Side Story #25: Toshio's Trial

<Author’s note: This story takes place during the events of Book 2 and Book 3.>

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Side Story 25: Toshio’s Trial

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■■ The Baron’s Island ■■

“The kid says the swan is your spirit animal. Is that why you couldn’t eat it? Hope you don’t hold it against me if I had seconds.”

The ronin spoke with a sort of lighthearted humor that Toshio once detested. But here, sitting with their backs pressed against each other on the beach of an island that shouldn’t exist, it was just what Toshio needed. It was the ronin’s way of showing concern—and the gesture didn’t go unnoticed.

“I hold nothing against you,” Toshio replied, though his voice wavered. “It was not the meal that ruined my appetite. Instead...a trial I find myself unprepared for.”

The welcoming feast laid out before the guests of the ‘Demon of Shogi’ had been grand and included a dish of three birds in one: those being a pheasant, a duck, and a swan. They were perfectly crisped and coated in a honey glaze. The only issue was the chef who cooked them.

“Toshiaki Mukai...the Kondo Butcher,” Toshio thought to himself. “The one who genocided and tortured my people during the Kondo Wars...he shouldn’t be alive. Nor should he be allowed to go on living.”

There were a hundred questions the ninja wanted to ask his companion but he settled with one. “How does a man become qualified—no, justified to take another man’s life? At what point...does one deserve to die?”

It was a question Toshio never thought he would ask. Though he had been trained in martial arts almost all of his life, he had never once had to kill someone before. The fact he hadn’t made him a measure of shame, considering the one who’s back he was now pressing against.

“Killing good men or bad—it’s never justified. Doesn’t mean it’s never right. Justice is like a fog men and women hide behind so they needn’t face the true color of their actions. Samurai protect farmers from one province while pillaging and raping those in another,” the ronin spat, their mood growing darker. “Worst of all, they’d be justified in doing so. No—I don’t need to hide behind justice to know what’s right and wrong!”

The ronin’s words were thoughtful and true, spoken with a sort of conviction that Toshio found captivating. In truth, there was little about the ronin that didn’t captivate him these days. He didn’t understand why, only that he hated seeing them upset like this.

“Arigato, and gomenasai. I knew I was right about you, the Sword Who Cuts the Heavens. You never fail to bring clarity to my spirit.”

The two spoke for a while longer as the evening grew later. Beneath the moonlight and amidst its shimmering reflection on the waves, it would seem true darkness would never reach the isle. Alone with the ronin and among such beautiful scenery, Toshio made a selfish wish that things could stay this way—forever.

It was a silly, childish wish that could never come true. Little did he know that in just one day later, it would. His wish would be granted...and become a curse unlike any other.

“If the Sword Who Cuts the Heavens dulls, my life will be the whetstone to sharpen it once more. If my actions are not just, may they at least be right.”

■■■■

“Uah-whua...WHAAAAAA!”

Toshio awoke to the sound of a shriek from downstairs. It was most likely from Borgia given it’s pitch and from the kitchens given it’s echo. He cursed at himself for falling asleep; judging from the sun’s position, he had nodded off for two hours.

It had been a late night and busy one as well: untrusting of the Baron’s motives towards the ronin—especially with how oddly they had been acting as of late—the diligent shinobi had stood watch on their balcony as they slept. Hatch’s attempt at skulking down the corridor woke the ronin up, prompting them to follow the streetfighter downstairs to the music room.

Toshio knew this because he had followed them both as well. He had also seen the display on the wall after Hatch put on the Baron’s magical helmet. Regardless of his motive, the memory on the giant canvas wasn’t his own: but the ronin’s, involving them and Momoko in a...suggestive situation.

A situation that involved panting, moans, and other lewd cries that Toshio tried his best to forget. Though he had all but encouraged the ronin to pursue Momoko—for the sake of leaving Jun and their dark past behind—watching the two’s passion unfold caused an unfamiliar jealousy to grow within the ninja. He was too ashamed to admit it and much less confront it, though his frustration had been nothing compared to Hachirobei’s.

After witnessing the scene, the streetfighter fell to his knees with his fists shaking and his voice cracking. “No! How—how could you?! You know I loved her!” Hatch yelled, hurling a chair into the canvas, tearing it apart and breaking the mechanical device. He ripped the helmet off his head, crunched it within his grip and threw it away. “I thought you were my friend!”

The ronin spent the remainder of that night in Masashi’s room which meant Toshio spent it in the room across with the door ajar ready to intercept any and every threat that came their way. Unfortunately, the ninja hadn’t slept since their arrival on the island several days prior, and the fatigue was finally catching up to him.

But any thought of sleep was quickly dashed upon the sight waiting for him down in the kitchen.

<Observation>

Toshiaki Mukai had become a bulge of flesh atop a pool of blood. He was a bruised corpse, cut with two giant gashes in an ‘X’ shape across his torso. He was tied up in ropes across his wrists and ankles, and wore on his head the same helmet—now dented—that Hatch used last night. There was a message written in blood beside the victim’s hands. It bore the streetfighter’s name: ハッチ.

“No!”  Hatch cried out, tears welling up in his eyes, “I didn’t do this! I didn’t want this!”

The Baron raised a hand as a gesture to calm his frightened guests. The host then closed his eyes before summarizing the obvious. He did so in a resounding tone. “Toshiaki Mukai has been murdered. A person on this island killed him. As evidence stands, Hachirobei is the killer.”

<Deduction>

“This is an obvious setup, and not even a good one,” Toshio said, approaching the corpse and kneeling beside it and into a pool of blood. The others recoiled at his concern—or lack thereof. “We are being made to believe that, after getting slashed open, Mukai wrote the name of his killer in the final moments of his life. But we can see that only his index fingers are bloodied. Held as they are, his hands would never have been able to bend in a way such that the rest of his fingers would remain unbloodied.

