Fires In The Night

Flashes in the night.

‘Tell the men to set up camp for the night, we rest here and march forward at sunup.” Haddock barked to his translator, Hijo, a stout man not a day over thirty. The group made camp underneath a group of cherry blossoms, some of which were already in fool bloom, despite it being so early into the season. The falling leaves were quite a site to behold and would often fall on the men as they worked, it would’ve been a more touching sight to burly American if he hadn’t become acutely aware at that moment that he was rather allergic to cherry blossoms and subsequently, he  walked away from camp and towards an outcropping from which he could see the coast.     He was tired, not simply sleepy, but instead he was overcome by a deep and pervading sense of raw exhaustion that hadn’t felt in a long time. This feeling was only made worse as He looked up and his eyes met the dying sun, perched just over the horizon like a lover doomed to leave for a foreign land. The sky, if only for the briefest of periods, was a bright orange hue that lit everything it touched with an amber glow. A pious man would call this site a miracle, a painter a perfect opportunity, a poet would remove his men, he simply hated how it messed with his eyes. He gripping about this rather minor annoyance was heightened even further with contrasted with the actions of His men, who ever mindful remained focused on their work, setting up tents and preparing cooking fires with the utmost timeliness and proficiency.  He opted to instead gaze at the sunset for a few moments more, drinking in both , as his wife was fond of saying, it’s “magnificent splendor” and his own , more earthly “magnificent splendor”, namely a bottle of cheap corn liquor he purchased in town that morning.  After drinking about half the bottle’s contents, which was precisely enough to make him sleep, but not enough to dream, he turned back from the now freshly set sun and once again ordered the young Hijo to his side. “Now, listen son, I want you to repeat this words as soon I say them and just as I same, no embellishments, no lies, no malarkey, or ill cut your tongue, we clear son?” The young man, unsure as to whether or not what he just heard was a bit of friendly banter or an actual statement of a punishment for failure,  laughed momentarily and then promptly cleared his throat. Haddock then addressed his men, a few trained imperial soldiers looking to escape roll call, an Englishman itching for a fight, who he had met at port, a local hunter, with a twitch in his left eye, who also held a rather unsettling fascination with fur pelts and pelt accessories   and a few peasants eager for spending money and a day away from the rice harvest. A professional army this was not, but then again, this was not a professional job and  he was not a professional anything anymore, save maybe a professional fool.  “Listen Up, today gentleman we are on a hunt, our prey is one Nojo Hanjo, you might better know him, as Two Knifes Hanjo or, if you read a paper within the last quarter century, the butcher of kagoshima.” He paused, he wanted to gauge the reaction of his men to the words, once they were translated properly of course.” He noticed the peasants knees begin to tremble and sweat begin to form on their brow, even though it was a rather crisp night.” He had seen that look, like a man about to charge straight into the beasts’ lair, that look a man gets when he knows he will most likely die soon, but desperately clings to the hope that he might not. He seen it in the eyes of boys at Gettysburg, Antietam, Shiloh, he seen it in his own eyes once, long ago.  The Englishman, simply gritted he teeth with anticipation, the fool was either too proud or too stupid to know what exactly he had gotten himself into, if haddock was betting man and he most certainly was, he guessed both. He supposed that the coming morning would decide how good he hedged his bets on the matter. The Imperial Soldiers, although they hid it well, were just as scared as their peasant counterparts, superficially they would serve the emperor until their dying breath, but unofficially, they would’ve ran at that instant if they weren’t afraid of being hung for desertion.  Haddock had seen this look also, he learned long ago that men will pledge themselves to many things, but when pressed, will often serve only themselves.  Lastly, the hunter, a man by the name of Kiro, simply glared back at him with little to no reaction, truly an odd fellow.

