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These farmers want to commit seppuku, thought Naoki as he went through the front door to scan for signs of danger. He found it just as the dog, Fu, also noticed it. Out of the darkness, zombies were shuffling toward the farmstead, in that typical gait only the undead possessed. Naoki's posture alerted Ishi, who asked, "What is it?" from within the main room. Scanning the area quickly, Naoki noted that they had probably already surrounded the main building, that there were at least ten to fifteen of them. "There're more coming. Eyoio, get the weaponless upstairs! Everyone else, move to cover all entrances!"
Naoki then drew Shonsu Nanji, his faithful katana, and prepared, just as he had done earlier in the evening, back at the mine. "Routine can sometimes be good," he mused, "but this one begins to rub me the wrong way."
Yesterday had been hell, doing the stoning day with a hangover, then discovering a dead shepherd, fighting zombies at the mine, fighting more at Eyoio's farm, and finally returning to the village, only to find it already in panic. A brief discussion of how to gather information on the whereabouts of a likely zombie horde was, unfortunately, not leading anywhere. Naoki left the group to ask Ishi, who had already gone to try to get some sleep. Waking him up, Naoki asked his opinion on likely places to find the zombies, and Ishi responded with the first intelligent statement that Naoki had heard all, ... was it already morning? He said, in his simple, direct fashion, "Wherever there are bones, obviously! I'm sleeping!" The burial mounds, of course. That must be a source, and any other graveyard that the peasants might have, as well. Later, then, after they all got some rest, this would have to be investigated. Naoki went to find a place to collapse, after close to a full twenty-four hours of intense activity.
Rest, however, was a luxury that the current situation did not afford Naoki and his companions. At mid-morning, they were awoken, and were told of two lightning strikes, out of a clear sky, probably at the base of the Fuka and at the mine. The situation was worsening, they all knew, and immediate information was required. Ishi tried to cast spells to do surveillance, but his lack of proper rest, and the injuries he had sustained, conspired to block his best efforts.
Marako and Naoki, traveling on swift Motoko, set off for Eyoio's farm, with the intention of destroying the remains of the skeletons that they had all left there, so that they could not be reanimated yet again. To their misfortune, they had arrived too late.
Marako, with her gaijin far-seeing device, was able to clarify the movement they could perceive into a scene of horror: A, person?, who himself seemed recently deceased, was engaged in human sacrifice, killing the two trappers they had met on the trail, in order to power a spell that would reanimate the huge pile of bones in front of him. There was an eerie wail from the direction of the farmstead, and suddenly, BOOM, lightening struck. The zombies, some standing up from the pile, some pulling themselves out of the very ground, began to form up into a marching line. It was time, clearly, to return to the village, to make preparations for an assault, perhaps, even, to die.
When they returned to the village, Marako and Naoki found it in even greater panic than previously, because of the relative nearness of that last lightning strike. Naoki immediately set himself to the task of arranging battle lines, arraying the majority of the able-bodied peasants, with whatever sort of weapon they could find, along the inside bank of the river on the side of the village from which the skeletons would be approaching. Someone had lit the bridge on fire, so easy access would, hopefully, be at least partially blocked. The samurai were spaced among the primary line of peasants, with Ozaki facing the road to the mine, then Jinjiro, Kataji, Marako, and finally Naoki himself, who was closest to the mill. Takehai had joined the Kitsune samurai Konamura in guarding the rear of the action, so that no nasty surprises might approach from the ford, and they had taken a small contingent of peasants with them.
Ishi mounted a house with a view commanding the river, and the probable approach of the zombie horde. With any luck, he could get off some spells, and reduce the effective numbers that reached the line of defenders on the bank. Now, there was nothing left to do but wait for the zombies to appear, but Naoki continued to pace the battle-line, looking for small improvements, encouraging the frightened peasants, reminding them to swarm, to grab at the zombies' masks, to overwhelm. He knew that his words of instruction would have little effect, but he hoped nevertheless that he could have some small positive impact on their morale.
Passing Kataji on his way back to his position, Naoki noticed the lines around his old friend's eyes, the shadows within them that he had never seen before. Naoki immediately knew something was wrong, and something needed to be done.
"You alright?" he asked.
"I'll be fine, don't worry about me," came Kataji's response. He said it in his same old way, but his tone of confidence was utterly betrayed by that haunted, resigned look in his eyes.
Naoki pressed, "The knee, how's it holding up?"
"It hurts," Kataji stated simply, but Naoki then understood that there was a major problem here, for that simple statement was not one that the old Kataji would ever make simply.
"Maybe you should stay in reserve," Naoki said, and Kataji's response was, for the first time in the conversation, classically Kataji:
"There is no reserve, you idiot!"
With this brief opening, Naoki felt he could get inside the guard that Kataji had clearly been building up, against mostly the zombies, Naoki supposed, but perhaps also a little against Naoki himself. He got right up close to Kataji, and looked him directly in the eyes, trying to pierce down into the very essence of his longtime friend, whispering with intensity:
"We need you to last, Kataji! I need you too! Your experience can make the difference here, go behind the line, shout orders, move the troops where they will be most effective. I need you to do this for me, now!"