“What also warrants attention,” Toshio continued, “is the matter of his hands being tied to begin with. Why would the murderer bother to tie up Mukai in the first place? We can tell by the angles of the two slashes that the victim was on his back when he died, but what interests me more is the particular knot used to restrain him. This is,” Toshio said, after cutting the bonds on Mukai’s wrists free with a kunai, “a Jijinto sailor’s knot. This would implicate the Jijinto native—”

“Or yourself!” Borgia cried, wiping his tears away with his handkerchief. “Does zhis not seem strange to anyone else, that zhis ninja appears so familiar with zhe murder?! Give us a moment to grieve—spirits save us!”

“The butler’s right,” Hatch said, crossing his arms and grimacing in pain. “It’s all so gruesome...and you seem damn near excited about it, Toshio.”

Excited was one way of putting it, especially as the streetfighter had just revealed another clue. Toshio re-adopted the persona of the Heartless Hound and all but leapt upon the streetfighter to get a look at his hands. Before Hatch could recover from the surprise, his secret was revealed.

“Slash marks across the palms. This explains why there are bruises all over Mukai’s body: you two got into a fight. Explain why you did it and why you tied him up afterwards.”

“I...I,” Hatch stuttered, unwilling to talk. Toshio’s interrogative instincts kicked in, and like a dog with its teeth, the ninja wrapped his arm around the streetfighter’s neck and locked him into a chokehold. He then twisted one of Hatch’s arms backwards and rammed a knee into his lower back.

The most likely culprit was restrained. When the ronin arrived, Toshio expected them to aid him or even thank him for their assertive detective work. The last thing he expected was a punch to the face.

*wham*

“Get the hell off him, Tosh! What’s gotten into you?!” they yelled, causing the ninja to freeze up in surprise. “Hatch is our friend—or at least he’s mine!”

“Even after what you saw last night?” Toshio asked as he nursed his cheek. A profound silence then followed with only Masashi’s sobs to break it as the ronin’s eyes took a golden glow. This was the Jigoku: the unholy sword style and source of the ronin’s most fearsome power. It was also a sign that the shinobi had made a mistake. Amidst his eagerness to solve the mystery, he had turned the Sword against him.

And now a physical one was pressed against his stomach. “Go! Leave! You’re not welcomed here!”

The sentiment was repeated by Borgia, Daisuke and Hachirobei, too. The Baron said nothing though looked particularly amused, while Masashi was too rattled to have an opinion either way. Like a beaten dog, the Heartless Hound got up and staggered away, not entirely sure of what had happened. The only certainty was that the murderer was getting away.

“That and...I’ve managed to sabotage whatever friendships I had. But I’ve always been this way, haven’t I, Satsu-kun?” Toshio reflected as he walked down the large, carpeted hallways alone. Though the shinobi had made an effort to be more sociable, the reality could no longer be ignored. “I was never one for making friends. Not even you nor Fuji-sama could teach me that.”

Toshio hung his head low and raised his shozoku’s mask above his mouth and nose—as if to hide himself from the rest of the world. The ronin’s Jigoku was a dissociative persona of some sort, Toshio surmised, and a hellish one at that judging from their massacre back at Shiroyama’s mansion in Jijinto. He would do likewise, then, becoming the Heartless Hound even if it meant turning everyone against him.

It was with this grave determination that he entered the cellar where the one remaining suspect was held: Sadao Hamasaki. That the cellar wasn’t locked as it should’ve been was Toshio’s first clue that something was amiss. The indentation beside the door suggesting it was forced open was another. The third was the drunken and unkempt appearance of Sadao, moaning and wincing from the light of the hall.

“Hamasaki. Get up,” Toshio barked, taking a step inside. He was about to kick the Shinsengumi-turned-kabuki star until he saw the glint of metal half-hidden beneath his robes. He was holding a knife...and his drunken groans were far from genuine. Toshio had long since learned the difference—having traveled with the ronin for as long as he had.

Pulling out his own kunai, he approached the body like a falcon eyeing its prey. Like a mouse, Sadao’s moans became more akin to squeaks as Toshio pounced upon him, quickly disarming the disgraced samurai and resting the knife against his throat.

“Don’t kill me! Spirits, anyone, I don’t want to die!” he pleaded. That, at least, sounded genuine.

Toshio didn’t release his grapple but he did pull aside the knife from Sadao’s throat—if only to inspect it closer. “A butcher’s knife—with blood seeped into the top of the handle. It’s fresh,” the ninja said after giving it a lick.

“I...I didn’t do it! I just needed something to defend myself with!” Sadao cried out once more, though in doing so he revealed quite a bit of information. This interrogation was going to be among the Heartless Hound’s easiest.

“You ‘didn’t do it’...so you’ve seen the corpse already. I hope you realize what sort of position you’re in, being found with the murder weapon. Now tell me who took your ropes off you. I want to know your accomplice.”

“They’re trying to frame me! They undid my ropes, just like they unlocked the door. I’m innocent, I swear!” he squirmed beneath Toshio, who tightened his hold and pulled back his arm until he got more specific. “You know his name. We came to this island together. He spared me from the Shinsengumi, only to have me killed here instead!”

“If Hatch wanted you dead, he wouldn’t have bothered untying your ropes. Yet you marked his name down on the murder scene to frame him. Didn’t you? Didn’t you?!”

Upon the sound of Toshio’s yell, a group of footsteps echoed from the hall. The ronin, Masashi, Hatch and Borgia arrived. Sadao cried out, claiming that the ninja was trying to kill him and that was enough for the streetfighter to pull Toshio off and put an early end to the interrogation.

“Zhis is zhe second time we’ve seen such brutality from your Kondo companion!” the butler said, scowling before addressing Toshio directly. “You forced yourself into zhis locked cellar to coerce a false confession from Mister Sadao, didn’t you? How reprehensible!”

“He’s lying—don’t fall for it!” Toshio yelled, his frustration coming out in his voice. “The door was unlocked when I got here. Sadao was untied and carrying the murder weapon. Either he’s the murderer or has been made to look like one. What we need to find out next is who unlocked the door. The only one among us with a key is—”

“Zhis is madness! How dare you claim me a liar, after making up such an outlandish tale! Zhis Kondo’s behavior alone arouses suspicion! Do zhe rest of you not agree with me?” asked the butler, who was fidgeting and showing obvious signs of stress. That the others couldn’t tell he was bluffing made Toshio even angrier—which only made Borgia’s case even stronger.

