The man was over six feet away, and seemed rather comfortable with the weapon. He was a tough looking man with a black coat and an odd looking metal patch over one eye.

"Sorry," Daniri said, "Wrong room." He began to back away.

"Your humor is unappreciated, fool," said another man from behind.

Despite his brash entrance, he had glanced to the sides when entering. How could someone have gotten behind him? Daniri spun about and cursed out loud. It was the white ninja, Hiroru. It was the man who'd warned him away from the Locusts yesterday.

"I didn't think ninja used guns," Daniri said, staring into the barrel Hiroru had trained on him.

"I'm sure they would have, had they been offered," Hiroru replied, kicking the door shut behind him.

"You're not Locusts," Daniri said, making no move to raise his hands in surrender or leave the middle of the room as he looked his captors over. Hiroru wore no marks whatsoever on his white suit and the other man had some sort of odd wolf symbol on his sleeve.

"Neither are you," the one-eyed man said, "Unless you're new. Tokei, are you reading anything?"

The air next to Daniri rippled, and a long-haired, bearded man with sunglasses appeared. Magic. That was how Hiroru had snuck up on him.

"Well... no. I don't think so, Dairya. I don't sense any of their implants," Tokei said, "Though his wig is fake." The shugenja reached up and pulled it off of Daniri's head, letting his blonde hair spill down.

Daniri, in turn, grabbed Tokei into a chokehold and spun him so that his back was to neither of the other intruders. "Drop the gun!" he shouted, tightening his elbow around the man's throat, "You first, ninja, I don't like you very much."

"Wow!" Dairya said, putting his pistol away in a leisurely fashion as a smile broke on his face, "It's Akodo Daniri!"

"Let Tokei go," Hiroru said grimly, leveling his gun at Daniri's head, "I will shoot you otherwise."

"You can't shoot him!" Dairya laughed, "He's my favorite actor!"

"Listen to him, Hiroru," Daniri said, "He's got good taste."

"Yes, please," Tokei choked, "Listen to him."

"I don't care who he is," Hiroru said, "I'll kill him before I allow him to jeopardize the safety of any member of this group."

"You fire that thing off this close to Locust Headquarters," Daniri said, "and you'll be doing a hell of a lot of jeopardizing, ninja."

"Listen to him, Hiroru," Dairya said, leaning back on the bed and sipping from a can of beer on the nightstand, "His new movie is pretty cool."

"Hey, thanks," Daniri said.

"No problem," Dairya replied.

The ninja shook his head slightly, then reluctantly holstered the pistol behind his back. Daniri released Tokei, who stumbled a bit as he got his balance back. Hiroru stood with his back to the far wall, arms folded tightly across his chest.

"Who the hell are you people?" Daniri asked, "And why are you following me?"

"We're Akodo Daniri groupies," Dairya said, "Can I have your autograph?"

"Most people just drop by the set," Daniri said, walking over to the cooler by the bed and taking out a soda for himself.

"We call ourselves Toturi's Army," Tokei said, still rubbing his neck.

"Like the Day of Thunder Toturi's Army?" Daniri asked, interested.

"Exactly," Tokei said, "Much like the original army of ronin we all take our names from, our goal is to champion the common man."

"Something a Lion like yourself wouldn't know or care about," Hiroru spat.

"Well, I don't know a lot about history," Daniri said, smirking at the ninja, "but I believe Toturi was a Lion."

"You are hardly Toturi, Akodo," the ninja said, refusing to even look at Daniri.

"You're an angry little man, aren't you?" Daniri replied. Hiroru ignored him.

"This is quite a nice setup you have here," Dairya said, looking over the cameras and surveillance equipment Daniri had assembled to watch over Locust headquarters, "Maybe we could work together here."

Hiroru laughed out loud. "Work with a Lion? Work with THE Lion? Dairya, this man is everything we stand against, everything we oppose. We have no common ground with him. He values us as much as he values the dirt beneath his feet. He is the enemy."

"It was my belief," Tokei said mildly, taking a drink from a flask in his pocket, "That our enemy was the Locust. We could profit much from an ally with as much power and influence as Akodo Daniri. If that is who you really are." The old shugenja scrutinized the actor carefully.

"You can look at my driver's license if you like," Daniri joked.

"Actually, a simple question should suffice," Tokei replied, "Why would a man of such celebrity and wealth be out here personally spying on the Locust Clan? What have you to gain by risking so much?"

Daniri was silent a long moment. "I'm looking for someone," he said simply.

"Who?" Tokei pressed.

"A friend," Daniri replied, "His name is Genju Jiro."

Dairya laughed out loud. Hiroru's eyes widened in shock.

"I guess we don't have so little in common with the Lion as you thought, eh, Hiroru?" Dairya laughed, finishing off his beer.

"What?" Daniri asked, "What is it? What do you know about Jiro?"

Tokei just looked bewildered. "Huh?" he said, "Who is this Jiro?"

"You drink too much, Tokei," Dairya said, chucking his beer can into the garbage, "Don't you remember?"

Tokei and Daniri exchanged equally blank looks.

