Waves crashed upon the rockfaces, and gulls cried in the distance, black clouds covered the heavens pierced by forks of lightning. Bobbing upon the waves was the wreckage of a great leviathan scattered across the coast, splinters of the king of the seas. And clinging to life a sickly figure rode a driftwood door still somehow intact. Drifting aimlessly the wreckage followed the whims of the current. Slowly spreading out before washing upon shingled shores. And clambering up from the soaked wood he had come upon, a lone figure. A sickly shivering mess made a hesitant first step onto the cold shore, before collapsing; embracing the sharp shingles.

  Yuki sucked in the cold winter air; her muscles tensed as she drew back her bow. Reluctantly the great bow flexed and bent, back, back, all the way back as she drew the arrow to its head. Then just as the steel tip met the groaning stave of the bow, she let go. Almost as if slipping, speeding away from her, the arrow flew straight. Thudding into a post it drove straight through, pinning itself to the centre of the target.

  A sigh escaped her lips, and her muscles relaxed as she saw the result. Turning around she puffed out her chest standing to attention before her judges. Three wealthy, well dressed, grizzled men watched her dispassionately, the oldest sucked on his pipe.

  “Well done, Joen it seems your daughter has some skill.”

  A middle-aged man, his face bearing several scars turned to his elder “Thank you lord Hatamoto, your praise is excellent.” A look of relief crossed across his otherwise stoic face. He leant on his right elbow, or rather what was left of it. The end terminated in a fleshy nub, lost long ago in dire battle.

  “She can draw a bow father, there is more to a warrior than just that” the youngest man sneered. Handsome and arrogant he sipped a bowl of sake as he watched.

  “It is a full warrior’s Yumi[1]! she hit the bullseye at 150 yards! She is ready to fight for the clan.” Yuki’s father objected, raising his stub of an arm in agitation.

  “Hah! You say that since you cannot father a son! Just marry her off to someone already, you cripple!”

  “Enough, I am the master of this clan! Her worth is to be proven to me.” the eldest man said with agitation.

  Silence fell on the courtyard, broken only by a slight breeze scattering small snowflakes fluttering in the breeze. The cry of gulls echoed in the distance bemoaning the clouded sky. Taking a deep breath, the old leader of the clan spoke.

  “Yuki Ryujin, how skilled are you in the use of a blade?” Her heart pounded in her chest she needed to impress him to advance she needed to show she was a worthy warrior.

  “I am proficient with the blade and can demonstrate if the great Hatamoto wills it” she said, Yuki felt her stomach tighten under the gaze of Hatamoto Ryuji; beads of sweat formed on her skin. Dam that spoilt grandson of his! She knew that Hatamoto would have accepted her performance if it wasn’t for his goading.

  The silence continued; Yuki’s stomach continued to tighten. Had she offended Lord Hatamoto? Was her fear showing? Had she not sounded confident enough?

  As these thoughts raced in her head Lord Hatamoto inverted his pipe letting the used ash fall to the ground

  “Then demonstrate! Goemon my child you shall spar with her!”.

  The younger man turned to his elder, a scowl across his face.

  “Spar with her?”

  “Of course… you yourself said there’s more to being a warrior than drawing a bow, well then you should be more than qualified to demonstrate this” Lord Hatamoto Ryujin gestured to the sullen retainers in the background who brought two wooden blades to the yard.

  “The first to draw blood wins… after which I shall decide” he said as another Retainer dutifully refilled his smoking pipe. Goemon staggered upwards shoving his sake bowl towards a servant, before snatching the training weapon from his retainer.

  Yuki also grabbed a wooden blade stepping into position, bowing to Goemon.

  “Thank you, lord Goemon, for this opportunity to prove myself”. She said stiffly. She would enjoy landing a blow on him.

  “Don’t get your hopes up, I will break those little hands of yours, then you’ll get to match your father.” He hissed, his breath reeking of sake. Yuki bit her tongue, even if he would one day be her liege lord. She would enjoy teaching him respect this one time.

  The two separated to the edges of the square, eyes never leaving their opponent. Goemon took a strong stance his blade held above his head; Yuki gripped her blade her fingers closing around it’s hilt. Lord Hatamoto took a deep drag from his pipe, time slowed as tension filled the air.

