Daigo was holding the reins of the horse, steering as inside of the carriage sat Prince Tomotaka, Karo Masanori, and Rei. The travel towards the Mongolian camp was different for everyone. For Daigo, it was tranquil. The path he took was full of cherry blossoms with petals falling. He was able to steer the horses in peace and quiet, only hearing the birds. For Masanori, the ride was painful. The entire time the imperial prince and I bickered back and forth. Masanori attempted to calm us both down, but his attempts were of no use.
Prince Tomotaka at one point muttered, "I don't know why they sent me on my first mission with the help."
This comment, of course, infuriated me, and I didn't hold my tongue either.
"Help? The Karo and I are going to have to carry your useless ass through this mission," I said.
Masanori's attempts were useless, and at a certain point he just tuned us out and went to sleep, snoring so loud that we actually stopped bickering because we were too busy focusing on his snoring. He didn't even know it, but at least his snoring got us to shut up.
Soon enough we made it to the reconnaissance area. The carriage came to a full stop, and Masanori awoke from his slumber fully ready as if he had done this hundreds of times. Daigo parked the carriage a little ways away from a cliff that was overlooking the Mongolian camp so it couldn't be seen, and Masanori went into the storage compartment in order to retrieve a small telescope. The three of us crouched down approaching this cliff.
Masanori handed me the telescope and said, "I want you to tell us what you see, Rei. Planning out your attack is almost more important than the attack itself. You never want to go into a mission blind."
I looked into the telescope only to find a sight I had never seen before. The Mongolians sat there around a fire laughing, sharpening their weapons, and eating. Tents were up around a huge tent on an open grassy field. They all wore some type of iron or hardened leather armor, shoulder guards, and their helmets either on or near their person. They used torn Japanese banners as their rags and fire starter, cages had been filled with prisoners, and some Japanese natives were dead, their bodies impaled by pikes sitting firmly in the ground.
I was furious, and my anger began swelling more and more. All I wanted to do was take out the monsters sitting below me. They were animals, and I wanted to treat them as such. They didn't deserve to treat my home the way they have.
I relayed all of the information I saw, and as I did, I began walking back to the carriage for my armor.
Masanori quickly followed behind me and asked, "What is your plan, Rei? Are you going to rush in there and slaughter them all yourself?"
"Yes," I answered coldly.
Masanori chuckled and said, "If you charge in now, you will never win. Those are brutes who have no feelings. That's how they were raised; they have no standards. They killed their first man before you could even properly fight with a katana. Rei, you have never even taken another man's life."
I stopped dead in my tracks, my back still turned to Masanori. I let his words sit in my mind, contemplating them. I had never taken the life of another human being. The only fights I had ever been in were duels. I never had to truly fight for my life, and that scared me.
"You're right," I said. "Is it a bad thing to say I am scared?"
Masanori walked up to me, placing his hand on my shoulder, searching for the correct words.
He said calmly, "The moment you lose your sense of fear in battle is the moment you should never go into battle, Rei," he continued. "That fear is going to keep you alive."
"Will killing come easy?" I asked.
Masanori responded, "For some it is. For some it isn't. It is not about the act of killing. No man was meant to enact the absolute judgement of death, but some are forced to so they can survive. It's either them, you, or your family."
"Thanks, Masanori," I said softly.
The three of us put on our armor. The same black armor I left home with. I had never seen Masanori in his armor before. It looked heavier than mine. There were dents and scratches all throughout the coat of grey and red paint. His armor had seen just as many battles as he did. Each dent and scratch told a story of countless battles and possibly battles he shared with my father.
Prince Tomotaka and I both put on our armor. Tomotaka's armor was much nicer than mine with a clean coat of red and gold paint. It was apparent this was a stark contrast to Masanori's, and mine had light scratches. I knew this set of armor was a backup to my father's, and I had to create its story.
The plan was pretty simple. When it came to battle, strategy, and wits, we outclassed the brutes that stood before us. Karo Masanori would take the front, walking towards enemy territory, catching their attention first. No need to run towards them. Masanori would make the Mongolians believe that they were fighting just him. As he got closer, the Mongolians would charge him without thought. It's how they battled. No thought, just pure intentions of snuffing out their enemies. Once Masanori was in the heat of battle, Tomotaka and I would rush in on both sides. Tomotaka on the right side of the battlefield and I on the left side of the battlefield. Only when the enemy was completely defeated would we focus on freeing prisoners. If prisoners were our first priority, we would surely lose the battle quickly.
