In Plain Sight


by
Seth Mason



“The fool Togashi sought to trap the illustrious Emperor with the power of his own Black Scrolls, so that the weakling Thunders would be able to defeat a helpless foe. Though the Dragon’s plan did not succeed that day, the infinite wisdom of the Hantei Emperor kept Togashi’s trap from ever ensnaring him. The Lord of Rokugan commanded the Twelfth Black Scroll to be hidden away in the year 1137. Any who sought to release the seal upon that wretched artifact would find themselves struck by the full wrath of the Dark Lord. . .” –Miya Satoshi, Imperial Herald, 1137 by the Isawa Calendar, the Fifteenth Year of the Glorious Reign of Hantei XXXIX



“You’re certain, then?” one man said. The two samurai crouched in the shadows. They had trailed the three Hare bushi for over two days, giving their quarry no hint of their existence. A quiet grunt of assent came from the second samurai and the two stalked the Hare in silence for a moment longer. “They must know something, Yokuan-san. These lands are haunted. Even the Usagi are not daring enough to journey the Yogo lands at night without good reason.”


“And if they do not have ‘good reason’, cousin?” the first asked. There was no sarcasm in his voice - only apprehension.


“Then we are all lost. Nothing has changed.”




The leader of the small group stopped in his tracks and raised his open hand, signaling his followers to stop. Usagi Masashi let his hand drift down from the command position to rest comfortably around the handle of the sword strapped to his back. A generation ago, Kenno, the Ancestral Sword of the Hare Clan would have rested in the saya he now carried. The sword had been lost on the Day of Thunder along with its wielder, Usagi Ozaki. Just as his uncle and his whole clan had been lost.


Behind Masashi, Usagi Gohiro nodded almost imperceptibly. “I heard it too, my lord,” he whispered barely loud enough for the de facto daimyo of the Hare to hear. With deft motions, the three Hare took up positions against an ambush. When all was prepared, Gohiro quickly cocked an arrow and fired blindly into the woods in the direction of the noise.


Just as the samurai expected, their enemy quickly attempted to waylay them from the trees. The Hare were ready. . . or so they thought. Two figures clothed head-to-toe in black dropped from the very sky and moved with unnatural speed.


“Ninja!” Masashi shouted.


The first of the two knocked young Muso aside with an open-hand strike. Masashi loosed his sword and forced the other ninja back. Gohiro dropped his bow and nimbly dodged the attacks of the first ninja in the quick and acrobatic style of the Hare.


Just as Masashi believed he was about to overtake his enemy, the man feinted and leapt forward with a thin dagger in his palm. Masashi was unable to recover his footing fast enough. With startling clarity, he realized his journey into the haunted Scorpion lands would end at this very moment.


Except it did not.


The ninja stopped his blade just as it came to rest on the Hare daimyos cheek and called out. “Hare! Drop your weapon or your lord will die here and now!” The ninja never took his dark eyes from Masashi.


Gohiro backed away from the attacker, glaring at the two ninja. He held his hands up in surrender. The only Hare still willing to fight was young Mori, who staggered to his feet and trained his bow upon Masashi’s attacker.


“Drop. . . drop your weapon, ninja.” Mori said as firmly as he could manage.


“I think not, little Hare,” the ninja responded, pressing his blade a little into Masashi’s flesh to reinforce his words. “If any are disarming themselves, it will be you. You were unprepared for our ambush, and you have been defeated.” The ninja’s deep voice carried little threat, only simple fact.


“Oh?” said a quiet voice from the trees. “Archers, aim at the man holding our daimyo. On my command, open fire.”


“But. . . there were only five of you. . .” the ninja whispered.


“Silly ninja,” Masashi said. “You always forget that the smartest Hares hide in the tall grass.”


The ninja narrowed his eyes and stepped to position himself between the voice and Masashi. “You risk striking your own master, Hare?” the dark figure challenged.


“I would rather I kill him than let you do it,” the voice replied. “I will count to three. One. . .”


The ninja flicked his eyes back to Masashi, sighed, and stepped quickly away from Masashi.


“Now you,” the archer said to the other ninja. “Stand aside.”


the other man nodded and joined the first. Gohiro, Mori, and Masashi trained their bows on the two ninja. A single archer emerged from the tree line, grinning broadly.


“Thank you, Tomo,” Masashi said.


“Only one archer,” one of the ninja growled. “We should have known.”


“Who are you and why did you attack us?” Masashi demanded.