  Yuki watched Goemon, she had seen him spar before. He had always emphasized power, indeed it looked like he would try a devastating blow. Even if she were more skilled, he could still land a hit, one strong enough to make his threat reality.

  She closed her eyes, she couldn’t defend, he would break any block she tried. And his reach was much greater than hers. She needed to even the odds, her eyes opened, focused on him on striking quickly. Lunging from out of his reach, she could see the steps, she just needed to be fast enough.

  Then Hatamoto blew out a cloud of smoke “Begin!” he barked briskly.

  Yuki sprang forwards her blade spearing forwards towards Goemon, he swung downwards. The world was a blur as Yuki charged forwards, both fast and slow. The Snowflakes danced on the wind, and gulls cried in the skies. Stormy waves churned on rocks far away.

  Yuki dashed backwards, ducking narrowly below the whistling of Goemon's bamboo blade. Geomon on his part stumbled, groaning stiffly as he lost his balance. She had done it; she had felt it. A solid hefty connection between the practice sword and his chest. Heart pounding, she grinned.

  Goemon shot a venomous glare at Yuki “How dare you” he hissed.

  “Goemon!” Lord Hatamoto barked, his beard bristling in irritation. Taking a long drag of his pipe he sighed, “Yuki, I will consider your role as a member of the Clan. As a warrior of the Ryuji, in the meantime continue to hone your skills and behave with honour”.

  A cloud of smoke obscured his face “Goemon, I will have a talk with you… on your conduct and attitude. And what is acceptable for an heir of the Ryuji Clan”. He said, followed by an ominous pause.

  Then as the sky above grew thick with black clouds Lord Hatamoto dismissed them with a smoky cough. Bowing Low, Yuki kowtowed, her face a mask. Goemon bowed sharply, his face as black as the storm above, then marched away, humiliated.

  Yuki stumbled away feeling light, the tension in her body once strung like a yumi had disappeared. Joen rushed up to his daughter, his scarred face obscuring her vision. He wrapped what was left of his arm around her waist, embracing her affectionately.

  Yuki smiled; she realised she was going to become a clan warrior. Her families honour, her ambitions, they were all going to come true.

  Yet as they walked into the castle rooms a feeling of unease settled on Yuki. As the skies above swirled in thunderous turmoil, the winds of change blew into a gale.

  ***

  A few days had passed, and Yuki now sat polishing her sword, a beautiful katana passed down through the ages from father to son, and now daughter. Its metal shone with her reflection atop a pattern of wavering ripples dancing across its edge.

  She frowned at the sight of her white hair, evidence of her mother’s side. Shaking her head she refocused, after Goemon’s defeat she’d hoped for some acknowledgment from Lord Hatamoto. But since that day she’d had not a word, not a messenger to congratulate her, nor an invitation from him to at least hint at an initiation. Scrubbing the blade more harshly she wondered if in fact he was still considering her, or if she had performed an act to bring her reputation into question.

  Yuki placed her head in her hands frowning into the shining blade when the whisper of a partition sliding reached her ears. Face tilting up she met the giddy smile of her father; he had been elated ever since she beat Goemon. Although secretive as well.

  “Yuki, I see you’re taking care of your sword”.

  “Indeed father, I must have it prepared for when I’m finally initiated, when Lord Hatamoto finally decrees it”.

  “Yuki” Joen said shaking his head “You must be patient. Lord Hatamoto has many duties, he may take even another month to decree you a warrior” he said, taking pity on her youthful haste.

  “Up to a month” she whispered to herself. What if he changed his mind in that time? She worried, perhaps she might even need to prove herself again. She frowned at the idea of facing Goemon once more, he had been cocky last time and drunk too. He’d probably defeat her the next time, maybe even break her hand as promised.

  A firm hand ruffled her hair, looking up she saw her father beaming down.

  “Yuki don’t worry. I have something that will cheer you up” he laughed.

  “What?” She asked peevishly, did he know something she did not?

  Joen gave a knowing smile. She let him lead her into a room where there was a set of armour.

