Perspective: xxxx

  My eyes did not flinch for a single second during my self-surgery. I watched the flesh fuse together coldly, the muscles reweaving themselves over the broken bone. When I recovered enough to move... I moved. My body was still devastated from the inside. Every movement was a silent scream. I crawled until I reached my horse. The horse was trembling, its skin shivering from cold and hunger, yet it surrendered to my weight when I mounted it. My form shifted automatically. The human "Samurai" mask descended over my face to hide the beast, but it could not hide the horror in my eyes.

  The march of shame had begun. There was an "agony" that stretched endlessly.

  Step... Clop... The horse’s hoof strikes the dry ground. The sound travels up its legs, through its saddle, striking directly into my shattered spine. Step... Clop... The cold breezes did not caress my face; they entered my open wounds like tiny razor blades. The smell of soil wet with my own blood filled my nose. A drop of blood falls from my arm... Tick... impacts the edge of the saddle. Another drop... Tick... falls onto the thirsty earth.

  My mind was as empty as a glacial desert. I watched the world pass by with deadly slowness. The trees waved at me like ghosts; the sky was heavy and gray, nearly crushing my chest. Then... I began to build the "Slaughterhouse" in my mind.

  I imagined the face of that whore, "Clara." And I imagined the face of that Fox. I hung them by iron chains piercing their heels, their heads dangling downward, their faces congested with blood. I saw myself there... holding precise instruments. A small scalpel... and a spoon. I would start with the skin. I would separate it from the flesh very slowly, millimeter by millimeter, ensuring they did not die. I would make them mirrors for one another. I would boil oil... not just any oil... oil mixed with salt and ash. I would pour it into their eyes... no, into their ears first, so they could hear the sound of their own heads boiling from the inside. I imagined ripping out the Fox's tongue and feeding it to the whore. I imagined opening her ribcage and showing her her own heart beating with betrayal before squeezing it in my hand.

  These images were disgusting, sticky, and smelled putrid... but they were beautiful. They were the fuel that made me endure every jolt of the horse. With every clop of the hoof... I flayed a new layer of their skin in my imagination.

  I reached Edo. The city appeared on the horizon like a stone monster swallowing the earth. I entered through the main gate. No one stopped me. My appearance was enough to silence the world. A samurai in torn clothes, his armor broken, black and red blood covering him like war paint, riding a skeletal horse foaming at the mouth.

  The people in the streets... stopped. The crowd parted automatically. They retreated backward, their backs pressed against the walls. The whispers began to hover around me like annoying flies: "Oh my God... look..." "It’s Dio the Oni..." "What happened to him? Did he return from Hell?" "Look at his eyes... he is a dead man walking..."

  I looked at them. Their terrified faces, their eyes widened with filthy curiosity. I hated them. I hated the life pulsing in their veins while I rotted from the inside. I wanted to jump off the horse and tear out the throat of that fat merchant... to gouge out the eye of that child pointing at me... to burn this wooden city and everyone in it. I wanted to hear the symphony of their screams instead of their trivial whispers. But I did not stop. I continued the march. My eyes fixed on the castle above.

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  I reached the palace courtyard. The Shogun’s guards stood there, their spears gleaming. When they saw me... they did not move. They did not block my path. They only looked on in shock. Their eyes roamed over my shattered body, the blood, the horse gasping its last breaths. The fear in their eyes was delicious.

  I passed them. The horse stopped at the marble stairs. It let out a long, painful exhale... then its legs collapsed. The horse fell dead. Its heart stopped. I didn't care. I pulled my leg out from under it. I stood... the bones screamed, but I stood. I walked... leaving trails of blood on the clean marble. I fell... I stood... I fell... I stood.

  Until I reached the Shogun’s door. I knocked with my stained hand. "Enter." I entered. and sat in the Seiza position before the Shogun (Ieyasu). I did not feel the pain in my shattered knee. I was smiling internally; I had finally reached the one who would quell my heart.

  Shogun Ieyasu said, looking at the pool of blood beginning to gather beneath me: "Do you not think you are being insolent? Coming to me in this state... blood and filth..." I raised my dead eyes to him and said with total calm: "Forgive me, Shogun... I was in a hurry. The fire in my chest does not wait." He narrowed his eyes: "I do not want details. Just tell me... is there a child of that person?" I said in a hollow voice: "Yes... I have confirmed it." The Shogun stood immediately. His blue eyes shone with the glint of war. "Samurai... prepare yourself." We are going to war.

  Perspective: Kage

  The rain was not just water. It was cold whips flogging my back. I was carrying Yuta. His small body was heavy... heavier than mountains. It was not the weight of flesh and bone, but... but... but. I did this. I looked at his beautiful, smiling face. Yes, I did this. A step in the mud... and a slip. I fell to my knees, but I did not let go of Yuta. I hugged him to my chest until his face was smeared with mud. I rose again. I must get him to his mother.

  I reached the village. I placed Yuta in the mud in the middle of the square. The foxes gathered. The mother came, the father came. The screaming began... The mother tearing her clothes, the father screaming his son's name, shaking him, trying to blow life into him. But I remained standing... silent as a statue of ice. I know... The Oni does not make mistakes. That snap was the end.

  I dropped to my knees in the mud. I closed my eyes, isolating myself from the noise of the world. I began to whisper, my lips barely moving: "O-Ma..." "O-Ma... this report is for you." "O-Ma... I failed... save him." No reply. Only the sound of rain hitting my face. "O-Ma... please." "O-Ma... I am your obedient shadow." "O-Ma... save the child... I will give you the report... I will give you my soul."

  O-Ma, you won't save him, will you? Am I that cheap? I felt a chill sweep through my soul, colder than the rain. I bowed until my forehead touched the muddy ground. I stayed there, humiliated, broken, alone. "O-Ma..."

  And suddenly... Something changed in the atmosphere. The rain stopped whipping and turned into a soft mist. I felt warmth... not the warmth of fire, but the warmth of life. I raised my head slowly. An emerald green light was emanating from everywhere... from the trees, from the grass, from the raindrops themselves. A wild light, ancient and tender. A gentle, lyrical voice filled the air: "I am Kina... Mother of all light and shadow..." "With a thousand kisses, I embrace your hearts, my dear children."

  The light flowed toward Yuta's small body. Right before my eyes... I heard the sound of bones returning to place. Click. Color returning to his face. The chest rising. A deep gasp of air. "H... Ah..." Yuta opened his eyes. My tears froze in my eyes. The Goddess I do not worship... The Goddess I came to kill... saved him.

  O-Ma, she answered me, so why didn't you answer me? Why wasn't it you who answered me?

  I looked behind me. "The Samurai" was standing there. His clothes torn, panting with extreme exhaustion, his body covered in bruises. But when he saw Yuta wake up... he smiled. He smiled at me. An exhausted, sad smile, but pure. The Samurai returned victorious from his battle with the Oni... and life returned to Yuta by a miracle. But I... I am still Kage.