“You know who I am,” the ninja said, removing his mask to show the dark and fine features of a Scorpion noble. Behind him, the ninja’s ally also took off his mask.


“Masashi scowled. “Tomaru,” he said.


“The dog that burned Shiro Usagi!” Gohiro roared, drawing his blade and advancing.


“Hold, Gohiro,” Masashi said, holding out one hand. “Tomaru is a friend now.”


“A friend?” Gohiro snapped. “How can you say that, my lord?”


“Because he isn’t a walking corpse,” Gohiro said. “Old feuds are dead feuds.”


“Wise words, Hare” Tomaru said.


“He attacked us!” Gohiro said.


“But he didn’t kill Muso when he could have,” Tomo said. “I think they wanted to question us.”


The ninja nodded slightly. “This is true,” Tomaru said. “We thought perhaps you might have information.”


“Regarding the Twelfth Black Scroll?” Masashi asked.


Tomaru nodded. “We know it is somewhere in these lands. We have a map, but it is incomplete.”


“Perhaps we could share information, Scorpion,” Masashi said.


“I would prefer you simply gave us your information. Scorpions work more swiftly alone. . .” Tomaru said, staring at the tip of Tomo’s arrow with a frown, “but I think perhaps I can accept your terms under the circumstances.”


Masashi smiled. “I think you’d be impressed with how fast a Hare moves when he needs to.”




“Yogo Shiro,” Tomaru said quietly, motioning at the ruined fortress before them. “I still find it amusing that the Emperor would hide the Black Scroll here, of all places.”


“You surprise me, Tomaru,” Masashi replied, creeping up behind the ninja to stare over the fallen tree the group used for cover. “Surely the Scorpion have taught the whole of the Empire the worth of hiding something in plain sight.”


Behind them both, Bayushi Yokuan let out an amused snort. The younger ninja was finding himself impressed with the Hare daimyo, much to the growing annoyance of his superior. Yokuan’s amusement was cut off quickly, however, when a dim glow caught his attention. The ninja turned around to find himself face to face with an ethereal visage of what could only be a spirit of some kind.


“. . . hide. . . “ the ghost moaned, his tattered mask moving over the mouth as he spoke. he wore black and red armor, stained with blood and soot.


Muso screamed in sheer terror.


Masashi and Tomaru turned quickly, both drawing their weapons at the sound. Both men were greeted with the sight of a luminescent figure placing his hand on - then through - Bayushi Yokuan’s torso in some sort of gesture of familiarity. The younger ninja stared vacantly as Muso continued to scream. Tomaru’s instincts took over when reason failed him. The Scorpion hurled himself at his comrade, throwing him to the ground.


Masashi leveled his sword at the ghost and regarded it warily. The spirit was obviously Scorpion, possibly haunting the remains of his former home. Masashi allowed his gaze to fall quickly to the two Scorpion. Yokuan’s body was stiff and twisted. His eyes had rolled back in his head. Where a tuft of the ninja’s hair stuck out of the mask, it had turned stark white.


“Dead,” Tomaru whispered.


Muso was still screaming.


“Quiet, Muso,” Masashi said calmly. “You’ll wake the dead.”


Muso stopped screaming.


“. . . Hide. . . hidden. . . find. . .” the ghost whispered, looking down remorsefully at the dead ninja.


“Fortunes,” Tomaru swore, stumbling back and away from the imposing visage of the spirit looking down at him.


Gohiro and Tomo stepped out of the bushes, bows trained on the spirit. Masashi froze his lieutenant in place with a warning look and returned his eyes to the ghost.


“I know this spirit,” Tomaru said, kneeling on the earth. “He is my ancestor. . .”


The spirit stared blankly at his living kin and then at the surrounding Hare samurai. “find. . . twelve. . .”


“Twelve!” Masashi snapped, yelling t Tomaru. “Damn you, Tomaru, get up! He knows about the scroll! He’s trying to stop us!”


“No. . . “ the ghost said, turning his saddened visage to the Hare daimyo.


“He is a guardian, Masashi-san. He is Bayushi Baku, the protector of. . . a powerful sword,” Tomaru said. “He will not harm us.”


“Yokuan would disagree with you, Tomaru-san,” Usagi Gohiro said quietly, not taking his eyes away from the ghost.


“All power has its price,” Tomaru hissed back, keeping his head low before his revered ancestor. “Bayushi Baku-sama!” the ninja said loudly, bringing the ghost’s attention back to him. “Generations of wisdom are carried in your heart. Surely you know of our quest.”


