Bushido Blood

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Inside on the rough wooden floor knelt Hanzo naked and alone, having stripped his clothes in preparation for what must be done. His lean muscular body was unmoving, yet shivering from the cold winter air. The warrior stared long at the remains of a once ornate jade necklace and fine tanto blade he placed on the floor before him. They were prized trinkets that served as the only reminders he had left of his beloved wife and son. The wife and son he had brutally killed eight years ago.

A single tear streamed down Hanzo's battle worn face as he tried to force the fact from his struggling mind that their deaths were not really his fault. He had to remember that he was not himself, and eventually come to terms with the twisted reality that unfolded around him. Remembering the guilt and shame he had harbored, he glanced down at his abdomen. The horrific knife scars across it served as painful reminders that the once proud samurai couldn't even take his own life to end the torment of the two lives he led, for his altered body would start to heal before he could die. In one life, he was a fierce and successful warrior who led his armies to many victories... a leader adored by those who followed him. His other life, however, an uncontrollable monster that ravaged his own keep and took the lives of those closest to him.

For far too long his tortured mind wondered how and why this happened to him. The years crawled by painfully as he screamed at the gods in anger for an answer. As he felt the gods abandoned him, he in turn did likewise to them. He cursed the samurai way and those who hid behind thin veils of honor, only to murder each other in attempts at succession. He likewise cursed himself for living that life, believing he could make a difference, and restore the honor that he was led to believe in the bushido way.

But tonight was not the night for grieving the life that was ripped away from him. After six of those long and tormented years, Hanzo found out why he indeed bore this monstrous infliction. The once noble warrior spent the next two years preparing for a night to exact a fitting revenge on the one responsible. A night he could use to his monstrous other half to his advantage, for it could not be done any other way. Tonight was that night, and there may be no other. His mourning shifted to a trembling vengeance at the one responsible for his current state, his superior General Mitsuhide.

No one knows for certain how the crafty Mitsuhide came by the vial of blood that made this possible. Creating a hideous form that would transform a man into a monster that was both man and wolf, only larger and more terrifying than either. Only happening on nights when the moon was full would those afflicted transform into an uncontrollable beast. Hanzo only knew that a team of men kidnapped him and forced him to drink the blood before being dumped outside of his own home.

As for the why, Mitsuhide felt his position was threatened by Hanzo's continuing success. As he had betrayed and assassinated his own predecessor, Mitsuhide felt it was only a matter of time until the same happened to him. With this method, however, the problem would take care of itself as the beast would ravage and kill out his own blood line, and in turn be killed by the mob of natives who have never seen or heard of such a monster in Japan. The plan was genius, as it would not implicate Mitsuhide.

The only problem was Hanzo did in fact survive, disappearing into the dense woodlands of Nara. Although filled with self grief and pity, the once proud samurai instinctively found a way to endure. Hanzo eventually and reluctantly accepted what he had become.

Over the last two years after learning of Mitsuhide's betrayal, Hanzo focused inward to plan his revenge. Through great effort, he finally figured out how he could control his beast form. He no longer needed the moonlight to change into it. He also learned that he could still have access to his consciousness. This enabled him to have more control over his actions, but more importantly he had access to his prior training and knowledge.

Hanzo picked this night because not only was Mitsuhide in his keep, but most of his soldiers were out on a campaign and the general wouldn't be joining them until tomorrow. Also, the moon had been waning. Having studied his keep, Hanzo noted that General Mitsuhide seemed to still have extra guards on every full moon. The paranoid Mitsuhide obviously didn't want to take chances on his betrayal coming back to haunt him. With the waning moon, he would be more relaxed and his fortifications lightened.

Still shivering, Hanzo rose to his feet. He had removed his clothes because he knew they would get torn in the transformation leaving him exposed to cold moist air than blew into the cabin. What he did have, however, were some pieces of his once prized armor. He had altered his shoulder pads, bracers, and thigh pads to fit his extra girth and length of his proportions. Already buckled to the correct size, he slid them on. These would offer a bit of extra protection while not hindering movement or stealth. Lastly, he looked at his once beautiful helmet. The Oni mask had to be removed for his elongated face, and holes were cut for his ears. Slightly enlarged, he put it on and set the straps to where they would need to be. Hanzo knew the helmet had little tactical value, but he wanted those he hunted tonight to know who delivered their death.

Laying himself down on the floor, he positioned the loose fitting armor in their correct places. Closing his eyes and controlling his breathing, Hanzo focused inward to invoke the beast within. The shivering stopped, but was quickly replaced by quick convulsions. The violent spasms and pain he learned to control as his body rapidly stretched and transformed, filling out his modified armor. Opening his eyes again, the beast sprung up and made his way to the doorway, grabbing his trusted katana and slinging around to his back. Ducking his now towering head through the doorless cabin, Hanzo the werewolf made his way outside.

