Red Snow

Red Snow

By: Aaron Geerts

When bribes didn’t work, the warlord sent a dozen thugs to remove the Takashi family from their homestead in the Valley of the Gods. Only one returned. He carried a message: “We’re not leaving.”

The Valley of the Gods had been said to be an ancestral plain of Japan. A place so beautiful that warrior spirits opted to spend eternity drifting amongst its sea of tallgrass, cherry blossom trees, and natural springs. 2,000-acres of heaven on earth, sunken in an enormous caldera and surrounded by blue and white mountains, save for a large gap in the north. Out of it cascaded a slope of tallgrass leading into the valley flat and a small lake near the Takashi’s generational home atop a small slope. Remote, and laden with fresh mountain air that granted a near-supernatural vitality.

“Help me with this last one, Ning,” said Lord Raza Takashi. A stout 17-year-old with messy black hair grabbed the opposite end of the sharpened pole of wood. They planted it in the dirt and tied it next to the others, completing the palisade around their house and stable.

“You’re positive they’ll return, father?” Ning asked.

Years of war and bloodshed gave Lord Raza Takashi a knowing of man. What he was willing to die for, to kill for – and how much gold he’ll do it for. This knowing formed the gray streaks in the lord’s jet-black hair he had tied into a bun. It instilled a constant unrest that kept him as deadly as when he served the emperor twenty years ago.

“This warlord, Yoto,” Raza said. “He…thirsts for blood. Our blood. And he will stop at nothing to destroy our family.”

“Those men that came. They said they’d let us leave peacefully. That our home was a location of strategic military importance to the country,” Ning said as he and the grizzled Samurai approached their house, footsteps crunching in the snow.

“No. I know this man,” Raza growled. “I’ve seen how his promises lead to his foes’ demise. Now go help your brother and sister prepare. I expect much more of them to return by nightfall.”

“Yes, father,” Ning hustled into the house to find his siblings.

Raza removed his wooden sandals and walked to the living room, where his wife lay with pneumonia.

“My darling,” she said weakly. Her skin a pale white and shiny with sweat. “When are we to fight?”

“Fight?” Raza kneeled next to his wife and took her hand. “Asa, you’re already fighting. The children and I will protect you from Yoto. You must rest.”

“You cannot stop me, Raza. Nor keep me from protecting my family,” Asa turned and coughed as if death was squeezing her lungs. “We both know he seeks vengeance.”

Raza looked across the room at his black and white armor and swords. Yoto dawned the armor’s turquoise twin. Lord Takashi reminisced on his time serving the emperor, side-by-side with Jin Yoto. They were like brothers, Raza thought. As the years passed, however, Raza saw war corrupt his brother – or reveal him. Yoto began killing not for honor, but for sport and necessity. He developed an addiction to it that became an unslakable bloodlust that guided his every thought and action.

“Yes. We both know this,” Raza said. “I was a fool for thinking he’d sheath it.”

He looked in his wife’s fading, purple eyes and caressed her cheek. Seeing their beauty reminded him of the first time he saw them, every time. Yoto had loved the same eyes. Those of a vivacious, noblewoman that watched two men duel for her affection even after she forbade it.

At the duel’s end, Raza spared Yoto, his brother-in-arms. Asa knew it would end their friendship, and because of it, held a shadow of resentment in her love for Raza. She needed not bloodshed to win her love, for it was already Raza’s.

“Will you assist me in my armor, my love?” Raza said wiping a tear from his cheek with the back of his knuckle.

Asa smiled, and nodded.

“What the hell are these!?” Yelled a 15-year-old at his twin sister. “Where are the tips?”

The girl walked across in her white kimono and tossed a quiver of regular-tipped arrows at her brother. “There, you happy?” She took the arrow out of her brother’s hand with a bag wrapped around the tip. “These will explode on impact. I’d shoot one at your head to show you, but I don’t think it’d make it through your thick skull!”

The teens began fighting one another.

“Stop, you two!” Ning roared stepping into the room. “We need to get ready for the attack. Yumi, please help Kenshi and I into our armor.”

Yumi groaned. “Why don’t I get any crimson to fight in? I’ve trained just as much or more than you two.”

“Because father said women cannot wear Takashi crimson. You know this,” Ning said tying on his grieves. “When the fight happens, we must all do our part,” Ning turned and winked at his sister. “Besides, a house is nothing without its foundation of support, right? A color will not affect my sister’s prowess in battle.”

