Naoki paced the room, waiting for the report. When Takeo finally entered, his face was grim. "It isn't good, Daimyo Naoki," he said.

"You don't have to be formal, Takeo-kun. How bad is it?" Deep down, I had known all along that things would be difficult, but I hadn't thought that they would get this bad so quickly.

"We're under siege. Oda has destroyed many of our clan's outposts and marched across the border. This is nothing like the Asai were... This is..." Takeo stopped and from his expression, I knew that he didn't want to finish, but I needed to hear, even if he didn't want me to.

"This is what?"

"Total destruction," he finished quietly. "There were so many people killed for the sake of a madman."

I could already imagine the destruction of the battlefields, but suddenly I had to see for myself. Suddenly I needed to know what Oda had done; needed to know why he could possibly have started this, just for the sake of power.

"I'm going to see for myself," I said. "You and Ryo make sure everyone stays in line."

Takeo frowned. "Are you sure you want to, Daimyo Naoki? With all due respect, I'm not sure you want to see what is out there."

"I know it isn't good, Takeo-kun, but that's why I have to do this," I told him, moving to the door. "Just keep things running smoothly here while I'm gone."

Then I left, carefully opening the small paper door and slipping through it and into the dark night. If it's as bad as it sounds, I don't think I'll be able to forgive myself for letting it happen in the first place, I thought grimly.

Takeo took my arm before I left. "At least wait two or three days," he suggested. "That way you have time to fully prepare for the journey..."

Turning, I looked at him, considering. Finally, I had to agree. I couldn't just up and leave anymore; not now that I was the leader of a clan. "Alright. I'll wait."

***

The outpost stank of death and rotting bodies. The smell permeated the air, seeping into every crack and corner and settling there like, refusing to be removed by the gentle breeze that blew through the air. The wind tugged at my hair, pulling it into my face. Pushing it away, I stared at the hundreds of dead bodies from my vantage point on the hill.

How? How could Oda justify this? This isn't honorable, this is butchery! Did they even get a chance to fight back? Questions flew through my mind, constantly reminding me that I was still human and still capable of feeling the emotions that I tried so constantly to push back.

Eventually, I made myself walk down the road and into the outpost, carefully avoiding the corpses and trying not to disturb anything. The smell was stronger now that I was inside the outpost and it settled over me like a heavy weight, pushing me down. Warriors had fallen everywhere, but that wasn't what caught my attention.

It was the houses, all of them with their doors thrown wide open or broken down. What lay inside was worse, though.

Quietly, I stepped over the threshold of the first house and looked around. There stood a tiny fireplace in the back of the room and pillows for sitting on had been scattered around the low table. Sleeping mats were lined up close together by the wall and a small screen separated the kitchen from the living area.

A smaller mat was by the wall and I went to it, afraid of what I might find underneath the blanket. Kneeling, I pulled the blanket aside. I A tiny baby girl lay underneath, and the sight of her still form broke my heart.

Her chest had been cut open by a katana, blood staining the sheets around her. Her tiny mouth was open in the silent cries that can only come from a terrified baby who wants its mother. Her little blue eyes stared up at me like cold gems and her face was covered with dried blood. It had mingled with her short, black hair and caused it stick together. Her small body was already rotting. It had been two days already, so it was no surprise, but I hated that it had happened. She should be alive. She should have the chance to live her life, happy and carefree. Why would Oda do something like this?

Numbness spread over me as I stepped away from the child in shock and moved to the kitchen. I could only guess that the woman who lay on the floor was the child's mother. Her head had been severed and scared brown eyes stared up at me from the floor. Bending down, I closed them gently; unable to stand the feeling that she was watching me and asking how I could let this happen.

What have I caused by choosing to fight Oda? I wondered, shocked at the amount of devastation he had caused. Killing samurai who could fight back was one thing, but women and children? Who would be spared if even they were targets?

Stepping out of the house, I eased the door closed and stared at everything around me. All of the death. It reminded me so much of that day when my parents were killed by Osamu.

I stared into the face of another woman, this one collapsed on the ground, her fingers curled tightly around a wooden spoon. She had tried to fight, although she must have known it wouldn't work. It was something to be admired, when someone had the bravery to do that, and I knelt beside her, gently closing her eyes as well and sucking in a deep breath.

An old Japanese poem about bravery came to mind and I whispered it quietly for all of those who gave their lives trying to stop Oda's forces. At first, it came in bits and pieces, but as I recited it, the lines came easier and they rolled off of my tongue, escaping into the air like a breath of fresh air amongst the pain and horror of the death surrounding me. When it was finished, it seemed to linger in the air for a moment before everything around me came rushing back, leaving me breathless and choked up.

