The Emperor's eyes were lost upon the swirling patterns of the ceiling fresco. In one corner of the painting Kametsuo-uo, the first Mantis, charged forth to avenge his father, Osano-wo. Kametsuo-uo thus became one of the kingdom's greatest heroes. Yoritomo wondered if he would be counted as such a hero after he departed this world.

"What news?" he asked. Five men and three women stood before the Emperor's great marble desk. They were the assembled daimyos of the Great Clans, Heichi Tetsugi from the minor clans, and the Jade Champion.

Tetsugi was the first to respond. He cleared his throat and looked to his report again, handling it as best he could with one arm in a sling. "The Minor Clans meet in council this afternoon," he said. Hopefully, the feud that has been broiling between the Snail and Lobster will be brought to an amicable halt with the intervention of the Saru security forces-"

"We are sure they shall settle whatever minor problems they face without our interference," Yoritomo snapped. "Hida Tengyu, what of Kyuden Hida?"

The daimyo of the Crab stepped forward with a clank of metal armor. He was a giant of a man in his late middle years, his black hair just showing the first hints of frost. "The flying fortress still floats in Golden Sun Bay," he said. "The journey to Otosan Uchi was quicker than we are used to, and we suffered stress fractures in the engines. It will take us a bit more time to finish repairs and refueling."

"As you have already told us," Yoritomo replied. "What of the castle's capabilities? If the city is attacked again, will it be able to respond?"

"Hai, Your Excellency," Tengyu said with a curt nod. "Those who think the Crab unprepared will find themselves sorely mistaken."

Yoritomo looked at the Crab a moment, his dark eyes inscrutable. The Emperor looked away. "Matsu Gohei, your army?"

The Lion Champion bowed and swaggered forward, glancing sideways at Tengyu momentarily. Gohei was a tall, slim man, his limbs corded with smooth muscles. His eyes were sharp with menace. He had taken his name from the legendary Butcher of the Clan Wars, and many said behind his back he had adopted his namesake's attitude as well. "The Lion armies have arrived in force, mighty Son of Storms," he said proudly. "We have repaired all damage to the palace walls and fortified the Bay. Even after the Crab return to their duties in the south the city will be impenetrable for now the Lion are here."

Yoritomo nodded. "We appreciate your bravado, but the precautions we have put in place will insure that there will be no more fighting in Otosan Uchi, Lion."

Gohei nodded again, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Yes, my Emperor," he said, and stepped back in line.

"In the meantime, how fare the people of the city?"

"The crime rate is escalating sharply," Bayushi Shiriko replied. "The Scorpion Quarter has this problem under control in their sector, despite our recent loss of manpower."

Katsunan coughed politely. He was an tall, dignified man, dressed in the sharply pressed uniform of a Shinjo magistrate.

"Is there a problem, Shinjo-san?" Shiriko asked. She folded her arms imperiously as she turned to the older Unicorn daimyo.

"Control?" Katsunan said, cocking his head slightly. "I wonder how the Scorpions have found control so quickly, when my own clan, whose jurisdiction is the protection of the people, finds themselves so hard-pressed to do the same."

"I assigned my personal guard to relief duty," she replied. "Even now, they carry food and supplies to the most beleaguered and inaccessible areas of the Quarter. My people want for nothing, thus they do not need to loot. Perhaps in your own quest to 'help' the people you should consider an open hand rather than a closed fist, Unicorn."

"Spoken like one who is truly ignorant. I invite you to open your hand to the Locust Clan and find how much they will take, girl," Katsunan laughed, looking away from the young Scorpion.

"If the two of you wish to bicker, please do so outside of our presence," Yoritomo said flatly. Katsunan and Shiriko both bowed in acknowledgment and fell silent. "Katsunan," he continued, "What do you need in order to restore order to the city?"

The Unicorn frowned. "Otosan Uchi needs a harsh lesson in the meaning of justice. My men require better weapons, vehicles. Perhaps martial law should be declared in Little Jigoku or some of the other lawless districts."

"It will be done, Katsunan," Yoritomo replied. "Your men will have full access to the Imperial Arsenal. Declare martial law if you will, but restore order."

"Yes, Son of Storms,"Katsunan said, bowing with a satisfied smile.

"Isawa Sumi," Yoritomo said. He turned to the young Phoenix daimyo. "The foresight of the Phoenix serves us well. Any more prophecy or ill omens to report?"

"None, my lord," she said. "Unfortunately our most skilled prophet has been missing for some time. We think he may be a casualty of the Senpet Invasion."

"And the Elemental Council?" Yoritomo asked. "When will it be returned to full power."

"Within the week, my lord," she replied. "Isawa Kujimitsu reports that he has found suitable individuals for all positions, though he had to go out of clan to find them. We ask your permission for the Phoenix to obtain their fealty."

"Done," Yoritomo replied. "Whatever is required for our link to the kami to be reestablished."

Sumi bowed. "I thank you in the name of the Phoenix," she said.

Yoritomo nodded slightly. "And finally, Doji Meda of the Crane," he said.

"Yes, Your Excellency," the Emerald Champion replied, stepping forward.

"Reports thus far estimate the damage to Otosan Uchi due to the Senpet Attack to be more severe than we first thought," the Emperor replied. "Buildings were toppled outright, the infrastructure of several Kaiu Highways have been cracked, and many national landmarks such as the Museum of Natural History were completely destroyed. The cost of repairs has been estimated in the hundreds of millions."

"This is well known to me, Yoritomo-sama," Meda replied. "But I am unclear as to what you imply the Crane should do about it."

"Pay for it," Yoritomo said, his eyes hard as he fixed them on Meda. "It should be a small task for the fabled finances of Dojicorp. Fix our city."

Meda paled. His face dropped. To summon such a large amount on such short notice would leave his company weak, exposed to the predatory movements of other global corporations. Yoritomo well knew that. "Hai," Meda said hoarsely. "It will be done, my Emperor." His hand brushed the saya of the sword on his belt and he paused for a moment, as if about to say something. Then he bowed and was silent.

"Now," Yoritomo said to them all, "What of our ultimatum?"

"The nation of Amijdal still refuses to surrender," Kitsune Maiko said gravely. "They refuse even to acknowledge the Ultimatum, it seems. In fact, they have demanded the immediate return of Ambassador Ivan Wake, a man they know full well was executed for espionage."

Yoritomo sighed. "So be it, then. If they seek war, they shall know we will be eager to comply. We do not wish another Medinaat-al-Salaam, but if the gaijin fools think us weak they shall learn the weight of their folly. Leave us, all of you. We have much to think about."

The daimyos and advisors bowed deeply as they left the room without another word. Yoritomo sat in quiet solitude. The Emperor waited several minutes, then pressed one of the recessed buttons under the edge of the desk. Immediately, a part of the wall slid away and an aged shugenja in robes of red and green shuffled into the room. His head was shaven and his short beard was twisted into an elaborate braid. A thin pair of wire spectacles perched upon the edge of his nose.

"Greetings, Agasha-san," Yoritomo said, rising and bowing to the old man.

"Good day, Mighty Emperor Yoritomo," the man said, bowing deeply and with grace despite his age.

"It has been some time, Hisojo," Yoritomo said. He sat and smiled briefly at the old shugenja.

"I have been busy with my shop," Hisojo chuckled, gently drifting to a frown. "I think, though, that the shop is no longer needed. It is closed now. What may the Agasha daimyo do to serve the Empire?"

"We have heard the report of all the clans but one," Yoritomo said. "What think the Hidden Dragon? All of our enemies have surrendered save Amijdal. Surely they are the threat that we seek. Only they stand against Otosan Uchi now!"

The old man sighed deeply. He removed his spectacles and polished them with a rag from his pocket. "Yoritomo-sama," he said. "We have known one another a very long time. I have trusted you with a secret few outside the Dragon may know. But you are not like any other man. You are the Emperor, the Son of Storms. Do you not remember the curse that your name carries? I had hoped that the power that comes with your ancestry would have given you greater foresight than this."

"Foresight is exactly what has served us so well, Hisojo!" Yoritomo exclaimed, a triumphant light shone in his eyes.

"I do not understand your meaning, my lord," the Dragon replied.

"Then understand this, Hisojo," The Emperor said, standing and pacing behind his marble desk. "My plan is to banish the darkness before it appears. I see the fear in your eyes, the fear of madness. I see this everyday in the eyes of my advisors and it cuts me to the bone. I would have you look upon this" He opened a low drawer in his desk, retrieving an ancient journal bound in leather and gold thread. Upon the cover, the kanji of the five elements were embossed in bright silver, glowing with a light of their own.

"What is that?" Hisojo asked, his eyes widening. "I can sense the power of the kami within it."

"This was handed down to me from the very first Emperor that bore my name,' Yoritomo said. "They are the transcriptions of final prophecies of the Five Oracles." Yoritomo read from the book. "'Said Earth: Seek that which defies the Emperor's will. Said Air: Seek that which stalks from foreign lands. Said Fire: Seek that which lives to defy the Empire. Said Water: When the millennium comes, so comes the last test of the divine, the first test of the mortals. Said Void: Only he who carries good and evil in equal measure can save the Empire.' What say you to that, Dragon?" Yoritomo snapped the tome shut in one hand.

"The problem with prophecy," Hisojo sighed deeply, "Is that the more you seek to avoid it, the more it is fulfilled. Look upon Bayushi Shoju and Mirumoto Hitomi and you would see this. You only hasten your own destruction."

Yoritomo's face darkened. He put the book away. "The Son of Storms will not be Rokugan's destroyer," he said. "I am not Fu Leng."

"If you were, we would not be having this conversation," the shugenja replied, his voice filled with implied iron. "Stop trying to control the world, and just be a merciful Emperor, Yoritomo. It is the best way, the only way, to win your perceived 'war.'"

"I will be the judge of that, I think," Yoritomo said, ending the line of conversation. "How many Fire Dragon missiles remain?"

The old man heaved a great sigh. "Ten," he said.

"I wish to program launch coordinates," Yoritomo said. "Should the nation of Amijdal rise against us, we shall fire all of the remaining Fire Dragons against them."

"All of them?" the old man gasped. "Such a conflagration would wipe out their entire population! The resulting radiation would pollute the entire world, killing millions of our own as well."

"Then let us hope that the Amijdal are not foolish enough to provoke us," Yoritomo hissed. "That will be all, Agasha. Now return to your hiding."

The shugenja said nothing, his mouth fixed in a tight, firm line. He bowed quickly and returned to the secret passage. As the door slid shut Hisojo breathed a quiet curse and drew a crystal sphere from his pocket.

"Awaken," he said, willing the sphere to glow with a bright greenish light.

"Agasha Hisojo," said the dark, resonant voice of his master, "Report."

"Ill news, Lord Hoshi," the shugenja replied as he advanced through the tunnels. "Yoritomo falls deeper into his madness. History repeats itself; dark prophecies drive him to wreak destruction but this time it is the entire earth that will suffer. He must be reasoned with."

"You must obey him, Hisojo," Hoshi replied. "Much depends upon this. The path Yoritomo walks is a dark one, but it leads in time to daylight."

"Even I have had my fill of mystery, prophecy, and enigmas, Lord Hoshi!" Hisojo said bitterly. "I have followed the tenets and commands of the Hidden Dragon, but I can follow the Emperor no more. You can't have any concept of what he's planning! The pain, the death he'll cause is unimaginable."

There was a long moment of silence. Hisojo watched the Dragon Sphere carefully, waiting for a response.

"I understand, Hisojo," Hoshi said. "The duty of the Dragon is not an easy one. Our task is to insure that good will always prevail, but what is good is not always right, nor is it ever easy. Hisojo, the Diamond Empire has a thousand different destinies, a million different futures. I have seen them all, and all of them lead to damnation except one."

"And will you tell me what this future is, Lord Hoshi, or am I expected to operate on blind faith?" Hisojo said sharply.

"Would that I could tell you," Hoshi replied. "But even in the telling the threads of destiny would be rewoven and that future would change. Perhaps it would vanish. For now, faith is your only option. Obey the Son of Storms. Execute his will. And wait. We will prevail. Carry the Fortunes, Agasha Hisojo."

"Carry the Fortunes, Lord Hoshi," Hisojo replied. He put the crystal back in his pocket and stalked off through the secret passage. He knew Hoshi was right. He knew he couldn't help but obey. Still, that didn't make it any easier. The duty of a Dragon. Some days he wished he was a Crab. Fighting goblins and ogres on a daily basis and wearing sixty pounds of armor at all times certainly had to be easier than this.

Ichiro Chobu took a deep breath as he gazed out the hospital's lobby window.

"Ah," he said with a contented sigh. "It's good to be back in the city."

He leaned close to the glass so that he could look up at the skyline of Otosan Uchi. Many of the familiar buildings were missing or badly damaged, but it was still the old familiar city. Chobu was a bit irritated at himself for having missed out on the big Senpet brawl, but he'd had important things to do. He reached into the pocket of his heavy coat and checked that the scroll was still intact.

Yes, very important things to do.

"Identification, please?" asked a bored young security officer. He held the i.d. scanner in one hand and cupped a yawn with the other. The security in Otosan Uchi's hospitals was nearly as tight as the Palace itself since the Phoenix Mercy bombing.

