The flowery perfumed smell wafted throughout the practice yard as Taira No Mikoto brought his katana down hard and fast. Zushi parried the blow with a quick slash and countered with a stab at Mikoto's thigh. Mikoto sidestepped it at the last second, letting the sword puncture thin air before whirling his blade down and slamming it hard on Zushi's left collarbone. Zushi let out a yelp before collapsing into the dirt.
'A good effort,' Mikoto said, reaching out and lifting Zushi to his feet.
'Hah, a true warrior doesn't use all his energy in a training session.'
Mikoto raised an eyebrow.
'And where is this true warrior? I can't seem to find him.'
'Enough,' a voice rang out. Suimoto, the old wiry arms master, strode forward and clasped each boy on the back.
'Taira soldiers do not engage in needless chatter; you will be honorable and you will be powerful. That is your duty as warriors, especially you Mikoto. I would loathe to disappoint, lord Kiyomori - "the yokai in human skin."'
'Yes sir,' Mikoto said staring at the ground.
'Now again,' Suimoto announced, clapping his hands. Mikoto and Zushi got into battle positions, bowed and dueled for the rest of the afternoon. The flowery smell still hung in the practice yard as they finished and Mikoto grit his teeth. The smell annoyed him, to others it was pleasant but to Mikoto it stood against everything a man should be.
'It's those damn court nobles, isn't it?' Zushi said wiping away a bead of sweat, 'how do they live with that smell clogging up their nose all day?'
'They don't,' Mikoto said, 'all they do is lounge around and eat, while we're fighting their battles, it's shameful.'
Zushi sighed, 'everytime one of those fat lords show up to the estate its always for something completely stupid.'
Mikoto turned away and gripped his katana.
'Unless they are preparing for battle, I couldn't care less.'
As the afternoon sun dipped, Mikoto found himself winding his way up the many stairs of the Taira estate and knocking on the door of a small chamber. The door opened and inside was his younger brother Taira no Musashi. A boy of only eleven and yet even at his age he was almost smarter than Mikoto himself. Musashi was practicing poetry, dipping his brush into a small fountain of black ink and carefully writing down words under the watchful eyes of his instructor. The instructor noticed Mikoto and quickly rose to meet the young master.
'Musashi,' he said, 'it seems our lesson has come to an end, tomorrow we will be practicing the melancholic idea of beauty and its fading through the passage of time.'
The instructor left and Mikoto sat down to look over his brother's poetry.
'Do you like it?' Musashi asked.
'The day I learn to appreciate poetry is the day you defeat me in a duel.'
Musashi grinned and Mikoto ruffled his hair.
'Look what I caught today,' Musashi said, rushing towards his bed stand and pointing at a small cage. The cage was magnificent, an object of ivory gilded with gold and carved intricately with small letters and markings from a forgotten age. It had been a gift from Fujiwara no Michinaga, the protector and regent of the realm. Inside the cage sat a dark black hercules beetle stabbing at the bars with its monstrous horn. Mikoto watched his brother eye the beetle with a sense of innocent wonder and a small smile crept on his lips. He remembered staring longingly at the cage when it was first presented to his father all those years ago. No, Mikoto thought to himself, insect cages are the domain of women and children, I am man - a warrior.
'Have you named it?' Mikoto asked.
'Raijin,' Musashi said, 'after the lighting god, he shares his aggression, look, he's stabbing at the cage with such force.'
'Poor bastard just wants to escape,' Mikoto said, grinning.
After a few minutes Mikoto turned to his brother and gripped him by the shoulder.
'Come on lets-'
Before Mikoto could finish he was interrupted by a loud cough.
'Young lord,' the messenger said, huffing softly, 'your father the honorable lord Kiyomori has asked that you meet with him in the central hall.' Mikoto tried to hide his annoyance but it was spread clear on his face. He glanced back at Musashi before clicking his tongue and nodding.
The central dining hall was the oldest part of the Taira estate with some even stating that it had been built centuries before the Taira clan was formed. A long wooden table was set at the center of the room and at the head of the table sat his father Taira no Kiyomori.
Throughout the nation people talked about him, whispered about him as if he were a fearsome beast, the "yokai in human skin." He was stern and strict when needed to and his body was riddled with scars that were a tapestry of all his battles. But he was also the man who read to Mikoto when he was young, trained him with wooden sticks and took him deep into the woods of Akishi on week-long hunting trips. Kiyomori greeted his son with a nod and gestured for him to sit down at his left side. The flowery, perfumed smell from earlier permeated strongly from the seat to the right side.