  It glimmered in the newly set sun. Hammered iron scales layered upon each other in solid plates of lamellar. Fronted with leather, each row was painted in alternating blue and white, representing the proud colours of their clan. The blue sea below and white clouds above their mountain hold. It looked familiar. Indeed, Yuki quickly realised it was her father’s set, but it had been refitted for a smaller body. Her body. Not only that but the familiar dents had been hammered out and worn buckles replaced entirely. The peeling paint touched up and refreshed. It seemed completely new to her despite its familiarity.

  Yuki stepped up slowly and stroked the panoply gently. Looking back, she gave her father a hopeful look.

  “Can I put it on?”.

  Joens smile widened, “of Course!” he said, “Put it on!”

  Yuki Lifted the cuirass above her head and slipped it over her chest, fastening it above her hips. Greaves, bracers, pauldrons, and helmet. The whole set a Warrior might need. She looked at herself in the mirror her sharp face framed by the magnificent helm, a few strands of snow-white hair poking out from underneath.

  She admired her image; she could see it now. Riding to battle as a Warrior of the clan, bow in hand, wearing such a fine panoply. Defeating raiders and slaying Oni, she would bring honour not only to herself but her father and Clan Ryuji.

  Giddily she twirled around glancing at herself from the rear. Not a blemish or imperfection, not even a scratch. It covered front to back and side to side. A mighty armour for a mighty swordswoman. Yuki’s grin grew wider and wider.

  A knock at the door interrupted Yuki’s revery. Turning abruptly, she regained her poise, focusing she turned her face into one of sombre humility.

  “Enter” Joen called. The partition slid open revealing a solemn faced retainer who bowed low.

  “The great Hatamoto would like your presence at his court” he said in a monotone. No ominous forbearance or hint of hope. Only the dryness of day-to-day duties.

  Yuki gave her father a hopeful look, which was returned with a bright smile. Carefully removing the armour, Yuki followed the retainer. He walked quickly, and Yuki strode stiffly, attempting to disguise her impatience, yet her steps were swift, and she was ever only a pace behind those of her guide.

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  Rounding several corners and crossing the courtyard Yuki was led into the central keep. A dominating tower of wood and stone, tiled roofs swept down giving the impression of an ominous frown as it surveyed its surroundings.

  But soon Yuki was inside and crossing a heavily guarded partition entered the courtroom. At its centre sat Lord Hatamoto, stroking his beard contemplatively; an incessant stream of smoke pouring from his pipe. Reclining next to him Goemon was downing a bottle of sake. Surrounding them sat retainers in fine dress and filling the air was the calming notes of a shamisen.

  Yet the Retainers all had a look of disquiet upon their faces, and the music had a languid effect. In a corner sat curled up was a strange figure, wrapped in rags, only its emaciated arms showing. For a second, she wondered if some strange form of Yokai had been caught but pushed it from her mind. Stepping forwards, Yuki once more felt dread and Anxiety, the twisting of her gut returned. And with it doubt filled her mind. Lord Hatamoto’s eyes caught hers and with a slight gesture motioned her towards him.

  Carefully, and with poise. Yuki made her way towards the clear space before the Lord Hatamoto. And with grave sincerity Yuki prostrated herself before the lord’s seat.

  “Yuki Ryujin, you have come before me to fulfil your families’ duties as a warrior of the Clan, one who protects the lands of our great Kuge lord and follows the precepts of the divine Emperor” Yuki’s heart pounded as Hatamoto rasped.

  “You have demonstrated skill with bow and sword and inherit the loyalty of your father” Yuki felt her cheeks blush with pride.

  “However,” the word croaked out hoarsely. A verbal arrow whistling through the courtroom; and unsettled Yuki.

  “To ascertain your worth to the Clan you will be assigned a task, which is to deliver this to the imperial capital.” and at a gesture the odd figure was brought out before the court. Bundled in tattered rags it hobbled out stumbling then coming to an unsteady stop before Lord Hatamoto. Softly the rags slid down revealing a face, as pale as it’s white arms. Its nose was hawkish, and eyes sunken.

  Yuki realised with a start it was a human, but not like any she’d seen before. But there were subtle differences, perhaps in the proportion of the face. His tallness. But most striking was his hair, a pale yellow, like straw or gold.

  “Father just kill it, it’s probably some marooned pirate or Yokai in disguise” Goemon whined, his face still deep in his sake cup.

