I stare at the lotus blossom floating delicately before me in a painted clay bowl. The sacred warrior’s code runs through my mind as my morning meditation draws to a close. I remove my soft yukata kimono, being sure to take my good luck talismans from between its folds. I put on my armor piece by piece, replacing the talismans throughout my daily raiment. The helmet comes last of all. I exit my small quarters,leaving the hideous, twisted face of my battle mask behind.

Cinching my obi, the values of the code still running through my head, I whisper on my way down the hall. “Courage: facing fear. Honesty: being truthful and scrupulous. Piety: honoring the gods and their code for living. Rectitude: being morally correct in thought and deed. Wisdom: Knowing when to let things play out. Benevolence: kindness to every living creature. Do not willfully kill or hurt. Respect: address each person you meet with the proper honorific and kindness, even if that person is an enemy. Honor: honor all life, balance, humanity, peace, honor in life, honor in battle, honor in death.”

Death. The word catches in my throat. I shudder at the very thought. Even the mention of that shadow land beyond this life seems to curdle my very soul. I shake the dark thoughts from my head as I arrive at the doors to the the Shogunate family’s living quarters. I knock and an elderly servant in uniform bows me into the main reception room. I bow back as he shuts the door. “Thank you Elder-san.” Respect and support the elderly.

“It pleases me to serve Samurai-sama,” he replies as he exits the room through a curtained servants’ entrance.There is honor in service. I kneel at the long, low table in the center of the room and wait for the Emperor to enter for the Bakufu council. Other samurai filter in, each being let in by the same elderly servant. Finally, actually right on time, the Emperor, followed by his two sons, strides majestically into the room. The Emperor smiles as he sits directly across from the assembled warrior-lords. His sons trying hard to imitate his calm power, kneeling with perfect posture, the youngest’s chubby face pursing in concentration. I hide a slight smile. “Hello Lords. I trust you had a restful sleep.”

“Yes Emperor Hojo-sensei, We trust the same for you and your house.” The Emperor gives a polite nod and proceeds to state the current issues. The Mongol forces and their allies have already attacked twice. It was by the divine intervention of the gods and spirits that we survived. The Kamakura Shogunate had closed Japan off from the rest of the world, inciting Kublai Khan's wrath by denying him an ambassador, declining to answer him at all in fact, causing him to head the two invasions. When the Hojos came to power, Emperor Hojo sent the ambassador, the lack of which was supposedly the cause of the conflicts. Only the Divine Wind, Kamikaze, saved the Kamakura regents’ dishonored skins; demolishing the fleets of the Chinese, Koreans, and Mongols.

Although the ambassador seems to have been accepted, we must be ready for a third attempt on our beautiful Island. We receive and give reports on our available forces, resources, and allies among the other samurai lords. Suddenly the door is opened once again to admit the one son of the Kamakura, the former Imperial family, shamefully late. He swaggers in at a leisurely pace, a disgusted silence settles over the room.

“Hello nephew,” Emperor Hojo says, his politeness seeming strained, “I hope you have resolved the cause of your tardiness, and that it was not too inconveniencing. Come, sit. We were just discussing resources in the case of a third attack. Do you have a report?”

“My people have enough to last through a siege. I do not know why you bother to wonder otherwise,” Kamakura sneers. I glimpse shocked looks mirroring my own pass over the faces of my fellow warlords, all quickly masked. It is wisdom to know when to restrain oneself. No one ever dared speak to the Emperor in such a disrespectful manner. Do not hate, I remind myself.

Emperor Hojo inclines his head, shooting a stern glance at the disgraced former prince, challenging him to speak further out of turn. What had happened? Kamakura had always been a pain, but never failed to respect his uncle, until today. Why? The Emperor has a stormy look in his eye as he claps his hands to dismiss those samurai who have no further duties. I stay along with about ten others. Emperor Hojo claps again, signaling the entrance of the rest of his family. The Empress and her daughters mince into the room wearing beautifully decorated cotton kimonos. All the assembled samurai stand and bow to the imperial family. Now the Emperor truly smiles, he knows we would never disrespect his post or his family name. Honor in loyalty to friends, family and superiors.

The Emperor assigns us as guards to each group of family members according to his will and pleasure. My name is called as one of the three guards for the Empress and her daughters. I nod solemnly, but inwardly I warm. The Emperor knows I have a young daughter of my own and often allows me this privilege. The thought is bittersweet, however. My daughter is far away, at home with my wife, my sweet Akina. Trying to swallow the lump that had formed in my throat at these unbidden memories, I take one of the triangle points around the empress and her three daughters, as do the other two guards, Motochika-san and Hideki-san, and I lead them to the Imperial Zen gardens to play and study.