'You wanted to see me father?'
His father looked at Mikoto with a contemplative look as though he was thinking over multiple scenarios in his head before finally speaking.
'We're going to war.'
Mikoto's heart quickened a pace before he could process the words. Kiyomori gestured at the perfumed seat.
'That man was an aristocrat of the imperial government a distant cousin to the emperor but still related by blood, he has just informed me that the marriage pact between cousin Taira no Hisu and the heir of the Abe clan, Abe no Takashi has just been annulled.'
Mikoto's leg began to shake inadvertently from excitement and he began to understand the situation immediately. The Abe clan controlled the north side of the Mitsuri river; it was a natural port and a key point of trade, having it in Taira hands was likely to double their income.
'How did it happen?' Mikoto asked.
'That senile fool of a man Michinaga pulled some strings. The lord regent found it within himself to wed Takashi with the second daughter of the Minamoto clan, a dumb whore who is worth less than the air Hisu breaths!'
Mikoto had rarely seen his father as frustrated as he was today and a small vein on Kiyomori's neck pulsated like a writhing snake.
'I will not allow the fools of the imperial court to humiliate our mighty clan.'
'Who are we attacking?' Mikoto asked.
Kiyomori sighed, 'unfortunately we do not have the men to take down the imperial government, but we will root out the heir of the Abe clan and gut him for spurning our offer.'
Mikoto tensed his fist so hard his knuckles turned white. His heart was pumping hard in his veins and his body was filled with a sense of vigor and vitality he had never felt before. I am a warrior he thought to himself. I am the son of Taira no Kiyomori and I will fulfill my duty, for family and for honor.
'War is a savage beast Mikoto, do not disappoint me.'
'I won't,' Mikoto said, 'I will fulfill my duty and slay anyone who dares to interfere with our clan, no matter who they are.'
Kiyomori grinned, 'that's what I expect to hear from my son, we leave at the first crack of dawn, you will be armed and travel alongside me on a mount of your choosing.'
Kiyomori leaned forward and stared deep into Mikoto's eyes.
'Remember Mikoto, we are warriors, our strength comes from our steel.'
It was the fourth day of battle and Taira no Mikoto kept his eyes open as he watched Zushi, the boy who he had grown up with for the past seventeen years, croak his last breath. Zushi let out a final wordless cry and Mikoto could feel his eyes begin to water, but he held it down. I am a warrior he thought, death is a part of battle, I cannot show weakness. Mikoto kept his composure and made sure that none of the other men in the infirmary could see him. The muffled cries of agony and soft groans of pain created a quiet symphony of death that echoed within. Zushi's skin was pale and his bones jutted out in unnatural, disturbed patterns. It was one thing to see a man slain in noble combat, it was another to see a man wither away until he was an empty husk, a shell of his former self. It happened on the first day of battle. Taira no Kiyomori had split his forces into two, the large bulk of his forces circled the north gate of the Abe estate while Mikoto was tasked with leading a small force to cross the Mitsuri river and assault the south gate. To cross it, Mikoto required workers to build a bridge. That first day, arrows rained down like bolts of lightning. Mikoto hated arrows, the most cowardly of weapons, fit for those who had no concept of honor. Leading the assault himself, Mikoto would stand in front of the workers and create a shield wall to block the arrows. Some were blocked, some weren't. A few stabbed him in the leg and shoulders. On his right, Mikoto had seen a boy a few years older than Musashi take an arrow through the eye and collapse against the planks. By the end of the first day thirty men were slain and the planks were painted red. Zushi had limped back to camp with an arrow sticking out of his thigh. He yanked it out and grinned as the blood trickled down his leg, 'a true battle scar,' he declared, 'one fit for a warrior.' The wound had gotten infected and Mikoto was forced to watch day by day, as life slowly drained from Zushi's eyes.
