To be the largest city in all of Rokugan, Ryoko Owari bore a striking resemblance to any of a hundred seedy villages and small towns. Scale, it seemed, was the only real difference. Granted, the city’s enormous size meant that its more attractive features, the resplendent temple district, the opulent noble quarter, and the infamous Teardrop Island, far exceeded the fineries one might find elsewhere. But the other areas, the merchant’s quarter, the fisherman’s market, the docks, the leatherworker quarter… they were only more crowded and filthier for their greater size and population density.

It was in one particularly loathsome sake house, nestled squarely in the most unpleasant part of the city, where Bayushi Shujiri sat quietly in a dark corner. A bottle of sochu sat before him, a dirty cup held halfway between the table and his mouth. His eyes had glazed over somewhat, and the cup trembled as he relived some dark and unpleasant memory. He didn’t even seem to notice when the stranger sat down across the table from him. The stranger withdrew a cup from his sleeve and sat it down on the table. The porcelain rapped against the ragged wood delicately.

Shujiri blinked suddenly and looked up at the stranger. He scowled, the mask covering the right side of his face doing nothing to hide either his pale pallor or the desperate anger in his eyes. “I did not ask you to sit down. I suggest you leave. Now.” He made a obvious display of moving his hand toward the hilt of his weapon.

“Easy friend,” the stranger said softly. “I am not looking for trouble. In fact, you might accurately say that I’m looking to avoid it. Someone told me you were a yoriki serving the city’s chief magistrate. I was clearly misinformed. Please excuse me, and I apologize for the interruption.” The stranger rose to leave.

“No,” Shujiri said suddenly. “Wait. I am a yoriki, yes.” He looked around strangely, as if unfamiliar with his surroundings. “What… what is it I can do for you?”

“I need information,” the stranger said. “From one detective to another.”

Shujiri frowned. “It is inappropriate for a yoriki to discuss his superior’s investigations.”

“Of course, of course,” the stranger said. “But then, there are some that might say finding a yoriki in a place such as this would be equally inappropriate. Perhaps even more so.”

Shujiri looked down at the table, finally resting the cup of shochu on its surface. He did not speak for several long moments. “I made an arrest here my first day as a yoriki,” he finally said. “In the two years since that time, I have yet to find a more despicable, wretched place than this. I thought perhaps here…” he trailed off.

“That you could forget,” the stranger nodded. “I understand. I can even help you, if you like.” He withdrew a small bag of coins and set it on the table. A single coin feel free from the bag and rested on the table. A Crab mon was etched into the metal. “You were thinking of seeking a post elsewhere?”

The young yoriki looked up at the stranger with a suspicious glare. “That’s none of your concern,” he said harshly.

The stranger held up his hands apologetically. “Forgive me. But if you were, hypothetically speaking, this would help.” He gestured to the bag. “Or if it is simply the oblivion of drink you crave, you can buy a great deal for this.”

The Scorpion stared hungrily at the bag of coins, his indecision obvious.

The stranger reached into his robe one last time and withdrew a bottle, placing it alongside the first on the table. Shujiri drew back in surprise at the sight of it. “That is Friendly Traveler Sake,” he said. “The finest in the Empire.”

“A gift,” the stranger said, reclining.

“What is it you want to know?” the Scorpion finally asked.

The stranger folded his hands into his sleeves. “I need to know everything about the murders.”

Shujiri snorted. “Which ones? This is Ryoko Owari.”

“You know which ones I mean.”

The Scorpion licked his lips nervously and quickly downed the cup of sochu. “What you’re asking me about is the exact thing I want to forget,” he said quietly. “I wish I had never seen it. I wish I could take it away.” He looked up at the stranger hopefully. “Will it ever go away? Will it ever disappear when I close my eyes?”

For the first time, the stranger smiled. Despite his handsome features, there was a terrible emptiness in his eyes when he smiled. “No,” Yasuki Takei said truthfully. “No, it will never go away.”

It was over an hour later when Takei emerged from the sake house. Shujiri was still within, consumed with the weight of his memories and hopelessly lost to the alcohol. It would be some time before he would be of use to anyone, Takei was certain. He had seen his share of drunkenness in Friendly Traveler Village. As the village’s magistrate, it was his duty to deal with the disorderly and unseemly. Shujiri was neither of those, of course, but he was still a problem. His sensibilities were far too delicate for the manner of work that a magistrate must perform, especially one stationed in Ryoko Owari Toshi. Knowing the Scorpion, they had placed him in such a position to test his mettle. Or perhaps they hoped to use him as a pawn to convince their enemies of their weaknesses.