The human in him used to fear the transformation, but eventually came to embrace it. Now that he could actually control it, he found that he liked it. Once outside and exposed in the wilderness, the smell of the cold crisp air filled his nostrils. Scents unknown to his human form wafted like a bouquet of fresh flowers with vivid distinction, giving him an added element of awareness. Peering into the night, red hues seemed muted but the overall clarity and brightness were as though ten full moons filled the night sky. Sounds filled his ears as though he were next to the source, yet he could still discern where they were coming from and how far away they were. The world seemed slowed down, and quick movements that were once blurry now came into sharp focus. The shivering he felt only a moment ago was gone, his body shielded by a shaggy coat of dark charcoal gray fur with deepened caramel accents on chest, elbows, and muzzle. The fur protected him from the elements and also seemed to steal whatever cold light was available.

The lanky and bulky werewolf rushed onward toward his target, but stopped by a small pond near the cabin. The edges were starting to freeze on this cold night, but the surface of the water was as smooth as a new sheet of glass. He stared at his own imposing reflection, huffing vapor into the cold and humid air. Hanzo no longer saw the monster he was ashamed of. At certain angles, he could see the eerie green nightshine of his eyes reflected back at him. With his armor and imposing stature, he no longer saw the broken man living a tortured life. Before him now was the instrument of his long planned revenge, and the scourge of the bushi way that betrayed his existance.

A large snowflake falling onto his reflection interrupted the image. Hanzo knew he had to get on the move. Snow was rare in this part of Japan and could normally be a hindrance, muffling sounds that he could find useful. But as much as it was a problem for his hearing, he knew it would be even more amplified for human ears. He was confident that he could use this to his advantage. At nearly a meter taller than he normally was, his long gait allowed him to bound swiftly and efficiently toward his destination. His starting point would've been too far to travel in one night for human legs, especially in this heavily wooded and hilly area. Hanzo chose this place because it was long abandoned and no one else had any reason to come here. It was far enough away from Mitsuhide's soldiers, but close enough to make the journey undetected through the forest.

Hate filled the warrior's mind as he bounded effortlessly through the woods, his pace quickening as the snow came down thick. Hanzo wanted use that hate and let his vicious animal instinct take over. He could not afford this, however, as he needed more clarity of mind. He knew he needed his knowledge and training, for Mitsuhide's men were well trained and well armed. Aside from being overwhelmed or the risk of capture, Hanzo couldn't afford his prey being alerted too early and escaping. All the planning would have been for nothing. Then there was the matter of Mitsuhide himself. For all his flaws, General Mitsuhide was crafty and an excellent swordsman. The general would have no problem dispatching a crazed animal, even one nearly twice his size. Hanzo could not let this man get another victory on him. The mission was incredibly dangerous, but he knew he had to take the risk. Tonight. Right now.

Clearing the forest from the west, there was little cover between him and the only accessible way over the wall of Mitsuhide's stronghold over a kilometer away. Defensively it was in a perfect position, sitting atop cliffs that surrounded all but the west side. In between Hanzo and the stronghold was a guard tower 300 meters up the road leading to the keep with a guard at the bottom, and another on top with an alarm gong. Hanzo normally would've just given this a wide berth and slipped through the darkness, but by now the ground was covered in snow. It was too risky to have his large dark frame contrasting against the pure white snow of the open ground surrounding the keep. The guards needed to be taken out. Seeing some of the snow collected on his fur, he figured he would try to disguise as much of his liability as he could. He dropped to the ground and rolled through the snow to collect as much on his fur as possible. With the snow still falling to obstruct the guards vision as much as possible, he might be able to do this.

Monitoring their movements. Hanzo dashed from rocks to bushes to tall patches of grass whenever the guard at the bottom looked away, or went to warm his hands by the torch hanging on one of the posts. Foolishly the guard would look into the fire, and Hanzo knew that his night vision would be compromised for a bit. The archer at the top, however, seemed to be more vigilant and smarter about not looking into the fire. Hanging on each corner of the tower were larger braziers with a reflective background to extend the light of the fires further into the night. The archer would hang his hands over the edge periodically to warm his hands, but would look away and feel for the heat. Only when they were both looking away would the stealthy werewolf work on closing the gap. There was also the issue of his tracks being left in the snow. This wasn't as much of a problem for the guard below, but the archer up top might be able to see them in the light's field. To help counter this, Hanzo made sure to use as long of strides as possible, and place his footfalls as close as he could behind rocks and clumps of grass.