"Sure thing," Chobu smirked. He pulled out his wallet and withdrew the fake identification the Boar had given him, handing it to the officer.

"Iuchi Fujinku?" the guard asked. He stared at Chobu a moment.

"It was my father's name," Chobu lied with a frown, looking offended.

"Um. Of course, of course," the officer said quickly. Chobu was a rather large, violent looking person; people usually didn't argue with him for long. "You're from the Iuchi Provinces?" the guard asked quickly, handing back the i.d.

"Yup," Chobu said. "Not staying in town long. Just hoped to visit a few friends while I'm here."

"Well, um. Enjoy your stay," the guard bowed quickly back to his post.

Chobu hiked his bag over his shoulder and stepped through the revolving doors onto the sidewalk. The city was quiet around him, and even this far from the palace there was still the occasional bomb crater or boarded-up window. The Senpet had made things easier for him, that much was certain. Even though Chobu was still wanted in the city, the cops were short on manpower now and a lot of the streets were too cluttered with rubble to patrol. As long as he stayed away from the Palace itself until his plan was ready, he'd be just fine.

Chobu paused a moment in the middle of the street, thinking upon his next move. He'd been under the thumb of that freak Tetsugi too long; he'd nearly forgotten how to plot for himself. The Boar had approached Chobu weeks ago, at the height of the young Badger's rampage. Tetsugi had enlisted his help for reasons even Chobu still didn't quite understand. He'd given him the identity of Iuchi Fujinku and dragged him all over the Empire, checking up on armies, meeting with daimyos. In just a few weeks, Chobu had seen a lot and learned even more.

The funny thing was, Chobu's horizons had been broadened so greatly he didn't quite know what to do next. One thing was for sure, killing police and robbing convenience stores just didn't seem to cut it anymore. Too messy, too small-time. That sort of thing didn't hurt the Emperor. It was a lot of fun, but it didn't hurt the Emperor.

Well, first things first, Chobu decided. He had this scroll; it was time to find out what it did. It was powerful, there was no doubt about that. The Phoenix had hidden it too well for it to be worthless. He was certain it was some sort of scroll of oni summoning; the kansen that swirled about the scroll when he had looked upon it through Tetsugi's goggles seemed to confirm that. That wasn't the sort of thing to be taken lightly. He had to find out more. Chobu was all too ready to risk his life and his soul for power and revenge, but risk only went so far before it became simply stupidity. He wanted to know all he could about this scroll before he tried using it. Problem was, Chobu didn't have many friends left in Otosan Uchi. Iuchi Fujinku had even less.

Solution: money. You could get anything in Otosan Uchi as long as you knew where to look and had the koku to back it up. Chobu reached into his other pocket and took out the credit card he'd stolen from Heichi Tetsugi. It would be hours before the Boar noticed it missing and cancelled it. That would be plenty of time.

Chobu stepped into the street and whistled, hailing down a taxi. A snub-nosed yellow Yasuki cab pulled to an abrupt stop before him. Chobu opened the door and hopped in.

"Yeah, where to?" asked the driver in a thick accent.

"Little Jigoku," Chobu replied.

"Rough place," the man said. "I hope you're a good tipper." He pulled away from the curb with a jerk.

Chobu frowned. "What the heck?" he exclaimed, recognizing the man's accent. "You a Senpet?"

The man turned around and smiled. His hair was short and slicked back against his head. His eyes and skin were dark, and he had the hooked nose so prominent in the Senpet gene pool. "Yeah," he grunted. "You got a problem with that you can walk wherever you're going. I'm the only driver around here still willing to try taking these streets."

"Hey, that's fine by me. I don't care if you're a goblin," Chobu said. He leaned back in the seat and took out a pack of cigarettes. "I'm certainly not gonna cast any aspersions on people cause of their background. Just thought it was funny there was still a Senpet with the ball bearings to stay in this city. Lotta ethnic tension, I'd imagine."

The driver laughed. "Well, that's for sure," he said. "Really gets my goat, too. Not like we started the damn war. Couple punks tried tippin' over my cab just this mornin' cause they thought I was some kind of collaborator or some crap like that. I been living in this city for twenty years. Collaborator. Feh. But no worries - I can handle myself, Chobu."

Chobu blinked, cigarette dangling from his mouth, unlit. His eyes narrowed. He kept his eyes on the driver's rear-view mirror as he drew the pistol from his jacket and poked the barrel into the back of the driver's skull. "How in Jigoku did you know my name?" he hissed.

"Don't point that at me, Chobu," the driver said. He pulled the car to a stop and his eyes flicked to the mirror, flat and unyielding.

"And what if I don't?" Chobu asked, cocking back the hammer of the pistol.

The driver scowled. "You're going to have to learn to control that temper of yours, Badger. Tremor."

The earth suddenly bucked beneath the taxi. Chobu was thrown upward in his seat, his head hitting the roof hard. The gun flew from his hand, landing in the front seat. The driver picked it up and looked at it curiously.

"So you're a shugenja," Chobu said. He'd bitten his lip hard, and blood trickled down his chin.

The driver leaned over the seat, regarding Chobu without concern as he held the pistol in one hand. "Not really," he said. "I just know a few tricks."

"Yeah?" Chobu laughed. He wiped off his chin. "Well so do I." Chobu whispered a spell, his trademark enchantment. The kami wove up from the earth itself to weigh down the driver's body, to collapse him under his own weight.

The driver frowned, completely unaffected. "Eye of Horus, Chobu, what are you trying to do?" he asked.

Chobu intensified the spell, pouring all of his chi into it. He knew he was casting it properly, he could feel it! The man wasn't even trying to resist. The spell just wasn't doing anything to him. Why wasn't anything happening?

"Your earth magic does nothing because I'm the Oracle of Earth, you tool," he said, responding directly to Chobu's thoughts. His voice was harsh now, and his eyes were full of a slow anger. "My name's Naydiram, and I'm here to help you, Ichiro Chobu. I consider myself a patient man but I'm going to have to insist you stop trying to kill me before I turn you into a lump of marble and leave you laying in the street. Ungrateful moron."

"Okay," Chobu said, releasing the spell.

"Much better," the Oracle responded. He straightened the collar of his dark leather jacket and tossed the gun back into the back seat. "Finished now?" He asked.

"Yeah, I think so," Chobu answered dumfounded.

"Okay then." Naydiram started the car up again.

"How can you be the Oracle of Earth?" Chobu asked after a few minutes. "All the Oracles were killed almost a hundred years ago."

Naydiram laughed. "Brother, don't I wish that were true," he said. He scratched absently at the stubble on his chin. "I've been wishing that were true since almost a hundred years ago. I gotta tell you, I've held a lot of jobs in my time. Soldier? Not too hard once you get the hang of marching. Thief? That can be a lot of fun if you don't get caught. Taxi driver? Not a bad gig at all. But Oracle? I wouldn't wish that one on anybody. The hours are too long, nobody appreciates you and you never get to retire."

"How did it happen?" Chobu asked. "How did a gaijin end up as an Oracle?"

"Do you really want to know?" Naydiram asked, glancing up at the mirror again.

"Nah, I don't really give a crap," Chobu shrugged. "Just trying to make conversation till I figure a way out of this." He picked his cigarette back up and looked for his lighter.

"Good answer," the Oracle laughed. "I'll tell you anyway, since we got a little time. The Oracles have always been here, in Rokugan. Nobody's really ever understood where they come from, or who we're supposed to serve. We don't really seem to get our power from the kami, though we can command the kami just like shugenja. We're not gods, though we sure aren't mortals. To hear the Naga or the Nezumi tell it, there've been Oracles even longer than there've been humans. Some think that we're part of the land itself, that Rokugan creates us to communicate with her people whether they be man, rat, or snake."

"So what the hell do you do?" Chobu asked. Taking a drag from the cigarette and blowing smoke directly at Naydiram.

"Good question," Naydiram nodded. "Been spending my whole life trying to figure that one out. We have these amazing powers, but we're only supposed to use them in self defense. We can see the future, but only when someone else asks us a question. We try to use our powers in any other way... well let's just say it's a bad idea."

"What happens?" Chobu asked.

"We die," the Oracle said. "Far as I know, that's the only way to kill us. That's how the last five Oracles bought it. They'd had enough of the Shadow War, and they decided to lend a hand and try to stop it on their own. The five of them went in against Akuma's most powerful lieutenants, Kyoso, Shikibu, and Tsuburu. They wiped those freaks off the map, but they paid for it. All of the Oracles died along with the oni."

"So where did you come from?" Chobu replied.

Naydiram laughed. "Wrong place at the wrong time," he said. "I was in a unit of Foreign Alliance troops, sent to Rokugan as relief assistance. As much as you Rokugani like to think so, you weren't the only ones fighting against Akuma. Anyway, my whole unit was torn to pieces by zombies except for myself and four others. We should have been dead, too, but once Akuma's lieutenants went down the five of us started displaying these powers. The rest of Akuma's legions just sort of withered as we came at them, like they were scared of us. Soon enough, we figured out why."

"You became the new Oracles," Chobu said. "But you never told anybody. Smart move on your part, if you ask me."

"A necessary precaution, as Mister Carfax would say," Naydiram answered. "The old Oracles were far too public, too meddling. People had come to depend on their powers. I heard that Yoritomo I himself was the one who ordered them off to their deaths, and they went willingly. Well, with our powers came knowledge, too. We knew that we had to keep a low profile. We knew we had a job to do, and we couldn't do it if we were out getting ourselves killed."

"And what's your job?" Chobu asked.

"I can't speak for the others," the Oracle said. "But I'm supposed to help you."

"Why?" Chobu asked. "How would I know?" Naydiram snapped. "Wasn't my choice! You think I want to help out a psychotic murdering maho-tsukai? Yeah, that'd be my first choice. Gods of Necropolis, Chobu, if I knew how the universe worked I sure as Jigoku wouldn't be driving a crappy cab around Otosan Uchi looking for your sorry ass."

"I guess I can understand that," Chobu nodded.

"Anyway, you're supposed to ask me a question," Naydiram sighed. "You ask me any one question, and the answer I give you will be true. Choose carefully, though, Chobu. You only get to ask one and after that I can't help you any more. Here's a hint: don't ask yes or no questions, they tend to be a little disappointing."

"All right," Chobu smirked. "Then how is Yoritomo VI going to die?"

Naydiram glanced up at the mirror. His eyes didn't glaze over, his voice didn't deepen or take on any odd intonations; he just answered. "Poison," he said. "He's going to be poisoned by a woman named Fatima, an assassin from Medinaat-al-Salaam disguised as one of his guards. It'll look like a fever, and the truth will never be discovered."

"Thanks," Chobu said. He couldn't help but feel a little irritated. "So I don't get to have anything to do with it, huh?"

"Sorry, Chobu," Naydiram said. The car pulled to a halt. "Just one question. That's all you get. Now get the hell out of my cab."

"I thought you said you were going to help me," Chobu said, opening the door and stepping out. He flicked his cigarette into the back seat, still lit.

"I just did," Naydiram called out the window. "Good luck with that oni, Badger!"

The cab screeched away down the streets of Little Jigoku, leaving Ichiro Chobu to his thoughts.

"I call this Assembly of the Minor Clans to order," Heichi Tetsugi declared. He rapped upon the table with a large gavel. Around the chamber, the other thirteen representatives trailed off into silence. "Now," Tetsugi continued. "If we can move onto the first order of business..."

"We of the Lobster demand immediate recompense for the Snail Clan's sluggishness in repaying their debt to us!" barked Ryhodotsu, the lantern jawed daimyo of the Lobster Clan. Someone in the chamber groaned at the Lobster's poor choice of words.

"We of the Snail refuse to comply until the Lobster get their claws out of our territory," replied Kagyu, an elderly man in the dark purple kimono of the Snail.

"I would suggest that the two of you cease your constant squabbling," said Moshi Denben, "but I fear that neither of you would know what to do with yourselves afterward." The rail-thin Centipede daimyo shook his head ruefully and took a sip from a glass of water.

"As if the Centipede Clan were sterling examples of logical behavior," laughed Usagi Tomi of the Hare. "You nearly starved yourselves to death last year attempting to retool your harvest to that so-called synthetic rice of yours."

"It is a work in progress!" snapped Denben. "I do not see the Hare Clan making any effort to abolish world hunger!"

"All of you are fools," Hachi Goro snapped, his high pitched voice a clear gift of his Bee Heritage. "Our Emperor has a war on his hands, and you can do no better than argue like dogs fighting over scraps." He paused. "No offense, Ryu-san."

Nariaki Ryu of the Dog Clan nodded and shrugged good-naturedly.

Tonbo Kuro cleared his throat as he ran one hand down his length of ancient grey beard. "I agree with the Bee's basic intent, if not his temperament. We have much greater concerns on our hands; we cannot leave the defense of the Empire completely in the hands of the Great Clans. All of us must also do our part."

"And our part is to wait," Tetsugi said, his voice filling the chamber. "Yoritomo demands an end to our petty bickering, and end to the feuds of the minor clans. We must wait and prepare for the day he decides to call upon us."

"Ha," laughed Kenshi Michi. The young Cricket daimyo smirked and rolled his eyes. "In other words, he wants us to get out of the way of the 'grown-ups.' This isn't a war. It's lunacy. The Cricket Clan wants no part in genocide and neither do I."