Standing, I moved on, but when I came to the center of the outpost and saw the hundreds of bodies that lay there, motionless, I was too overwhelmed. Men, women, and kids, all of them slaughtered for the sake of a message. It was a warning. That was clear now. I refused to believe that Oda had killed so many people for no reason at all. He was a killer and he was ruthless, but even he would not do something so terrible just for the sake of doing it.

My legs collapsed out from underneath me and I knelt among the death and destruction silently for a moment before letting out a loud scream at the sky. "Why? Why would you do this to them, Oda? Why would you kill so many innocent people?" I yelled, tears pouring down my face.

Putting my head in my hands, I shook. Horror, anger, sorrow, and pain mingled inside of me as I sat there. "Why?" I whispered again.

I don't know how long I knelt there on the ground, letting the tears come because I couldn't stop them. When the sky began to darken with night, I gathered myself and stood, wrapping my dark kimono around me to keep out the chill. Shock had begun to set in and the scene around me was even more horrific in the dark, so I escaped from the outpost as quickly as possible and got on my horse to go home.

***

I spent days roaming the halls of the castle and thinking after I got back. Plans ran through my head and I refined them before discarding them and finding a new plan and then doing it again. The images from the outpost stuck with me the whole time, reminding me constantly of what Oda had done.

My dreams were restless, peppered with scenes from the outpost and memories of the day my parents were killed. When I slept, I couldn't escape from the dreams until I finally woke up in the morning, often covered in sweat and breathing hard.

"Naoki, run! They're coming," Mother yelled.

"But haha, I want to stay with you," I argued, staring at the warriors marching towards our small home. "Please?"

"Hide, Naoki," she insisted. "Hide, or they'll kill you too."

"Haha, I don't want you to die." My eyes opened wide as I stared up at her. "Don't leave me, haha, I need you!"

Father came up behind me and grabbed me, pushing me out the back door and into our small Japanese garden of stones. I stumbled onto the stepping stones, careful to avoid disturbing the pattern raked into them that morning, and then turned to my father.

"Chichi, what's happening?" I asked, desperate to understand my parent's urgency.

"Go, Naoki. Run, and they won't find you. Always follow Bushido, my son!"

I knew enough to understand that father was saying goodbye, and in that moment, as I heard Mother's scream of pain and fear, I knew that I hated Osamu with every fiber of my being. Nothing anyone could say or do would change that.

Father ran into the house and I almost followed, but instead I ran across the garden and out into back streets. Someone yelled behind me and I sped up, pumping my small legs as fast as they could go. It was useless. They caught up to me and dragged me back to the house and through to the street.

My parents' dead bodies froze in my mind as I was forced past them and into the bustling streets. Mother, her beautiful, thick black hair matted with her own blood as it spilled from her throat. Her clear, loving brown eyes clouded over in death and her mouth open in a scream.

Father lay in an awkward position on the floor and he looked as if he'd been stabbed as he ran into the kitchen and fallen. Blood oozed from the hole where his heart was and his handsome features were marred by a mix of pain. Not the kind of pain you feel when you are hurt. The kind of pain you feel when you've just watched the one person you have loved more than anyone else in the world die in front of your eyes, and you are unable to stop it.

"Chichi! Haha!" I cried, reaching out to them, but the samurai dragged me past them. I struggled all the way to the small palace that Osamu lived in, but hopelessness had already seeped in. I may be too young to fight now, but I swear to you, Chichi, Haha, I will avenge you. I will never swear allegiance to Osamu for as long as I live.

***

My eyes snapped open and I sat up, the memory of the little baby in the crib engraved in my mind. Hatred filled me again, but not for Osamu this time. This time, the hatred that burned inside of me was for Oda and his heartless, destructive behavior. The hatred tightened in my gut like a knot and I let it grow. It hadn't been long before when the hatred for Osamu had festered inside of me and I had felt empty when he was gone. But now I was full of hatred again and felt the overwhelming urge to avenge the deaths of the innocents that Oda had heartlessly slaughtered.

Oda couldn't rule Japan, but someone needed to rule or Japan would face anarchy. That someone couldn't be me, though, and the only other person I could think of who could do it was Kyou.

He was a natural ruler anyway, and if anyone could do it, he could. He was smart, brave, and an excellent warrior. I didn't know him all that well, but I knew him well enough to know that he was reliable too, and if he would be willing to rule Japan, I would help him do it.

Ryo came into the room and I looked up. "Yes?" I asked him.

"Kyou would like to join you," he said. "I know you didn't want to be bothered, but I thought I would ask. He said it was important, so..."

"Let him in. We have plenty to discuss."