Yumi smiled, nodded, and helped her brothers into their armor and placed their helmets over their heads – Kenshi’s was a little too big.

“How do we look?” Ning asked

Yumi looked at her brothers. They were just children going into battle, she thought, but they were the children of Raza Takashi – the Emperor’s Snow Panther. “You are the strongest warriors I’ve ever known. We might just survive this night.”

Kenshi shot his fist in the air and the helmet slipped over his eyes. “They don’t stand a chance!”

Ning, standing a foot taller than his brother, adjusted the helmet. “No, they don’t,” he grabbed his weapons and beckoned to the door “Come now. Father is waiting.”

The siblings entered the room in time to watch their father lay down their mother gently onto the cushion on the floor; exhausted from standing and harnessing the armor.

They took positions around their mother, knelt, and meditated as a family for hours in the ambient crackle of fire. Their thoughts came and went like gentle waves. Acknowledging and releasing them as naturally as breathing. The Takashi family was at peace.

A dog howled outside. Lord Raza and his children opened their eyes as one.

The old samurai watched his wife sleep, kissed her forehead, and rose. “My children,” he took a moment to look at each of them, all dawning in the Takashi crimson and white, save for Yumi. “This is the greatest moment of my life. The honor of going into battle with my sons and daughter.” He wrapped them all in a hug. “A father has never been prouder of his family.” He released them, nodded. “Nor a general prouder of his army.”

The siblings smiled. Their father lowered his head, strapped on his battle-scarred helmet, and fit a mask on the lower half of his face. He looked up not as Raza Takashi, but as the Emperor’s growling Snow Leopard.

He handed each of his children strips of white cloth. “With these, we fight as one,” he shot a glance at his daughter. “Yumi!”

“Yes, father!” she took the cloth and wrapped it around her face.

“Bring arrows to your brothers and I,” Raza said, muffled behind the mask. “Bring death to whoever passes us.”

“Yes, father!” She said without hesitation.

“Kenshi!” Roared Raza.

“Yes, father!” He wrapped the cloth around his face.

“You will be at my left flank. Fill them with arrows and draw them back onto the ice with me if you can. And I know you can.”

“Yes, father!” He said.

“Ning!” Roared Raza

“Yes, father!” He wrapped the cloth around his face.

“You will be at my right flank. Do the same and funnel them towards me in the center.”

“Yes, father!” He said.

“If it is our destiny to die this night, let us die together. With honor,” Raza said. “Our ancestors will be watching us. They’re here, now! They fight with us!”

The siblings shouted. Fear had left them. With their father, together, next to the warmth of the fire, they were invincible.

After a second howl, the family dog rumbled into the living room. A massive, brown and black Akita shook the layer of snow from his thick mane.

“There’s our finest soldier,” Raza said. “Come, Goku.”

The Takashi’s fit leather straps and a thin layer of chain mail armor around the dog while he liked their faces. “Yumi, he will protect you. And release him where he’s needed most.”

She nodded and ruffled the dog’s ears.

“TAKASHI!!!!!” A voice echoed from outside.

“Follow me,” Raza said. “Fate guide our blades.”

“Fate guide our blades,” repeated the children.

Raza slid the door open and led the children out. The full moon draped a brilliant light over the snow that reflected an ethereal white. A bitter cold nipped at their skin but Raza nor his children paid notice. They walked through a gap in the surrounding palisade wall, down the slope, and halted at the shore of a frozen lake. On the far side were dark silhouettes holding swords, spears, axes, and torches.

The lake, only fifty yards in diameter, was fed by a waterfall to the west, and forced visitors to walk around the eastern bank. Now frozen, Raza saw these new visitors walking on the ice. In front of them was Yoto, who’d traded in his armor for a cozy, bright orange robe.

“Lord Takashi. Can you provide home and hearth for my men and I?” Yoto’s voice echoed across the ice and through the silent cold. “We are quite tired from our journey through the pass.”

Raza and his children stood as frozen as the ice. “You will find only death and ruin here,” he shouted back. “Go back, Yoto. I’m asking in the name of the time we served, and the blood we gave to the emperor.”