The Crab scowled. He had never thought particularly ill of the Scorpion, though many among his clan did. Having spent two weeks in Ryoko Owari, however… perhaps he had been naïve to think well of the so-called Clan of Secrets. So many of his kinsmen couldn’t all be mistaken, after all. Truthfully, though, Shijuri reminded Takei too much of his own yoriki back in Friendly Traveler Village. They were young and well intentioned, if a bit inexperienced. He hoped they would be able to deal with whatever problems arose in his absence.

“You there,” a stern voice interrupted his inner musings. “Hold it right there.”

Takei winced inwardly, but showed no emotion whatsoever as he complied with the command. He turned slowly, his hands held away from his sides. A rather large Scorpion was standing in the center of the street, two others standing behind him. The man’s intense demeanor and the wide berth others gave him indicated to Takei this was a man who did not brook humor well. “Show me your papers,” the magistrate commanded.

Takei nodded wordlessly and withdrew a scroll from his obi, holding it out for the magistrate to take at his leisure. The man gestured and one of the other Scorpion stepped forward to take it. The woman moved with a grace and speed that surprised Takei. The magistrate took the papers and glanced over them carefully, then looked back up at Takei in irritation. “What is this? Where are your papers?”

“Those are my papers, sama,” Takei said plaintively.

“I have little tolerance for jokes,” the magistrate said sternly. “These papers were signed by some minor magistrate in Friendly Traveler Village. They do not authorize you for travel through the Scorpion lands.”

Takei looked confused. “I do not understand. The many Crab and Scorpion way stations I passed on my journey here did not take issue with my papers.”

“Then they were fools.”

“But I traveled through Kyuden Bayushi,” Takei insisted. “I do not believe the Bayushi to be fools.” One of the two subordinates glanced sidelong at the magistrate, perhaps questioning his statement. The visible portions of the magistrate’s face reddened, which probably was not beneficial to Takei’s long term well-being in the city.

There was some noise from the small crowd watching the exchange as someone else moved into the street. It was a Unicorn, and more importantly one with an Imperial mon emblazoned upon his armor. “What is going on here, Ryoji-san?”

“Nothing that concerns you, Nobane,” the magistrate answered sharply.

The Unicorn’s eyes narrowed. “I think you forget yourself, magistrate. If I choose to make it my concern, there is little you can do in response.”

The anger blazing in Bayushi Ryoji’s eyes was truly impressive, but Takei was too focused on fading into the background to enjoy it. If this played out as well as he hoped, he might be able to fade without becoming further embroiled in an enterprise that would doubtless cause him complications, if not cause his career to come to an untimely end. Carefully, discreetly, he took a single step backwards.

“That’s quite far enough,” Nobane said firmly. “You will accompany me.” Takei’s heart sank at the words.

“You have no right,” Ryoji insisted.

“How unfortunate that you think so,” Nobane replied. “You may have your superior discuss it with me, if you like. Or you may take it up with governor Osema. I am finished speaking with you.” He pointed to Takei almost dismissively. “Come with me.”

Swallowing anxiously, Takei followed as the Unicorn turned and left the way he came. He was sure to give the Scorpion a wide berth as he passed.

The two men wound through the streets of the Fisherman’s Quarter, gradually making their way back toward the Noble Quarter. Takei watched carefully, but the one time he began to step into the alleys and disappear, Nobane simply said “That wouldn’t be a wise decision,” and continued walking. And so Takei surrendered and followed him. What would happen, would happen.

“Did you get your papers back from Ryoji?” the Unicorn asked.

“I did not.”

He nodded. “We shall see what we can do about that. You are a Yasuki, correct?”

Takei frowned. “Yes. How could you tell?”

“Your accent, although it appears you were trying to emulate something along the lines of a Kaiu dialect.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I take it you haven’t traveled a great deal.”

“No,” Takei admitted, “not really.”

“I assume you wrote those travel papers yourself, then?”

Takei cursed irritably under his breath. “Yes.”

“You really aren’t very good at all this.”

“Who are you?” the Yasuki magistrate demanded. “If you dragged me away from the Scorpion just so you could enjoy humiliating me yourself, spare me your arrogance. I have importance business here, so either charge me or let me go.”

The Unicorn stopped and turned to regard Takei carefully. There was no malice in his stare. “I am Horiuchi Nobane, commander of the Eighth Imperial Legion. My men are stationed near the city, and I had to retrieve some of my more… weak-willed junior officers from a night of indulgence in this fetid cesspool. I intervened in your particular conflict because Ryoji is a tyrannical buffoon who enjoys harassing my men any time they come into the city. Humiliating him was purely for my amusement, not your benefit.” He paused for a moment. “And now I would know what you are doing here. Consider it repayment for my benevolent patronage.”

Takei sighed heavily, suddenly aware of how tired he was. “This is not a pleasant tale, nor one fit to be overheard, particularly in a city of Scorpion.” He glanced around. “Is there somewhere we can discuss the matter privately?”