"But he is our Emperor," squeaked Kitsune Yoshimi, diminutive ambassador of the Fox. "We must obey."

"I must agree with the Cricket," said Toritaka Naganori, his voice a deep rumble. "My clan is a clan of warriors, but the Emperor's so-called war seems to be driving us toward annihilation. One must only look upon the tragedy of Medinaat-al-Salaam to see that."

"What do you suggest, Falcon?" replied the clear, deep voice of Toku Yaro. The Monkey daimyo was still quick and alert despite his advanced age. "Yoritomo is our Emperor. To defy him is nothing less than treason."

"Some might say he has already betrayed his solemn contract with the people," said Oka Razan, emissary of the Tortoise. "These are not medieval times. We are not men to look with blind faith upon a leader whose time is clearly past. Such foolishness leads to disaster. Look upon the time of the Second Day of Thunder. Emperor after Emperor fell to madness, corrupted by Fu Leng, the Dark Path, and any number of other bizarre disasters. Rokugan fell to ruin for blindly following them. Call me a traitor, but I say something must be done about Yoritomo VI."

The Assembly grew deathly silent as they considered the Tortoise's shocking words. All eyes were upon Razan, most with shock, some with anger, and even one or two with jealousy that he had been the first to be so honest. All were filled with doubt.

"Well, what can we do?" asked Tsuruchi Sae, representative of the Wasp. "It is well known that the Emperor is resistant to advice on the matter. Even the Great Clans cannot reason with him. What can we do?"

"What can we do indeed," sneered Hachi Goro. "We are not weak, though Rokugan may think us so. Perhaps this is our chance to prove it, to succeed where the Great Clans failed. We can stop this war. By winning it!"

"No, Goro. Further violence would avail us nothing," said Heichi Tetsugi. "Though I am Imperial Advisor, I must admit that I wish that Yoritomo would cease this vendetta before it is too late. I still hold hope that the Son of Storms can be brought around, but the day of the ultimatum quickly approaches. I have a plan that may still save the Empire, but you must be prepared to follow me immediately. Who is prepared?"

"I am prepared," said Razan of the Tortoise.

"As am I," added Naganori of the Falcon.

"Count me out," Goro of the Bee said with a shake of his head, "Your words smack of treason."

"Not treason," Michi of the Cricket retorted, "Just common sense."

"Then I must also agree with Tetsugi," said Kagyu of the Snail.

"As much as it irks me," Ryhodotsu of the Lobster sneered, "I must concur with the Snail."

"I still have my oath to the Emperor," Kuro of the Dragonfly said, "Have you all forgotten yours?"

"I haven't," Ryu of the Dog answered vehemently.

"Well, I also have an oath to my people," Moshi Denben said, his face deep in thought. "I cannot in good conscience surrender them to Yoritomo's madness."

"Hell, I'll be honest," said Yaro of the Monkey, "I have about as much regard for the Emperor as he has for me. I'm in, Tetsugi. What's the plan?"

Sae of the Wasp sighed deeply. "As much as I agree with your intent, Tetsugi, I know that my clan would never support an action against a Yoritomo Emperor. Our brotherhood with the Mantis runs too deep. I am afraid I must decline."

"I must as well," said Yoshimi of the Fox, "Though I do not share the Wasp's sympathies for your questionable actions here."

"I do," said Tomi of the Hare. "It's about time somebody admitted the Emperor has no clothes." She smiled mischeviously. "What's our first move?"

"First, I must thank you all for your candor and your honesty, whatever your opinion of me," Tetsugi said. "Our plan is a complex one. I must, unfortunately, ask those with dissenting voices to leave the council as of this moment." The Boar's eyes were cold, flat, brooking no argument.

"Fine," Goro snarled, pushing his chair away noisily and standing. "Plan your little coup. Brew your treachery. We shall see how far this progresses when I report this to the Emperor!"

"We plan nothing that justice does not demand," Tetsugi replied.

"Yes, well we shall see," Goro snapped back. "Come, loyal cousins. Let us leave this place." Goro rose from his seat, and was quickly joined by the representatives of the Fox, Wasp, Dragonfly, and Dog. The five filed quietly out of the chamber.

Yaro grunted. "You just going to let them leave like that?" the Monkey daimyo asked, raising one white eyebrow. "Yoritomo will see our heads on posts by nightfall the way Goro talks."

"Seven Thunders!" Moshi Denben exclaimed nervously, "Could that really happen?"

"No," Tetsugi said. He reached for the small walkie-talkie on his belt, as the other representatives whispered fearfully to one another. "Tetsugi," he said into the device.

"This is 1-9 reporting," came the reply. "No worries, sir. The representatives are under our protection."

"Carry the Fortunes," Tetsugi replied, "Tetsugi out."

"You arrested them?" Naganori exclaimed.

"I placed them under protective custody," Tetsugi answered. "In a nice, comfortable, secluded safe-house. In a week, they will be released. By then, this should be all over. Now here is the plan..."

"Wake up, Ryosei," Saigo said gently shaking her shoulder. "We have to keep moving."

Yoritomo Ryosei sat up on the pile of blankets and blinked, her eyes adjusting slowly to the dim light of Saigo's electric lantern. Large barrels sat all around them in the tunnel, filed with some long forgotten possession of a long-ago emperor. Saigo sat hunched before her, smiling slightly, his tangled black hair hanging partially over his face.

"I scouted around a bit," he said. "I think I may have found the way out."

Saigo helped her to her feet and she winced, rubbing her back with one hand. "I'm not used to sleeping on stone floors," she said.

"Hardly surprising," Saigo said. "I wouldn't think that the daughter of the Emperor would get much of an opportunity to do that."

Ryosei laughed lightly. "No, I guess not," she said. "In fact, I think this is the first time I've left the palace living quarters without an armed escort in years. It's kind of fun."

"Fun," Saigo said, chuckling and arching one eyebrow. "You realize this fun could put me in the dungeons?"

She looked down at him, also smiling slightly. Saigo was mildly intimidated by the fact that she was a little taller than him, but then again she carried the blood of the Son of Storms. "You're the one who invited me along, Phoenix." Their eyes met, and Saigo became suddenly aware of how close they were standing, and of the softness of her hands, her rich, dark eyes.

"Um," he said, pushing away and glancing off down the tunnel. It wouldn't do to get involved with the Imperial Princess. She was probably already betrothed, and he'd just get into more trouble. "This way." He headed deeper into the catacombs.

Ryosei hurried after him, and the young prophet was surprised to find her hand in his own again. "Where are we going?" she asked, her manner cheery despite their situation. "What did you find, Saigo?"

"It's really strange," he said. "I found some new construction. Most of the tunnels down here are earth, but this one was stone, and ended in a door. I thought I could smell smoke beyond it, so it must lead outside. I was going to force it open with my magic, but didn't want to leave you behind in case something happened."

She looked at him again and smiled silently. He cleared his throat and kept walking, a bit faster. The catacombs twisted and turned. Saigo walked unerringly, following the trail he'd left by scratching on the earthen walls. He realized, remotely, that someone else might be able to follow that trail too, but he tried not to think about it. The path angled steeply upward. Soon it became a stone ramp. After that it became concrete stairs, and Saigo collapsed his lantern. It was no longer needed in the flickering light of the fluorescent ceiling panels.

"The lights are on," Ryosei whispered. "Is someone down here? Who could be living this deep in the palace?" She grasped Saigo's hand with both of her own, and pressed very close to him. Saigo tried without success not to be aware of her. He felt himself get very warm. "What's wrong?" she asked, noticing him glance back at her, "Is something wrong?"

"No," he said, clearing his throat. "Uh, nevermind. The door I found is right around this corner." He pointed.

The stairs leveled off into a landing and wound away to the right. They peered around carefully, and saw the hallway's end. A large wooden door stood before them, dragons carved up and down its surface. The smell of smoke wafted from that direction, like incense. Ryosei's face suddenly fixed with a determined look. She pushed away from Saigo and calmly approached the door.

"The door was locked," he said. "I couldn't even see a keyhole. Stand back, I'm going to try to use a spell." Saigo tried not to sound nervous about that. He didn't use his magic very often, and wasn't quite sure what would happen when he tried. When he did use magic, it was usually under the influence of the drugs. He hoped calling upon that power wouldn't make him recall the feeling of the drugs again; that was all he needed right now. Before he could fully call upon the power and find out what would happen, Ryosei opened the door with a click. She turned and smiled at Saigo.

"What in the name of Shiba?" he said, blinking. "How did you do that?"

"The door is enchanted," she said. "The Palace of Otosan Uchi is protected from intruders by devices both mundane and magical. The magical ones won't bar anyone with Imperial Blood. I thought you would know that. You Phoenix were the ones who made these wards."

Saigo sniffed, folding his arms across his chest. "Of course I knew that," he said sarcastically. "I was just sort of testing you."

"Yeah, right," she said. She grinned and rolled her eyes. "Do you have any idea what's on the other side?" She pointed over her shoulder with a thumb.

"No," Saigo said, gazing past her. "Can't say that I do."

"Good," she said. "Cause I do." She turned and headed off down the hallway again, expecting him to follow.

Saigo stood, stunned, wondering where her sudden burst of confidence had come from. Suddenly, it was as if she was in her element again. A very confusing girl, and a very intriguing one. He hurried after her, trying to make as little noise as possible as she walked. To his surprise, Ryosei was completely soundless in her sandals and soft green dress. She even shot Saigo a slightly irritated look when he scuffed his foot on the floor behind her. They kept on down the narrow tunnel as it winded around upon itself like a spiral staircase, working downward.

"I think this is the wrong way," Saigo whispered. "We're heading down again."

Ryosei just turned around and held a single finger over her lips. She kept walking. Saigo sighed and followed. He had a feeling this was wrong, but he couldn't leave Ryosei here. Well, if she kept this sort of thing up, he'd leave her here. He'd give her the benefit of the doubt for now. As the passage continued to whine downward, a steady hum rose from the floor. Somewhere, deep, deep down, some monstrous engine was churning away. The hum grew louder as they went. Soon, the walls and floor were vibrating softly from the sound. The passage began to grow warmer.

Another door blocked their path. It was large and thick, like the last. The passage was very warm here; Ryosei found she had to loosen her scarf, and Saigo removed his jacket to sling it over one shoulder. The humming was so loud now that they could speak normally without fear of being heard. They approached the door with care. In its center was mounted a large golden mon, a coiled dragon encircling a pomegranate. Saigo cocked his head at it curiously.

"That's the Agasha mon," he said, turning to Ryosei. "They're a minor Phoenix family, but they don't have any representatives in the Palace. What would they need a room way down here for?"

"Silly," Ryosei said with a light laugh. "The Agasha weren't always Phoenix, remember?"

Saigo looked at the mon again. He blinked, realizing that the traditional Phoenix rising behind the dragon was absent, and the gold was worked with highlights of green rather than red. He stepped forward and touched the mon with one hand.

"The Dragon Clan?" Saigo asked. "But that can't be. This mon looks new. The Agasha left the Dragon almost a thousand years ago. Sure, some of them went back during the Shadow War but they all died."

"All of them?" Ryosei arched an eyebrow.

"You're trying to be mysterious, Ryosei," Saigo said. "Please stop it, I'm scared enough already. Just tell me what's going on."

"Perhaps if she's not forthcoming you could ask me," said a voice behind them.

Saigo and Ryosei whirled about. A man wearing a tattered trenchcoat over dark green armor stood behind them. His eyes were flat and hard; his hand rested on the pair of swords at his belt. He moved slowly toward them, making no sound. His armor and swords declared him to be a Mirumoto, the bushi family of the Dragon.

"I am Yoritomo Ryosei," Ryosei said imperiously, her hand on her hips. "I am the Imperial Princess. I have a right to visit my subjects in my own palace."

"Oh," the man said, smirking slightly. "Do you, now? You're the girl that spied on the Agasha when they met with Kitsune Maiko, aren't you?"

Ryosei's eyebrows shot up. "How did you know about that?"

"We Dragon have been hiding from the world for a long time," he said. "Almost no one finds us unless they are supposed to."

"But we just stumbled down here," Saigo said. "It was an accident."

The man smiled. "Was it?" he replied. "Tell me, prophet. How many other passageways in the catacombs did you search before you found this one?"

Saigo paused a moment. "Well, none." He replied.

"Don't you find that odd?" the Mirumoto shook his head a bit. "With all the labyrinthine passages constructed down here over a period of two thousand years, that you could find the way on the first try?"

"I guess it was a little odd," Saigo replied, "but I've always been good at mazes and such."

"Of course," the Mirumoto nodded. "There wasn't anything drawing you here? No little nagging compulsion in the back of your mind?"

Saigo said nothing, running a hand through his scraggly hair. He had felt a pulling, now that he thought about it. Not that he'd admit it to this odd man.

"That's what I thought," the Mirumoto replied. "Now come with me, you two. I know someone who will be wanting to meet you." He walked past them and opened the door, not bothering to check back if they were following.

"Should we go?" Saigo asked, looking at Ryosei nervously.

"We might as well," Ryosei replied. "They know we're here now, and I don't think that the Dragons will turn us over to my father."