  “No Goemon we have already discussed this; I do not think he is a Yokai. But he is an Omen, and our lord in the capital must be shown this specimen”.

  Goemon rolled his eyes and went back to his bottle.

  “Yuki Ryujin, it is the duty of warriors to faithfully serve their clans in all aspects. If you can fulfil this labour and bring him to the imperial court, then you will have demonstrated your dedication to our clan. And will be recognised formally as a Bushi”.

  …

  Yuki rubbed the oily cloth across her blade. Every warrior knew that proper weapon maintenance was key to success. Look after your weapon and it shall look after you.

  Was the reason she’d say she was doing it. But the truth was she needed to vent. It had been polished to a mirror sheen hours ago, but she needed to quell her frustration. This squirming in her stomach that wouldn’t let her stand still. Why couldn’t Lord Hatamoto just declare her a warrior of the Clan, she could shoot. She could ride, and she’d even beaten that drunkard Goemon.

  And yet? He was demanding she drag some foreigner to the capitol… and in the middle of winter no less!

  Furiously she polished the sword, then sharpened it vigorously before returning to furious polishing. So intent was she that she was taken by surprise by a familiar voice.

  “Yuki” stated Lord Hatamoto ominously. Startled Yuki jumped to her feet; the old man stood nonchalantly inspecting his smoking pipe.

  With horror Yuki realised she’d drawn her blade and immediately dropped to her knee.

  “Forgive me my liege, I did not mean to draw my blade” this prompted a chuckle.

  “Oh, you did, and that is good, for it shows quick reflexes; even when surprised. A good trait for a Bushi”.

  A heavy silence fell upon the room, Yuki felt Lord Hatamoto’s presence and a blush of shame rose within. Lord Hatamoto for his part stood idling, absent mindedly fidgeting with his pipe.

  “I suppose you feel neglected, that you have already proven yourself and should be allowed to succeed your father already”.

  Shame blushed on Yuki’s still face “o-of course not my liege, I should not question your wisdom.”

  Lord Hatamoto sent a piercing glare. Like that of a master jeweller appraising a promising stone.

  “Do not lie to me, I’m far too old for that… many would feel as you do. However, there is more to being a warrior than firing a bow or swinging a sword. On campaign and times of war a Bushi must be ready to engage in long trudges and toils to secure victory”

  Yuki nodded she was aware of this prepared of this. But why did she have to prove this when no other warrior of the clan had to. As if he perceived her very thoughts the Hatamoto continued.

  “A journey through these mountains” he gestured out past the window “down to the capital, is arduous at the best of times when spring has passed, and the summer fills the Hyuji range. In winter it is now perilous, danger stalks the lonely roads. And screaming wind of ice and sleet bombards it. This is more than a test, but a mission for which I am shorthanded. Complete this task and all doubts, even from one such as Goemon may turn to respect. Even if reluctant.”

  The words struck a note of recognition. And perhaps Lord Hatamoto was right, that even as a Bushi people like Goemon or his cronies would still look down on her. But if she overcame such a dangerous trial, she wouldn’t just prove herself. She would have prestige…

  “I understand, my liege, I will do my duty as a Warrior of the Clan” her face softening. The Hatamoto looked at her almost nostalgically, then he shook his head.

  “Then understand that you must prepare, outside of my lands, a bed and dinner will not be guaranteed. You will need Heavy winter clothes; a horse will be ideal to preserve your strength… and to run down the foreigner should he attempt escape.”

  “My weapons and Armour will be necessary too. In case I encounter beasts and monsters in lonely places” she mused.

  “Too heavy and it will slow you down, unless you intend the prisoner to carry it?”

  Yuki nodded; it would be impractical to wear it constantly. But she was loath to leave it, besides it would help wear down her ‘companion’.

  Then Lord Hatamoto gave a wry smile.

  “There is one more matter, my second cousin lives in the capital as an official. I have not seen him in long years, if he still lives that is. I will send a latter down with you, for his eyes only.”

  He watched her for a moment thinking perhaps to say something else before suddenly leaving, silent footsteps leading away from the room. Yuki breathed a sigh of relief, stress and anger loosed like the tension after a bow shot. Turning away she looked outside to the pale winter noon.