“My command tent,” Nobane replied. “Do you have a horse?”

Despite his situation, Takei finally felt somewhat relaxed as he entered the Legion encampment. If there was anywhere he could feel safe, surely it was among the Emperor’s elite servants. And if he was not safe here, then there was no point in feeling anxious because there was nothing he could do about it anyway.

“So,” Nobane said, settling down at a writing desk and withdrawing a scroll. “Please enlighten me.” Takei hesitated for a moment, regarding the scroll suspiciously, but Nobane laughed. “A supply list,” he explained. “Your secrets will not be recorded, I assure you.”

Takei nodded slowly, unsure where to begin. “Seven months ago, I was called to investigate a murder in Friendly Traveler Village. There had been violence there before, but nothing like this. It was mutilation, savage and brutal. I had never seen anything like it, although unfortunately I would see it soon again. There were eight other murders over the course of the next five months. The last one was my cousin. I arrived in time to see his murderer, but I could not see his face. We fought, and he escaped.”

Nobane nodded thoughtfully. “Go on.”

“I heard a report of a similar killing in Ryoko Owari within a month’s time. I attempted to gain permission to track the murderer down, but I was denied.”

The Unicorn raised an eyebrow. “You are here without the consent of your lord?”

Takei nodded. “Yes, though I saw that my duties and responsibilities were seen to in my absence. This is a personal matter now. I must end this.”

“How many more?”

“Five since the killer fled Friendly Traveler,” Takei said. “At least, as near as I can tell. The Scorpion are not particularly forthcoming with their internal problems, but I know what I am looking for. Perhaps I cannot forge convincing documents or assume a deceptive accent, but I am an excellent magistrate.”

Nobane said nothing for several moments, continuing to pen his supply list. “I believe you must be,” he finally said. “Do you have any suspects?”

“I began with a rather large list of travelers who have crossed the Crab border in the past seven months. I managed to obtain at least a partial list of similar names from the Scorpion here in the city, and have been comparing the two for nearly two weeks now.”

“Impressive,” Nobane nodded. “How did you get such a list from the Scorpion, and why would you trust the information it contains?”

“Bribery,” Takei said with a wry smile. “It’s the common language of Yasuki and Scorpion. Besides, our sake is quite difficult to get in this part of the Empire. The Scorpion have no reason to lie to me; they had nothing to gain.”

“You found something, then?”

“I did,” Takei nodded. “It may be nothing, but I cannot be certain. Tomorrow will tell the tale, I hope.”

“What can I do to be of aid to you?” Nobane asked.

Takei grunted. “Some travel papers would be nice, if you have them.” He thought for a moment. “And are there any Toritaka among your Legion? I may need their expertise.”

Nobane looked at Takei curiously.

It was late the following night when Takei heard a muffled scream from down the hallway. He leapt up from his place of concealment in the inn’s common room and raced into the hallway, drawing his weapon and cursing inwardly. He did not think he had gone to sleep, but he might have. Either that, or his prey was stealthier than he had anticipated, and had slipped past him toward the target. Either way, it likely spelled the end for an innocent man.

Takei had just enough time to appreciate a sense of familiarity as he ripped open the screen and entered the room of Doji Takasu, a Crane merchant patron who had once been an adherent of Daikoku before abandoning his spiritual leanings to embrace commercial interests in his clan’s name.

Takasu was laying on the floor, clawing weakly at the wall in what might have been an attempt to rise. The sheer amount of blood already on the floor told Takei that the Crane’s abdomen had suffered a terrible wound. He would be dead in moments, long before Takei could get help. He had more pressing concerns.

A familiar figure stood in the room’s center, bloodied steel in its hand. The same thick, voluminous cloak covered every feature. There was a hiss of recognition from within the hood, and the figure turned to leap out the second story window, just as it had in Friendly Traveler Village months ago. Takei’s breath caught in his throat as he waited to see if his hunch had proven correct.

The figure struck the wall and should have crashed through the relatively thin wood to escape into the streets below. Instead, there was a loud thud, and the figure bounced away from the wall to land squarely on its back in the center of the room.

“It’s over, Sarasa,” Takei said. He held is blade before him, prepared to kill in an instant. “Surrender yourself and salvage some vestige of honor.”

The figure rose from the floor. The hood fell away to reveal a young woman’s face. There was a splatter of blood on her left cheek, and her eyes were like those of a cornered predator. “You know?”

Takei nodded. “There are records of Akodo Sarasa traveling through the Scorpion lands and into the Crab provinces, but no record of your departure. And you have been reported missing for months now. You have all the training needed to avoid detection, and the armor you wear underneath your robe makes you appear to be larger, more masculine. Few would suspect you.”