They followed the Mirumoto through the door. Somehow, Ryosei's hand found its way to Saigo's again. Saigo didn't protest. The room beyond was simply amazing. It was a large domed chamber, paneled entirely in gold. A great device composed of interlocking brass rings and spinning crystal spheres hung from the ceiling. Hundreds of spheres and thousands of rings constantly moved and shifted, locking back into one another in complex patterns and creating the loud humming noise that permeated the chamber. A circular table stood directly beneath the device, covered in glass beakers, tubes, and burners. Over a dozen men and women in green robes worked at the table, manipulating chemicals and observing reactions under crystal lenses. The entire room had a feel of remarkable power and complexity, though none of it seemed to rely upon technology created even in the last few centuries.

Saigo stared up at the brass and crystal device in wonder. He couldn't see how it attached to the ceiling, it just seemed to hang there. He could feel the power of the kami churning in the device, so much so that he did not even need a spell to see it. "What is this place?" he asked.

"We simply call it a Factory," the Mirumoto said, looking back over his shoulder. "There are only three such places like this in all of Rokugan. One here, a slightly smaller one in Ryoko Owari, and then the one under Togashi Mountain. If you think this one is impressive, you should see that one. Makes this place look like a child's toy."

Ryosei stared upward. She felt slightly dizzy from the size of the room and the movement of the device. She grasped Saigo's arm with both hands to steady herself. "What... what does it do?" she asked.

"It creates nemuranai and tetsukami," the Mirumoto said. "The magical devices that allow my clan to function in secrecy. This way." He circled off around the table, expecting them to follow him once more.

Saigo stepped away from Ryosei and towards the table, his curiosity overbearing all common sense. He picked up a small crystal cube from the table. There seemed to be a green fire burning inside of it. He whispered a brief spell, sending his magical senses into the object. The crystal started to vibrate and shake in his hand. An Agasha glanced over at Saigo, his eyes widening as he dropped the beaker he had been studying.

"Togashi's blood!" the Agasha shouted. He snatched the crystal from Saigo and hurled it toward the wall, then pushed them both to the floor. The crystal hit the wall and exploded with a roar of black fire. The golden wall was untouched. "Spirit fire," the Agasha snapped, pushing off of Saigo and returning to his work. "It would have burned your soul away, Phoenix."

Then the Mirumoto was at Saigo's side, smirking and extending a hand to help him to his feet. "I know you have an interest in recreational chemistry, Phoenix," he said, "but don't touch anything in here."

"Sorry," Saigo said numbly.

The prophet rose and followed the others around the room.The Mirumoto pressed a divot on the wall and a door, previously invisible, opened to reveal a stairway leading upward. They walked for quite some time, passing side tunnels and a few other serious faced Agasha chemists, until arriving finally at a small library. The room was filled to capacity with shelves of books and scrolls. The scent of incense burned somewhere.

"Mirumoto-san," called out an elderly man's voice, "Is that you?"

"Yes, Hisojo-sama," the Mirumoto said. "I have found the prophet and the princess."

"Excellent, excellent," the voice replied. "At least some things are still working out properly. Bring them to me."

They were led through the library and presented at last to an old man in robes of red and green. His face was lined with age and experience. A thin pair of spectacles perched upon his nose as he read a small paperback novel. Before him sat a small table with a plate of cookies, a steaming teapot, and several small cups. The old man looked up and laughed lightly, folding the book over his thumb and removing his glasses. "The latest Kitsuki Iimin mystery novel," he said, "One of my many vices. Please, sit." He indicated three overstuffed red chairs set before his own.

The Mirmuto led Ryosei to the chair on the left and took the right hand chair for his own, leaving Saigo with the uncomfortable position of being the center of attention. "Agasha Hisojo," the bushi said in introduction, "Daimyo of the Agasha."

"I bid you greetings," Hisojo said, rising and bowing. "I presume my Mirumoto friend here neglected to introduce himself. You travel with Mirumoto Rojo, newly appointed daimyo of the Mirumoto family."

Saigo and Ryosei both bowed, surprised to find themselves in such noble company.

"Hello, princess," Hisojo said formally, bowing again to the young lady and smiling. "Please make yourself at home. Have some tea, or perhaps some cakes. They are my favorites."

"Thank you," Ryosei said, smiling and returning the bow. They were all seated.

"So," Hisojo said to the young man. "You are the Elemental Council's prophet."

"Yes, sir," Saigo said, nervous. "I have that honor. I am Isawa Saigo."

Hisojo nodded, as if considering his answer. "And what have you seen?" he asked finally.

"I beg your pardon, sir?" Saigo asked. "Do you mean my prophecies?"

Hisojo sighed. "Here, my boy," he said, pouring out a cup of tea. "Drink. Perhaps it will help you." He spooned some sugar into the cup and handed it to Saigo.

Saigo nodded and took the cup eagerly. The tea was sweet and warm, especially refreshing after a night stumbling through dry catacombs. He immediately felt calm, at ease. He quickly related what he had seen to the old Dragon. He told him of his prophecies, even the relatively minor ones involving the Scorpion, Oroki. He told him of Isawa Tsuke and the visions his ancestor had brought him. He even told him of his encounter with Tsuruchi Kyo, how he was wounded, and how Ryosei had saved him. He thought perhaps he had told the man more than he should have, and wondered if perhaps the tea was responsible. He realized to his chagrin that he had said that out loud as well.

"Actually, it was the sugar," Hisojo said. "I apologize, Saigo-san, but I have little time to plumb your secrets. The Empire is in danger and your help is necessary to save it."

"Me?" Saigo asked. "But I'm just a shugenja. I'm not even a very good shugenja."

"Ah, but you are more than that, boy," Hisojo replied. "Whether by chance or by design, your experiments with the tetsukami drug, Daikoku's Milk, have combined with your gift of prophecy to permanently alter your perceptions. You can see what others cannot. You can communicate with your ancestors personally. You can see the future as easily as another man looks out a window. And what's more, you can detect the tetsukansen implants of our mysterious enemies."

"It was just a simple spell," Saigo said. "Anyone with the gift can do it."

"Not so, sadly," Hisojo replied. "I have tried the self-same spell you have mentioned, and it does nothing to reveal the dark machinations of our foes. These implants, they enhance the evil in one's soul. They twist one's emotions gradually toward evil. I suspect they even allow their shadowy creator to monitor those that bear them. And what's more, they wreath themselves in a cloak of darkness that magic cannot pierce. The exception, it seems, is your magic, Phoenix. Our foes could be anywhere, anyone, and only you can see them short of lopping people's heads open. You are quite indispensible to our struggle now, as is your friend, the princess."

"Me?" Ryosei asked, blinking.

"Yes, you," Hisojo replied. "You are the last emotional link Yoritomo VI has to this reality. Someone has gone through much trouble to drive our Emperor mad. I do not know how it was done, but I suspect the complicity of Tsuruchi Kyo. He had time and opportunity to be near the Emperor, and could have perpetrated the act in a thousand different ways. Jigoku, if I had only known that the Wasp was a pawn earlier, things would be different I assure you." The old man scowled, bringing one fist down on the arm of his chair. "At least Hatsu dealt with the traitor properly."

"It is all right, Hisojo-sama," Rojo said. "There is no use worrying about the past. We can only fix the present."

"You are right, Rojo my friend," Hisojo said. "You are right. Now, Saigo, if you will. A demonstration."

"A demonstration, Hisojo-sama?" Saigo asked.

"Yes," the old Dragon replied. "It is one thing to hear how something is done, it is another to see it. Show me the magic you work to see these tetsukansen."

Saigo nodded. He stood and spoke the spell, calling upon the power of the kami. It took him a few moments to gather the spirits' favor, but soon it was done. The young shugenja turned and scanned the room. A few of the books in the library here and there flickered with the light of magic, as did a small sphere on the table to Hisojo's side. Saigo's tea and the sugar bowl flickered with a small, harmless enchantment. What Saigo saw next caused his jaw to drop open in shock.

"What?" Hisojo asked quickly. "What do you see, Saigo?"

"Yes, Saigo," Rojo said. "What is it?"

Saigo backed away toward Ryosei, spreading his arms to protect her. He pointed at Mirumoto Rojo. "That man," Saigo said fearfully, "is implanted."

The three monks paused in the shadow of the highway. Above them, the traffic roared and the supports groaned. The wind howled and dust swirled around them. A few rare pinpoints of sunlight penetrated the layers of highway and buildings above them, casting an eerie, sporadic glow upon the area.

"This place seems dangerous," Karasu Meiji said. The young monk looked up at the highway uncertainly, as if it would collapse upon them any moment. The monk had been skittish and frightened since their arrival in Otosan Uchi. The predictions of Jared Carfax weighed heavily upon his heart.

"The Kaiu highways are designed for flexibility," Hoshi Kenzo replied. The fat monk sat upon an outcropping of rubble to catch his breath. "That groaning sound is perfectly normal. Were there any danger, the highway would be closed off like so many of the others we have seen."

Naizen kept walking, his face expressionless. The wind pulled at his robes, revealing the jagged, scarred brand of an eagle upon his chest. His blue-white eyes glowed in the darkness, unseen by the other monks. "We are close now," he said. "That way," he pointed deeper beneath the highway. Mountainous heaps of rubble blocked their way, receding back into the darkness.

"It looks like a rough path," Kenzo said.

"It is," Naizen replied. "But we must take it. That is where we will find what we seek."

"A mask is what we're searching for, right?" Meiji asked. "You mentioned it yesterday, as well. On the train. Is that what you were supposed to be guarding?"

Naizen turned, his glowing gaze frightening Meiji. "Yes," he replied. "Your friend knows the Mask well."

Meiji turned to Kenzo, questioning.

"You deserve to know," Kenzo said. He nodded, his face grave. The old monk formed his words carefully. "We seek the mempo of He Who Shall Not Be Named. The Porcelain Mask of the Dark Kami, the one legends call Fu Leng."

"The real Fu Leng?" Meiji gasped. "I didn't think he really existed!"

"You're a monk, Meiji," Kenzo said. "And you don't believe in the kami? I think you may have made a vocational error somewhere." The old monk's grave expression showed a glimmer of amusement.

"No, well, I believe in the kami and all that!" Meiji said, pushing his hair back out of his eyes. "It's just that it's hard to think of them walking around like normal men, wearing masks and all that. I thought they were just allegories."

"Oh, believe me, Fu Leng is quite real," Kenzo said. "I almost died helping Takao find that mask the first time. The mask has a power and a life of its own."

"Is that how you became an outcast?" Meiji asked Naizen. "Losing the mask?"

Naizen frowned, angry. Meiji decided perhaps that wasn't the best question to ask. He took a step back as the younger monk advanced on him, his staff clicking on the concrete. Again, Meiji caught a flash of great power within Naizen, a strength that frightened him. Naizen turned away then, and kept walking. Meiji caught his breath sharply, stumbling.

"Easy, boy," Kenzo said. He helped the young man back to his feet. "You've been as nervous as a rabbit all day."

"Shouldn't I be?" Meiji whispered, careful to speak so Naizen could not hear him. The third monk kept walking, uninterested. "The Oracle of the Wind said I'm going to die!"

"Perhaps, perhaps not," Kenzo said. "Carfax said you'd live till you saw the face of Shinsei. That could take a long time. It is your order's ancient duty to protect the descendant of Shinsei. Surely the Karasu keep such an individual in some distant, well-protected monastery?"

"Well..." Meiji said, "not quite."

Kenzo glanced at Meiji in surprise. "Meiji," he whispered, "are you saying you know who Shinsei's descendant is?"

"You could say that," Meiji replied. "You see, Shinsei can't be cloistered. He has to be part of the world so that he'll be prepared to help save it. The only way to really keep him a secret is to keep it a secret from everyone, even ourselves. Only the descendant himself and a few others really know who he is. Every sixty years, the highest circle of Karasu monks perform a ceremony to determine the descendant's identity again, just to make certain he is still safe. This year the ceremony was performed again."

"You participated in the ceremony, Meiji?" Kenzo asked.

"No, I'm only a novice," Meiji said, his eyes downcast. "But my former Master, Shioda participated. I overheard him talking about it one night. That's why he sent me away from the Crow Monasteries to journey with you, to discipline me for my disobedience."

"Well then who is the descendant?" Kenzo asked quickly. "If you know his identity, you will know how to avoid him!"

"The ceremony was miscast, revealing nothing," Meiji answered, "All that was discovered is that the descendant is no longer within our bloodline."

Kenzo frowned. "So who is he?"

"I have my suspicions," Meiji said, his voice a low whisper.

Kenzo thought a moment, then nodded. "Yes, my young friend," he said. "So do I."

They both looked at Washi Naizen.

The moon was covered in blood. He could swear he saw a face in it, laughing. Around him was the city. Broken, blistered, covered in wires that seemed to move with a life of their own. This is what he had seen, what he had always seen. This was the vision that had always stood just behind his foresight, the future that had always pulled him forward. He fell to his knees and screamed, as he knew there was nothing he could do.

Then, in the streets before him, came nothing. A sinuous serpent formed entirely of nonexistence wove toward him, showing glimmering motes of what may be and what never would be like scales upon its hide. Its great horned head turned to face him, and it's jaws opened in what seemed to be a smile.

"I am Void," it said. "I have been watching you for a long time, Hatsu."

"What happened?" Hatsu said to the Dragon. "It's all gone... It's like there's no hope."