“Please, Toshio-san…” Masashi said with a whimper, “...there’s no need to hurt anyone. I am certain if we simply talk this out then all will be made clear!”

“The kid’s right—mostly,” said the ronin, who walked over and pulled up Sadao by the collar. “Except that this bastard deserves everything that’s comin’ to him. We all saw what he did to his pregnant wife. He was due to be executed today. Didn’t have much to lose...but the chef? Wouldn’t be my first choice.”

Sadao clung to the ronin in a short-lived embrace until the latter tossed the former away and onto the floor. The disgraced samurai landed face-first into a half-eaten bowl of lentil soup, which he desperately coughed out and rubbed cleaned as if it was poison.

Probably because it was. “He—he tried to poison me!” Sadao screamed, pointing a finger towards Hatch and Borgia. The streetfighter hung his head in shame, while the butler visibly flinched. Wasn’t hard to tell that both were involved.

“I didn’t know there was poison in it!” Hatch said, clenching his fists and shaking them. “When I saw you choking, I ran off to find the cook. We got into a...well, we got into a fight.”

Everything was making sense to Toshio now: Hatch had untied the ropes on Sadao to tie up Mukai after knocking the chef out during a brawl. His intent wasn’t to kill him, but to keep him from escaping before the rest of them awoke the next morning. Sadao, thinking it was Hatch who had tried to poison him, attempted to escape until he saw the corpse in the kitchen.

“...realizing he would be the most likely suspect, Sadao framed his would-be killer by writing his name down on the murder scene. This still doesn’t answer who spiked the soup or unlocked the cellar door to begin with, though.”

“Gah! Get zhe hands off me at once! You barbarian!” Borgia yelled as Toshio tightened his hold over the dwarf’s wrist. The ninja could tell that the butler had been one moment away from bolting out of there—though to the others, it looked quite differently.

“Toshio-san! Stop it!” Masashi yelled, jumping in to intervene. It was hard to say no to such a cute face, though Toshio was about to when the ronin walked forth with a hand idling at the handle of their katana. One look into those fierce and unrelenting eyes was enough for the ninja to let go and comply.

“I’ve always thought of you as the most reasonable person in our gang, Tosh. Not much of an honor, if I’m honest, but the way you’ve been acting...I think you’ve lost it. Hell, I think you’ve been losing it ever since we got on this island. Go get some sleep: consider it a request, this time.”

Toshio wanted to protest, as close as he was to solving the mystery, but the look in the ronin’s eyes left little room for protest. He supposed he had been acting strange, but considering that there was both a demon and a murderer among them—on an island that shouldn’t even exist—Toshio thought he had been acting quite sane.

Fatigue did hit him, then, and so to keep himself awake and away from the others he decided to explore other portions of the mansion. He made his way to the Baron’s gallery, unsure of what he was looking for but settling upon a giant oil painting depicting a naked, foreign man being clawed and eaten by a large eagle.

“Pietro Paolo Rubens,” the Baron spoke in his foreign tongue. His presence surprised Toshio—not easy to do, even as sleep-deprived as he was. “Prometheus Bound. In punishment for stealing fire from the heavens, the titan Prometheus was nailed to a boulder and tormented each and every day as an eagle devoured his liver. Quite a gruesome punishment in return for aiding mankind, don’t you think?”

“Without a liver, he’d die in a matter of hours,” Toshio replied curtly. “He wasn’t tormented long.”

“Oh, on the contrary,” the Baron chuckled, stroking his goatee. “For a titan regenerates its body each day, and so Prometheus could never die. What was once considered a blessing had become, for him, the ultimate curse. Quite fascinating!”

The ninja gave no reply. It would seem this painting depicted some foreign myth—one that held little practical application to the matter at hand. And Toshio wasn’t referring to the murder of Toshiaki Mukai.

“Our boat passed through a toori—a spiritual gate—before we arrived here. It was well disguised and embedded up high between two giant oaks, but now I’m certain that’s how your servant Bashō brought us here. This realm is not part of Hyuga, but of a demon’s machinations. And only a foreigner could imagine works such as these,” Toshio said, gesturing across the room with one hand while holding tight his kunai with the other.

“Why, I believe you’ve grrrown delusional, Misterr Toshio! You seem so very tired...why don’t you rrrest your eyes for a while longer? Your companions are certain to uncover the culprit before the trial this evening,” the Baron said in an odd accent that almost sounded like a purr.

That was the last exchange the two would have before the ninja excused himself and continued his investigation alone. As the afternoon dragged on, he searched the victim’s quarters as well as Daisuke’s and Borgia’s. Aside from Mukai’s horrific manual on how to torture Kondos, Toshio found little of interest. The butler’s office was locked—and the deceptive dwarf had already embedded himself into the others’ confidence.

*drring* *dong* *drring* *dong*

The bells signaled that the trial was to begin. It’s venue was nothing short of outlandish: it was to take place inside a giant reflecting pool that rippled beneath the drizzling rain. It was lit by a hundred paper lanterns, floating around a circle of raised pedestals for each member of the jury to stand.

They would stand beneath the statue of Lady Justice: the giantess in white marble who wielded a sword in one hand and a weighing scale in the other. She was blindfolded, too, unable to see the outrageous sight beneath her. A sight that included Hachirobei held inside a wooden contraption called a guillotine—which included a raised axe blade over his neck and a basket beside.

As to what that basket was supposed to catch...well, that didn’t require much of an imagination.

The Baron cleared his throat. “We gather here this night to seek justice done to the murderer of Toshiaki Mukai. We come here as equals under the almighty law. Our fates are bound to it.”

“Our fates are bound to it,” Borgia and Daisuke replied in unison.

“Let these lanterns embody our spirits,” the Baron said in priestly fashion, “so that they may guide us through the dark depths of our mortal bounds.”

