A Masterpiece of Death and Color
Chapter fifteen
Hiro
The plane finished its landing.
The engines wound down with a long mechanical exhale.
The hatch opened.
Men poured out and kept pouring.
I counted them in groups of ten because counting men one at a time was how a soldier lost his mind before a battle. Ten. Twenty. Forty. Sixty. A hundred. A hundred and fifty.
These men were different than the ones that had already been cheering on the field. Heavier gear. Body armor under their jackets. Disciplined ranks. They formed up outside the plane and that told me that they had drilled this exact arrival a hundred times.
Quiet.
Fast.
Expertly trained.
Then I saw the men racing out of the plane holding rocket launchers.
I counted twenty rocket launchers.
Fuck.
Reo's traps suddenly felt much smaller.
My stomach dropped. “We’re going to have to take out the men with those rocket launchers first, or that’s going to cause a lot of damage on our side.”
With that declaration, the Silent Ones stepped in closer and took in the scene with us.
Through the Gozu, Satoshi spoke. "We should attack now."
Kenji shook his masked head. "No. My Roar's plan is perfect. They're still comfortable and secure right now. Let's wait for all the players to come outside. Akiro has a tendency to run at the first scent of his losing."
I pressed my palm against my vest until I felt the locket through the fabric.
Stay alive, my Tiger. I pray you are safe.
Akiro’s men kept coming and forming various units all over the field. Then, the pouring out slowed until it completely stopped.
At least three hundred men in disciplined ranks stood on the open field with their weapons up. Twenty rocket launchers anchored the flanks.
And then ten more figures stepped out of the plane.
Reo took them in. “Interesting.”
One by one these men damn near strolled down the stairs. I knew the difference before any of them reached the bottom of the ramp. These ten moved like cats walking across velvet. Like dancers who had killed a hundred men each.
They moved like art.
And every piece of clothing matched, head to toe in a single color. Jackets. Gloves. Pants. Boots. Even the leather masks covering their faces matched.
The all-red assassin carried twin curved blades resting across his shoulders as casually as another man might carry a coat.
The blue assassin wore a chain wrapped around one forearm.
Gold carried a bow carved with gold filigree and a quiver of black-feathered arrows.
The violet assassin twirled a narrow knife between his fingers without ever looking at it.
All-black wielded a long sword sheathed across his back.
Meanwhile, the bone-white assassin had no visible weapon at all. That worried me more than the others.
Forest green rested a hand on a polearm wrapped in deep emerald silk from blade to shaft.
The silver assassin wore metal claws over both hands. Moonlight flashed from every fingertip.
Burnt orange carried a pair of war fans painted with flames. Every edge looked sharpened enough to shave with.
The copper assassin held a spear with a copper tassel hanging beneath the blade.
And they all moved with the casual confidence of people who had spent their entire lives being the deadliest thing in every space.
We’ll see about that.
Yoichi spoke, “Assassins.”
Aki snickered, “Colorful ones.”
Yuki added, “How pretty.”
Reo nodded. “Let the Scales and Silent Ones handle all of the men in ranks, but you all are expected to take out the assassins.”
“Quickly,” Kenji added. “No dancing tonight. Kill them fast and without any mercy.”
Toma rubbed his hands together. "The red one is mine."
Kaede tilted his head. "I’ll take Mr. White. I like them clean before I make them bleed red."
The twins turned their masks toward the blue one in perfect unison.
Aki spoke first. "Blue."
Yuki finished. "Green."
I turned my masked face toward the twins. "Forget the assassins. Your only job tonight is to protect my brother. Whatever happens out there, you stay with Kenji."
The twins answered in unison. "Yes, Hiro."
Kaoru watched the violet assassin. "That one is wearing violet all wrong. I’ll have to teach him a lesson. Plus, one of my girlfriends hates that color. Her mother wore violet to her father's funeral."
The rest picked their men. Two were left.
Reo crossed his arms over his chest. “And I’ll take both orange and gold.”
Kenji looked at him and lowered his voice. “And your ribs?”
“Our Tora’s cheese is healing.”
Even with the mask on, I could see Kenji rolling his eyes.
I put my attention back on the assassins.
Akiro had brought professionals. That told me something far more important than how dangerous these ten were. It told me that Akiro and our father were tired.
War exhausted everyone eventually. The weak grew afraid. The proud grew reckless. The grieving grew desperate.
And the tired?