"Bah," the Dragon said. "You are a fool. You have already died once, now you intend to die again? I thought you were made of stronger stuff, Kitsuki."

"The visions are stronger now," Hatsu said, clutching at his head. "There's nothing I can do to stop them."

Void sniffed. "Just like a mortal. The end of the world comes and everyone thinks they're a prophet. Kitsuki Hatsu, what makes you so special? What makes you think these things you see are the future?" The dragon whipped through the air past Hatsu's shoulder, arcing around to regard him again from the other side. Its tail stirred the air lazily.

Hatsu looked at the dragon blankly, not sure how to respond.

"Not everything in the land of Rokugan is a product of magic, boy," the dragon laughed. "I have watched your people for some time. They are on a road to becoming something different, something greater. You evolve more quickly than you know. Soon, the kami themselves will be nothing compared with your power. Hatsu, you are among the first."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, turning warily and keeping an eye on as much of the dragon as he could. Something about this creature made him very uneasy.

"Your great grandmother was born on the last day of the Shadow Wars. The day my brother the Fire Dragon wounded Akuma," the Dragon said. It coiled around the wreckage of a car; the wires that covered the landscape skittered away from the dragon's presence. "Hitomi Kashiyan gave birth upon that battlefield, just out of the range of the fires but not far enough from their power. The radiation killed Kashiyan, and left its mark upon her child and all that would follow its line. Your genes were twisted, Hatsu. You are both more and less than human."

Hatsu looked down at his arms, the long scars that twisted upon his biceps and forearms. A deformity of birth, a stigma he'd always kept hidden even from close friends.

"The mark of the Fire Dragon," Void said. "Blessing and curse. The true source of your visions. Your Hitomi blood gives you extra sensory perception. What you see is not the future, but clues buried in the present. Your vaunted skills at observation are a natural outgrowth of this power. With what your kinsman have done to you, they will only continue to grow."

"But how can what you say be true?" Hatsu asked. "My father was a Kitsuki, and my mother was a ronin. There was no Hitomi in my bloodline. There are no more Hitomi at all."

Void cocked his head and laughter rippled his sinewy frame. "Of course there aren't," he said. "Just as there are no more Mirumoto or Togashi either. Perhaps those men who saved you in Bayushi's Labyrinth were a mere dream, and you are in fact dead now as you imagine." The dragon rested its head upon its own coils, its eyes shining with sinister amusement.

Hatsu cursed himself for a fool. He pressed a hand to his chest. There was a lancing, shooting pain there, but he was whole. "I am not dead," he said.

"Ah, you are as keenly observant as your reputation suggests," the dragon snickered. "You were saved by the quick action of your hidden brethren. Togashi Gunjin, an ancient ise zumi of great power, invoked the power of the Arrowroot. He took your wounds onto his own body, saving your life at the expense of his own. Still, the trauma was great. Your body was rapidly failing and your soul had begun its path to Yoma."

"And then what happened?" Hatsu asked.

"They fixed you," the dragon replied.

"How?" Hatsu asked.

"Perhaps you should ask Hoshi that," Void replied. "I'm only here to guide you."

Hatsu considered the dragon carefully, watching the creature's face. "You're hiding something," he said.

The dragon blinked, his mouth hanging open for a moment. "I don't know what you mean," he said.

"You're lying to me," Hatsu replied, folding his arms. "You didn't come here to help me, I can tell. You're toying with me. Testing me. What do you want, creature?"

"Mortals," Void sighed. "So demanding, even in a dream. Well, you're right Hatsu. And I can't say it surprises me. Indeed I did not come here to help you. There's quite enough of that going on with the Oracles and Tsuke and even Shinsei himself. It's a virtual convention of divine intervention in this blasted city."

"Then why are you here, Void?" Hatsu asked.

"We dragons, the true dragons, had quite an interest in the world of man once," the creature said. It rose from where it lay and hovered in the air once more. "I, in particular found your kind fascinating. Sadly my curiosity led to nothing but pain and destruction for us both. Your kind used us, humiliated us. In some cases, you destroyed us. I have been sent here for retribution."

"To destroy us in kind?" Hatsu asked. He scanned his peripheral vision for some sort of weapon. He could find nothing of use against a creature so large, and perhaps in a dream it would not matter if he could.

"Yes," Void said. He floated close to the young Kitsuki, smiling wide to show his teeth, as long and sharp as spear-points. The beast smelled of burning ozone, and a chill wind wafted from its body. "In your history you have persecuted the Naga, destroyed the Kitsu, enslaved the simple Zokujin, assisted in the rise of Fu Leng, opened the doors of Jigoku to the foul oni, imposed your power and will upon the kami themselves, and even dared to enact violence upon our father Lord Moon. For a long time, you managed to live at peace but now you begin the cycle of pain again. With the tragedy of Medinaat-al-Salaam, our decision was made. Now it ends. We will not allow you to evolve further. We will not allow you to enact your violent will upon all of creation."

Hatsu kept his eyes on the dragon, meeting Void's depthless gaze with his own. "You speak of generalizations, not individuals," he replied. "There are those among your own kind who are violent and destructive. The Dragon of Fire? Without his power Medinaat-al-Salaam's annihilation would not have been possible. Does that mean you should die as well?"

Void glanced away. "This was not my decision," he said. A hint of sadness was apparent in his odd voice. "Yet it has been made. The time for your kind is over."

"What will you do?" Hatsu asked.

Void floated in circles, his great face marred with doubt. "The execution of your race is my task. I will not confront you directly. That is Fire's way. But as I said, I have watched your people. I know where the true power lies; I know who has the will and the ability to destroy all. The gifts have been given. It is up to you to destroy yourselves now."

Hatsu shook his head. "No, this makes no sense," he said. "If you are our enemy, then why are you even talking to me? Why warn me of any of this? I didn't think it was a dragon's way to gloat."

Void turned again to face the young detective. "I was the sole voice of dissent among my family, the one who believed there was hope left for your kind. I was sent to tender retribution, but temper it with mercy. There is still a chance. I know what you are capable of, Hatsu. The blood of ages runs in your veins. You are your species' last hope."

"And this is why you have come?" Hatsu asked. "To deliver cryptic warnings and encouragements? Thank you but I have a proliferation of mysteries in my life."

"No," the dragon said sharply. "The time for mysteries is over. I tell you this now and I will not repeat it: seek the priest, Asahina Munash. The one with the eye of fire. In his gardens, all will be made clear. I cannot say more than this. Good luck, Kitsuki."

Hatsu opened his mouth to speak again, full of more questions. The dream ended, and everything faded away. He found himself laying in a bed of white sheets, surrounded by tables covered with bowls of pungent herbs. Scraps of paper dangled from the ceiling, wards against evil and pleas to the Fortunes for his good health. It had the air of a hospital, but it was unlike any hospital he had seen. More primitive, but somehow purer. Hatsu felt a queer buzz in the back of his head, and a dull ache in his sternum. He pulled away the sheets to find his chest was covered in bandages.

"Ah," said a young woman, entering the room with a bowl of fresh water and towels draped over one arm. "You've finally awakened. That's wonderful." Her face was calm and pleasant. She went about tending the herbs that surrounded him, a serene expression upon her face.

"Where am I?" Hatsu asked. He realized he was not clothed, and carefully maintained his modesty with the bed sheets.

"Beneath Togashi Mountain," she replied. "You were brought here for treatment of your wounds. I am Agasha Kyoko. It was my magic that brought you here."

"I thank you," Hatsu said, bowing his head. "I can never repay what you have done for me. I hope I'm worthy of your efforts, and of Gunjin-sama's sacrifice."

The woman gasped, one hand going to her mouth. "Gunjin? How could you know about that?" Her eyes drifted to his bandages.

"Curious," Hatsu said. "If Gunjin took my wounds upon himself, then what are these bandages for?"

"That was how Hoshi-sama saved your life," Kyoko replied. Hatsu had shocked her, but she was quickly recovering. "I suppose it would do no harm to remove them."

She moved to the side of the bed, sitting at the very edge and gently assisting Hatsu as he removed the tape. The bandages were peeled away, and Hatsu's eyes went wide. A gigantic kanji was tattooed upon his chest, the symbol of Void. The ink shone as if still wet, and when Hatsu touched the marks experimentally, a ripple went through the image like the water of a still pond.

Hatsu looked to Kyoko, his eyes intense. "I think I need to talk to this Hoshi immediately," he said.

"THIS AREA DECLARED HAZARDOUS BY ORDER OF THE SON OF STORMS," the sign read in military stencil letters, "DO NOT PROCEED BEYOND THIS POINT. TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT."

"I don't like the looks of this," Kenzo said. He scratched at his beard.

Behind the sign was a tall chain-link fence, covered with razor wire. Behind that, dilapidated ruins of buildings slumped in the inky shadows, beaten down and defeated by time.

"I agree with Master Kenzo," Meiji said. "We should definitely turn back and get help."

"There is no help," Naizen said, his voice oddly detached. "There is no turning back." He didn't turn to look at them, his odd blue eyes fixed on the shattered neighborhood beyond the fence. "What I seek waits beyond that fence. Follow me, if you have the courage." The young monk's hands twisted on the haft of his bo. The bamboo weapon began to glow from within with an unearthly blue light, illuminating Naizen's face with a ghostly radiance. He leveled the staff toward the fence, causing the metal and wire to shiver and pull away from the wood like melting wax. Naizen brushed at the tattered, dripping metal with his bare hand, leaving a gaping hole in the midst of the security fence. Naizen passed through the barrier and walked onward without another word.

"He turned the metal into water," Kenzo said, kneeling down and touching one of the puddles in amazement. "Pure water! I have never heard of one with such control over the elements; I have not even heard of shugenja doing such things!"

"That certainly fits in with my suspicions," Meiji said, watching Naizen's back carefully.

Kenzo just shook his head. "I don't know. On reflection, it feels wrong to me," he said, rising to his feet. His joints popped in protest and he wiped the water of the fence on his robes. "Whatever his power is, I don't think it springs from the kami."

Naizen turned, several yards within the perimeter of the fence. His blue eyes burned in the darkness. "We are not far," he said. He continued walking.

"Well, we've come this far," Kenzo sighed. "We might as well see this through and find out what happens." The portly old monk pushed through the fence and hurried after Naizen as best he could. His breath quickly became labored, and he paused to catch his wind a few paces behind. Naizen turned to look at him curiously, and Meiji grasped Kenzo's arm to steady him. The three continued on, more slowly.

The city was filled with an unearthly quiet here, accentuated by the constant low shush of the traffic hundreds of feet above. The low murmur bore a frightening similarity to Hoshi Kenzo's ragged breathing. The streets and alleys seemed covered in a dim black radiance rather than a shadow, a dark much blacker than true darkness could ever aspire to. Somewhere in one of the buildings, a childish cackle broke the silence. The three monks fell into defensive postures, and turned in time to see a pair of mocking red eyes vanish in a distant window a block away. The noise receded, leaving them alone with the city's breathing once more.

"This place reeks of the Taint," Kenzo said. The old monk glanced about, scowling.

"Here?" Meiji said in surprise. "Otosan Uchi cannot possibly be Tainted?"

"It happens," Kenzo said. "The Phoenix and Crab sealed the Festering Pit a little too tight. The pressure it puts on Jigoku makes the evil bubble up in places of dark power, where the barriers between the worlds have been weakened. Washi Takao and I found the Porcelain Mask in a place like this, but that was in the ruins of Shiro no Yogo. That place was once the stronghold of the traitorous black wizard, Yogo Ishak and Yogo Junzo even before him. I can't imagine what could hold such evil in the Imperial Capitol."

"Otosan Uchi's history has not always been bright," Naizen said suddenly, his face turned up in a dark smile. "It has had as many infamous inhabitants as famous, not the least of which was the original Bloodspeaker."

"Iuchiban?" Kenzo said with a surprise.

"None other," Naizen replied. "Chafing at the restraints of the feudal system, bitter and resentful of his destiny under Lady Sun, the Emperor's own brother Iuchiban plotted the downfall of Rokugan in this place. In an age now long forgotten, the blood wizard rose the corpses of a thousand dead heroes in this place and turned them against their descendants. The streets of the capital ran red with blood before he was defeated. The streets and alleys still echo with his madness. The Crab call this place Downtown."

"I have never heard that story," Kenzo said.

"You Rokugani are clumsy with your history," the Eagle monk said with a short laugh. "What you do not forget, you alter so you may look the hero. It is your greatest vanity and weakness."

Kenzo eyed Naizen suspiciously, stepping into the monk's path with an outstretched hand. "How do you know of the story, then?" he asked.

Naizen shrugged. "The history of this place sings in my soul. There are no mysteries for me here."

Just then a horrid scream rose from the earth behind Kenzo. A manhole cover burst from the street and a mass of tentacles emerged, flailing wildly. Kenzo and Meiji jumped back with a cry, but Naizen stood unafraid, holding his staff calmly. Behind them, a storm drain erupted with another tangle of snakelike projections, cracking the sidewalk around them with the force of their appearance.

"What are they?" Meiji asked fearfully. He fumbled in his robes for the stout iron staves his order favored for combat, though he doubted they would do him much good.

"Garegosu no Bakemono," Naizen said, detached. "They feed upon the dead. These are still small, as they've not fed yet."

