The Face of Fear
4-18 January 1999
by Jason Lauman

Editor's note: This travelogue was originally written in two parts, and they are merged here for ease of reading. This travelogue is placed out of chronological order in order to preserve the flow of events within the game as they happened.

Ishi looked around the cherry orchard again. Pink blossoms and pink cheeks. Everyone was enjoying themselves too much. "I should be enjoying myself too," Ishi thought. "I should be singing and dancing and pouring liberal amounts of sake down my throat." Ishi pulled his hood a bit more over his head, and scowled at the partiers from its shadowy depths.

"I wish that I could forget," Ishi continued thinking. The scene that Jinjiro described to him played through his head over and over. An Oni dancing in Kakita Castle. Of course, Ishi added his own details to Jinjiro's bad dream; Ishi knew the gruesome visage of the Oni from his own dreams. "If my Oni appeared to Jinjiro the way he has appeared to me, Jinjiro would have soiled himself." Ishi openly chuckled at the thought and drew several wide-eyed glances from the nearest partiers.

Checking his cleverly hidden black katana, Ishi slowly rose from his sitting position and made his way to the edge of the orchard. Ishi imagined his exit from the orchard as if he were flying overhead; a near black splotch being squeezed out by the bright pinks and blues.

After an afternoon rest induced by large amounts of opium, Ishi sauntered into the courtyard for touch of dinner. Upon seeing the throng of blue minus pink, Ishi spun around to head back to his room, but was spun back by Naoki.

"I hear there is going to be a grand play put on this evening," Naoki began. "I also hear that there is going to be an Oni scene in it. Think you can handle it?" Ishi involuntarily nodded from the intense chill that ran up his spine. "Good. Here are our seats." Naoki gracefully settled his mass, and pulled Ishi down after him.

Ishi tugged his hood closer to his head.

After everyone settled the haiku began. Cherry-blossom-this and Cherry-blossom-that. Memories of peaches floated to the surface of Ishi's mind. "At least there we got to run around in mock-battle like a bunch of idiots," he thought. "How can a samurai stand this? I'll have to cut down the next poet before he starts." Ishi discretely patted his black katana.

Mercifully another poet did not stand up, and the stage cleared for the play. While the guests chatted idly, and waited for the play to begin, Ishi caught a glance form Jinjiro. "If I were to put that glance to words," Ishi thought, "it would say 'Don't do anything stupid here among my clan.'" Ishi watched Jinjiro's face remake itself when Jinjiro was drawn into the conversation around him.

"I wish that I could make an ass of myself right now," Ishi whispered.

Naoki turned his head to try to catch what Ishi had said. "Eh? You say something over here?"

Ishi began again, but couldn't finish the same. "I wish that I could make a pass at a female right now," he quietly said. Naoki returned a grunt, and went back to his rice balls and sake. Ishi bit down on his lip.

The play began.

Knowing what was to appear at the end (certainly an Oni scene would be the climax) did not prepare Ishi at all. In fact knowing that an Oni scene would appear on stage in the near future only made Ishi itch all over with anxiety. Each word from the actors turned into minutes, and each scene into hours. Ishi could not decipher the story; nothing made sense.

Then the Oni appeared.

The composition of the Oni was so unlike what Ishi had imagined that it took several seconds to comprehend what the stitched together actors waving wooden swords meant. When Ishi realized this was the Oni scene the bubble of slow-time popped and the stage, actors, and story met at a single bright point in Ishi's mind.

Ishi gripped the table in front of him with both hands, which was enough to crease Naoki's brow. Naoki had been watching Ishi the entire play, and was prepared to take action to save Ishi from acting more dishonorably than usual.

A loud crack and a cloud of smoke broke from the stage. The play was over; the Oni defeated. The sound drew Naoki's attention from Ishi, and Naoki, like everyone else in the audience, saw the smoke clear to reveal the true horror of an Oni. Ishi's Oni.

A single shriek and a pregnant pause. Ishi was suddenly on the table his hands on his black sword that wasn't there before. Everyone who had not closed their eyes out of pure fear saw the massive demon creature grab Ishi with an unnaturally long arm and draw Ishi to his bosom like a child.

A loud crack and a cloud of smoke broke from the stage. The play was over; the Oni and Ishi gone.

Ishi woke up to the stale taste of last night's shochu and a throbbing headache. He spent what seemed like minutes trying to recall the revelry of the previous evening. It must have been a serious party, Ishi thought, I haven't had a morning like this since that first drinking episode with Fujizaka. Ishi struggled to roll over to a more comfortable position, but found his body not willing to respond. I must be worse off than I thought Ishi puzzled to himself.

"Indeed! You are worse off than you could ever imagine," crackled a voice inside Ishi's skull.

"No! Not now. Not another dream," Ishi whimpered to himself.

"No, Ishi, this is not that oily evil and opium state that you have called your dreams. Open your fear to me Ishi. HA-AAAAA HA HA!", again crackling in Ishi's skull.

In a flash of jagged pain and hopelessness, Ishi saw the trees of Kakita castle laden with Spring's cherry blossoms. Ishi saw the people like pale blue shadows drifting in a sea of pink. Ishi saw Naoki and Jinjiro. Ishi saw the Oni.