The tired gambled. They pushed harder. Risked more. Committed resources they would normally keep in reserve.
A tired man stopped thinking about the next battle and started thinking about ending the current one in the most desperate way. It shrank a man's vision until he could only see the finish line. The possibilities between here and there disappeared.
Traps vanished.
Warnings faded.
Patience died.
The desire for an ending became stronger than the instinct for survival.
And tonight. . .Akiro had basically emptied his hand onto the table.
Good. We’ll use that against you this evening.
Then Akiro stepped to the top of the ramp and scanned the field.
The kusarigama rested in his hands. Chain and sickle.
Curved blade gleaming under the moonlight.
Ten feet of chain dragging behind him with the heavy ball at the end.
His favorite weapon. The same one from many days ago that he had spun lazily through the burning theater while his men died around him and he smiled at us from a safe distance.
A growl tore out of my chest before I could stop it.
Kenji's hand landed on my shoulder. "Be patient, brother. Soon."
I forced my breath out slowly through my nose. I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste copper through the honeyed yuzu. The lollipop stayed whole in my mouth.
Come on down, Akiro. You’re tired, and I’m ready.
Five men headed down the stairs with Akiro. They must have been his main guards.
I leaned toward Kenji. “Are you sure our father is on the plane?”
“Definitely.”
“Do you think he will come off?”
“No. Too much of a coward. We’ll have to go on and get him. He has guns.”
“You know this?”
“My dragon-shadow told me.”
I sighed. “I hope that’s true.”
Or you’re just as crazy as me.
Down on the ground, movement came at the front of Akiro's ranks. Small groups of men broke off and moved forward into the open ground between the plane and our tree line. They carried small dark objects in their hands, knelt every few feet, and placed them into the grass.
Reo leaned forward. "What are they doing?"
My brother spoke under his breath. "Goryū, go see."
I blinked. "Who the fuck is Goryū?"
Kenji remained quiet and watched the men in the grass. I doubt he even heard me. Then. . .seconds later, he sighed. "They're placing down mines."
"Fuck," Reo shook his head. "Smart. We have to go forward. We can't let them place too many. If they do, then they'll own our field. Not us."
My brother's voice stayed low. "Weaken them, Goryū."
I squinted at the field.
Suddenly, two of the men placing mines dropped. No shots or person had hit them. They simply folded into the grass like puppets with the strings cut at the same instant.
Did Kenji’s dragon-shadow do that? Fuck! He really does have control of it.
The other men placing mines did not notice the men lying on the ground for two full seconds. When they did, they looked around and then at each other. Their hands shook as they frantically whispered to each other.
Reo turned to my brother and nodded.
Toma's voice came confused. "What happened to them?"
Kenji spoke loud enough for all of us and even turned to the Silent Ones. "Get ready to head out. And be careful. There are at least ten mines out there now."
And then the worst thing happened. . .the ghost appeared near one mine. The baby girl in her pink onesie sat cross-legged. Her curly hair lifted in the night breeze. More blood dripped down her temple.
She watched both armies with those dark calm eyes, turned her face toward me, and stuffed her thumb in her mouth.
Okay. . .real or not. . .I’m fighting this war for you too.
She blinked like she heard me and. . .for a few insane-driven seconds. . .I actually hoped she did.
“Get ready.” My brother lifted Totoro and pulled the trigger guard back. A spark caught at the barrel's mouth. "Now!"
The whole tree line moved.
All the Claws, except the twins, rushed out first.
Masked.
Fast.
Roaring.
The Fangs sprinted and got to the Claws’ sides with their own battle cry. Kaoru a streak of pink hair behind the Kuchisake. Yoichi a flash of ancient gold. Satoshi a low iron silhouette. Rin in white with both hooked-braids swinging like signals at his back.
Behind them, the Scales poured from the trees in hundreds. Solid red, black, and gray masks flooded past the tree line in a wave that did not stop and did not slow.
And behind the Scales, deeper in the dark, the Silent Ones rose from their patient stillness and came forward in red hoods that ate every shred of moonlight.
Across the field, Akiro's men snapped their views to the forest. Their confident faces changed. Their guns came up too late. Their ranks moved too slow.
A man with a rocket launcher lowered the weapon and stared in shock. It might have been the masks that shocked him first. . .or the sheer size of roaring men racing toward them. . .and then he was dead. . .I didn’t even know how Yoichi had gotten there so fast.