"We must run!" Kenzo commanded Meiji. The fence was roughly a hundred yards behind them. They might be able to skirt the tentacles and still escape.

Then the ground beneath them shifted with a loud, snapping sound. The street was laced instantly with a spider-web of cracks. Tentacles burst through the pavement randomly, shredding the street's structural integrity. Kenzo stumbled to his hands and knees, then felt himself fall again as the street collapsed beneath them. He saw Meiji reaching for him, then was separated as they both tumbled into the tunnels beneath Downtown in a mass of smoke and rubble.

Naizen watched the street crumble and collapse, standing just on the edge of the gaping hole in the pavement. He leaned on his staff and peered through the clouds of dust and debris risen by the catastrophe. He could hear coughing below him, the old monk, Kenzo. Naizen pivoted on his staff and hopped neatly down into the tunnel. Meiji lay face-down on the ground, his legs buried by broken cement. Kenzo was crawling on his hands and knees and gasping for breath, digging for something in the pocket of his robes. The old monk's eyes were fixed on the edge of the dim circle of light, where the three bakemono waited. They were like giant pock-marked octopi, each with a body the size of a dog, hissing and writhing twenty foot long tentacles in mindless triumph.

"The light confuses them, but it does not harm them," Naizen said. "It will not hold them off for long. How is Meiji?"

Kenzo crawled to the young monk's side. "Alive," he said, clumsily dragging the largest chunk of rubble off the boy's legs.

Meiji stirred weakly, coughing blood upon the floor as he tried to sit up. Kenzo frowned in concern. If the boy was bleeding internally, then they'd have to escape quickly to save his life. "What happened?" Meiji groaned.

Naizen stepped between the monks and the bakemono, a look of rapt excitement on his face. "He comes!" Naizen exclaimed.

"Who comes?" Kenzo replied, narrowing his eyes at Naizen.

Naizen said nothing, but simply nodded at the shadows. A tall, obscure figure appeared behind the bakemono, extending a taloned hand to scratch one of the creatures fondly. The light hit the figure, and Kenzo gasped. It was clearly not a man; it was far too large, and it's head was that of a snake or lizard. A half dozen tentacles with the heads of cobras bobbed and swayed about its waist, and instead of legs three thick constrictor tails pushed it along the floor. It's green body was dark with festering black sores and lesions, but it's yellow eyes were bright with intelligence.

"I am called the Kashrak," it said with a hiss. "Welcome to my home, brothers."

"I told you we would find death here," Naizen said. He seemed almost eager.

"No," Meiji coughed, sitting up against the rubble. "I can't die until I see the face of Shinsei."

"It's true," Naizen said. "The Oracle of the Wind told him no less."

Kashrak chuckled. "Silly Oracles. I thought they'd learned the price of meddling with me the last time." He leveled a single talon at Kenzo. "So I suppose this old fool fancies himself Shinsei, then? Bakemono. Devour him."

The tentacled beasts gibbered and cackled as they scuttled across the floor towards Kenzo. The old monk stepped toward them, a serene and defiant expression on his face. "Naizen, deal with the Kashrak," he said. "This old man still has a few tricks left for these bakemono."

The nearest of the creatures decided to test the old man's boast, lunging toward him with a screech. Kenzo reacted with astounding swiftness, his hands moving from his robes and leaving a streak of bright green magic in the air. The bakemono was thrown back against the wall, it's skull crushed.

Kashrak laughed. "Well done, little monk," he said, applauding.

Kenzo now held a pair of whirling nunchaku in his hands. They had been a gift from Washi Takao, after their adventure so long ago. The weapon would have been priceless for the materials alone; the staves of were composed one of crystal and one of jade. They were even more valuable for their enchantment, as each of the weapons was entirely engraved in mystic kanji.

A second bakemono lashed out at Kenzo, wrapping a tentacle around the old man's ankle. Kenzo reacted instantly, entangling the tentacle in the nunchaku, pulling it free of his leg and lifting the bakemono upward. He turned and spun in the air, swinging the bakemono by its tentacles and hurling it at it's comrade. The two went down in a confused tangle. Kenzo darted forward, holding the nunchaku high. He pressed two buttons on the staves and short blades of jade and crystal snapped out of each. He buried the blades in the creatures' bodies, stabbing deeply and holding the weapon fast until the creatures ceased their struggles and dissolved in puddles of black filth and terrible stench.

"Well done indeed," Kashrak said, folding his arms and nodding at Kenzo. "You men of the Brotherhood never cease to amaze me. Always putting up such a good fight. But in the end, for all your vaunted wisdom, the whole lot of you are fools. Isn't that right, Naizen?"

Naizen nodded, standing entirely still. He smiled at Kenzo.

"Naizen!" Kenzo shouted, advancing on the young monk. "What are you doing?" He snatched at Naizen's arm, and froze in terror as he saw his hand pass into the young man's body, the flesh parting around his own hand like water. Naizen glanced down, arching an eyebrow at the rippling hole that had opened in his chest around Kenzo's hand.

"What in Jigoku?" Kenzo asked in terror. His hand fastened around something solid, floating deep within the young monk's body. In shock, Kenzo pulled it free. A cracked white porcelain mask grinned up from his hands.

"Oh, look," Naizen said. "You found it." He snatched the mask away from Kenzo, spun and kicked the old monk in the chest with such force that he was thrown back into a the wall with a crack. Kenzo slid to the floor and lay still.

"Yes," Kashrak said with a soft chuckle. "All fools. Bring me the mask, Naizen."

"Naizen, no!" Meiji cried, crawling toward him painfully. From the waist down, all he could feel was pain.

Naizen shook his head disdainfully and walked right past Meiji toward Kashrak. He handed the porcelain mask to the creature with a smile.

"Now Washi Takao. There's a fool," Kashrak said. "All this time and effort he spends looking for the missing Porcelain Mask, and he never even suspected that 'Naizen' was carrying it in his chest all along. Well, I suppose I can't really blame Takao for that. 'Naizen' is a man of diverse talents, after all. Takao is not the first nor will he be the last to be taken in by them. Naizen. Kill the old one."

Kenzo glanced up as Naizen approached. His nunchaku were gone, dropped somewhere in the tunnel. Not as if it mattered, something had snapped when he'd hit the wall and now he couldn't get up. He glared up at Naizen's blue eyes and cursed himself for a fool. He prayed to the Fortunes that Meiji would be safe, his last thought before Naizen buried his bo staff in the his skull.

"Naizen, no!" Meiji screamed, beating the ground with a fist. "You were supposed to be Shinsei."

Naizen looked at Meiji, a look of total surprise on his face. He glanced at Kashrak, and they both filled the tunnel with sinister laughter. "Shinsei?" Kashrak hissed. "Oh, you are confused, boy. Allow me to introduce you to my associate." Naizen's body rippled and twisted, and soon all semblance of human form had been replaced by a churning, twisting pillar of oily blue water topped with a pair of glowing blue eyes.

"I am Oni no Mizu," it said, "Elemental Terror of Water." It advanced upon Karasu Meiji.

Meiji screamed.

"No, Kamiko. You are not to leave the building and that is the final straw." Meda's face was livid with repressed fury. His knuckles were white, hands balled into fists as he paced back and forth before the small fountain. The Crane Champion was dressed in a loose, casual blue kimono. He had come to the Fantastic Gardens to relax, but it didn't seem to be working.

Kamiko sat on a bench nearby, watching her father with a frustrated look on her face. She too was dressed casually, in a baggy pair of jeans and a short Steelboys t-shirt. "I don't understand, father," she said. She tried to make a show of appearing not to care as she toyed with a white paper fan. "Before, you were only too happy to hear that I actually liked Kameru. For once something good had come out of one of your heartless political maneuvers. Now you won't even let me talk to him. Where did this come from?"

"That is not for you to know, daughter," Meda replied. He gazed into the waters of the fountain, attempting to calm his fury.

"Does this have anything to do with the Emperor's command for Dojicorp to fund the city's repairs?" Kamiko asked.

Meda shot her a cold glare. "How did you know of such things? Have you been snooping in the company's computer systems again?"

Kamiko shrugged, looking up at her father from over the fan. "You were the one who sent me to programming school," she snickered. "Do you want me to get out of practice?"

Meda turned on his daughter, his face a mask of repressed fury. "This is no game for your amusement, girl. Dojicorp is among the leading corporations of the entire world. The secrets you could stumble across-" He approached Kamiko and grabbed her shoulders.

"What?" she said coolly. "What are you hiding father? What are you so afraid that I'll discover?" She grimaced in pain.

Meda froze. He glanced down and realized how tightly he had seized his daughters shoulders. He never laid a violent hand on Kamiko in his life. What was happening to him? "I'm sorry, Kami-chan," he said, his voice cracking with emotion. He pulled his hands away and dropped to his knees beside her, his face a mask of terror.

"That's Yashin you have on your belt," Kamiko said. "I had thought you were going to return it to the museum."

"I can't!" Meda said looking up at her quickly. "The museum... is a shambles," he added with haste. "I had decided to wait until a more fortuitous time to return the blade."

"I did some research on Doji Chomei," Kamiko said, her eyes on the blue katana. "He was the last of our family to wield that sword, according to Maseto. He died in the Shadow War."

Meda looked up at his daughter, hand holding the hilt of the blade tightly. "I know this," Meda said hoarsely. "Everyone knows that he died fighting Akuma's minions, bringing honor to the title of Emerald Champion after the first Yoritomo died."

"Not according to the Ikoma Libraries, father," Kamiko said, "Their security is almost as tight as ours, in parts." Kamiko's eyes were now riveted on the blade, and a slight quaver of fear had crept into her voice.

"What did you discover?" Meda asked, pulling himself onto the bench beside his daughter.

"Put the sword down," Kamiko said. "Take it off your belt and put it as far from us as possible and I'll tell you."

Meda glanced down at the blade. He could feel its hilt warm in his hand. He felt a sudden flash of anger, pure anger directed straight at Kamiko. Anger enough to draw the blade and strike her down right there in the garden. It would be easy enough; no one would know. He had the power and knowledge to make such a thing look like an accident.

Meda gasped at the depth of evil in the thought. It was so alien, so jarring, he immediately pulled Yashin from his obi by its saya and hurled it across the clearing. "Tell me," he said quickly, turning to his daughter.

"Chomei was not killed by any minion of the Shadowlands," Kamiko said. "Chomei murdered the first Yoritomo Emperor in the middle of the Shadow War and was struck down in turn by Kitsune Kama. No one knew why Chomei would do such a thing, but Yashin was the weapon he used."

Meda looked to where he had thrown the blade, and buried his face in his hands. "Then that blade..."

"That blade is what caused our clan to fall out of favor with the Mantis Emperors," Kamiko finished. "That blade tarnished our honor and destroyed Chomei's life. I felt its evil myself. I almost struck you down with it before you took it away from me."

"I... I am sorry daughter," Meda said. He turned to Kamiko and embraced her. "And I thank you for saving me from what might have been."

"Then may I leave the building?" she asked. "May I go and see Kameru?"

Meda's face clouded with doubt. "No," he said, pulling away from her. "No, I am sorry. There is more going on here than you know. For now, I ask only that you obey. I shall make it up to you later."

Kamiko sighed and stood. "Someday, father," she said, tossing the fan in his lap. "Someday, you'll learn that there aren't any laters. There's only the moment." She stormed off across the garden, leaving her father to his solitude. Meda looked at the fan sadly.

"Ah, impetuous youth," laughed Munash, moving quickly out of the girl's path as he approached from the other direction. He smiled to himself as he approached the fountain, letting its clear waters run over one of his aged hands. He looked up at Meda, noting the troubled expression on his friend's face. "Problems?" he said simply.

Meda looked about to make sure no one was within earshot. "This plan," Meda said. He tucked the fan into his obi. "I am no longer certain that there is no other way."

Munash frowned. "We have discussed this, Meda. The coup will be bloodless. The plan cannot fail."

"Well, I'm not so certain," Meda said. "We have some time left. Maybe Yoritomo can still be reasoned with."

"You have lost your sword," Munash said. His eye narrowed slightly.

"It's over there, somewhere," Meda said, gesturing. "I had taken to carrying Yashin, a sword Kamiko discovered in the ruins of the Museum. To my surprise, my daughter discovered a powerful curse laid upon it in time enough for me to free myself."

"Did she," Munash said tonelessly. He looked calmly in the direction Meda had indicated. "What a clever girl. Hmm. Perhaps you should get some rest, my friend. A curse is nothing to be taken lightly. Perhaps I can send a few of my novices to your chambers to make certain the spell is entirely broken."

"Thank you, Munash," he said, standing and straightening his kimono. "I think some rest is all I need. Oh, and could you dispose of the sword?"

"I shall see it is properly attended to," Munash replied.

"Thank you, my friend," Meda bowed. "We will discuss Imperial matters more in the morning, I promise."

"Indeed," Munash replied, returning the bow. Meda headed off toward his quarters. "Sleep well, my friend," Munash called out, his attention on the sword as he approached it slowly.

The katana lay in the soft grass, glowing a soft blue. Munash folded his hands into his robes and gazed down upon the blade as if it were a particularly foolish child. "Poor Yashin," he said. "As well as my ancestor crafted you, always the bane of your enchantment is a clever woman. And with your work so nearly done."