"Jiro's the new kid," Dairya said, "Jiro is Toku."

"Wait just a second!" Daniri exclaimed, "Toku as in Toturi's lieutenant?"

"Yeah, he just joined up a little while ago," Dairya said, "The name wasn't taken yet and it seemed to fit."

Daniri sat down. He couldn't believe his little brother had become a vigilante.

"What do you care, Lion?" Hiroru asked suspiciously, "What is Jiro to you?"

Just then, a beep emitted from Dairya's belt. Dairya drew out a small cellular phone and extended the antenna.

"Dairya," he said, his voice suddenly very grim and professional. "Yes," he said, and waited several moments. "Well, try to stay out of trouble," he added, "and don't try to make another transmission. That sounds pretty suspicious." He closed up the phone and put it away.

"What was that all about?" Tokei asked.

"That was our friend, Toku," he replied, "The Locusts are active again..."

"What are they doing?" Hiroru asked, suddenly tense.

"It's weird," Dairya replied, "Sounds like they're hiding."

Hiroru and Tokei exchanged startled glances. Daniri just shook his head. "Hiding?" he asked, "From what?"

"Nowhere to hide, monster!" Zou boomed, shouting down the tunnel, "Show yourself!"

"I don't think that's going to help," Mojo replied, leaning back in the tiny boat as it coasted down the stream.

Zou paced along the bank of the artificial river, ignoring the Phoenix. He still held his pistol in one hand. "Do you see anything yet?" he barked suddenly.

"Nothing," Mojo replied, glancing around the tunnel with his tetsukami nightsights. "Just some residual trails of the thing's taint. We're on the right track, though."

"Are you sure those damn things are working?" Zou asked, "We've been wandering through the park for almost two hours now.

"Hey, Master Kujimitsu made these things himself," Mojo replied confidently, "If they don't work I'd like to know the reason why. And if they don't, that's okay too. I still have the receipt."

Zou shook his head and kept walking.

"Never thought I'd be cruising through the Tunnel of Love with a Scorpion Enforcer," Mojo mused aloud, "At least not voluntarily. Zou, do you think I have beautiful eyes?"

"If you're attempting to amuse me with your stupid jokes, Phoenix, you can stop," Zou said, "I'm not in the mood."

"Actually, I was just trying to amuse myself," Mojo said, "I find that much easier."

"I scarcely believe that you are a yojimbo," Zou said, shooting the Phoenix a contemptuous glance.

"Because I don't wear a rubber elephant mask?" Mojo asked.

"Because you are a vain and silly fool," Zou said, "Why anyone would trust their life to you is beyond me. Why I trusted you to help me find this creature is beyond me."

Mojo stood up in the boat and hopped up onto the shore, following behind Zou and whistling. Zou glanced back at him. "What are you doing?" he asked, irritated.

Mojo dropped to the floor and hooked his ankles around Zou's shins. Zou tried to spin into a defensive pose but he toppled into the water with a splash. He struggled furiously with his mask, the trunk suddenly full of water, and ripped it free before it could drown him. He crawled up onto the shore, choking and spitting up water. Mojo stood over him, holding the tip of his katana between the Enforcer's shoulder blades.

"If I'm a fool, what does that make you?" Mojo asked, seething and genuinely angry. He felt quite bad enough about Isawa Asa and the Phoenix Mercy debacle without this Scorpion oaf judging him. "An enemy underestimated has the advantage, Scorpion. You should know that. At least I didn't almost get killed by my own costume."

Zou glared up at Mojo. Mojo took a step back, his face pale.

"Your face!" Mojo said quietly.

Zou nodded, hunching over the stream and squeezing the water out of his mask. "Tradition is only one reason some Scorpions wear masks."

"How did?" Mojo asked, too stunned to finish the question as he sheathed his sword.

"The Shadow Wars," Zou said, "My family lived in the ruins of Ryoko Owari, hiding from the demon armies. They had no radio, no communication with the outside world. They had no way of knowing the Fire Dragon was coming. It did not kill them, but it has left its mark upon my family."

"I thought all the mutations were sterile," Mojo said.

"A convenient lie," Zou said, "Most of them wished they were. Those who were not might as well have been. In a society that places such value on appearances, mutants were not likely to reproduce. We Scorpions always wear masks, so we were the exception." Zou shook out the last few droplets and stared at the rubber pachyderm's face, the face he showed to the world.

"Does this sort of thing happen often?" Mojo asked, "Recurring mutation, I mean."

"No, not often," Zou said, "The Shadow Wars are many generations removed. There are few true mutations left. Still, it is a mark of ridicule. Once, many years ago, a group of drunken sailors discovered me without my mask while I was out walking with my wife. I was nearly beaten to death trying to protect her from them."

"What happened?" Mojo asked.

"Bayushi Oroki appeared from the shadows," Zou said with a small smile, "And he killed them."

Mojo whistled, impressed. "I guess that's why you're so loyal to him."

"I owe much to him," Zou replied, pulling the mask back onto his face, "He is the only person beside my wife who ever knew what I was and did not hate me for it."