Toshio had a bad feeling that only grew worse as the proceedings went underway. Everything seemed too practiced and too refined to be anything short of a prepared trap. The shinobi would have to risk springing it to get Hatch free—and to put the demon in his place.

Unfortunately, he only made it halfway. A key witness in the murder, Sadao Hamasaki, wasn’t present. Apparently he had escaped on a raft, potentially taking any chance of solving this mystery along with him. That was bad, but what was worse were the conclusions the others were making.

Mukai’s book on torture techniques during the Kondo Wars was brought into evidence for a potential motivation for the killer. It didn’t take much reasoning to figure out who it implicated. The ronin had discovered that the chef was indeed the Kondo Butcher, and one look at their troubled features confirmed Toshio’s worst fears.

“Tosh...you asked me back on that night about taking another man’s life...and at what point one deserves to die. I think we can both agree that Mukai got what was comin’ to him. And I…”

“Zhe motivation is clear, is what zhey are saying!” Borgia spoke up and interrupted the ronin. But instead of getting upset, the one who was to be Hyuga’s savior hung their head low in shame. That was when Toshio knew it was over.

A foul magic froze the ninja in place, then, as Toshio was carried off by the lumbering giant Daisuke to take the place of Hatch beneath the guillotine. He couldn’t even speak to protest or plead his innocence. At the moment, he envied Lady Justice: for to see the looks on his companion’s faces was more than he could bear.

They looked at him as if he was a headless corpse—because that was exactly what he was about to be.

The vote was held, and though it came reluctantly, it was unanimous. Only Masashi failed to comply in the voting, weeping as he was. The magic bounding Toshio to silence lifted just after the Baron asked for his final words. He stared the ronin in the eyes, grit his teeth and spoke:

“Gomenasai! I have failed you. And in doing so, I have failed Satsuma and all of Hyuga as well!”

The last sight Toshio saw was an unforgettable one: while everyone was focused on him, the Baron was changing form. His skin began to pale and grow a dense, thick layer of white fur while his eyes and ears slanted upwards and his nose—now a snout—pushed outwards. An aura of blue flames danced around him as six giant tails grew from behind.

“A kitsune?!”

Lightning struck the moment the axe blade was released from above. It came down with a lurch and a whistle, and before Toshio knew it, it was over. His lifetime of service...had come to an end.

■■■■

“Uah-whua...WHAAAAAA!”

Toshio awoke to the sound of a shriek from downstairs. He jumped from his futon and clutched at his neck to find that it was still attached to his shoulders. The ninja tried to process all that had happened and earned himself a terrible migraine for doing so.

“A dream...a more lucid one that I’ve ever recalled. That must be it!” Toshio assured himself as he made his way downstairs. That assurance quickly faded upon the horrific-yet-familiar sight waiting for him in the kitchen.

Toshiaki Mukai’s corpse was splayed open no differently than it had been in his dream. When the others arrived they reacted just as they had before down to the very number of gasps and sobs.

“What’s going on here?!” Toshio asked, though his meaning was misinterpreted.

“Toshiaki Mukai has been murdered,” the Baron replied in a resounding tone. “A person on this island killed him. As evidence stands, Hachirobei is the killer.”

“No!” both Toshio and Hatch yelled in unison. The ninja fell to his knees and clutched his head trying to make sense of it all. He bit his tongue, pulled at his hair and even cut himself with his kunai to make certain he wasn’t dreaming. It made for a disturbing enough sight that the ronin intervened.

“Hey, Tosh,” they said, bringing the ninja in close. “Keep it together, would you? Can’t be your first time seein’ a corpse. We both know Hatch wouldn’t hurt a fly, so—”

“I’ve seen this already!” Toshio yelled, grabbing the ronin and pulling him towards the chef’s body. “I’ve investigated this before: look, two gashes from a butcher’s knife! We’ll find that weapon in the hands of Sadao in the wine cellar. Those ropes—they were tied by Hachirobei, who knocked out the chef after Sadao was nearly poisoned. Everything is the same as it was!”

Though the ronin didn’t reply with a curse, the blank look on their face was far more damning. They looked as if they were watching a crazy person amidst a manic fit. Toshio turned to each of the others to see that their faces mimicked the same. This only frustrated him further and made him seem even crazier.

“What I say is the truth! We’ve had this investigation and trial before! I was executed beneath a guillotine while the true murderer—the demon of this island—remained free! And that kitsune demon...he stands before us right here!”

Toshio pointed at the Baron who didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow in surprise. He didn’t have to: compared to his dignified composure, Toshio was a tattered mess, screaming and making wild claims that no one could believe. The others muttered among themselves until the consensus was clear: the ninja was to hand over his kunai and excuse himself.

“You’re playing into the demon’s hands!” Toshio warned the ronin as he handed over his weapon. “Please tell me you believe me.”

“Maybe I do. But I also know this island tends to play tricks on people. Did a number on me yesterday, remember? Seeing as you’re actin’ insane and all...might be best if you lay down and get some sleep.”

Toshio gritted his teeth but nodded. He was tired, and stumbled around as he walked—even being so clumsy as to collide into Borgia on his way out of the kitchen. After promptly apologizing, he left the murder scene. He took the paper he had just pickpocketed from the butler’s jacket along with him.

“If my theory is correct, Borgia was the one to unlock the cellar and poison the soup Hatch delivered last night to Sadao. But what I’m missing is a motive,” Toshio mused, before opening the parchment and letting out a gasp. The written words brought forth a series of emotions ranging from surprise to outright rage.

Reborn son, beware,

the Lion whose reign must end,

sends one in his stead.

Test of devotion,

and for your family’s health—

KILL HIS SAMURAI.

It was a pair of haiku, but more than that, it was a threat—not just to the Emperor but to Borgia as well. Whoever wrote this was a member of the rebellion, and their target had been none other than the Sword Who Cuts the Heavens.

“Except that the Sword is...not quite as refined as many assume an Imperial samurai would be. When Sadao Hamasaki—a member of the Shinsengumi—arrived on the island, Borgia must’ve mistook him as the intended target instead. That’s why he poisoned the soup.”