  Outside bare cherry blossoms sat leafless in the courtyard, surrounded by frostiness. The steaming breath of hurrying servants and lovely ladies visible in the cold air. Then she gazed out past the slanted roofs of the ancient castle, past the venerable gatehouse, past the countless rice paddies barren but for icy water.

  And her gaze flew past even that, following the land up and up, past bare trees and dull grasses. Higher and higher over frozen ponds and bright mountain shrines, following the winding road as it ascended. Then the white caps visible through wreaths of grey clouds, snow falling ceaselessly.

  Yuki shivered before returning to polishing her blade.

  …

  Upstairs in a guarded room, or more accurately a bare cell. A ragged figure paced with desperate fervour. On the floor beneath were strange symbols scrawled hurriedly yet not haphazardly. Cryptic words and suggestive signs contained within near perfect circles.

  Worriedly its drawer stared at it, as if about to reconsider. His wild sandy hair framed blue sunken eyes. Then suddenly he shifted and went to the symbols, sitting down almost reverently tracing it with his fingers. Over and over, all the while muttering gibberish under his breath. His brows furrowed and a bead of sweat slowly crawled down his face, breathing became ragged and each movement more laboured.

  Then shaking he plunged his free hand into the ragged remains of a pocket and drew out a copper band. Plain and unadorned yet shining with fresh polish.

  Slowly he dangled it from his fingers over the symbols, then dropping it precisely in the centre. All the while a faint light began to shine in the dark room, not neither window nor torch, but seemingly from the symbol itself, growing and intensifying with every passing second. With every motion of the man’s finger the dim light grew. Reflecting in his glassy eyes that gazed not on the symbol but past it to some far horizon.

  Then with a final shuddering spasm he clasped the ring, and the shadows danced as the symbol seemingly, blindingly, burnt a bright blue.

  The room was still. Sunlight from outside trickled in, a shaft revealing a glinting ring. But now it was adorned with symbols, complex yet clear. Stooping over it the prisoner plucked it from the floor, his cracked lips breaking into a satisfied smile. Where the symbol on the floor had been was now merely a patch of scorched stone.

  …

  Yuki looked at her reflection. She combed her white hair down, checked her appearance and with a furrowed brow went back to combing. She was practically ready; the provisions had been gathered and two horses saddled. A stout pony and her personal stallion, the stallion had been named Tabi for the white markings that spread down from his ankles to his hooves. He was stout and swift and not easily startled.

  She’d said goodbye to her hunting hounds she hoped they’d understand her absence, and knew they’d wait for her even if she never returned. Glancing to the corner of her room she spied her weapons leaning against the wall with silent menace. She’d doubled her practice hours, but still…

  The thought of being alone in the wild and some manner of demon or beast bearing down on her, sent a chill down her spine.

  She stared into her reflection’s pale blue eyes. What truly scared her was leaving, and what if it didn’t go well? The question horrified her, what if her horse threw her off before she even started, or something fell of the packhorse, or if it began raining?

  Her appearance had to be perfect. She smoothed out her thick blue haramake for what felt like the 100th time. Presentation was key. If she were to die on the road did, she want the last memory of her to be of a scared slovenly girl? Maybe she needed a little makeup? Something to bring out her cheeks, or to brighten her lips? A touch-up to remove those little imperfections that niggled at her now and then.

  She stared at herself for a good minute before shaking her head. No this would do. She couldn’t keep them waiting. Turning away she picked up her bag, carefully packed with her most private belongings. She holstered her weapons. Inspecting the strapping as she did, giving a firm tug to ensure they were fixed.

  She opened the partition to meet a grey faced retainer who bowed swiftly before turning down the corridor. Yuki followed. She passed through a short main corridor, as familiar to her as her own hand before coming to the courtyard.

  The barren cherry blossom sacred to her clan stood mournfully over the procession, several retainers and lesser servants busying themselves with final checks fixing the saddles and packs for the horses, Socks stamped the ground impatiently while his brown coat was brushed. It would be his last brushing for a while. Below the tree stood a shrine maiden, giving prayer for safe passage to the mountain gods.

  Her father was the first to greet her, embracing her tightly.