"I don't particularly hate you, Zou," Mojo said, "But then, I guess I have weirder friends." The Phoenix grinned and helped Zou to his feet, "Just don't call me a fool again."

"Noted," Zou replied, "I was not truly angry at you, Phoenix. I am just frustrated that our hunt has not borne fruit."

"You and me both," Mojo said. They began walking again. "Funny," Mojo said, "You mentioned you had a wife. I can't imagine you as a married man, Zou."

"I may as well not have been," Zou replied, "I did not pay nearly as much attention to her as I would have liked."

"Would have?" Mojo asked, confused at the past tense.

"My wife is dead, Mojo," Zou said, "She was Hachami."

Mojo froze. Zou kept walking for a moment, then turned back to the Phoenix, annoyed.

"What is it?" the Scorpion said.

"I guess it's my turn to apologize," Mojo said, "I didn't know-"

"She was a geisha, she was just doing her job," Zou replied.

"Well, she was a bit more to me than a geisha, if you know what I mean," Mojo said carefully.

Zou paused, and nodded. "I guess I knew that," he said, "I don't blame her. I didn't love her enough. Hardly gave her any attention. Perhaps if I'd been there for her, she wouldn't be dead, now."

"Zou, you can't-" Mojo cut off suddenly as the small communicator on his belt began to beep. Odd for someone to be calling him now. "Mojo," he said, pressing the device.

"Mojo," it was Sumi's voice. She sounded near tears.

"Sumi?" he said, "What's wrong?"

"It's terrible, Mojo," she said, "We're at the Temple of the Elements. The Master and Ishikint and Mifune are all dead. Zin's gone, Kujimitsu's hurt, and Zul Rashid, well, he's... well, I don't know how to explain, but he's not doing very good..."

"By the Fortunes!" Mojo exclaimed, "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Mojo," she said, "but you have to get here as soon as you can. Mojo, it was an Oni. We killed it, but we're not sure if it was alone. There was... there was something else, and it got away."

"Okay, Sumi," he said, "hang on." He turned off the communicator. Zou was already walking away.

"Zou, hold on!" Mojo said, jogging after him, "You can't go after this thing yourself!"

"You have other responsibilities," Zou said, "Your people are dying. Go to them and save them while you can."

Mojo hesitated. Zou turned back for a moment.

In that moment of hesitation, they were lost. Oni no Akeru dropped from the ceiling, his gigantic insectoid body suddenly appearing in a ripple of refracted light. He brought his fists down upon Zou as he hit the bank, hammering the Enforcer to the ground. Mojo reached for his pistol, but Akeru screamed. A wave of void erupted from the oni's mouth and washed over the Phoenix, numbing his thoughts, stunning his body, stealing his consciousness.

As the world faded away, Mojo wondered why the goggles hadn't warned him.

"In this time of darkness, let us all stand together," said the monk, his face haggard from tears. The camera panned out to reveal a temple full of similarly mourning monks. They had replaced their traditional robes of saffron with simple cassocks of black.

The weeping monk mounted a great stair, leading up to a gigantic golden torii arch. The arch was currently decorated with lilies, the flower of death. The monk turned and rose his hands in supplication.

"Greetings and welcome to a special Hour of the Tao, my children," he said, his voice thickly accented from his Amijdal heritage, "I am Hoshi Jack. I am not a man of war. I am not a man of politics. But destiny casts us into roles we cannot control, and we must deal with matters as our souls direct us. And today, history makes itself anew. Today, is a black day indeed.

"Let us pray for our brothers and sisters in the Burning Sands. An unfortunate name for a land that is today indeed burning hotter than any in history. Let us pray that their souls find peace. Let us pray that we all find peace, for a time of war is no time for good men and women to live in. Let us raise our voices to the Fortunes on behalf of the souls of the departed."

The monks sang in chorus, their voices filling the temple with their sadness. Jack himself joined in the song, a song reputedly crafted by Shinsei himself two millennia ago.

"The kharmic wheel now turns again,
Return our souls as they began,
In times of joy, in times of strife,
Fortune favor the mortal man."

Mushi banged the side of the television set to clear the reception, and adjusted the bit of foil on the television set. That Hoshi Jack was a plain old garden variety nut, as far as old Mushi was concerned. Still, the show was fun to watch and the Shinsei Channel was about the only thing he could get good reception on.

He took another drink from his bottle of sake and glanced back at the nets hanging over the side of his ship. They drifted silently in the waters of Golden Sun Bay, the ropes lightly frosted with the earlier snow. Eh. They'd keep for awhile. Mushi pulled his cap down over his head, threw his feet up on the table, and fell asleep to the song of the singing monks.

A few minutes later, Mushi woke to the sounds of static. The TV on the fritz again. He pounded on the side, fiddled with the antenna, but it didn't seem like anything would fix the reception.

An dull thud erupted under the water, and the fishing boat lurched. Mushi knew his ship had been hit. He could feel it going down. He ran to the radio and called for help. The radio wasn't working, either.

In his fear and panic to unlash his rickety old lifeboat, Mushi never noticed the six large, dark shapes moving toward Otosan Uchi, just under the surface of the water.

TO BE CONTINUED