The Forbidden Trials of A Bound Blade

The river ran backwards the day the queen vanished. Dead fish washed ashore, and cherry blossom petals scattered, leaving barren, skeletal branches where beauty once flourished.

The chamberlain gently tugged at the emperor’s kosode to wake him. Reaching over to an empty bed, the emperor’s face paled, turning ghostly as his intuition stirred.

“Your Majesty, the river flows in reverse, and dead fish line its banks. These are ominous signs,” the chamberlain reported, bowing.

The emperor, gathering his bearings, felt a greater concern gnaw at him. “And Empress Nozomi—where is she?” he asked urgently.

“We do not know, Your Majesty,” the chamberlain replied, his voice meek and fearful.

The emperor’s expression grew chiseled with worry. “Where is Ken’ichi, her personal guard, Samurai Ken’ichi?”

The chamberlain hesitated. “He rests in his quarters, Your Majesty.”

The emperor jumped from his bed and stormed into Ken’ichi’s quarters.

“The empress vanishes, and you sleep?” he said, droplets of spit flying like venom. Ken’ichi sprang from his bed, bowing, and gathered his armor and katana in one fluid motion.

“I will find the empress, Your Majesty. My loyalty is to you, this kingdom, and our queen.”

The emperor nodded. “Very well. You were appointed hokoshu—royal guard to the empress—because you are my most highly regarded samurai. I trust you will not fail. Report to me once you know her whereabouts.”

Ken’ichi exhaled, his face weighed down by regret and concern. Outside, though Amaterasu’s sun still shone brightly, there was a wrongness to the air. Even the birds and butterflies seemed unaware of the darkness that lingered.

His first stop was the queen’s favorite hot spring. Perhaps this whole situation had begun here, he thought. In a moment of meditation, the scents of sulfur and moss filled his mind as memories flooded in like ocean waves. He recalled the queen disrobing, playfully splashing in the waters, her scent of incense, flowers, and citrus vivid in his mind like a blade during seppuku. Though he had done his best not to respond, he hadn’t forced her away and may have even embraced her. Even now, he could taste her kiss, rivaling the finest yokan dessert.

The tickling sensation of fur brushed against him, stirring him from his meditation. A small fox nuzzled him, then turned back playfully.

“Inari? I know of your legend and your tendency to take the form of a fox… do you know where the queen is?”

The fox yapped and said, “I mean you no harm, Samurai. I can guide you to her.”

Ken’ichi nodded, and the fox began trotting forward, letting out several distinct yaps before speaking again.

“But what you seek may surprise you. Are you here to bury her? She has not yet eaten the food of Yomi, but once hunger sets in, they all do.”

The sound of Ken’ichi’s blade sliding from its sheath filled the silence. “Who harmed her? And how do I enter Yomi?”

The fox playfully snapped at the air. “No one harmed her. Or maybe someone did. Look in your blade, Samurai. Love is a complex thing. You are the reason her love and loyalty to the emperor faded. She resorted to her own form of seppuku, though the oni say she refuses to eat, hoping that, like Izanagi, you will rescue her.”

Ken’ichi stuck his blade in the dirt, his brow furrowing. “Then I will, Fox. I will succeed where Izanagi failed.”

With hiccups of laughter, the fox rolled on the mossy ground. “Anything is possible, but remember: Okuninushi, or Enma, the king of the underworld, will want balance. If you strike a deal or best him in a trial, the oni and yomotsu-shikome will hunt you, just as they did Izanagi. Be warned.”

The fox yelped and trotted through the forest.

“Inari, you haven’t told me where to find Yomotsu Hirasaka—the entrance to Yomi.”

More yelps echoed through the forest before Inari’s voice found his ear in a soft, magical whisper.

“Press on, Samurai. You will be tested. If worthy, Yomi will find you.”

With another hiccup, the whisper faded. Ken’ichi wiped sweat and grime from his brow and pressed on through the dense, eerily quiet forest.

Hours later, he arrived at a clearing. In the distance, his eyes made out a faint, blood-red bridge with ornate gold accents that shimmered through the fog. The bright sky had been hidden by clouds and mist. His thick hairs stood up beneath his armor, and a chill overcame him.

As he approached, the sound of sobs broke the silence. A young woman sat on the side of the road, hands cupping her mouth as she wept.

“Am… am I pretty?” she asked through sobs, her blue eyes tear-filled, her fair skin soft as silk.

He shrugged in ambivalence and began to hurry past. He had heard tales of a yokai like this who would reveal a horrid smile, claiming any man who dared respond. Moments later, he felt her cold, foul breath on his skin, making his stomach sink.

“Am I pretty?” she repeated.

Without looking back, he pressed on faster, reaching into his pocket beneath his armor.

“Tell me if I’m pretty—look at me!” she demanded, her voice turning diabolical.

Upon reaching the bridge, he spied a kappa—a large, reptilian yokai. A plan formed in his mind. He raced toward the kappa, removing the queen’s ribbon and inhaling her lingering scent. His eyes watered as he recalled the queen playfully gifting it to him as a keepsake. Now, with the female yokai known as the Smiling Woman closing in, he tossed the ribbon behind him, knowing she would be entranced by it.