The silence following Naoki's fierce whisper was even fiercer. Naoki thought that Kataji might even hit him, and an injury like that, he certainly didn't need right before battle. But then, suddenly, the look in his eyes was replaced, and the old drinking buddy that Naoki loved was back. He smiled, almost, a little bit around his eyes, and stomped off, despite his knee, to find a stool. Naoki felt a shudder grip his body, but he moved quickly to close the gap created by Kataji's movement. Jinjiro and Marako moved to make the gap between them smaller. Suddenly, the zombies were there, and there must have been at least a hundred of them, in two huge lines.
Flame shot out over the peasants, coming from an arcanely gesticulating Ishi. The ball of destruction landed amidst the zombies, and blasted the lines asunder: No longer a precise wave, but a more disorganized menace. The peasants cheered out loudly, "Magic is with us! We have a shugenja!" Ishi didn't hear the shouts, already pulling out another scroll. After another moment, the very earth was shaking beneath the zombies, further disrupting their progress. Disruption, unfortunately, did not become suspension, and the huge mob passed through the river, and swarmed the line of defenders.
Soon, all too soon, the chaos was so great that Naoki lost track of his companions, but the situation was worsening, and he began to think about calling a retreat. Then, word was passed along the line that a second horde had arrived on Ozaki's position, with the gaunt, zombie-controller among them. Naoki called for the retreat to the river, shouting for Takehai to prepare the coracles for the refugees.
Spinning toward the river road, Naoki was in time to see a broad sheet of black fire sweep his field of vision, and in its aftermath, the rise of more newly animated foes, and not only those that the defenders had recently dispatched, but, more horribly, also even those who had until minutes ago been fighting alongside the remaining defenders, their friends and their family members.
Naoki was furious and frustrated. As long as that creature remained, the enemy mob would ever increase in size. Naoki sprinted for the house that jutted out into the middle of the village square. Naoki pumped his legs hard, and sprang upward when still about six feet from the building. He stretched out his arms, and pulling massively, vaulted onto the rooftop.
Glancing over the edge, Naoki saw that Jinjiro was defending a necessary route of escape. Naoki then looked over the other edge of the house he was on, and into the swirling chaos of zombies surrounding their master. He saw also the wedge that Kataji and Ozaki, weaving and swirling in their inimitable two-man style, together with a few stalwart peasants, were maintaining to block the progress of the entire massed horde, so that the others might escape.
Naoki had an arrow knocked, ready to fly when the correct moment revealed itself, but the confused disorder below him kept that moment well hidden. Finally, he drew and shot, but the movements were wrong, though close. The arrow removed the hood from the zombie-creator's head, revealing the horrid visage that Marako had described, but it did not dispatch him. Two more arrows flew, but by then Naoki's opponent had starting moving irregularly, making those shots even harder. Then Naoki's position was discovered, and the foul creature placed one of his minions, probably a former noble bandit, to judge by the archaic, rotten armor, between himself and Naoki, blocking any further shots.
Naoki snarled, and spun, working up to an immediate sprint and leaping to the next house over, not even stopping to check that the roof of that other house might support him. It did, fortunately, but Naoki was already checking his new angle. The armored zombie, however, had moved to block this new line of attack. Now Naoki howled in frustration, and let loose a final arrow that found a home in the armored defender of his true desired target. It was hopeless to continue this tactic, and Ozaki was calling for the final retreat, so Naoki leapt to the ground. He stood up, turned around, and in that moment, time froze like the glaciers gracing the upper slopes of the Fuka in the distance.
In that tense instant, paradoxically, it was as though Naoki had infinite leisure, sitting in a tea house somewhere safe and comfortable, to contemplate the mural spread out on the rice paper wall in front of him. On the left end of the image, Takehai had a few final coracles down by the ford, and was gesturing wildly for everyone to hurry to him, to escape into the embrace of the river. In front of him, Ozaki was marshaling the final few brave peasants towards the escape hatch that Takehai promised, while at the same time shouting, "GO! GO! GO!" But on the right end of the image, there was a scene that would remain indelibly etched in Naoki's mind: Kataji, alone, surrounded by zombies, leaning heavily on the bad leg that would never let him escape to the river, but fighting with a fury never before achieved anywhere and never again to be encountered, exhibiting an endurance and self-sacrifice that even the original Hida would have envied.
This strange stoppage of the flow of events allowed Naoki to contemplate his next action calmly, coolly, almost without emotion. Should I break through the zombies, rush to his side, pick him up and try to carry him out? Naoki asked himself. But he knew that Kataji relied on no one but himself, and that he was happier with a certain knowledge of his future, as he had formerly been, and was now, apparently, again, even though that certain future was, now, death. Should I fight to his side, and die with him there? Naoki wondered next. But he also knew that was wrong; that would be an insult to Kataji, who was certainly capable of holding off a mere horde of zombies on his own so that his companions could escape; that Kataji would consider it a waste if Naoki too did not profit from his sacrifice; and, perhaps most importantly, that this was the way that Kataji, and everyone who truly understood the man, knew that he would want to, and in fact would, leave this existence: as a hero.