Ishi opened his body to release the scream of his soul, but found only a breath of fear.

Ishi vaguely realized the situation he was in. The were dark figures moving around him. They seemed to move with purpose. Ishi was raised slightly off the ground, probably hanging from the arms he could no longer feel. A sickly green mist swirled inches off the floor, and occasionally coalesced enough for Ishi to see the empty black hole against the far wall; Oni.

"I don't fear the death you leave in you wake. The Crab clan will always stand guard against you and the reborn evil of your minions. It will be a great honor to fall under the katana of a great Crab bushi," Ishi tried to pull his sanity together.

The Oni snickered, if Oni are capable of such an expression, and replied, "Death will not take you today, Ishi. I see you living until we meet again in the Shadowlands. Death, however, will embrace your foolish companions as they try to rescue your worthless flesh. Do you not recognize my loyal followers here?"

Ishi shuddered in disgust when the master of the Osano-Wo temple drew close enough for Ishi to smell his fetid breath. Ishi quietly assumed the others to be monks of the Osano-Wo temple. Probably several of the same monks Ishi trained with during his last visit.

The master of the Osano-Wo temple did not retreat as Ishi wished he would. The grin he wore made his face look like a Noh mask. Without warning the master buried his fist into Ishi's midsection, and chop to Ishi's ribs. Ishi felt his body go molten hot in pain; the master's punches feeling like blows to every point on his body.

"Treat him to the extent of your skills master Hudosa. I want Ishi to experience all the pain that his current body has to offer," the Oni commented.

The sentence seeped into Ishi's mind and hung there like the green mist on the floor. Ishi, barely conscious, didn't understand the words, but felt the meaning in his open wounds. Ishi felt the master at his task; an artist with Ishi's body the canvas. The last thing the registered before the inky blackness took him was the sharp punch to his face, and the wet flow of his eyeball exploding.

The next conscious moment for Ishi was visually stunning. The inside of the temple was lit with the light of several torches that mixed with green aura from the Oni. Three Unicorns, one definitely Marako, and their steeds were cutting through the ranks of the evil monks, Naoki was collapsing under the fists and feet of master Hudosa and Jinjiro and his steel were swiftly moving to help Naoki. Ishi was surprised at the clarity he took this scene in as it was swaying back and forth.

Takehai.

Ishi rolled his head back to see an inverted Takehai standing on a shoulder of the great Osano-Wo. Takehai was pulling Ishi up the front of the statue by the chain whose ends were now masquerading as part of Ishi's flesh. Ishi marveled at the raw strength that Takehai was exhibiting, and drooped in thanks as Takehai unlooped the end of the chain, and began lowering Ishi to the ground. Ishi watched in awe as master Hudosa quickly dispatched Jinjiro.

Ishi's companions looked like they were in trouble. The Oni was still standing, and master Hudosa was bowing the unmoving forms of Naoki and Jinjiro. The tatami were gleaming and slick with the blood of both sides. Ishi was unable to realize he falling until his one good eye saw the blood soaked mats racing up to meet him. Green mist, red mats and black unconsciousness.

Fresh air. Ishi pulled in another lung full, and held it for a few moments. A shrill voice exclaimed, "He's stopped breathing. Someone do something." Another voice quietly and gently replied, "No. He's okay. Sit him up."

Ishi felt his torso being pushed upright, and dared to open his eye.

The shudders of the Osano-Wo temple had been folded back, and the remaining, non-evil, monks were busying themselves with removing gore-laden tatami and general cleaning tasks. A gentle light filled the temple; the sun had yet to break the horizon.

Ishi pushed the ring of monks away, and pushed himself to his feet. Ishi surveyed the situation. Everyone was standing. Everyone wore expressions of exhaustion. Naoki looked peculiarly pale.

The next few minutes passed for Ishi without thought. Ishi's words came from the wretchedness that still laced his soul. After Jinjiro, Marako and Takehai became disgusted enough with the conversation to leave, Ishi turned to Naoki. "You look like you crawled out of the pit of the Unnamable," Ishi flatly said.

"And pulled you out behind me," Naoki replied.

Ishi smirked and ran his fingers around the empty eye socket. "Yes. Just call me 'Ichi-me'."

Naoki wrapped an arm around Ishi and they started walking out. "I hope this doesn't affect your favorite pastime."

Ishi broke into a full grin this time. "Like I said, just call me 'Ichi-me'."

Naoki guffawed, but took a serious tone with his question. "What about that black sword."

Ishi pondered for a few steps. The black blade of Yogo Junzo was a powerful weapon, as absolutely deadly as it was absolutely evil. He had used it, and marveled at its thirst. The blade itself seemed to know when it needed to be hidden, and it had camouflaged itself without any conscious command from him the moment the group had arrived at the Cherry Blossom Festival. He could keep it, and no one would know.

No.

"I'll send it to the Dragons. Asahina Riuchi said that they would know what to do with it."

Naoki and Ishi walked across the courtyard of the temple.

Ishi asked the question this time. "Where are we going?"

"How about somewhere we can relax? Masayoshi Monastery?" Naoki offered.

Ishi nodded and said, "Sounds good. I could use some apple brandy."