Munash knelt in the grass, drawing the blade from its saya with a graceful motion. He drew his thumb along the tip of the blade, drawing blood. The steel sparkled in his hand, a joyous warmth flaring along the length of the metal. "Oh, you recognize the bloodline of your creator," he said, smiling back at the sword. "That is good. Then we understand each other well. And we understand that Meda is not yet done carrying you. Oh, no. He is not. Now this may hurt a bit, sweet Yashin, but it is necessary..."

Munash spoke the words of the spell, twisting and warping the very metal of Yashin. The spirit of the sword endured the torment gleefully. It had endured worse, and it knew that the descendant of its master would never do it harm. After a few moments, the work was done, and Munash held the blade aloft. It was Yashin no more.

It looked amazingly like the Ancestral Sword of the Crane. Meda's blade.

Yasu shifted his truck into park. The big mechanical beast idled noisily before the Downtown checkpoint.

"Going in alone again, Yasu?" the guard asked, aiming his flashlight up into the window of the truck.

"Nope," Yasu said. The guard looked a bit perplexed. Yasu adjusted his seat, pushing back a bit and eliciting a grunt from the back seat. "I'm never alone. I carry the Fortunes."

"Of course," the guard said dubiously. He signaled to the gate-house, and the gate rolled open. "Be careful in there, Yasu. The scouts say it's getting pretty rough."

"We'll try to stay out of trouble," Yasu replied. He shifted the truck into gear and rolled into Downtown. The guard stared after him for a few moments and went back to the gate-house, shaking his head.

"You lunatic!" Mojo snapped, prying himself out from behind the seat. "You almost crushed me!"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Yasu said mildly. He smiled back at the yojimbo. "I thought Sumi was behind my seat."

Sumi crawled out from behind the passenger seat, hopping into the front. "We'll try to stay out of trouble? Very funny," she said. Sumi pulled off her long coat and threw it in the back seat. Beneath, she was wearing biker shorts, sneakers, and an Isawa University t-shirt. A pouch of scrolls and tools was buckled around her waist. Even though her clothes were casual, she still wore the traditional red of her clan. "I suppose it amuses you to compromise our mission?"

"No, not really," Yasu said. "On the other hand, it does amuse me that the daimyo of the Phoenix Clan looks so good in spandex."

"Mojo, can you drive a stick shift?" Sumi asked sweetly.

"Um, no Sumi-chan," he said. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, I was going to ask you to shoot Yasu," she said. "I guess we'll have to wait until we get back outside now."

"It's better that way, Sumi," Yasu said. "I plan to say a lot of obnoxious things tonight. This way, you can have him shoot me for all of them at once."

Sumi rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest, ignoring the Crab. She turned to the window, watching the blackened ruins of Downtown as they passed.

"So what does your sword do?" Yasu asked curiously. "Hm?" Sumi asked, snapping back to reality. She'd been thinking about her father, about the friends she had lost. She wondered if Zin was lost yet, or if there was still time.

"The Phoenix sword, Ofushikai," Yasu said. "That lump of pot metal you lug around on your belt. All the Clan Swords are magical. What does yours do?" "It comes to my hand when it's needed," she said. "I heard a legend that it let one of the Phoenix Champions survive a shipwreck by letting her breathe beneath the ocean. It's supposed to have powers over magic, too. It's supposed to do all sorts of things, but I suppose most of it is just legend."

Yasu shrugged. "I guess it'd be pretty silly to try drowning yourself to find out," he said.

"Yes, it would," she replied dryly. "But if you ever wanted to try that experiment, I'd be happy to loan it to you, Yasu."

"I'll keep that in mind," he replied.

"I think I saw something over there," Mojo said, pointing off to the left. "It looked like a giant web."

"Yeah, I saw it," Yasu said. "Just a Kumo. Giant spider spirit. They're mostly harmless. It won't bother us unless we bother it."

"What if it spreads word of our arrival?" Sumi asked, glancing back to try to catch a glimpse of the creature.

"That won't happen," Yasu said. "Kumo aren't really Tainted, they just need to feed off the Taint to survive. The creatures in this place are even more afraid of the Kumo than we are."

Yasu turned the corner and headed down a long street. He pulled up onto the sidewalk to avoid a large heap of rubble piled upon a pair of broken tank treads. An enormous rock resembling a hand sprawled out on the road to one side. "That's Oni no Jimen," Yasu said, pointing. "What's left of him anyway. The rest of him is mounted on the hood." He pointed toward the stone head sitting atop the truck's ram.

"I thought that was just a figurehead," Sumi said in disgust. "You put an actual oni's head on your vehicle?"

Yasu looked at her blankly. "Yeah," he said. "Wouldn't you? I cleaned it off."

A light blip sounded from the instruments on the truck's dashboard. Yasu's thick brow furrowed, and he leaned close to observe the readouts. "Oh, crap," he said.

"What is it?" Mojo asked.

"Could be nothing," Yasu said. "Toshimo's techs just installed this sensor today. But if it's working right, it's picking up a small oni. That way." He pointed off to the right, then turned the wheel sharply in that direction.

"If it's small, maybe it's not dangerous," Mojo said. "This could be a waste of time."

Yasu glanced back at the yojimbo. "Feathers," he said, his voice terse and slightly irritated. "Quick lesson from the Seeker Academy. 'Oni' and 'not dangerous' are not words you should ever use together in the same sentence. I don't care how small the thing is, we have to kill it."

"Stop calling my yojimbo 'Feathers,'" Sumi said, slightly irritated.

"Tell him to stop dressing up like a bird, then," Yasu said, gesturing with his thumb at the twin plumes of feathers on the shoulders of Mojo's armor.

The blip sounded out again, louder this time. The truck rounded the corner onto a small side street. The light filtered dimly from the highways above, enough to make the truck's headlights useless, but not enough to provide a clear view of the area. The street was cratered and covered with holes. The surface was even rougher than usual for Downtown.

"Can this thing make it down that street?" Sumi asked.

"I'd rather not find out," Yasu replied. "I just had it fixed. I'm going out there to take a look. Feathers, do you know how to use that pea-shooter on your belt?"

"It's a Void Pistol," Mojo replied. "And yes, I know how to use it."

"Good," Yasu said. "Then you're with me. Sumi, you wait here."

Sumi drummed her fingers on the dashboard and scowled at Yasu.

"You're... not going to listen to me, are you?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Remember, Crab, I was the Mistress of Fire. I'm a more than competent shugenja even if I'm new at wielding this sword. I'm not going to put up with your sexism when our lives are on the line. I'm going with you." She opened the door of the truck and hopped out, then stood in the light of the truck's headlights and waited for them.

"Mistress of Fire," Yasu grumbled to himself as he hauled himself out and hopped down to the street.

"What?" Mojo asked, looking down at Yasu blankly. "Did you say something to me?"

"Never mind," Yasu said. He stomped off down the street. Mojo hopped down behind him and drew out his pistol, scratching his head in confusion.

"Which way is it?" Sumi asked quietly. She jogged up behind Yasu, a scroll ready in her hand.

"This way," Yasu said, pointing to the middle of the street. He drew a gigantic pistol from his armor and held it ready in both hands. He walked slowly, carefully. His armor made surprisingly little noise for all its bulkiness. "I'll bet you anything it's hiding in one of these craters waiting for us."

The trio cautiously made their way down the street. Mojo branched off to the sides, peeking into each crater with a pair of odd green goggles he'd produced from somewhere.

"These goggles are useless," Mojo said, pulling them off. "I can't see a thing."

"Of course you can't," Yasu replied. "Those tetsukami lenses detect the Taint. Everything is Tainted here." Yasu tracked his pistol from left to right as they walked, waiting for any sign of movement. A scrabble of rocks sounded from the small crater not ten yards in front of them, and they all froze.

A tiny hand emerged from the lip of the crater, a human hand. A child's head emerged, it's hair dusty and mussed, but otherwise unharmed. The child climbed up out of the crater, looking woozy and confused but unhurt despite its shredded and burnt blue robes. It glanced skyward with a pouty expression on its face, then looked at the three figures standing before it.

"Okay, hold it," Yasu said. "Who are you?"

The child giggled and started skipping toward them.

Yasu fired the pistol. To his surprise, Sumi erupted with a burst of flame to his right at the same time, engulfing the child. It was thrown back into the crater by the dual barrage.

"What in Jigoku?" Mojo exclaimed. "You just shot a kid!"

"Think," Yasu said, tapping his temple. "What in Jigoku is a six year old kid doing in Downtown?" He turned to Sumi, who was looking back at him with a slight glimmer of respect. "Well, I'm impressed, Sumi," he said. "You didn't even hesitate, unlike Feathers here."

"Likewise," she said, smiling and inclining her head at him a bit. "You're every bit as hair-triggered as your reputation."

"Um, if you two are done congratulating each other," Mojo said, peering at the smoking crater. "We have a development.

The child crawled back out of the crater, smoke and flames rising from its body. It's eyes glowed red, and it giggled. "Pekkle!" it said. Yasu fired again. The creature was ready this time, and sharply struck its hand through the air, deflecting the large bullet.

"Jigoku, that thing is fast!" Yasu swore. "And that was jade tipped, too!"

Mojo fired his void pistol, sending bullets of nonexistence into the creature's chest. A large hole was burned through its center, and it stumbled back a bit. It looked down at its gaping chest and giggled. The wound closed over.

"It's invulnerable," Sumi said. "What do we do now?"

"Now?" Yasu asked. "Now we get back in the truck."

Jiro stood with his back to the wall, trying to look like the tough loner. Two low tables sat in the center of the room where several of the others played pool. A few more tinkered with computers along the far wall. Several more just sat around and smoked and looked dangerous. There were about a dozen in all. Jiro stayed out of their way for the most part and they stayed out of his. The word was out that Jiro was one of Sekkou's personal students and none of the other new recruits wanted to mess with Sekkou.

For the last two weeks, Jiro hadn't seen the sun. He'd been sequestered away here in the Locust Clan's subterranean headquarters. The time hadn't been idle, though. Sekkou and some of the others had been teaching him things. He'd learned how to operate high-tech safe-cracking devices. He'd learned how to dodge electronic surveillance. They'd even let him try out one of their EMP projectors, once. He'd learned a lot in a short time. The majority of the Locust may have seemed like a angry mob, but the so-called gang was in actuality well coordinated and cunning. Their technology was beyond anything Jiro had seen or even heard of. He'd learned a lot in an amazingly short time. The urge to hang around and actually become a part of it was tempting.

But he couldn't do that. He had people counting on him. Dairya. Hiroru. His mom. He had to prove he could be just as good as Daniri. Maybe better.

"Thinkin about, Jiro?" mumbled a thick voice.

Jiro glanced up. It was Kaibutsu. Hard to mistake him for anyone else. Kaibutsu was nearly seven feet tall and almost that thick. He'd been a pit fighter in one of the rougher harbor neighborhoods before Sekkou had found and recruited him. He still wore the outfit he had fought in, black spandex with a bit of armor on the kneepads and elbows, and a full face mask with a pair of little horns jutting from the forehead. Jiro had no idea what his real name was. He just went by Kaibutsu, or "monster."

"Huh?" Jiro said. "What was that, Kaibutsu?" "Thinkin about?" he mumbled again, his eyes on the floor. He thought for a moment. "What you thinkin about?"

"Take it easy with him," said Kazuko, striding up and straddling a chair backwards. She was a tough girl, just a little older than Jiro, wearing a leather miniskirt and vest over a red bikini top. "Pit fighting isn't the sort of sport with a lot of safety equipment. The big guy's taken some damage if you know what I mean?" She tapped her head. "He's sweet, though, aren't you Kaibutsu?" She reached out and scratched the top of his head.

"Kaibutsu sweet," the big man giggled, a wide grin on his face.

"So answer the big lug's question, kid," she said with a smirk. "You're always such a quiet one, wandering in and out with Sekkou. Sharing all the upper echelon secrets of the Locust. What does a kid like you think about so much?"

"I was thinking about home," Jiro said.

Kaibutsu looked up and cocked his head at Jiro, regarding him with his strange golden eyes. "Me too," he said. "Kaibutsu misses home a lot. Home not miss Kaibutsu much, though. No one there understand. That why end up here." He looked at the floor again, carefully seating himself on a small chair. It creaked loudly as the legs bent under his weight.

"I know the feeling," Jiro said, nodding. "I've always kind of been in the shadow of my brother, myself."

"Families suck," Kazuko sneered. She took a cigarette out of her vest pocket and lit it.

"Brother try to kill Jiro?" Kaibutsu asked, concerned.

"No, no," Jiro replied. "Nothing like that. I've just always sort of been in his shadow. Anything I ever did, got compared to him. I didn't want to keep going like that. I've got to make a name for myself."

"Oh," Kaibutsu laughed, "Thought maybe brother tried to kill Jiro. Kaibutsu silly sometimes."

"Why did you leave home, Kaibutsu?" Jiro asked.

"Brother tried to kill Kaibutsu," the big man replied, nodding. "Sister too. Father wasn't so hot on Kaibutsu either. Very scary. Kaibutsu full of fear, run to city."

"You?" Jiro replied, amazed. "I can't believe you'd be scared, dude."

Kazuko snickered. "Kaibutsu comes from a very big family."