Laughter responded. Low at first, then louder, more maniacal. “Ohhhh, Lord Takashi,” the middle-aged Yoto observed the neon white covering the valley. “The time we served together ended in you taking Asa away from me. Then you live the life I was fated to live!” Yoto spread his arms. “All of this belongs to me! And I will see to it this stolen life is destroyed. Your family’s limbs will fuel my fire and keep me warm this night. Fate demands it! Fate has led me here to do this!”

“No,” Raza fastened thin blades beneath his wooden sandals down their centers. “Fate has led you to your end.”

Yoto stepped back and raised his arm. The one hundred men behind him stood ready, eager as they watched Raza signal his children into their positions.

“Kenshi!” Yumi said as her twin walked towards the frozen waterfall. “Be safe, I love you.”

“I love you too, Yumi,” they hugged, and she left a bundle of arrows at his feet.

Raza stood and stepped onto the ice, his children’s eyes on him, ready to finally witness his four-blade-fighting-technique. He locked eyes with his old friend, lamenting what’d become of their fate, and drew his sword. White clouds seeped out of his mask. Each a slow, methodical breath to maintain his adrenaline. Refined from a lifetime of discipline and training.

Yoto dropped his hand and the main body of mercenaries moved forward. Part of the group flanked towards Ning around the eastern bank. A third group flanked left across the ice towards Kenshi.

With a push of his back leg, Raza glided forward. Bewildered, the sell swords watched the old samurai make sweeping motions with his legs and fly towards them. Faster, closer, the ice hissing with every movement. At the last moment, Raza pushed his right leg forward and skidded to a halt, spraying ice in the eyes of the forwardmost mercenary, then decapitating him.

“I assure you all, you will not freeze to death tonight,” Raza said watching steam escape out of the dead man’s neck in a slow, white mist. He leaned forward into the blood’s steam so the mercenary’s comrades could see the Snow Leopard devour another soul.

Raza then floated backwards with the reverse sway of his legs and watched the mercenaries yell and run forward – and spread themselves out across the ice.

“Fire!” Raza ordered sweeping left to right across the ice near his children.

“Yes, father!” All three siblings yelled, drew, and released. All three arrows found targets. And then the next three.

Raza returned his sight to the men shuffling down the center and drew his short sword. He rushed towards them skidding his katana across the ice.

The Takashi children watched their father disappear in the mob. Men began screaming and falling upon the ice. Glints of white reflected from his swords as he spun and swept through the mercenaries like a deadly wind.

Yumi noticed the men closing in on Ning. She picked up a bundle of arrows and rushed towards him with Goku at her side.

“I haven’t missed yet!” Ning said releasing another arrow into an enemy skull as she arrived.

“Good!” Yumi shot two arrows and realized how many men they were up against. “There’s too many. They’ll close the distance soon.”

“Let them,” Ning said.

The words reminded Yumi of her father. She knew they weren’t false bravado, but truth. Ning’s movements, slow breaths, and flawless technique boasted a confidence only years of training under a master could imply. The same training of the bow she’d received from their mother.

Some of the mob had retreated back towards the middle, but not all. Only moments separated the remaining, incoming mercenaries from a bloody display of Ning’s sword training he’d received from their father.

Their heads turned at the sound of Kenshi yelling. Men were only ten feet from him.

“Goku, go to Kenshi!” Yumi shouted and the Akita raced across the snow like a demon.

“You go help Kenshi too,” Ning said releasing another arrow into a man’s throat.

“But–”

“GO!”

Yumi hustled away, eyes on Kenshi and the trail of bodies leading up to his position. By the time she arrived, Goku tore at a man’s arm as Kenshi drove his blade through his chest. Five others closed around the boy and his dog. “Kenshi, close your eyes!” Yumi screamed as she ran across the snow with two black bag arrows lit, notched, and drawn back.

Kenshi’s forearm shielded his eyes from the ensuing flash. When he lowered his arm, the assailants were on fire. The teen silenced their screams in five quick slashes. His father’s training was now instinct, allowing for no hesitation in his fatal movements.

“Thanks, Yumi,” he said.

Suddenly, a knife struck Kenshi in the shoulder that brought him to a knee. Goku hurled himself into the man that threw it and ripped out his throat.

“Kenshi!” She knelt next to her brother.