“The window,” she hissed. “What have you done?”

“Spirit wards,” Takei explained. “It was instinct, pure and simple. I know about your father.”

“Do not speak of him,” Sarasa said angrily, her voice rising.

“Dishonored in battle for unseemly brutality,” Takei continued. “He was killed by bandits when you were still very young. There were reports of his presence at the Battle of Oblivion’s Gate, but nothing since then. He fought for the Steel Chrysanthemum, didn’t he? And he died again, defying the Emperor. But that wasn’t the end for him either, was it? You were a fool to sate your bloodlust in the Yasuki lands, Sarasa. The Crab know more about demons like your father than you ever will.”

“You don’t understand,” Sarasa insisted. “I cannot stop him! The dreams… every night! So much blood…”

“Why?” Takei asked, his tone cold. “Why those who turned their backs on the Fortunes?” His features twisted in anger. “Why my cousin?”

Sarasa regarded him with an angry glare, a hollow light filling her eyes. When she spoke, her voice was not her own. “The bandits who murdered me… their leader was a shugenja who left the temple. He and those like him are blasphemers! Traitors to the one true path! And Agasha Tamori, also a shugenja… if he had not been so weak, the Chrysanthemum would have been victorious! Traitors to the Empire, blasphemers, all of them!”

“Your father was a petty butcher,” Takei growled. “Now you are a mindless killing spirit. Do not speak of blasphemy to me.” He smiled grimly. “You are the last of your line. You have no siblings, no children. Your father’s legacy will end with you.”

“You dare?” she screamed. She leapt across the room in one fluid motion, bringing her blade across with such force that Takei’s katana was nearly torn from his grip by the sheer force of the blow. She was far stronger than he expected, drawing on her father’s supernatural aid. “I will kill you!”

Takei rolled underneath a second attack and lashed out at Sarasa’s legs, but she was too quick. She was faster, more experienced, and much stronger than he. He parried another strike desperately, trying to avoid being pinned in the corner. Sarasa attacked again, and Takei kicked her viciously in the midsection while she was recovering from the force of her swing.

Air rushed out of Sarasa’s lungs with an audible gasp, and Takei followed the attack with a crushing pommel strike to the face in an attempt to drive her back far enough so that he could manage a killing blow. She rolled back with the blow, however, and his attack was too short to reach her, only cutting through some of the loose cloth of her cloak. He followed up with several quick strikes, but she retreated faster than he could advance.

And then, all at once, she was on top of him. He felt cold steel bite into his leg, but he only had a moment to appreciate the exquisite agony of it. A series of open handed strikes snapped his head back, and he thought he felt something break. Rough hands grabbed him around the chest and heaved him off the ground. For a moment, he thought she wanted to crush him to death with her bare hands.

Sarasa crouched as if to heave him forward, and Takei realized what she meant to do. At the last moment, he grabbed a fistful of hair in one hand and cloth in the other and held on tightly. The possessed woman’s prodigious strength worked against her, as she was pulled along after him.

Takei struck the wall with bone-shattering force. The wood splintered beneath his weight, sending shards flying in all directions. The spirit ward ribbons fluttered into the night air, their power broken along with the wall. Two forms rolled out onto the roof, hopelessly entangled in a mass of tattered clothing and limbs.

The inclined roof creaked beneath them, but held. Takei realized he was hurt, and badly. Sarasa was struggling to her feet. She would escape again, leaving him broken and unable to pursue her. Her murderous nature would litter the Empire with innocent corpses.

He would not allow it.

With the last bit of his strength, Takei willed his broken body in an awkward, flailing leap that brought his entire weight to bear on Sarasa. She grunted in surprise from the impact and struggled to shrug him off, but he was little more than dead weight. The two of them tumbled forward off the roof and into the crisp night air.

It was almost fifteen feet from the roof to the cobblestone path beneath, and Takei brought every ounce of his weight down upon his opponent. There was a terrible wet snap when they collided. Takei waited a precious few seconds, but there was no wave of pain from a fresh break, and Sarasa did not move.

Takei slumped to the ground, bleeding from a dozen wounds. He would die here, on the filthy road in Ryoko Owari. It was not what he had wanted for his life, but he accepted it. His superiors would not understand, but he knew that he had proven himself to his ancestors tonight. He would die with honor, at least, even if no one else knew it.

“Easy, friend,” a voice came through the haze. “Rest now.”

“N… Nobane,” Takei sputtered, his lips flecked with blood. “You weren’t… supposed… to interfere. My duty…”

“And I haven’t,” the officer assured Takei. “Your task is done, my friend. Everyone will know of your valor. I will tell the world.”

“Thank you,” Takei managed.

And then there was only darkness.