The timeline of events revolving around the murder was all coming together yet the murderer remained unknown. Toshio was almost certain that demonic magic was at play here—especially given what had happened at the trial last time.

Recalling that trial spurred him over to Mukai’s room to pick up the book of torture techniques and dispose it, considering that it had doomed him before. Unfortunately, Masashi was already there when he arrived, thumbing through the letters that Toshio had ignored last time.

Turns out he shouldn’t have.

“Oh, g-greetings, Toshio-san!” Masashi said, obviously spooked. Apparently the ninja’s outburst earlier had done him no favors. “This is, erm, a very interesting correspondence between Mukai-san and his wife, Sakiko-san. They...certainly spared no details,” the shugenja blushed.

“Sakiko...I’ve heard that name before,” Toshio thought aloud, recalling the memories of his youth. Then he recalled something that should’ve been obvious: Sakiko was the name of Satsuma’s aunt and Seijirō’s sister. Called the Lioness, in life she had been the greatest threat to Satsuma’s well-being. “She was married off to a hero from the Kondo Wars, to live away from the Capital somewhere near Tonogasha.”

“Do you mean...could this estate have been there’s, Toshio-san?” Masashi asked, exceptionally insightful as usual. “But it’s all rather strange...I could’ve sworn that the Baron mentioned his wife was also Sakiko. That Baka said he had a portrait of her in his bedchambers, too.”

‘That Baka’ was of course the ronin. Toshio didn’t wish to speculate what they were doing in the Baron’s bedchambers, only that he was going to pay a visit there as well. The ninja had never seen Sakiko before, though he was very familiar with the Emperor’s facial features. He would be able to tell at a glance if it was indeed his late aunt.

“What is this? Why is the Sword’s face up there?” Toshio thought aloud as he gazed upon the portrait. The paint used for the face was much fresher than the rest of it, as if it had been covered over recently. With a desire both to remove the ronin’s face and to find the one beneath, the ninja grabbed a cloth from the Baron’s easel, dipped it in turpentine, and proceeded to wipe away the face.

What he saw beneath it wasn’t Sakiko’s. Or anyone’s at all: it was a spiral of flesh, impossibly twisted and blurred. The sight of it drew Toshio into madness—as if he wasn’t already there. His very spirit cried out as his vision began to tunnel around him. The sound of the chamber door creaking open made him turn to see who it was.

Though the figure was twisted, turned sideways and distorted. Or maybe it wasn’t.

“My, my, how unforrrtunate. You don’t look so well, Misterrr Toshio,” the Baron said with a purr. He approached with heavy footsteps that made a painful echo throughout Toshio’s skull, compelling him to claw off his skin and tear away his hair. When the Baron made it to the ninja’s collapsed form, he kneeled beside him and brought his face next to his.

Except that it wasn’t his face, but Toshio’s own. 

“I hope you’re enjoying this game as much as I am!”

■■■■

“Uah-whua...WHAAAAAA!”

Toshio awoke to the sound of a shriek from downstairs. He jumped from his futon and clutched at his face to make sure it was still there. After ensuring it was, he clutched at his heart as it pounded out of his chest.

“The face-stealing magic of the kitsune...just a glimpse of it was enough to drive me mad! What hope do I have against this?”

The ninja didn’t have an answer, and found himself reluctant to go downstairs once more. The Baron pronounced Toshiaki Mukai’s death as he always did, and declared Hatch as the presumptive murderer just as before. Toshio kept his eyes on the foreigner throughout it all, with a gaze heavy enough for the ronin to notice.

“Hey, Tosh,” they said, bringing Toshio aside and snapping their fingers in his face. “You in there? I’m askin’ because you’ve been out of it for the past five minutes. We need your expertise here if we’re going to clear Hatch’s name. We both know he wouldn’t hurt a fly, so—”

“The helmet,” Toshio said, looking over the murder scene once more. It was the one item of interest he had yet to explore. Could the answers all be found there? Was it really that easy? “The magical helmet that reflects one’s memories outward...we can use it to determine what each of us were doing last night.”

“Zhat is true!” Borgia shouted. “Zhe device in zhe music room shall prove our guilt or innocence promptly!”

The rest of the group was enthusiastic as well, with two exceptions: Hachirobei and the ronin. No doubt the former felt guilty over beating up the chef and turning him into a helpless victim for the murderer. As for the latter…

“I don’t think this is such a good idea, Tosh,” the ronin said, grabbing ahold of the shinobi while the rest of the group went inside the wooden theater. “I can’t speak on behalf of the others, but I’ve got some memories I’d rather not relive. And as for last night…”

“I understand your reluctance. More than you may know,” Toshio replied, referring to what the two had witnessed in this theater before. “But I need to understand the truth behind this magic—and it’s limitations.”

The ronin grimaced and was about to say something more when Masashi yelled at them to hurry on in. They shook their head but complied, and the group took front row seats just as they had with Sadao Hamasaki’s murder of his wife. Toshio found it hard to imagine that anyone’s memories would be half as horrific as that.

Boy, was he wrong.

At first was Borgia who had no distinct memories of last night—aside from mixing in an odd powder into the chef’s soup and accepting Hatch’s offer to deliver it to Sadao for a late-night meal. When asked what he had spiked the lentils with, the butler assured them it was a mixture of cumin and coriander.

“More like hemlock and nightshade,” Toshio mused, though kept the thought to himself.

The ronin was up next, though was in no hurry to step onto the stage nor get strapped into the chair. He only agreed to do so after tasking Hatch with fetching them some wine—which the streetfighter was more than happy to do so. With him gone, the ronin was ready to get started.

Though the scene that appeared on the giant canvas before them was not of last night nor of any night before, but of a godforsaken afternoon at an orphanage during a hot summer in Genfu. To describe the scene in a single word...it was gruesome. Unbelievably so, with half-torn and half-chewed bodies of children splayed about in various stages of death and dying. Among them was a child coated in blood, gulping shreds of flesh and gnawing bones to get at their marrow.