“I’m fine,” Kenshi kept his eyes up and yanked out the knife. She helped him to his feet and watched the left flank begin to herd toward the middle, save for the ten stumbling toward them. “Father’s plan is working. Now concentrate your arrows on the middle and Goku and I will hold off the rest.”

The moment quelled any discourse between them. Dependance on the other to survive bolstered the twins’ love. Both ready to die for one another at a moment’s notice.

Yumi looked toward to the center of the frozen lake. Men lay dead and dying on the ice, their cries of agony echoing in the night amongst the singing steel from the Takashi men. Suddenly, Raza spun out of the mass and wove through dozens of squirming bodies. Yumi took the moment to light two black bag arrows, draw, and release them. “Father, look away!” She cried.

Raza turned left and squinted at the blinding flash in his right periphery. He then watched his daughter release a hail of arrows faster than any man he’d ever seen. Each finding their mark in a skull in half-second lapses. He recognized Yumi’s skill was beyond that of human capability, beyond her body. She was the act of archery, with the universe flowing through her veins and guiding her every movement. He dared not dwell on it, however. The battle continued to rage and demanded his focus as well as his blood.

Raza caught his breath for a moment, steam pouring out of the orifices of his battered armor. He looked at his left arm. Blood dripped from where it was hewn at the elbow. This is the end of my four-blade-technique, Raza thought to himself and allowed a faint smile beneath his mask at the dark humor. His severed arm, however, never released its grip from the short sword it’d plunged into an enemy stomach. The old samurai grimaced and raised his katana with his remaining arm, ready to sacrifice more of himself for his family. “Fate guide my blade,” he said watching his enemies walk over their comrades’ burning corpses to attack again.

Yoto smiled from across the lake at the state of his old friend – and the Takashi family. He wanted them to fight for their lives and believe they could survive. Sacrificial lambs, Yoto thought to himself looking at half his men dead in the snow. I’ve brought just enough necessary to inspire hope. So hope, Raza. Hope victory is attainable as you always have. It’s almost a pity you won’t live long enough to see the extent of your folly when my garrison arrives to occupy this valley in the morning.

With only one arm Raza took the defensive, backing closer to the southern shore as he parried an onslaught of spear thrusts and sword hacks. In his peripheries he saw the flanks had now diverted back to the middle. “Return to the house and barricade the palisade entrance!” Raza’s shout echoed throughout the Valley of the Gods.

Yumi, Kenshi, and Goku hustled back while Ning hobbled leaving a trail of blood behind him. They reached each other near the shoreline and the twins took positions under Ning’s arms and helped him walk up the slope to their house. “You’re cut bad, brother,” Kenshi said.

“Shut up…keep moving!” Ning’s shout was bolstered by agony.

Raza killed as many men as he could, but they moved around him like a stream around a rock and pursued the siblings on solid ground.

Without order, Goku turned and attacked the pursuers. “NO!” Kenshi said looking back. He watched their dog barrel into a man and kill him before the rest drove their spears through Goku’s armor. He bought the siblings a few more seconds with his life.

“Hurry!” Yumi said looking back as well. One mercenary was quicker than the others. He drew close enough for Yumi to see a remorselessness in his eyes. Now within reach, he raised his sword for a killing blow, then dropped dead with an arrow in his heart.

Yumi turned forward. Asa leaned against the palisade with her longbow – ghost pale – and used the rest of her strength to draw and fire more arrows. They reached their mother. “Ready your bows,” her voice and legs trembled as she used willpower and love as crutches to keep her upright. “Remember, my children. I did not teach you how to miss.”

The look on their mother’s face allowed for no protest. She did not look any of them in the eye, for hers were fixed on her husband 50 yards away on a frozen lake while he slayed foe after foe in slow, exhausted motions.

Mother and children drew their bows – Ning from a knee – and fired at the mob of men charging up the slope to kill them.

Raza kicked off his blades and sandals and fought barefoot on the frozen sand. He killed three more enemies when a club bludgeoned him from the left, knocking off his helmet and shattering half the mask. Dazed, Raza scrambled on the ground, using his arm to pull him away from the attacker. He rolled onto his back and tried to raise his sword at an orange blur.

“You see, men. There is no Snow Leopard,” Yoto tossed the club and kicked away Raza’s sword and drew his own. “Just a dead man.” In a downward stab, Yoto planted the sword in Raza’s stomach. He then beckoned the remaining 30 men around him. “Go now and bring me his family’s heads.”