  “I just want to let you know how incredibly proud I am of you” he said sobbing into her shoulder.

  “Father…” Yuki said with a blush “I won’t be gone for long, I’ll come back, and I’ll be a warrior just like you are.” Tears welled up in her eyes.

  Even as she said this the magnitude of her journey sank in; she had never left her clan’s lands before. And such a long journey always had its risks, she might not see him for years. Maybe ever.

  A callous laugh broke this train of thought. Goemon came sauntering in behind Lord Hatamoto, besides him was an unfamiliar figure. It took her a moment to realise this was the Castaway whom she was to escort.

  He was considerably cleaner than when they had last met and clothed in a thick kimono with a grey haori. However, he was still strange in appearance. Tall and pale with yellowish hair which was now bound into a ponytail. Yet, his boyish face had a look of cunning about it. His eyes darted side to side, and his body tensed and untensed as if ready to bolt. It was a look she could recognise. That of a fox caught in a trap.

  Then Lord Hatamoto gave Goemon a stern look before addressing the assembly.

  “The weather is good. I’m glad. Since when it is bad it gives my old joints such issues.” A retainer came up and handed him his pipe and taking a long drag he started again.

  “Yuki … as a member of the Ryuji clan you have volunteered to take this castaway to the capital. This foreigner is a clear omen. And only the imperial diviners can tell us what he means, what he means, what he could mean, may mean little or much. Yet I would rather know, and we have always needed more presence in the emperor’s court. So, Yuki, you will, in the depth of winter, travel the length Hanyyen to do this most important duty for the clan. And if completed successfully, you will honour your father’s name, and be recognized as a warrior of the Ryuji clan.”

  Pride swelled in her chest, and her resolve hardened. This would be difficult, but her ascension would be all the sweeter. And maybe even Goemon would start to show her some respect?

  Lord Hatamoto took a deep breath from his pipe as he concluded his speech and stroked his beard meaningfully. Took a glance at the sky and muttered.

  “Well, I’m not getting any younger, you might as well go before it starts raining”. With the pomp and circumstance concluded, the assemblage busied themselves with the last of their duties. Goemon however approached Yuki dragging the castaway behind him.

  “Well, well, well, I was hoping you’d quit by now. Our clan needs capable Bushi, not the daughters of cripples” he said casting a disdainful gaze to Yuki’s father.

  Yuki instinctively took a step towards Goemon, though she quickly felt her father’s hand around her clenched fist.

  “Oh well I’m sure the mountains will weed out any weakness, I doubt you’ll be found till spring”.

  Yuki forced a smile.

  “I’m sure I’ll be back by then, certainly before you finish your etiquette classes” the two stared angrily at each other. Then suddenly Goemon thrust a rope into her hands.

  “Hold onto it tightly, succeed and I might keep you around” she heard him snarl. Yuki’s eyes watched Goemon as he stomped back to his grandfather. Then back to the thread following it back to its source, a bind around the foreigner’s neck. A leash. Tugging It sharply she dragged him closer, he stumbled closer. She looked him in the eyes, Goemon was right at least on this. She needed to always keep her eyes on him.

  She looked out to the gate, the long road ahead and the uncertain future that awaited her. Then to her father, his familiar scars and kind face. Mournfully she hugged him one last time. And steeling herself mounted Tabi and started him at a walk. Her prisoner, and now travel companion for the foreseeable future following with bound hands. Behind him the packhorse laden with the armour, the tent, equipment and supplies they would need.

  Exiting the castle, she started down a long mountain path that curled spiralled to the valley below. Glancing back, she watched as the body of the mountain obscured the gatehouse. Then the outer towers. And finally, the great peaked roof of the great keep disappearing behind.

  Now alone, she let a tear fall.

  A yumi is the traditional weapon of the warrior class, their construction can take an entire year to complete and developing the muscles to use one can almost a decade.

  A katana is a slightly curved blade used as a side-arm by the warrior class.

  A stringed instrument commonly found across Hanyyen.

  Bushi is the name of the warrior class who fight as elite horse archers in return for land grants.

  Unisex skirts traditionally worn by Bushi and Shrine Maidens.

  [6] Haori are overcoats worn over kimono's in cold weather.