That child was none other than the savior of Hyuga. The Sword Who Cuts the Heavens faced their younger self and in doing so, let out a roar that echoed down Toshio’s spine. Brilliant, golden light burst forth from out of the ronin’s eyes as they broke their leather bounds and unsheathed their katana.

Enveloped in rage and consumed by the Jigoku, the ronin went berserk. Daisuke—large as he was, was cut like a stick of butter beneath the summer sun. Borgia was no different, gurgling blood in his last breath as the ronin sent their sword through his mouth. Toshio rushed to grab Masashi in an attempt to spare him, and he did—if only for a moment.

The one whom Toshio was meant to serve plunged their katana across his back, severing his spine and sending waves of agony throughout the parts of him that withheld any feeling at all. Masashi weeped into Toshio’s chest, the ninja’s blue shozoku turning a shade of purple. It took all the strength Toshio had to turn over and watch the ronin cut Hachirobei and the barrel he was holding in half—sending blood and wine spraying in the aftermath.

It was after then that the ronin collapsed and broke from their demented fury. They took in large, heaping breaths as they gazed upon the carnage they had wrought. Though Toshio’s vision was darkening, he saw clearly enough to bear witness as the savior of Hyuga plunged their sword into their chest.

As all hope was lost, the Baron—now the kitsune—approached the ninja once more. Even as animal-like as he was, there was no mistaking the grin on his face.

“What an amusing turrrn of events! Will you be able to see your beloved champion the same way again? I suppose we’ll find out in our next game!”

Toshio spat out a wad of blood. “I’m not...I’m not playing your game...demon!”

“Oh, trrrust me, that can be arranged!”

■■■■

“Uah-whua...WHAAAAAA!”

Toshio awoke to the sound of a shriek from downstairs. This made for the fourth time this had happened already. He needed a plan. He had nearly all the pieces required to solve the case—he just had to present them in a way that didn’t implicate him as the killer.

He had a good idea of what to do as he made his way to the kitchen. The others gasped and cried as they usually did, though this time they seemed to be more emotional than usual. Toshio thought he might have just been imagining it until the ronin fell to their knees looking absolutely dejected.

“Is something the matter?” Toshio asked. “Why is the chef’s death affecting you so deeply?”

“T...Tosh, I...I…” the ronin trailed off into half-withheld sobs, cupping their hands against their face. In contrast, Masashi weeping openly while Hatch punched the walls, countertops and even himself.

Looking closer at the corpse, Toshio realized the reason for the inconsistencies. His green eyes went wide—as wide as those on the body lying dead on the ground before him. For the corpse wasn’t Mukai’s...but his own.

“I’m not dead! That isn’t me!” Toshio insisted, yelling at his friends to cease their mourning. He reached out to grab the ronin and stretched right through them as they were made of air. But they weren’t—he was, and he confirmed as much by looking down at his hands and seeing the blood-stained floor right through them.

“Mister Toshio has been murdered,” the Baron replied in a resounding tone. “A person on this island killed him. As evidence stands, our shogi finalist is the killer.”

Toshio did a double-take before glancing at the bloody symbols written on the floor beneath his own corpse. It was the ronin’s name, and it was as if he had wrote them just before he died.

“I didn’t do this!” they yelled, their eyes flickering from black to gold. “But whoever the hell did—I’m gonna make them pay!”

There was some selfish happiness to be had, Toshio found, in seeing the ronin get so upset on the account of his death. The happiness quickly faded, however, when the saw the ronin’s keen mind and instincts succumb to rage. What unfolded wasn’t an investigation so much as an inquisition, with them threatening any and everyone at swordpoint—with Masashi as the sole exception.

As the day went on, Toshio witnessed Hatch and Sadao working on a raft to escape the island. It was an interesting alternative to taking part in the trial, but the streetfighter’s good nature was taken advantage of in the end, and Sadao set off without him. Knowing how the ex-Shinsengumi member escaped in the first place was good information, but useless in Toshio’s incorporeal state.

When the trial commenced that night, with the ronin beneath the guillotine, a lightning storm unlike any other erupted from out of the sky. Though Toshio was not a shugenja, he had been around enough of them to gain an understanding of how their magic worked. Almost always, they required written talismans to bring forth their will from another plane of existence.

The only exception was with the most powerful of shugenja during their most intense, life-or-death moments. To draw forth such untamed power was regarded as myth by most scholars and yet—after this night—Toshio knew it was much more.

Masashi, harnessing everything it was to be human—the ultimate feelings of anger, fear, sadness and love—brought forth from the heavens a ball of lightning that sparked out and was accompanied by a deafening thunder. The mansion before them was torn asunder, while Lady Justice disintegrated above them.

A brilliant, blinding white light was the last Toshio would see. At least before it was time to play again.

■■■■

“Uah-whua...WHAAAAAA!”

Toshio woke up but didn’t bother rising from his futon this time. He had long since lost count of how many days had passed and how many games him and the kitsune had played. The demon’s delight at his pain was limitless; he had died a hundred times and watched his friends die many more.

From gunpowder explosions in the cellar to a mystical shogi board channeling messages from Sakiko herself, the kitsune had no end of tortuous scenarios for Toshio to endure. The ninja had long since examined and explored every inch of the mansion: obtaining a rudimentary understanding of foreign script and mastery over several musical instruments. By taking on these pursuits and ignoring everything else, Toshio had been called everything from a simple ‘baka’ to a complete psychopath.

The simple fact was that he had given up caring long ago. This indifference coupled with the removal of any and all consequences prompted him to do things he’d otherwise never consider. He had grown a penchant for wine, for example, and the boldness it offered. He had even...offered himself to the ronin on more than one occasion.

Toshio shook his head out of shame. The ronin had been tempted every time though never indulged him—for multiple reasons, but above all due to how oddly he was acting. Though Toshio understood this, it was hard to be normal when you had to relive the same day countless times over. He had long since forgotten what ‘normal’ even was anymore.

“I’ve tried everything to break this hellish cycle...Satsu-kun...why didn’t you warn me of this?!”

