Kochi Ryoma Airport
Nankoku, Kochi Prefecture
A nondescript private plane arrived on the busy runway of Kochi Ryoma Airport. It's early in the morning and the facility was bustling with commuters as they hustle to get to their destination.
The plane taxied to the end of the runway and stopped in front of a secluded hangar.
Two men wordlessly exited the aircraft; one a handsome young man in his mid-twenties, the other, an old guy who looked like he's in his late sixties. At first glance, one might think that they are a father and son pair. However, close observation would reveal that their relationship is more that of a master and subordinate.
They were met with another man who immediately alighted from the car at the sight of their arrival. A few words were exchanged and the two got into the car, with the younger man at the backseat, while the older man sat in front beside the driver.
Hamarr is in a pensive mood since the plane has entered Kochi's vicinity. It's been too long. They have been searching Japan for years ever since they have found clues that the katana was last seen in the country. So far, everything has led to a dead end.
The quest to find the weapons has been tedious and they have only found six so far. He feels highly frustrated by how well they had hidden.
"Has the perimeter been secured?" he asked Duren while he glanced at the rear view mirror to see Hunter looking at his phone.
"Have you forgotten that you sent Damos to supervise us?" Duren simply replied, almost accusingly.
Hamarr chuckled. Of course, it was only with that old man there to oversee them can he be assured that they will do a good job. He looked out his window.
The island of Shikoku, where Nankoku is located, is one of the five main islands of Japan. It is located south of Honshu and north east of Kyushu, and is the second smallest island of the country.
Shikoku, as its name suggests, is composed of four provinces. And the valley they were headed to was at the neighboring Tokushima Prefecture, more than an hour's drive from the airport.
It didn't take long before the view outside his window changed from suburban houses to vast farmlands. Looming behind were the mountain ranges that surround their destination: Iya Valley.
"She's here," Hunter's voice broke the silence as they traveled past the slightly more developed western half of Iya Valley, the Nishi-Iya, to the more remote Higashi-Iya.
Hamarr opened his eyes. He had been resting, gathering enough energy for the arduous journey ahead. He looked out the window and took a good look at the vast expanse of mountains stretching as far as the eye can see.
Also known as Oku-Iya or 'deep Iya', the eastern area of the valley houses the historic hamlet of Ochiai which was registered as an important national preservation district because of its collection of traditional homes and ancient walking paths.
The entire mountain range was rumored to be a hiding place for fleeing samurais of the Taira clan, who were defeated by the Minamoto clan in the Genpei War during the late 12th century. It was said that the entire mountain range was littered with hidden samurai graves.
And it was there, in the deepest part of the mountain's lush forest, that the team's objective was located.
They rendezvoused with the rest of the team in a clearing amidst the forest.
She had felt their presence a long time ago.
The time has finally come.
She wondered if she should feel happy.
She opened her eyes.
What's this?
She sent her consciousness out again.
Something is wrong.
First of all, there were only six of them.
Secondly, there was something wrong with that man's aura.
She cast her eyes past the cliff to what she guessed is their location.
Will they be able to get past her defenses?
She suppressed a self-deprecating laugh.
Of course, there was never any doubt.
That man must be very annoyed with her by now.
Hamarr took a deep breath as they trudged up the side of the mountain.
They have been walking for two hours. The hike has been slow-going since the mountain-side was littered with traps, making them cautious with every step they took.
That damned woman! Must she be like this?
He glanced sideways to check on Hunter, who was silent and kept to himself as they walked. He had a curious look on his face as he kept glancing at the top of the mountain.
It took another 30 minutes to reach their destination. As they neared the edge of the precipice, they were greeted by the sight of a lady. She was facing them as she stood with her back towards the steep mountainside.
Her familiar face was worn down by countless years of grief and torment, yet there was a streak of defiance in her eyes. Her once elegant dress was ragged and there were patches of dirt stuck to her clothes and her skin. The remnants of what was once a proud assassin.
She smiled.
"You made it. Welcome to my home."
Their eyes followed as she gestured towards a thicket of trees. There, partly obscured by the dense foliage, were rows and rows of graves, each marked by a rusted sword driven to the ground.
"You don't belong here." It was Hunter who said the words that were in Hamarr's thoughts. "This is not your home."
She gave them that sad smile again as she took a step back. She looked at them one by one.
Hamarr wondered what was going through her mind.
Finally, her eyes fell on Hunter and Hamarr felt that her gaze somewhat softened, before it steeled themselves again as they shifted their attention on him.
"Thank you for your visit. But I am no longer worthy."
A final smile.
A small leap.
Hamarr quickly willed his body into action.
The last thing they saw was her long black hair as she jumped off the edge.
For everyone else, it happened in an instant.
It is said that at the moment of death, time slows almost to a halt.
For someone on the verge of it for the longest time, it is even slower.
She can vividly see every bead of sweat on the man's forehead and she was amused at her reflection in his eyes.
"I have forgotten that face," she lamented. Her true face brought back thousands of images.
She looked at his outstretched hands. For a brief second, she wanted to take that hand.
"Too late", she thought. "I have become as insubstantial as the air you breathe…"
She wanted...needed to believe that...but something deep inside her burst forth.
She stopped falling.
"You're not the one to decide that," Hunter said, his breathing labored.
He was able to reach the cliff side in the blink of an eye, faster than all of them there. His body was now lying prone against the edge with half of his torso dangling dangerously.
Hamarr, stunned by Hunter's agility, quickly went to his side to help him up.
He looked over the edge to see, not a woman's arm, but the blade of a rusty old katana held tightly by Hunter's left hand.
They helped pull him back up, with the sword in hand. He was still holding the blade, but there was no hint of pain in his face.
The blade was known as one of the sharpest in the world, yet there was no blood dripping from his fist. He gently placed the katana carefully on top of a white cloth that Duren had prepared. There was no wound on his palm.
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A/N:
Kochi & Tokushima - provinces in Japan
Nankoku - a city located in Kochi prefecture
Nishi-Iya - West Iya
Higashi-Iya - East Iya
Taira clan - one of the four most important samurai clans that dominated Japanese politics during the Heian Period of Japanese history
Minamoto clan - one of the surnames bestowed by the Emperors of Japan upon members of the imperial family who were excluded from the line of succession and demoted into the ranks of the nobility from 1192 to 1333
katana - a Japanese sword characterized by a curved, single-edged blade with a circular or squared guard and long grip to accommodate two hands. It was used by the samurai of ancient and feudal Japan.