“How pretty,” she muttered, bending down to grab the ribbon. At that moment, the kappa bent forward, its water-filled bowl head dipping. When the woman saw her own reflection in the tainted waters below, she let out a shriek, stirring the kappa. As Ken’ichi dashed forward, the kappa snatched the Smiling Woman with its webbed claws, her howls echoing behind him.

Exhaling deeply, he pressed forward with even more resolve. He would find and return the empress, restoring balance and honor.

Up ahead, he saw a slope leading to a dark cave. A woman’s silhouette stood beside it, clear now as he drew closer. She resembled the empress. Could it be her? Hope filled his heart, but doubt hung over him like a shadow.

As he drew within reach, his heart filled with longing. But when he gazed into her eyes, he sensed something amiss. Her once-clear eyes now glowed sickly yellow. This was not the empress—something was horribly wrong.

He turned and ran, but the figure’s limbs contorted, snapping into giant spider legs, her head transforming into a bulbous spider face. The monstrous spider gave chase. Sweat dripped from his brow as he neared the cave entrance, the creature’s snapping jaws at his heels. With a silent prayer to Hachiman, he hurled his katana at the rocks overhead, causing an avalanche that buried the spider, splattering him with its dark blood.

He continued down the dark path, feeling the filth of Yomi coat him. His stomach twisted with an emptiness that gnawed at his soul, but an image of the empress drove him forward.

The air changed to the scent of decay. Cries and murmurs echoed as he waded into the dark waters of the Sanzu River. As he neared the opposite bank, hands erupted from the murky depths, grabbing and tearing at his armor. Only when he discarded the pieces did he progress.

On the other side, a tall, fearsome woman with black hair approached. Her hand reached for his chest.

“Why do you come to Yomi, Samurai?” she hissed.

“I come for the empress,” he replied, shivering.

“No tell me why? Love or loyalty?”

Ken’ichi froze, his heart racing. “Both. I love the empress and am loyal to my emperor.”

The woman dug her nails into his chest, drawing blood. With one brutal motion, she tore a patch of skin from his chest, then laughed coldly.

“Very well, Samurai. You are tainted but worthy. You may pass.”

He limped past her. As the fog cleared, he found himself in a chamber housing a grand feast. The delectable scents filled his nostrils as men gorged themselves beside him, their faces contorted with pleasure and endless gluttony. Trembling with temptation, he raised gripped and eased a handful of food, but a vision of the empress burned in his mind, giving him strength to resist and race from the grand feast.

Racing forward through the doors, Ken’ichi entered a grand chamber lined with fierce oni. In its center stood three grand mirrors, and from behind them stepped a tall, regal man. His face was stern, etched with wisdom; his thick eyebrows scowled as he plucked at his mustache and adjusted a lavish, jeweled crown.

“Well, well, Samurai,” he said, his voice mocking. “Impressive that you made it this far. A rival to the great Izanagi himself. But whether you leave here will depend on this final trial.”

Ken’ichi straightened, clenching his bloodied hand into a fist. “I will save the Empress.”

The ominous figure raised his brow. “Is that so. I offer you a final challenge. Defeat my oni champion, Kuryami, and you may choose one of three paths.”

Ken’ichi’s face fell flat. “Combat? Really? I have no armor, no weapon, yet you expect me to fight. Will you at least provide me a blade?”

The king of the underworld sneered. “Fairness? Honor? Those are for the living. You used cunning to reach this point; use it again to amuse me, or perhaps you’d prefer to beg? This is Yomi, land of the damned. You’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t. Now, shall I show you your options if you manage to defeat Kuryami?”

Ken’ichi, accepted his fate, nodded. Better to face one than an army, he thought. “Let’s have it, then. Show, what you offer.”

Enma waved his gaunt hand before the mirrors, and images began to swirl. “Very well, Samurai. Should you best Kuryami, I will grant you one of these desires. Which will you choose?”

The first mirror rippled to life. “Love,” Enma said. “You’re here for love, aren’t you? You fell in love with the fair Nozomi the moment she kissed you. Neglected by her emperor, she sought the devotion he doesn’t offer.”

In the mirror, Ken’ichi saw himself and the empress in a serene countryside, her hand on her rounded belly, carrying his child. Yet he saw a sadness in his own eyes, a sense of loss for the Bushido code he’d abandoned. Even with the empress, an emptiness lingered.

Enma’s voice cracked with amusement as he gestured to the second mirror. “Or perhaps it’s honor, and legacy that drive you. Worry not; there’s a path for that, too.”

The mirror showed Ken’ichi returning with the empress, celebrated as a hero, a legend. He saw himself wed to a beautiful aristocrat, enjoying fame and power. But then he glimpsed Nozomi’s face, pale and tear-streaked, transforming in horror. Her face turned as white as snow, and horns tore through her brow as she transformed into the dreaded Hannya—a symbol of betrayed, cursed love.