Empress Hojo sits beneath a cherry tree, which is holding on stubbornly to a few last blooms, with her oldest daughter. A servant hurries forward at her beckoning with a tea tray. The girl was to learn how to prepare and pour tea, as she had been trying to learn for the last two weeks. Tea ceremonies demand precise movements and perfect preparation. The other two daughters run to a brightly painted, wooden bridge, throwing the bits of breakfast they had concealed in their sleeves to the large koi fish in the pond beneath.

Motochika and Hideki lean on a large, mossy boulder, watching their charges and talking quietly, occasionally laughing. I remain upright, but allow my attention to wander. This is one of the safest areas of the entire estate. I look on to the two small girls’ antics with a smile, once again feeling that tugging on my heart. The middle daughter, Rieka, still too young to learn the delicate etiquette her sister was struggling with, but far too old to be entertained for long by the fish she visited daily, catches sight of me. She comes towards me with a mischievous look in her eye, dragging the youngest sister along.

“Samurai-san, come play with us!” she shouts.

“I am not sure your father would approve.” I lament, standing to make myself more professional and imposing, trying to look like an authority with a job to perform.

Now we had the attention of Motochika and Hideki. “Go on, Mitsuho-san.” Hideki says. “Technically you are still with them and keeping them safe, he never said you couldn’t make them happy as well.“

Motochika was laughing as Reika tugs on one hand and Chie hangs from the other.

“Please?” they beg, “We want to play Kagome Kagome!”

“Alright,” I cave, “but only for a little while.” The two girls squeal with delight.

“You can be the oni.” Chie says. Reika pulls an extra obi seemingly out of nowhere to tie over my eyes. As I am being blindfolded, I catch glimpses of Chie rushing around gathering others for the game. She races around, bringing in servants, and even dragging in Motochika and Hideki, much to their embarrassment. I grin.

“You must let me peek,” I say, “or I’ll never know which names to guess.” I feel small fingers pull one half of the blind fold up. I can hear Motochika and Hideki laughing raucously as I peer, one-eyed, around the small ring that had assembled around me. Satisfied, I pull the blindfold back down. “I am ready now.”

Everyone begins shuffling in a circle, chanting. “The bird in the basket, when, oh when will it come out?” Many adults fumble with the words they have not sung in ages. “In the night of dawn, the crane and turtle slipped. Who is in front, who is behind?” The lilting melody ends. “The oni names Hideki-san!” I call. Giggles and laughter erupt around me.

“No, Samurai-san, it was me!” a small servant boy chortles as I pull off my blindfold and turn around.

“You weren’t far from the mark though.” Hideki says, standing with only two between him and the servant boy. We play again and again, the size of the circle fluctuating as servants hurry to complete their interrupted duties and more are drawn in to take their places. Even the Empress and Shinju, the oldest daughter, join in when their lesson is completed. Finally it is time for the afternoon meal and growling bellies call the girls, their mother, and us back inside.

My shift for the guard is over. I return to my chambers and find a dish of tempura waiting for me. It is rather cold by now, but I am happy. I am only just finishing when a messenger is announced by my own servant. I take the proffered note and my heart leaps. It is from my wife. I sit on my sleeping mat to read her careful, scripted lettering. My dearest Naoki, I am writing to tell you that a second child will be gracing our family very soon. You have been away for a very long time since your last visit... I feel as though I am being torn in half. Akina is expecting our second child? A wave of homesickness nearly drowns me as I long to be there with her and my daughter Yuzuki.

My sorrow turns quickly to disbelief as I finish the letter. I am writing this and sending it ahead of my escort with a swift messenger. I am coming to see you. Our sweet daughter is longing to see you as much as I. Your loving wife, Akina She is on her way to me at this very moment.

Abandoning her household duties and leaving no family members living on the estate? That is a terrible risk, not all warlords get along and not all are guarding the shogunate, like me. Honor in family. I feel sick. Why endanger our home by abandoning it? And more importantly, why endanger herself with days of hard travel on bandit filled roads? A small entourage would be a prime target for honorless ruffians. But according to the timing of the letter, she would be here by tomorrow.