On the sixth day the bridge was built. The pent-up rage and aggression that the soldiers of Mikoto's army had stored up over the previous days was released in a frenzy of unbridled bloodlust. The men charged across the planks like beasts possessed by the Oni. They too had seen their fellow comrades die by cowardly arrows and they wanted vengeance or at the very least, a target. The gate was busted down after only ten minutes and the men stormed through the estate, slashing and killing all who stood in their way. Mikoto's mind was enveloped in a haze of red and his body moved on instinct. Blood splattered across his red armor as he cut a man's head clean off before slicing another man's throat and stabbing another in the eye. A loud trumpet sound echoed from one of Mikoto's soldiers to signal to Kiyomori that the south gate was taken. Hoofbeats thundered in the distance as Kiyomori and his army mounted their assault on the north gate. Mikoto knew the battle was won and yet he wanted more. That was when he spotted him. A young man no older than Mikoto dressed in shiny black armor. Mikoto didn't need to look at the four men surrounding him to know who it was. Abe no Takashi, i'll have your head Mikoto thought sprinting across the battlefield. Two of the four men who stood surrounding Takashi were cut down in the chaos of battle. The third was struck by a stray arrow and the fourth fled in fear. Takashi cursed the coward who fled before seeing Mikoto's charge and drawing his sword.
The duel lasted no more than four strikes. On the fifth strike, Mikoto sliced open Takashi's belly with a horizontal slash. The steel bit hard across his stomach and bright red entrails began to spill forth like venomous snakes. Takashi looked down and scooped them in his hands as if he could somehow put them back together. Then he started crying.
'Oh no oh no,' he said, 'it wasn't meant to be like this, oh god why, mother, oh god.' Takashi turned his back and hobbled away. The smell of shit filled the air like a noxious gas. Mikoto approached Takashi slowly. The red in his mind slowly receded and his anger morphed into a sad sense of pity. 'This one's for you, Zushi,' he said, bringing the blade down and cleaving Takashi's head.
A few minutes later Kiyomori and his men stormed the estate and the battle was over. Kiyomori however, wanted to ensure there would be no more future bloodshed and so Mikoto was escorted to the underground dungeon beneath the estate. There he found a boy no older than Musashi shivering inside a black cell. The boy was gagged with a dirty cloth and he clutched desperately at a wooden object, holding it tightly against his chest.
'What's going on, father?' Mikoto asked, his head and arm still throbbing from the battle.
'This boy is the brother of Abe no Takashi, with him dead and his father executed this little runt is next in line. Look at him.'
Mikoto obeyed. There was nothing particularly special about the boy from a first glance but as Mikoto peered into his eyes he could see a cold malice forming in the boy's heart.
This boy will hold a grudge that will last generations, Mikoto thought and how can he not, after what we've done to him and his family.
Kiyomori produced a steel knife and held it out.
'Cut him down and there will be no more need for future bloodshed.'
Mikoto stared at the blade with wide eyes.
'You can't be serious father?'
'Why do you hesitate?'
'Because he is a child! I will not stain my honor by killing children.'
'No, I've already made the arrangements, their sister is to wed Musashi when he is of age, with that, the area will be firmly in our control and because of that this boy cannot be allowed to live.'
'But it is cowardly to slay unarmed children; it is the lowest form a man can take. I will not do it.'
Kiyomori took a deep breath and stared into Mikoto's eyes.
'Honor is beautiful, honor is righteous but honor does stop our enemies from killing the ones we love. When this boy grows up, he will butcher us all as vengeance for what we did here today. I cannot allow that; you cannot allow that.'
Mikoto's stomach was turning, his vision was becoming blurry and his hands were shaking. Then an image formed in his mind, he imagined Musashi, the brother that he loved so dearly, clutching desperately at dangling entrails. He imagined his brother crying, calling out for their mother before a faceless man decapitated him in one swoop. Mikoto wanted to throw up.
Kiyomori, sensing this, placed a gentle hand on Mikoto's shoulders and he was suddenly transported back in time to his first ever hunting trip and the first time he had taken a life.
'Do not waver, ruthlessness is required in a patriarch. Do it, for our family, for our clan, for our legacy. '
Mikoto grabbed the knife.
For family and… he couldn't finish the thought. Mikoto plunged the blade into the boy's throat and yanked it out just as quickly. The boy let out a muffled sound, a mix between a moan and a gurgle as blood pooled at the mouth and dyed the cloth red. Tears ran down both of their faces and life dripped slowly out of the boy. As he fell, the small object he had been holding slipped on the ground. It was a small insect cage of a similar design to that of Musashi's yet it was inferior in almost every regard. It was an insignificant detail but its image would be seared into Mikoto's mind for years to come. As it rolled onto the ground, the bars were unbroken but the wood was stained with dark red blood.