𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘺 - 𝘈𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘥𝘴, 𝘥𝘢𝘸𝘯
The message was short: 𝘖𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘥𝘴. 𝘋𝘢𝘸𝘯. 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦. Jin recognized the handwriting—rough strokes from someone who rarely wrote formal letters. The scarred rōnin wanted to meet.
Jin arrived as first light hit the ruined shrine. His katana hung loose at his side as he watched the trees. Fire had destroyed the building weeks ago—the roof beams were black, the stone walls cracked from heat. Only the altar survived, as if even Mongol torches had some limits.
Something moved in the shadows. Katsuo appeared, moving like a trained killer. The ritual scar across his chest showed through his torn silk—three lines that marked him as untrustworthy.
"Ghost." Katsuo's voice was neutral. Professional recognition between two weapons made for the same job.
"You sent the message." Jin kept his hand near his sword. Their last meeting had ended with both men bleeding and a grudging respect between them. This meeting felt different.
"I did." Katsuo leaned against the ruined altar where he could see all directions. "Though I was already hunting the same target. Your information confirmed what I'd already learned."
Jin studied the scarred warrior's face. Exile had stripped away everything soft, leaving only sharp edges and cold eyes. "You know who the traitor is."
"I know him." Something flickered in Katsuo's expression—pain mixed with rage into something harder. "Lord Shimizu. My former master."
Jin went pale. He'd suspected someone from the noble class, but hearing the name hit him hard. "Your former master," he said carefully, watching Katsuo's scarred face.
"Yes." Katsuo's voice stayed steady. "The man who taught me that mercy was weakness—while being cruel to show strength." His fingers touched the scarred flesh under his kimono, an unconscious habit.
Jin absorbed this quietly. He'd heard pieces of Katsuo's story through gossip—a retainer exiled for disobeying orders, marked as unreliable. Now the details made a different picture. "What were his orders?"
"Kill prisoners' families. Old men, women, children who'd helped rebels against the Empire." The words came out flat, but Katsuo's shoulders tensed. "I helped them escape instead. Thought I was being merciful."
"They were caught?"
"All of them. Killed while I watched from hiding, too hurt to help." Katsuo's laugh was bitter. "Sixteen innocent people died because of my conscience. Shimizu used their deaths to justify the scarring—said I'd learn to value loyalty over feelings."
Understanding hit Jin like cold water. "He needed you discredited. Someone with a conscience might have questioned his other activities."
"Mainland negotiations with potential invaders." Katsuo nodded. "What I thought was principle was actually preparation. He was already planning Tsushima's conquest—just needed to eliminate inconvenient witnesses first."
Jin felt sick. The betrayal was systematic, deeper than simple collaboration. Shimizu had orchestrated his own retainer's exile to clear his path to treason. "How long have you known?"
"Two days. Since I saw him at Targutai's command tent." Katsuo's eyes were flat, like a man who'd seen too much. "Sitting there in clean silk, advising Mongol commanders on the best ways to slaughter his own people."
"We need proof before we act."
"I only need his throat." Steel whispered from Katsuo's scabbard—just an inch, but enough to catch the morning light. "Three years of exile for trying to save lives while he planned genocide. The debt is clear."
Jin understood the hunger for personal revenge, but strategy required caution. "Killing him without evidence won't restore your reputation. People will think you murdered your former master out of spite."
"I don't care what people think."
"Then care about results." Jin moved closer, studying the other man's scarred face. "Shimizu's spy network goes beyond just him. Kill him quietly, and his contacts keep operating. We need to expose the whole conspiracy."
Katsuo was quiet for a long moment, thinking. Finally, he put his blade back with a soft click. "What do you suggest?"
"Capture. We take him alive, get information about his network, then execute him publicly with full evidence of his treason." Jin kept his voice level despite the scale of what he was suggesting. "Joint operation. Your skills, my resources."
"You want to work together." The statement had no emotion, but Katsuo's posture shifted slightly—one warrior recognizing another despite personal dislike. "After what happened at the supply convoy."
"I want Shimizu dead and his conspiracy exposed. Personal feelings don't matter." Jin met the scarred man's eyes directly. "Can you work with someone who questions your methods?"
"Can you work with someone who uses necessary tactics while you debate honor?" Katsuo's reply came fast as a sword strike. "I've seen what your conscience costs in innocent blood."
The accusation stung because it was true. Jin's commitment to bushido had prevented decisive action more than once. But this was different—bigger than personal philosophy. "This isn't about our methods. It's about stopping a traitor who's caused the death of hundreds."
"Thousands," Katsuo corrected quietly. "Every ambush he enabled. Every defensive position he gave away. Every civilian convoy he directed into Mongol hands." The scarred warrior's voice dropped to a whisper. "The families I tried to save were just the beginning."
Silence stretched between them, heavy with shared understanding. Two men who'd chosen different paths but reached the same conclusion—that honor meant nothing if it allowed greater dishonor.
"We plan his death together," Jin said finally.
"Together." Katsuo's smile was cold and sharp. "The Ghost and the Demon, united by necessity. Your uncle would be horrified."
"My uncle trusts Shimizu completely. Which makes this operation more dangerous." Jin considered the tactical problems. "We'll be moving against someone who knows our capabilities well."
"He knows your capabilities." Katsuo stood, brushing dust from his worn kimono. "Exile taught me skills no honorable lord would recognize. Shimizu created me—now he'll discover what his lessons produced."
The promise in those words made Jin's skin crawl, but he recognized their necessity. Shimizu had orchestrated betrayal on a massive scale. Traditional justice wasn't enough for such crimes.
"We'll need to coordinate carefully," Jin continued. "Timing, approach, escape routes. And we'll need backup plans if the operation fails."
"It won't fail." The certainty in Katsuo's voice carried three years of accumulated fury. "I've been preparing for this moment since the day he branded me. Every technique learned in exile. Every compromise that stripped away my ideals."
Jin studied the other man's face, seeing reflected hatred and shared purpose. Working with Katsuo would damage his honor—but letting Shimizu continue would damage his soul.
"When do we begin?"