The ghost’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, though the sorrow never seemed to leave his face. “Yes. . . child. . . you seek. . . the Scroll to trap… the Emperor.” Baku paused looking every living being around him in the eyes, then glaring back down at his descendant. “You will all. . . die.”


“Then who, honored spirit? Who can succeed where we would fail?” the scorpion asked.


“You. . . must choose,” Baku replied, mischief now clear in his barely masked face. The spirit raised a hand and turned it palm up before his face. The air around his hand shimmered and darkened with shadows that coalesced out of nowhere. Within seconds, a prayer scroll made from bone and blackened. think material rested in his hand. With his other hand, Baku motioned to the Hare samurai surrounding the area. “Choose,” he repeated, boring his glowing eyes into Tomaru.


“Masashi,” Tomaru said without hesitation. “You must take the scroll.”


The Hare daimyo nodded slowly and sheathed his sword.


“My lord!” Gohiro called, stepping forward and dropping his bow. “No. You must not touch the Scorpion, the ghost, or that blasphemous scroll. I cannot allow it.”


Bayushi Baku surveyed the scene with a slim smile showing beneath his ripped mask. “Usagi Gohiro. . . will you bear. . . this burden? Will you use it. . . to destroy. . . the Emperor?” he asked.


“Hai, spirit!” the Hare called out, stepping forward defiantly. “I will bear any burden to topple that dark god from the Hantei throne, but keep your claws away from the lord of the Hare!”


“Then. . .” Baku hissed, glee in his eyes. “it is. . . yours. Take it as Togashi took it.” With the final word, the scroll flew from Bayushi Baku’s hand with impossible speed and buried itself in Gohiro’s chest. The Hare samurai stumbled clutching the scroll, then fell onto his back.


“Gohiro, no!” Muso shouted, drawing his sword and charging the spirit.


Muso’s blade passed harmlessly through the spirit’s armor. Baku seized Muso by the throat and lifted him in the air. The young samurai shrieked as his skin began to bleach and wrinkle at the spirit’s touch. Baku began to wail in mournful triumph.


“The spirit is mad!” Tomaru shouted over the endless wail. “Fu Leng’s grip on the land has twisted his mind.”


“Thank you, Tomaru-san. Your insight into the matter is quite spectacular,” Masashi grumbled, attempting to plan an escape.


“I have the Black Scroll!” Tomo shouted, tearing the scroll from Gohiro’s chest.


Baku turned and lashed out at Tomo with one long claw. The hare rolled aside. “You are done, spirit!” Tomo said with a laugh. “Your master is defeated now!”


Usagi Tomo tore open the bindings of the Twelfth Black Scroll.


“What?” Tomo said, looking down. “Nothing happened.”


A bolt of pure black lightning rocketed down from the sky, incinerating Usagi Tomo where he stood.


“It’s a trap!” Tomaru shouted.


Baku’s smile widened. He tossed the withered corpse of Usagi Muso aside and turned to glare at Tomaru and Masashi.


“What now?” Tomaru hissed.


“Now we run,” Masashi said to the Scorpion. The Scorpion nodded.


The two men darted into the forest, running as fast as they could. Both stopped abruptly as Baku appeared out of the forest before them, arms spread wide. His insane laugh echoed through the woods.


“Wrong way,” Masashi said, turning and heading in another direction.


“This is of no use,” Tomaru shouted to the Hare as they ran. “It is my ancestor. He will find us wherever we run, as surely as the ocean finds the sea! We are doomed!”


“Maybe not,” Masashi said, thinking for a moment. He stopped in his tracks, gesturing for the Scorpion to do the same. “Tomaru, I have a plan,” the Hare said between breaths.


“Yes?” Tomaru asked. “What is it?”


Masashi looked back the way they had come for any sign of the spirit, sword in hand. “Do you remember what I said earlier?” he asked. “About old feuds being dead feuds?”


Tomaru nodded.


“Under the circumstances, I’ve reconsidered,” the Hare said. With a deft stroke, he cut the Scorpion’s legs at the hamstrings and ran.


“Masashi!” Tomaru screamed in pain and rage as he fell to the ground, crippled.


“Good luck with your ancestor!” Masashi shouted back as he vanished into the woods.


As Bayushi Baku hovered into view, Tomaru began to scream louder.


Usagi Masashi ran even faster.