The snow slushed under their feet as they ran up the slope. Raza stared at the moon and experienced the feeling of dying. Blood poured from his mouth, nose, and body and melted the snow around him.

“You always thought you were superior to me. A better warrior and tactician and lover,” Yoto knelt next to Raza. “Well look at you now. Dying a meaningless death amongst these nameless bastards I hired to kill you. Pathetic.”

Raza looked to Yoto, feeling no cold nor pain, only pity for Yoto in his fleeting moments of life and remained silent. Yoto shook his head, rose, removed his sword, and spat on Raza’s face before walking up the slope.

Delight coursed through Yoto’s body. His rival was dead and sound of clashing steel and men dying at the top of the slope soothed him knowing his job was nearly complete at a fraction of the cost.

“Jin…YOTO!!!!!”

The warlord stopped in his tracks with his delight giving way to fear at the sound of Raza’s voice. He turned, saw the old Samurai wobbling as he stood with sword in hand.

“No, no, no, NO!” Yoto yelled before charging at Raza. “DIE!”

Raza remained still as Yoto drove the sword into him again. He dropped his katana and placed his hand on Yoto’s shoulder as he drove the sword deeper into his flesh. “M-my family. This life…” Raza said now face to face with Yoto with no mask to hide his tears. “…were a-always mine. And y-you were never…worthy of it!”

Raza grabbed Yoto’s head and jabbed the bone spurring out of his left arm into his right eye. Yoto screamed in pain and pulled away, leaving his sword in Raza as he retreated back across the lake to where he and the mercenaries had camped.

The Samurai dropped to his knees and died with a last image of his family still fighting, still alive, at the top of the slope.

Yumi woke the next morning under a pile of bodies with only pain reminding her she was still alive. She mustered what strength she had and pulled her way out into the sunlight. Blood soaked through her clothes and her body was covered in wounds. She now bore the Takashi crimson on her white kimono, however, nobody was alive to scold her.

Tears ran down her face as she looked around the carnage. The events of the night rushed back to her. She had fought against a mountain of a man and was knocked nearly unconscious by his punch. The last she remembered was a spear to her throat and her brothers crashing into him and cutting the man down before losing consciousness.

She stared at Ning and Kenshi’s bodies in the snow next to their mother. Their armor chipped and battered, their flesh ravaged by gashes and cuts. Yumi remained silent, touched their faces, and closed their eyes. As she was archery in the night, she was sadness in the morning, but she gave the world no indication other than tears.

Marching down the pass was Yoto’s garrison. Yumi watched them as she walked down the slope, numb from cold, sullen from loss. She knelt by her father – still on his knees – removed the sword and hugged him for the last time. After a moment with him, she walked across the red snow and stared at the thousands of soldiers before her with half her father’s mask in her hand. Yoto with a bandage over his eye and a blood-stained robe stood before them. “One lives!” He yelled.

The girl looked down, fastened a mask, and looked up not as Yumi Takashi, but the Red Leopard: armed with her mother’s bow, her father’s sword, and her brothers’ love. The sight of the teen in a blood-covered kimono, half a mask, with messy black hair draped over it was something out of a nightmare, sending murmurs throughout the ranks filling the mountain pass.

“It’s just one girl,” Yoto yelled at his men. “Just kill the bitch and be done with—.”

An arrow pierced Yoto’s left eye and came out the back of his skull. The soldiers looked at their leader then up at the Red Leopard lowering her bow. Then they charged, 2,000 to 1.

Suddenly, a warmth pressed against her back. The sadness and thoughts of dutiful suicide left her mind. She was filled with hope, purpose, and an odd sense of familiarity as if her family were still present with her. She turned. Behind her were thousands of translucent silhouettes in the shape of warriors. All holding weapons of light and flame. Closest to her were four. They spoke no words, but she knew it was her family. They’d summoned the ancestral warriors of Japan to finish the battle.

It is said that the Red Leopard defeated 2,000 men that day. It is said after the battle, the gods moved the mountains so that their valley would never again be dwelled upon by mortals. It is said the Red Leopard became more than human that day, rather, a vessel of the divine, endowed with the spirit, strength, and resolve that transcended physical limitations. It is said, the gods thus commanded her to stalk wherever corruption resides and to devour the souls of those who perpetuate it.