I use a shallow basin to wash my face, trying to keep my mind off of this new development. I step into the halls, heading for the gardens once again. On my way, I pass Kamakura’s room. Through the rice paper walls I heard hurried whispers. I stop to listen. Almost immediately the whispers stop as well. I hear a window screen slide and soft thuds as whoever Kamakura had been speaking with exits the room. I frown. Cockiness and disrespect towards the emperor, and now secret whispered meetings? Just what is he up to? I shudder to think. Kamakura had been bitter when his uncle took control, but everyone until now assumed he had accepted the change. Now I think perhaps not.

I change directions and head back to my room. I don once again my yukata kimono and head to the cooking house. I show one of the cooks my family symbol and he gives me what I ask, several pounds of animal fat. Servants and nobles alike stare openly as I scramble up and down pillars and pile objects to allow me to reach the higher, solid wood walls of the shogunate house. Ninja comply with the demands of whoever bids the highest, and Kamakura has a lot to bid. I can’t be sure that’s what he is plotting, but I’m certain he is going to attempt to regain power. His sudden change in demeanor only makes it seem likely that whatever he tries, it will be soon.

The wood all around the shogun house is now gleaming with grease, practically unclimbable. I knock at the large doors. The elderly servant once again allows me entrance and shuffles off to inform his Imperial Highness. When the Emperor glides into the room I feel a twinge of nervousness at his expectant face. “You wish to speak with me?” he queried.

“Your honor, I request to be placed on guard for the shogunate house tonight. I hope you will grant my request.” My heart sinks in my chest as he thinks on my request. He is taking longer than I expected to answer.

“Yes, I think you may,” he finally agreed. “I think perhaps my nephew would like a break. You shall take Kamakura-san’s place guarding the north doors tonight. I will send him a message to tell him that he has been relieved of his duty.” The Emperor’s face is impassive, but I get the distinct feeling that he is as mistrustful of Kamakura as I.

“Thank you Emperor Hojo-sensei” I depart quickly. Changing back into my armor once again, I arrive at the Northern doors of the Shogunate House just as the sun is setting. Hideki is the other guard stationed with me.

“Hello,” he looks relieved. “I thought I was on guard with Kamakura-san tonight.”

“He was relieved from duty by the emperor just an hour ago. I am taking his shift on the Emperor’s orders.” I reply. I glimpse him mouth a silent thank you to the emerging stars in the torchlight. I smile inwardly. Kamakura was viewed as a selfish, lazy brat by nearly everyone he met.

As we lean against the doorframe, settling for what may be a long night of staring into blackness, we talk and joke as the night wears on. I begin to wonder if I was right in my suspicions. It was deep into the night now and we were struggling not to doze off when a black shrouded figure thuds to the ground. The figure springs up and suddenly Hideki utters a strangled cry and falls; a throwing knife embedded in the space between two armor plates.

I flinch, surprised, and that is what saves me. A second knife whispers past my head and thocks onto the gleaming wood behind me. My katana is out in an instant. I now wish I had thought to bring my battle mask to protect my face. The ninja sprang at me, a chain and sickle in each hand. With a flick of his wrist he flings the weighted end around my right arm, pulling it tight and wrenching my shoulder out of place as he jerks me toward him. I cry out and drop my sword. My left hand finds one of my knives. I plunge it into his side as he brings me into striking distance of his other sickle. He finally opens his mouth and gives a hoarse cry as he lets fall his sickle and drops like a stone.

I disentangle my arm from the chain, wincing as it tugs at my shoulder. It may be dislocated. I nearly shout to sound the alarm when another barely perceptible thud sounds behind me. I whip around and see a second ninja quickly check for a pulse at his comrade’s throat.

I had acted instinctively in the last fight, but now I clear my mind of thought, picturing the lotus. I enter a lucid world where I can see the future. I block the ninja’s every move. He spins away and I sense something different, but I pursue him anyway. He heads for the distant treeline. Evidently he decided he wasn’t paid enough to continue after he realized Kamakura wasn’t there to offer an open door to the heart of the Emperor’s home. Seemingly in slow motion he spins around once again when I am centimeters from him and a silver flash drives through my chest armor. I stagger, but bring my still red knife down, and into his virtually unprotected neck.

This time there is no noise. He simply sinks to meet the earth. I am aware of a tingling sensation and blood is pounding through my head. I stagger back to the doors and ring the large iron bell to sound the alarm before collapsing to the evenly cut bamboo porch. Why won’t my legs work? I cough and feel thick wetness stain my lips. Through a red haze I see Motochika race around the corner and drink in the gruesome scene before him. He rushes to my side and I see his lips move. Mine move in turn. “Honor in death…” and all is blackness.