“Now, I know this man is of some infamy is this land, but know that we you will be paid handsomely when his head is delivered to the court, a price of 500 koku for everyman who aids in his capture, plus another to the man who kills him.” Once again he waited for a response for his tentative audience, indeed the promise of money did much to lighten the moods of many of the men, much to haddock’s relief, he didn’t need men fleeing the fight and leaving him to die on some lunatic’s spearpoint.. “Now get some rest and be ready to march in line next sunrise, dismissed.” He added the dismissed purely for effect, there were no actually ranks in his little band, technically they were all “officers of the peace”, how exactly one gets peace through murdering a man was beyond him, but perhaps it was another facet of this land he was doomed to be forever ignorant of. He then joined his men by the campfire, were the group traded stories and legends, sometimes about monsters, pretty foxes, vengeful spirits, but eventually the story drifted to the main plot of the night, the story of Nojo Hanjo, the butcher of kagoshima. It was said that he was once a good and noble samurai, indeed the most honorable lord in the country, however he was also a rather vain man, who eventually forged a pact with Bishamontin, the war god, where he would trade the souls of the innocent in exchange for a path to the imperial throne. It was said that he summoned a vengeful spirit, Asakura, to due his bidding for him and it was that spirit who collect the souls of the innocent to bring to Bishamontin for sacrifice.  Therefore whoever challenges Hanjo, challenges Asakura, and whoever challenges Asakura, will not live to see another sunrise. Ironic, he thought, wait what was he thinking,  the man was probably just a doddering fool who got creative with a few local tales, if there was a demon, why would it allow an armed group to come so close to Hanjo’s castle? He laughed off the tale and yawned. He was ready to rest, so he went into his tent and  threw out his bedroll, the cloth spooling along the ground with an accompanying gust of dust and other particles. He took a final swig from his flask and promptly went to bed, eager to rise in the morning and finish his damned task.   He instead awoke several minutes later to the sounds of panicked shooting and screams. He immediately ran out of his tent, grabbing nothing save his revolver and cigar and immediately became acquainted with the sight of three of his men, the hunter and two imperial soldiers slain, their throats cut as they slept. He then suddenly heard a rustling in the trees and out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a blackened shadow, no bigger than a child, darting from branch to branch. With astonishing pace it leaped like a specter, always being one step ahead of his eyes and three steps ahead of his aim.  It would  occasionally dart into the underbrush, which would lead to more panic amongst the men, more screams, more ammunition wasted as they fired wildly into the thick grass. This last fact was made doubly annoying by the fact that half of his men had muzzle loaders, long rifles that require an age and an epoch to rechamber and fire. This gave the phantom ample time to catch a man while he was reloading and turn his abdomen into a fine cut of Swiss. Such as when the phantom caught a peasant, a boy by the name of takahiro as he attempted to flee the camp, all haddock saw were the flashes of light it’s sword made as it steel reflected the moonlight, the poor boy died before hitting the ground.  Haddock saw this and order his remaining, namely Gerald, the Englishman, hanzo, th e remaining imperial, his translator hijo who was actually cowering in his tent, excrement staining his sheets and ako, the last remaining peasant boy, to make a circle with their backs to the fire. The thinking being that whatever this phantom was, it would have to attempt a direct attack if it wanted to take anymore of his men.  His assumption was correct, as not a moment later did the spirit charge his makeshift line. It was a limber creature, skin as black as midnight with a frightening mask, something akin to afoul creature, it’s face wrapped in a snarl, as a face. Even in that briefest of moments he could feel a cold chill move down his spine, however that too was replaced by a red-hot feeling or urgency as she drew ever closer.  Only the shots from his own pistol even made contact, grazing the specter once in the shoulder. The creature quickly dropped to the ground, clearly, it had never been shot before.  Haddock stood there, awestruck, he expected more a fight. He saw a flow of crimson bubbling up from the whole he had freshly made. He never knew demons could bleed or for that matter, groan. The “creature” began softly moaning in apparent pain, like a lamb caught in a thicket. He removed it’s mask only to discover that it wasn’t not a demon at all, but a beautiful young women, with raven hair and scarlet eyes.  “What the hell are you.”? He spat out it. “You shouldn’t have done that, you shouldn’t be alive, you will not corrupt my nation, my father will defeat you, I promise.” Said she In a low voice.  “Ma’am do you know what they call your father around these parts.” Replied haddock. “Yes, I do, they call him a butcher, lies and filth spread by men who wish to hand this nation over to foreign dogs, such as yourself.” Asakura spat back, venomously.  “Mam, who exactly do you think he killed?” “ A family of traitors and criminals, nothing more.” “He killed families mam, he killed my wife, my son and my daughter, burnt as they slept .” “Or, rather, you did as I take it you set the fire?” “ Why?” Her voice stammered, sweat formed on her brow, she had a look of fear in her eyes, just like she had given the men she had killed not moments before. He appreciated the irony.  “I…. I didn’t know, I thought, I thought..” She then got up and walked  away into the grove of trees, they attempted to restrain her, yet she simply walked forward with the strength of a thousand men.  Hours later she returned with the head of the man she formerly called father, placed into haddock’s hands and drifted into the winds.