“Enough! No more of that!” Ken’ichi shouted, covering his eyes and looking away. Enma smiled thinly. “Very well, Samurai. Neither love without honor nor honor at the cost of the Empress. There is only one other path.”

In the third mirror, Ken’ichi saw himself with Nozomi under a waterfall, feasting and drinking sake. They were happy, yet the world around them was cold and dark, unmistakably Yomi. Their reflections in the water showed withered, lifeless bodies. The vision flashed forward to a scene in the kingdom above, where their bodies lay honored in a burial ceremony.

“There you have it,” Enma hissed. “This third scenario suits us all. You’ll have your beloved here in Yomi, your offspring can serve me, and your tale will remain honored in the land of the living. A tragic Samurai who fell victim to the same fate as the Empress.”

Ken’ichi’s stomach twisted with hunger. “First, let’s settle this. Let me face Kuryami; if I win, I’ll choose. If not, it won’t matter.”

Enma laughed. “Very well, Samurai. As you wish.” He snapped his fingers, and a great door opened, revealing a towering oni. Its dark skin bulged with muscle, and it held a massive club in one hand, a long katana in the other. Its blazing blue eyes glared, and onyx-black horns shimmered through the shadows.

The oni let out a thunderous roar and charged. For a moment, Ken’ichi was frozen, stirred only when the club nearly crashed upon him. He dove to the side, narrowly escaping. The oni swung its blade, grazing him.

Ken’ichi’s mind raced. He rolled, forcing the oni to strike the mirrors, shattering them with a thunderous shockwave. Enma watched with glee.

The oni paused, stunned. Ken’ichi seized the moment, grabbing several shards of glass. “Aizen Myoo, guide me,” he whispered, throwing the shards like shuriken into the creature’s eyes.

The oni shrieked in agony, dropping its blade to clutch its face. Blind with rage, it swung wildly, but Ken’ichi dodged and grasped the large blade. Fighting his hunger, he assumed a calm, steady stance.

The oni charged again, swinging its club. Ken’ichi ducked beneath the swing and sliced open the oni’s belly. As it doubled over, he delivered a final blow, beheading the beast. Its head rolled, its disbelieving gaze locked on him.

A slow, skeletal clap echoed behind Ken’ichi. Enma wore a ghastly smile. “Very well, Samurai. You’ve proven yourself. Here in Yomi, a bargain’s a bargain. Which will it be? Love, honor, or a twisted version of both here in my kingdom?”

Ken’ichi, exhausted and starving, replied, “I choose love. Grant the Empress and me safe passage from here.”

Enma nodded slowly, his gaze curious. “Very well. Foolish, but so be it.” Enma motioned to a large stone door. “The Empress waits, fighting hunger. Perhaps yours is a love story to rival Izanagi and Izanami. Yet balance will be sought, and the hags of this world will pursue you. When the time is right, we shall reunite.”

The Samurai shrugged, dropped his blade, and walked away as Enma’s laugh echoed.

Ken’ichi pushed forward through dark passages until, by a basin of water, he found the emaciated Empress. She turned to him, her blue eyes shining brighter than ever, and ran to him, kissing him passionately.

“Oh, Ken’ichi, I knew you would come. It’s what kept me strong, kept me alive.”

The Samurai held her close, fighting his own pain. “Of course I would come, my Empress. I’m bound by duty and…” He hesitated.

The Empress looked deeply into his eyes. “And what, samurai?”

Ken’ichi returned her gaze. “And I love you.” He kissed her tenderly.

The Empress smiled warmly. “I knew our love would see us through. I’d spend eternity here, as long as with you.”

Ken’ichi nodded. “I’ve secured better. I’ve bested Enma. He offers us safe passage from this place.”

Ken’ichi smiled humbly. “Let’s go, before he or others here change their minds. The light ahead—it looks like the entrance the Yomotsu Hirasaka.”

Hand in hand, they made their way to the cave entrance, where the dark spider still lay buried. Carefully, they approached.

“You first, my love. I’ll help guide you over the rocks, then you help pull me up.”

As light fell upon her, the Empress’s gaunt form regained a faint glow of health. She turned and reached out for Ken’ichi, but her eyes filled with tears as he placed a piece of Yomi’s food into his mouth. Instantly, he began to decay and wither.

“No… why?” she cried in agony.

With his final breath of humanity, Ken’ichi spoke, “For love, for loyalty, for honor. I love you, my queen, as I love my kingdom. May I be remembered by Musashi’s code: ‘Think lightly of yourself and deeply of the world.’ You are my world. Now, go.”

As his heart stilled, his last breath fell away with a smile like the final moments of a cherished sunset. Clawed hands of the Yomotsu and yokai snaked from the shadows, pulling him back.

The Empress wept in agony as she fled back to the spring where it had all begun. She performed the legendary cleansing ritual, washing away as much of the darkness and sorrow as she could. Inside, she felt a spark of new life—a life born of love and loyalty.

She would name him Ken’ichi.