He didn’t have the energy in him to be frustrated nor did he have the patience to go through the motions in the kitchen once again. He knew every line they would say and every reaction they would give. So instead, he picked up a flask of wine on his way outside to watch the sunrise on the pier.

Toshio sat at the edge of it, watching the same sight he had beheld dozens of times before. To his surprise, it remained beautiful even as the rest of the world had long since grown drab and boring. He liked to imagine what life was like beyond the ocean...though he knew there was nothing to be found there. Many iterations ago he had taken a raft and found the edge of it.

“Nothing but a blank canvas,” Toshio spoke to himself. He had said that before, too, and took down a chug of wine. He’d stay like this for a moment more, until finally…

“There you are! We need your help here, Tosh! The cook’s been murdered—and they’re blamin’ it on Hatch. We both know he—”

“—wouldn’t hurt a fly. Indeed,” Toshio said, interrupting the ronin and taking another gulp of wine.

The ronin was confused by the ninja’s behavior, though proceeded to step forth and sit beside him on the edge of the pier, dangling his feet just an inch above the waters below. Toshio handed over the flask just as the ronin was about to ask for it, and a bit of silence grew between them—at least until Toshio broke into laughter.

“What’s so funny?” the ronin asked.

“You were about to make a pun about drinking wine and making...pour decisions. Never fails to make me smile.”

The ronin stared at Toshio for a long while before taking another chug of wine. Then he got an idea—and not a bad one. Just not accurate in this case.

“Right, Sadao’s mind-reading ring. The one he used to cheat himself into the finals of the shogi tournament,” Toshio interrupted before they could start. “No, I’m not wearing it. And no, it wouldn’t help us in the investigation—we’ve already tried. Though we could read each other’s minds, we can’t read the Baron’s without him knowing. Since he’s the demon of manipulation, he’d only use it to drive a wedge against us.”

The ronin stared at Toshio for even longer while after that, before chugging the remainder of the flask. He braced a hand against his head and tried to make sense of it all. His insight was sharp—especially for someone who was no longer sober.

“Since you seem to know everything I’m gonna say, I take it we’ve had this conversation a few times before. Can’t imagine how boring that must be...it’s amazing you haven’t gone insane yet, Tosh.”

“I’m long past that point, my dear, but it does make me happy to hear you say it,” Toshio said though couldn’t do so without a hint of embarrassment—not even after the tenth time of saying it. Confessing his feelings like this when nothing mattered was cheating, Toshio knew, but he had to voice them to keep what sanity he had left intact.

It was incredibly selfish to play with the ronin’s feelings this way, and he apologized as he had every time before. They wouldn’t accept it so easily.

“Don’t apologize for me. Hell—makes me happy that you haven’t gotten sick and tired of me yet after all these repeats. Have we, uh...?”

“You ask that every time,” Toshio grinned. “No, we haven’t.”

“Then how about we make this the last time. Seems like this demon wants us to solve a murder mystery,” the ronin said, standing up to their feet and pulling Toshio up beside them. “So how about we play their game. We’ll figure out what’s going on and—”

“That won’t work. I already know every aspect of the murder: from the weapon that killed him, to the motivation and timeline of events before and after Mukai’s death. I’ve solved this case a hundred times, but it never matters in the end...I am either discredited, disbelieved, or otherwise deposed by the kitsune’s magic. It’s hopeless—even though you’ll tell me it isn’t.”

The ronin grabbed Toshio and shook him. In doing so, the winds around them picked up and the cry of swallows could be heard in the distance. The ninja was in such awe that he nearly missed what they were saying.

“...come on, don’t tell me you’ve given up! I’ll spare you the motivational speech seein’ as you’ve probably already heard it, but I sure didn’t lose to this demon a hundred times for no reason! Hey—you listening?”

Toshio was stunned at the sight overhead. A flock of blue-backed and golden-bellied barn swallows circled above them. These were the ronin’s spirit animal, but more than that, it was a deviation Toshio had never witnessed before.

“Y-yes, I’m listening! What should I do? I will do anything to break this curse!”

The ronin cracked his neck before cracking his knuckles and then finally a smile, too. “You say you’ve done everything to solve this mystery, but I got a guess as to somethin’ you haven’t tried yet. Knowing you, Tosh, you’ve been handling this mystery all on your own—carrying it all on your shoulders so no one else has to.”

“What do you mean...what should I do?”

“Start believing in me, for starters. I might just be a dumb ronin from Genfu, but I’m a sharp enough swordsman so long as I’m pointed the right way. Help me figure out what’s going on and maybe...maybe I can be somethin’ more. I know we can do this if we work together, you and I.”

Toshio recalled a phrase he had spoken before, so long ago on the beach during their first night on the island: “If the Sword Who Cuts the Heavens dulls, my life will be the whetstone to sharpen it once more. If my actions are not just, may they at least be right.”

He realized what he had been doing wrong all this time. His mistake was obvious to him now: instead of being at the Sword’s side and making them stronger, he had stepped out in front and blocked their path. His own ego and pride as a detective had gotten in the way of helping the one who was to save them all.

“I say somethin’ wrong, Tosh? Not like you to get teary-eyed.”

Toshio leaped into the ronin and embraced them, pulling them in tightly and refusing to let go. Masashi and Hatch arrived at the most inopportune time, and yet the ninja couldn’t release the one he loved. The one who had given him hope when he needed it most.

The one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with—after they got off this damn island.

■■■■

“Uah-whua...WHAAAAAA!”

Toshio awoke to the sound of a shriek from downstairs. Borgia’s scream would be imprinted on his mind forever, he knew, yet he smiled all the same. For the first time in countless iterations, Toshio was determined to do things properly. The ronin’s words were fresh in his mind.

“I have to act as if I wear a fresh pair of ears and eyes...I can do this, for you,” he said to himself as he rushed downstairs along with the others. He looked upon the murdered Toshiaki Mukai in surprise—or at least feigned it—and waited patiently for the others to get over their initial shock.