With only about 10 meters to the base of the tower, Hanzo dashed to a small bush. His foot slipped on a snow slicked stone, and he fell just short of the bush with a thud. Not moving, Hanzo looked at the guard on the bottom. The falling snow and sound of the fire in the increasing breeze must have muffled and masked the sound. The branches of the bush appeared to be covering the top of his helmet from view. Now though, the archer was back to the west side. All Hanzo could do now was close his eyes, hold his breath, remain perfectly still, and hope the archer wasn't looking this close to the tower, because no one should be this close since he just looked not 20 seconds ago.

The seconds seemed like minutes as Hanzo struggled to hold his breath and keep his eyes shut. The sight of his breath or nightshine of his eyes would surely give him away being this close. All he could do now was remain still and rely on his exceptional hearing. The footsteps on the wooden tower that only he could hear indicated that the archer moved on. The bottom guard he can tell moved from the torch, but couldn't tell which direction he faced. Hanzo had to risk looking to see. Slowly, he opened one eye to a squint. The archer could not be seen, but the bottom guard's body was facing in his general direction. The guard then looked down at his sword belt and started fidgeting with it. Hanzo could hardly hold his breath any longer, and carefully moved his arm over his long snout. Using his dense fur to distribute his breath, he slowly exhaled into his arm. Small traces of breath could be seen wafting away, but it was largely dissipated by his shaggy coat. With slow shallow breaths, Hanzo eventually regained his oxygen.

There was no more cover between Hanzo and the slight incline to the guard tower. His next move had to be a quick dash to the guard. Once the guard turned toward the torch again, Hanzo righted himself and sprang into action. Lowering his center of gravity, the stealthy beast made shorter and quicker steps toward the guard. It wasn't as fast, but it was quieter. The guard turned around only to see a large clawed black hand reaching for his face as he tried to draw in a breath to scream a warning while instinctively reaching for his weapon. The massive hand clasped around his mouth and nose, The guard struggled to breath, and tried beating with his bare fists on the unmoving dark and muscular arm that held him in place. The other long arm grabbed the guard's shoulder, and gave his head a quick and sharp twist. With a snap, the force repositioned the guard's head facing his back. The now limp guard fell into Hanzo's arms, and he carefully laid the dead soldier down.

The easy part of this new task was done, and now Hanzo had to take care of the archer up top. Killing him would be easy, but it needed to be done before the archer could use the alarm gong which would be heard at the compound. Hanzo saw the small hatchway at the top of the ladder, and knew going that route would be impossible for his oversized frame. The only way up would be to climb the sides of the wooden structure. Only one side was mostly unaffected by the snow, but unfortunately it was the side that had the gong on it, the west side he came from. Timing his movements with the footsteps of the archer, Hanzo quickly scaled up the scaffolding that was too far spaced for any normal person to climb. Nearing the top, Hanzo had yet another challenge. If he were to get over the top of the railing, he would have to jump and pull himself to carry momentum to grab the top of the railing. There was no way this would happen quietly. The quick thinking werewolf had another idea.

The archer heard a faint and odd scratching noise coming from the west side his post. He thought nothing of it, but it happened again. Then again and again with more regularity. Looking over the ledge as he got closer, he could see a large and fresh depression in the snow 10 meters away, then odd footprints leading from the depression that appeared to be coming toward the tower. Grasping the railing, he followed the footprints directly to the bottom as he quickly peered over the railing further. His final memory was the sight of a large shadowy figure against the tower with eerie green eyes staring directly at him as the tip of a razor sharp sword sliced halfway through his neck. There was no pain, only alarm. Must... sound... alarm...

Hanzo heard the gurgled gasps of air, the stumbling of the guard, then the collapse of his body on the tower deck. The tip of his bow managed to graze the gong, letting out a faint ring. Even in his primal state, Hanzo admired the soldier's dedication to duty. But there was no remorse for him as the vengeful warrior reminded himself that this soldier served an evil man. In Hanzo's mind, let his death serve as a warning to others that serve betrayers and the perverted ways of the samurai. Hanzo was glad to see the archer's blood dripping through the boards of the tower as he let himself down.

Having taken care of the tower problem, continued east to outer wall of the keep. The compound was situated perfectly on the top of a cliff to the east, leaving the front portion as the only access point. Far enough away from the entrance to the south were some damaged stones that would provide enough grip for his long frame to climb onto the wall. Hanzo timed his approach as a guard patrolling the wall just passed. It would be a couple minutes before the next guard would pass. Digging his claws into what he could, Hanzo ascended the wall and looked into the compound.

Having been here before when he still possessed his humanity, Hanzo knew the layout of the keep. What he now had to figure out, however, was what route to take to get to General Ido's castle undetected. The grounds were well lit, and there were a few guards patrolling inside the compound. His path would not be direct. His first action was to take out the guards along the wall. With the snow falling, the guards at the bottom probably wouldn't notice the ones on the wall missing in the darkness.