And so that's how it went. Masanori walked towards the enemy with what seemed like no care in the world, blade drawn at his side. His armor was fully grey with red accents lining his armor and helmet. His face guard was a sōmen covering his entire face which depicted an oni. It was fully painted red. The Mongolians finally paid attention to the man walking towards them. They witnessed his glowing red blade, and they all stood up, picking up their large curved blades, lances, and maces. Only a few of them were equipped with bows.
They stood there waiting for Masanori to approach, laughing because they believed Japan sent only one man to take on sixty. Suddenly one of the bowmen shot towards Masanori, their arrow set ablaze. With a quick flick of his blade, Masanori deflected the simple arrow.
"The fire on your arrow is no match for the wildfire burning in my heart," Masanori yelled.
Suddenly the barbaric Mongolian soldiers screamed out in battle and rushed towards Masanori without another thought. The full force of the Mongolian camp rushed towards him. Once the Mongolians were close enough Masanori leaped in the air. The same move he used against me while we sparred. He crashed down towards one of the Mongolians, finding the opening between his neck and his shoulder armor. His blade, with fiery passion, sliced the Mongolian almost in two. Blood poured out of the Mongolian as he died almost instantly on the spot. Masanori flicked his blade, the blood painting the green grass dark red. Another Mongolian nearby attempted to crush Masanori with his steel mace. Masanori dodged to his right, slicing his unprotected side, creating a gash so big no man could live from.
As Masanori kept slashing through the giant Mongolians, from the right and left, Tomotaka and I ran into the fray. A Mongolian not caught off guard instantly saw Tomotaka and struck with his spear directly towards Tomotaka's chest. I knew from our duel that the fatal strike wouldn't be able to pierce his defenses. Almost instantly Tomotaka dodged right, putting the large Mongolian at a severe disadvantage. Without any hesitation whatsoever Tomotaka raised his sword, stabbing forward, piercing the leather armor and the body of the Mongolian. The Mongolian fell almost instantly. Tomotaka's sword was shining bright, and so were his eyes through his golden menpō.
Two Mongolians attempted to attack Tomotaka this time. They both had sabers, but they didn't have technique. Tomotaka easily saw through their attacks and whispered, "Kōmyō-no-Hikari, Divine Clarity," blocking both of the attacks and dispatching his enemies with quick slashes.
My sword's color glowed with its purple hue. I saw my first real enemy who wasn't distracted by Tomotaka or Masanori. He came barreling towards me with a spear in both hands. He wanted to use his momentum to pierce through my armor. I didn't want to end up like the others drawn up and impaled on the enemy's spears. "Nageki no Ken, Sure Step," I whispered as my footsteps began to lighten and my eyes lit up purple. As the Mongolian reached me I quickly ducked under his attack, sweeping to his right side. He attempted to stop himself and turn towards me fast, but my blade was already raised towards him. As I swung towards him with all of my might ready to take his life, I hesitated ever so slightly, and the Mongolian soldier was able to regain his footing. I froze, unable to act. Tomotaka acted exactly as he needed to. Masanori, a seasoned Samurai, didn't hesitate. They both killed with almost no worries it seemed. Why couldn't I take the shot? Why couldn't I kill the enemy who slaughtered my own?
As I searched for an answer the Mongolian soldier didn't skip a beat as he went in for another attack. Was I going to let him kill me? Is this really my story?
As if Nageki no Ken had other plans for me, the colors on the blade changed from its black and purple to pitch black, emanating only dark thoughts and intentions. For what felt like a second my thoughts didn't feel like my own, and my body began moving on its own. The purple hue in my eye changed to devoid black as I slipped through the enemy's defenses and dismantled him with my blade, and then I moved to the next soldier. My Sure Step ability was seamless yet felt rigid with every step my body took. I slipped through every crack possible on the battlefield—two enemies defeated in single blows, and then four. Soon enough my black armor and blade were soaked in the enemies' blood. Without even realizing it, as if my instincts kicked into overdrive for me, I killed twenty men while Tomotaka and Masanori took care of the rest.
The green field once beautiful was now soaked in the blood of our enemies. I didn't feel like myself. I dropped to my knees, surrounded by dead men, frozen by my own abilities that didn't feel like my own. As I sat there staring at Nageki no Ken, Masanori walked towards me and knelt down.
He whispered, "Let's go for a walk, kid."