“Looks like we’ve got another game to play, kid. I have a feeling this one will be more dangerous than shogi,” the ronin said to Masashi though their words might as well have been spoken to Toshio instead. He had been acting as a spoiled child—he realized—throwing tantrums and being a sore loser all because he never tried to learn the rules and play properly.

But all that was about to change.

With a newfound boldness, Toshio approached the ronin without their noticing—at least until he placed both of his hands upon their shoulders. He clamped down his grip as if to prevent them from running away. “Be sure of yourself. And no one else.”

Borgia coughed and interrupted their moment. “Z-zhe murderer is clear! Mister Mukai wrote it, in his own blood!”

“I swear I didn’t do it! So stop pointin’ fingers, you halfman!” Hatch yelled in reply, declaring his innocence for the thousandth time.

The butler was relentless, continuing to goad the streetfighter with accusations. It wasn’t especially wise: in the variations where a fight broke between them, Borgia had a perfectly losing record. “You’re a brute, an unwelcomed guest, and a murderer besides!”

The Baron restrained his employee while Masashi grappled Hatch around the waist to stop them from fighting. The ronin was anxious to get between them, too, but that would take precious time they didn’t have.

“Forget the distraction,” Toshio said, “we both know there’s more here than what at first appears. In our time together I have observed what goes on behind your eyes. And I do not speak of your golden ones. You have with you a weapon sharper than the steel by your side, if only you wielded it properly. Do you know what it is?”

The ronin didn’t know and gave no reply, and so Toshio would have to be less subtle. He had to prove to them that they weren’t some ‘dumb ronin from Genfu’ but something infinitely greater. No one in their life had ever encouraged their intellect and wit—both of which Toshio knew was far more vast than they themself realized.

And so he lifted his hands from the ronin’s shoulders and brought them up to their forehead. “Your mind. You are a genius, and yet you refuse to realize it.”

The investigation began in earnest, then, and Toshio found himself truly excited about it for the first time since the very beginning. Unlike before, it wasn’t a personal excitement for patching together the clues but a vicarious one through the ronin: watching them puzzle out what had long since been routine for him was incredibly rewarding.

“There are five elements of this corpse worth investigating. A single word for each is all we need. I’m not telling you to make a choice—I am asking you to think,” Toshio said, holding back a grin. His glee only grew as the ronin deduced one clue after another, in some ways performing an even more thorough investigation than he had during the first iteration.

“If only I would’ve let you help me from the very start...how much torment would that have spared me?”

After everything from the murder scene was observed and deduced, the Baron clapped his hands. “What a display of detective work! Who knew we had such a pair of sleuths among us?” he asked aloud, giving Toshio a smile that grew from ear to ear. “The tribunal will be tonight, and I grant you free reign around the mansion until then.”

The ninja glared at his eternal enemy until the ronin tapped his shoulder and brought him back to reality—such as it was. It prompted Toshio to ask them a question he’d been meaning to ask for many iterations now. “I would have you be honest with me. This game—as you first put it—do you enjoy playing? And is it wrong if I…if I…”

“Doesn’t matter if you like the game, because we have to win.”

Toshio nodded and grinned. “We can only win if we find the truth, and our opponent is a demon of manipulation. I can think of no better challenge, no higher stakes, and no greater purpose than this!”

And so the investigation went on: from interrogating Sadao to chasing down Borgia, to breaking apart and ensuring the ronin had possession of the magical ring for the trial, Toshio played his role to a tee. He risked everything on a gambit that the kitsune had never seen before: giving a false confession. Controlling his thoughts amidst it all so that the ronin could read them accurately—and not think he had gone insane—was the most difficult bit of all.

But it was all worth it in the end, as the Sword Who Cuts the Heavens proved themselves worthy of their title, embracing and manifesting their spirit—and in doing so, shining a light straight through the kitsune’s lies. The demon of manipulation contradicted himself, and with the authority above all others, the Sword sentenced him to death.

Truth was contagious, and in the heat of the moment Toshio found himself admitting the words he had only dared speak before—back when such confessions didn’t matter. That this would be their last and final day on this island meant every word spoken now meant everything.

“I am ashamed,” he whispered with a heat rising in his voice, “for these feelings I hold for you. I have been ashamed of them since the moment you sat by my side, in the teahouse where we first met.”

The ronin gazed upon his eyes, bringing their lips ever closer to his. This was all Toshio ever wanted and more. To be free from this hellish cycle...and to move forth beside the one he loved. Their lips would seal that future together.

“Yo! Look at you!” Hatch slammed a pat against the ronin’s back, destroying their kiss as well as the atmosphere. “When those birds came down, I was afraid you’d be in white—if you know what I mean! But this has got to be the sharpest kimono I’ve ever seen! The color really works well on you.”

The kiss may have been over but the battle wasn’t. The kitsune went berserk, screaming about injustice until the very end—with the trial concluded, so too did his magic. Watching his head get chopped off from beneath the guillotine...it was a sight Toshio would never forget.

And yet, though the island—the illusion—was collapsing around them, the demon was not yet vanquished. The ronin and the ninja climbed the steps up to the mansion, until it was time for them to part.

“I know what you intend,” Toshio stopped at the top of the stairs. He didn’t want to turn around and risk revealing the emotions raging inside him. “You intend to fight this demon alone. Hashimoto-san is too gentle, and Hachirobei-san is too kind. They would not abandon you. You should be glad,” his voice wavered, “that I am so heartless and cruel.”

“They may be too gentle and too kind, but you’re too reserved.”

“I only wish you were correct.” Toshio turned to face the ronin, bringing their hand to his chest. “It beats as if to break out from its cage. My only purpose in this life is to insure that you complete yours,” he whispered, “so why does my heart beg me to stop you?”

Throughout all the iterations and amidst the countless pain and suffering Toshio had endured, no torture was greater than being helpless: to be unable to save his friends and the ronin most of all. Yet as the two shared their final kiss on this forsaken island and as Toshio watched the ronin go, one truth became evident above all others.

“Endless pain and countless trials...with you at my side, there is nothing I can’t overcome!”