Heading to his right, Hanzo hid himself in one of the battlements and waited for one of the approaching guards. Hanzo snapped his neck, and dragged him toward the rear of the keep to toss him over the wall and down the cliff. Hanzo likewise did the same to the next guard. But where was the third? There were always at least three patrolling the wall, but Hanzo could not see another. Did General Ido relax his guard further, or was there indeed a third that was unaccounted for?

Hanzo descended the stairs near the rear of the compound, which was closer to the castle. Rounding the corner of the building closest to him was the missing patrol, returning from relieving himself. With 20 meters between him and the guard and nowhere to hide in this open portion, Hanzo knew the only chance he had was to run directly at him. After a quick second of horror, the guard swiftly drew an arrow and aimed it directly at Hanzo. He knew he would probably have to take a shot, but the guard quickly changed his aim and fired an arrow directly into the nearest battlement. In confusion, Hanzo tracked the arrow and saw it's intended target. An alarm gong was placed at every battlement, and the guard's arrow hit it. The time for stealth was gone. Frustrated, Hanzo just ran through the guard, sending him and his bow sprawling onto the ground. He couldn't afford to waste a second.

With raised voices and alarms going off, Hanzo found a window he could fit through in the castle. Just as he was making his way through the window, a stinging pain surged into his left hamstring from an arrow fired by one of the guards. Hanzo broke the shaft inches from the skin, he would have to deal with it later. To slow in the guards who would be incoming, he barred the door and threw nearby furniture against the door. Hanzo grabbed a torch from the doorway and set the furniture ablaze.

Hanzo had a noticeable limp, and was in considerable pain as the arrow dug into his flesh as he moved. This was slowing him down, and he still had more fighting to do. With a quick directed outward yank, he pulled the arrow out. Hanzo tried to suppress the yell from the pain, but couldn't contain all of his roar. Blood now poured down and matted his dark fur, but he could move more freely and he knew his accelerated healing would eventually take care of the wound.

Hanzo made his way directly to where he knew Mitsuhide's bedroom to be. Disappointingly, it was recently emptied. The only place that he could think that the general might be was in his armor room. This was surprisingly just emptied with Mitsuhide's armor missing from it's stand. Hanzo stood in the doorway at a loss until his sharp hearing detected a sound in the adjacent room amongst the chaos in the compound. Rapid footsteps quickly came to the doorway that joined the two rooms. Fastening his sword belt on came General Mitsuhide.

The annoyed and angry look on Mitsuhide's face turned to pale white horror as he saw not just an intruder, but a werewolf. It was not just a werewolf, but one wearing the armor of Hanzo bearing it's large canines at him. In front of him was the problem that was supposed to have been taken care of 8 years prior.

Coming to his senses, Mitsuhide's frozen stance quickly unlocked and instinctively drew his sword when the large beast dashed across the decorated wooden floor to meet him. Regaining himself, Mitsuhide expected a wild animal he could easily slay by anticipating the speed and momentum of the charging monster that would carry itself onto his blade. Mitsuhide was surprised to see the beast plant his feet and take a quick half step backward, just out of reach of the general's sword swing. While in the motion of stepping backward, Hanzo drew his katana from it's scabbard. Normally a two handed weapon, the huge hands of the werewolf allowed him to wield the sword with just one hand.

This could not be. All of General Mitsuhide's of werewolves told him that in their beast form there was no connection to their humanity, only savage instinct. Yet here in front of him now was a beast with a sword drawn staring at him with the calm of a veteran warrior. This was not a crazed animal that would charge in wildly. In a final act of defiance, Hanzo threw his torch into a nearby basket, setting fire to it and all the cloth decorations surrounding it.

Mitsuhide's surprise and horror quickly shifted to anger and rage. He had worked too hard and long to get to be were he is, and no one was going to take that from him. No one would dare fight him in his own castle, not even a monster. Knowing this was Hanzo, his greatest threat from long ago, further intensified and justified his feelings.

In a blinding flurry, Mitsuhide launched an assault on his monstrous opponent. Swords clanged, and chipped away at armor as the two warriors exchanged strikes.Tips of the blades met their mark, and both swordsmen bore fresh cuts. Hanzo's limp left him compromised, but his size and superior speed meant he could trade blow for blow with the master swordsman.

Through the blaze, a few of the onlookers watched the spectacle, unable to do anything even if they could. They could not believe their eyes as they saw a monster and their lord locked in a vicious dance to the death.

***

When Mitsuhide's men finally got the fire under control, they found the charred and nearly unrecognizable remains of their lord impaled by his own sword on the central column of the once beautiful armor room. There was no sign of the werewolf, but carved deep in the wood above Mitsuhide's head was a large single character...

"Honor"