"All right, people fall in," commanded Sekkou. The Locust lieutenant strode into the rec room, his dark trenchcoat swirling out behind him. He wore his omnipresent black helmet, the silver locust mon gleaming upon his forehead. Everyone stopped their various games and activities and turned their attention to him. "This is the moment you've been waiting for, ladies and gentlemen," Sekkou said smoothly. He paced back and forth between the recruits. "Your final test. You've been trained, you've been briefed, you've been prepared. Now is the time to demonstrate whether or not you can be Locusts."

"What's the plan?" asked Kazuko. She stood with her arms folded against her chest. Kaibutsu rose and stood just behind her.

"The plan is violence," Sekkou replied. "There's a shopping mall not far from here in Little Jigoku. Lucky Star Center. They've just opened for business again in compliance with neighborhood demand. They're a haven for gluttony and consumerism. I plan for us to be their first customers, if you understand my meaning."

The other recruits snickered among themselves. "Will we get to use EMP on this?" Jiro asked. He was eager to get another chance to try out the Locust equipment, try to find out how it worked.

"Oh, that and more," Sekkou replied. "You shall have the full arsenal of the Locust at your disposal. Inago has decided that an example must be made. I will be accompanying you personally, as will our newest recruit. Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like you to meet Omar Massad." Sekkou swept one arm toward the door to present the newcomer.

A shaven headed man wearing a strange patchwork of leather and plastic armor entered the room, chains and buckles jingling as he walked. A belt of large knives hung around his waist, and a pistol was holstered at his hip. His eyes were sharp and beady, and he bore two deep scars upon his cheeks. His face and complexion showed him to be of obvious foreign heritage. He rose one hand and waved at the group with a mocking smile. "Hello, children," he said with a sharp Senpet accent. "I'm the new foreign exchange student. Now you'd all better get along nicely and obey Mister Sekkou's commands, or you might end up having to take orders from me."

"What in Jigoku does that mean?" snapped a young punk, looking over the gaijin disdainfully.

"Pray you never find out," Sekkou replied simply. "Now. Report to the armory and equip yourselves, we leave at once. Stay in the mall no longer than an hour, but wreak havoc to your heart's content until then. Know the Machine. Hate the Machine. Destroy the Machine." The recruits chanted the last three sentences along with him, raising to a fevered, screaming frenzy on the third. They flooded from the rec room toward the armory, lost in bloodlust.

Kazuko, Kaibutsu, and Jiro were the last to go. Sekkou stopped them with a gesture of his hand. Massad stood just a step behind Sekkou, whistling with his hands in his pockets.

"You three," Sekkou said. "I would like to talk with you."

"Yes sir?" Jiro replied.

"Don't call me sir, Jiro," Sekkou said. "My name is Sekkou. There are no formalities in the Locust; the samurai have plenty of that."

"Yes, Sekkou," Jiro said.

"You three are about to learn the most important part of being a Locust," Sekkou said. "The Locust Clan is ninety percent distraction, ten percent cruel focused purpose. The distraction has already left, in the form of those howling baboons swarming on the armory right now. You three, Massad, and myself are to be the true heart of this mission, the purpose."

"And what is our purpose, Sekkou?" Kazuko asked.

"You'll see," Sekkou's laughter echoed within the depths of his helmet.

Zin opened her eyes. The chamber was cold, moist and dank. The floor was still stained by the blood of the Asahina technician. Chains of green magic extended from the wall once more, holding her fast about the neck and wrists. A pair of goblin guards huddled against the far wall, watching her hungrily. She was not afraid of them. As much as they hated her, they feared Kashrak more. They would not dare touch her.

She could feel the shard of metal she had stolen, the scrap of tetsukansen. She had concealed it behind her belt, at the base of her spine. Chained to the wall as she was, it did her little good there, but she drew confidence from it. From that, and from something else. She could still feel the power inside, the power that had contacted her when Kashrak had tried to put the Crane's machine in her head. It was with her, protecting her, somehow changing her. It was like a thousand voices as one, shouting encouragement, offering advice, bringing courage. It had healed her wounds and was now making her stronger. What was more, she was beginning to remember little things about her past. She was not alone, never had been. She had a mission to accomplish.

A sibilant hiss sounded distantly in the tunnels, and the goblins sprang instantly to attention. Kashrak was returning. Zin had sensed him even before he had begun his approach. She could sense him anywhere now. He was pleased with himself, she sensed. Pleased, but a little confused. He was thinking deeply about something. Kashrak slithered into the chamber, something small and white clutched under his arm. A creature of sinuous blue liquid followed, dragging an unconscious human along behind him.

"You two," Kashrak said, pointing at the goblins. "Search our new guest and tend to his wounds. We need him to live for a time."

The goblins immediately obeyed, scrambling toward the young man. Zin could see that he seemed to be injured badly. He was bleeding from his forehead and his right leg was twisted badly. He looked very young. His robes of dark brown were stained darker by his blood and the fluid residue left by the creature who had carried him. The goblins quickly scurried off to find medical supplies.

"Hmmm," Kashrak grunted, thoughtfully regarding a pair of nunchaku, half jade and half crystal. "Dreadful things." He tossed them to the ground, where they were lost in the depths of filth and detritus that were Kashrak's home.

The creature of water slithered over before Zin. It's head arced like a question mark, it's bright blue eyes regarding her curiously. "A Naga," it said in a voice surprisingly human. "I had thought you were the last, Kashrak. I thought the Akasha had been dealt with..."

"For the most part, yes," the dark Naga sighed. His yellow eyes watched Zin with something like pity. "She, like myself, is an Abomination. The disease that destroys our people has run its course in her and left her as she is. I had attempted to make her my apprentice, but she has proven somewhat less amenable to the prospect than I would have wished. A pity, eh, Mizu?"

Mizu twisted about to look at Kashrak, blue fluid dripping from what passed for its head. "So kill her," it said. "She is a liability."

Kashrak sighed deeply. "I fear you may be right," he said. "It is a shame one can not choose who one falls in love with, eh?"

"Shall I?" Mizu asked. It spiraled its body around Zin's waist and brought its face inches from her own, ready to drown her. Zin shivered from both the foul touch of the oni and from fear. From her new memories she knew she could breathe water, but she had a feeling this creature could do more than drown her. Still chained to the wall she would be helpless, and her feeble weapon would do little against something with no solid form.

"I think not, Mizu," Kashrak said, holding out a restraining hand. "If anyone is to slay Zin, I think it should be me. I think I owe her that much, after all the time we have shared together."

"You are a twisted maniac, Naga," Mizu said, retreating from Zin. "I think I like that very much."

"Such an odd thing, an oni's admiration," Kashrak said. He drew a black pearl out and crushed it, scattering it into the nearest puddle. He waited for the water to cloud, then clear to reveal Asahina Munash's face.

"Kashrak," Munashi said, bowing slightly. The old man looked slightly disturbed at Kashrak's summons.

"Greetings," Kashrak said. "I have interesting news."

"Really," Munash said, raising an eyebrow. "Do tell."

"Mizu's mission is a success," Kashrak said. "He killed the guardian of the mask and replaced him without drawing the suspicion of the Order of the Eagle. The Porcelain Mask of Fu Leng is now ours." Kashrak held the cracked mempo out for Munash to see.

"Ahhhhh, excellent," Munash said. "It looks a bit damaged, but that is to be expected after all this time. Well, this is certainly the week for unexpected gifts. Send it to me immediately. I shall see that your goblins are well rewarded with discarded Dojicorp weapons."

Kashrak nodded. "I shall send a minor oni at once," he said. A black winged creature the size of a monkey separated itself from the shadows of the ceiling and flapped down to the Naga's side. He handed it the mask, and whispered a few words in a strange language. It flapped off through the tunnels. "And I have more to share, Munash."

"Oh?" the Crane replied, his single eye showing interest.

"Mizu did not come alone," Kashrak said. "For whatever reason, Washi Takao sent two other monks with him. One of them is dead now. The other... well the other is far more interesting."

"How so?" Munash asked.

"He has been visited by an Oracle," Kashrak said.

"He is lying," Munash said simply. "The Oracles are dead."

"They are not dead!" Mizu said, sharply. It twisted between Kashrak and the puddle, it's eyes flaring. "I saw the Oracle itself! I sensed its power! He spoke the truth."

"Hmmmm," Munash said. The Crane brooded a moment, scratching his chin as he digested the information. "What did this Oracle say?"

"The Oracle told the monk he would not die until he saw the face of Shinsei." Kashrak said.

"Did you kill him?" Munash asked.

"No," Kashrak replied.

"A pity," Munash said. "You'd have made a fabulous Shinesi, Kashrak."

"I already have a destiny, Munash," Kashrak said.

"Indeed," Munash replied. He paused, considering what he had learned. "Well, it irritates me to learn of the Oracles' return, but this monk could certainly be useful. I know the Stormbreaker will wish to hear of this. I shall report to him immediately."

"I would advise you to do so, Munash," Kashrak replied. "In the meantime, how goes your coup?"

"Well," the Crane replied. "Within a week, all that I would wish to be mine shall be so. Only a few obstacles remain."

"Such as?" Kashrak asked.

Munash frowned, an irritated look passing his face. "The champion's daughter has proven herself a nuisance, and a Pekkle failed its mission to assassinate the Unicorn Thunder," he replied. "It was hurled off of the highways and into Downtown."

Kashrak laughed. "Do not worry, Munash," Kashrak said. "I will find your Pekkle. It must be very frightened to be in such a scary place after being pampered in your gardens. Mizu, go and fetch Pekkle." The oni nodded. It extended itself up into the shadows, pulled itself through the ceiling, and was gone.

"Thank you, Kashrak, but Pekkle can take care of itself," Munash replied. "The problem is that the oni has been seen. It can be connected to me. The Unicorn Thunder and the Dragon that assisted her must die."

Kashrak shrugged. "I have much to do, but I shall take care of it. Be well, Munash."

Munash nodded. His image faded from the puddle's surface. Kashrak turned, his face thoughtful. "Ah, well," he said. "Bringing down an Empire is such busy work. I suppose you're just another loose end now, my dear." He fixed his gaze on Zin. "I'm very sorry."

He advanced toward her, clicking the long talons on one hand as he approached. Zin was afraid, but the voices inside of her pushed away the fear. Their power grew like a white heat. She saw faces like cobras around the range of her vision, like Kashrak's but somehow purer. They leant her their strength. She gazed up at him defiantly. She felt herself grow strong, stronger than ever before. Kashrak brought his hand back, preparing to slash her throat. His talons flew downward. Zin pulled swiftly to one side, white magic flaring from her with such force she rent the chains from the wall. Kashrak's claws drew jagged marks across the stone where she had been. Zin scrambled away from him and staggered to her feet.

"We have returned," she said. Her voice was not entirely her own. The echoes of a thousand slumbering Naga spoke through her.

Kashrak turned, regarding her without surprise. "Ah," he said. "I see you have rediscovered the Akasha. That is the life-stream of all Naga that have ever been and will ever be. It is also the source of our race's disease, the infection that makes so many of us sleep. You are very fortunate, Zin. Most Abominations are not given permission to remain in the Akasha for long. I know I certainly was not."

"We will not suffer you to live, Kashrak," the voices said, using Zin as their conduit. She felt the pearl magic well up in her hands, despite the fact she had no pearls. Her body glowed with a ghostly white radiance.

Kashrak shook his head, clicking his tongue like a disapproving parent. "If you mean to strike me down, Akasha," Kashrak said, amusement in his voice, "then you should have selected a stronger weapon than this meager slip of a girl." Kashrak held out his hand and spoke a single word, a word of pure darkness and utter terror. Blackness swelled out from him, a spiritual darkness that had nothing to do with light. Zin could feel his Taint, his evil. She could feel it well from inside herself, pushing away the voices, extinguishing the strength they had given her. She crumpled to her knees shivering. She gazed up at him, her silver eyes full of fear. The radiance that had surrounded her was gone; the Akasha had withdrawn, pulled away by Kashrak's will.

"Have you puzzled it out yet?" Kashrak asked. His voice was full of spite and malice.

"You aren't severed," she spat. "You're still connected to the power of the Akasha!"

Kashrak smiled. "It is connected to me, more like. Much as a dog is connected to it's leash. If only you'd realized it sooner. I had such high hopes for you, Zin. You're such a clever girl."

Zin pushed back against the wall, slowly reaching for the makeshift blade. If he realized what she was up to, she would be dead in an instant. "How?" she asked. "How could an Abomination be linked to the Akasha?"

Kashrak scowled. "I have a powerful lineage, the son of the Qamar and the Shashakar, the chieftain and high priest of our race. I was born strong in magic, but strongly disfigured as well." He gestured with both hands to display his twisted body. "The pure-bred Naga would have nothing to do with a monster like me. They worked to sever me from their group consciousness, but could not. My power was greater than them all. They tried to kill me. I would not allow it. I bent the Akasha to my will, crippling my attackers. I killed my mother and father, then fled. Soon, I found my way to the Shadowlands.I invited a bit of Akuma's dark power into myself. No Naga in two thousand years has ever allowed himself to feel the power of the Taint, and for very good reason."

"You brought the Shadowlands Taint into the heart of the Akasha!" she exclaimed.

"Yes!" he