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<br/>
<i>Kazue<br/>
</i><br/>
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<i>   Senhime  <br/>
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KAZUE<br/>​</div>The air was thick with sweet and smoky aromas. Lord Yukinojo and his beautiful bride, Senhime, were seated squarely in the center of a dimly lit room, dressed in the finest silk that coin could buy in the war-torn province of Kaze. Nobles loyal to the Nakamura sat in neat rows facing the couple, joining the bride and groom in celebration of this fateful day. Lord Nakamura himself, the great terror of the north, was in attendance, seated upon ornate cushions in a darkened corner, brooding. The Daimyo had spared no expense in honoring the union of his trusted vassal and protege. Garbed from head to toe in fine linen garments, Kazue felt grossly out of place. He’d spent the majority of his childhood in humble caves or the outskirts of Choten, capital of Yama. To now be surrounded by jewelry, fine wine, cured meats and marvelous statues felt almost sinful. It sickened him that powerful men reveled in such opulence while the country burned and bled, torn asunder by the famine and war they’d helped sow. But it was imperative that Kazue conceal his disgust for a little while longer. His patience would pay off; soon, with the aid of the ever guileful Senhime, the decadent room would be stained with the blood of sinful men.<br/><br/>The blazing sun had set at last, illuminating a mural of crimson hues across the sky. Kazue gazed into the beautiful spectacle, and wondered whether it might be an omen of the bloodshed that was to come. An old, balding monk, draped in yellow robes lifted a white tea kettle from a well stoked fire. The Tea Ceremony, Ocha no teikyō, was about to begin. The room grew utterly silent; even the crickets in the outside garden appeared to pay their respects. The old, shriveled priest proceeded to fill each attendants cup with the pungent tea. The aroma was crisp and intoxicating. If Kazue hadn't know any better, he would have thought it harmless, even appetizing. But while Senhine had crafted the poison with skill, the slight purple pigmentation of some unidentified reagent was still perceptible to the trained apothecary’s eye. He prayed she’d prepared the antidote she’d administered to the Tsukitsuji with similar care.<br/><br/>“By the tongues of Noryoku, Mother of fertility, and Sensor, Father of War, I join these two souls, that they shall twain one flesh and bring forth many sons in service of the great Dragon; that they shall honor his name and fortify his empire for as long as they draw breath! As we drink the tears of your children o’ lords of heaven, may you bless this union, that it might be a worthy instrument of the Dragon’s will,” The priest croaked. He raised his glass to his quivering lips, and drank. Those in attendance soon followed suit.<br/><br/>It didn’t take long for Senhime’s toxin to take effect. The nobles' eyelids soon grew heavy, their muscles so relaxed that they struggled to sit upright upon their cushions. A dreamless sleep overtook them before they could realize the trap they had fallen into. A series of thuds followed as limp bodies fell on to the wooden floor.Kazue rose to his feet. Though he felt slightly fatigued, the antidote appeared to be working. To his right, Akemi, petite and fair skinned, also retained consciousness. She pulled several orbs from beneath her sleeves: clusters of bolts and gears equipped with incendiary powder supplied by the Requeza from across the sea. To his left, Saburo pulled a katana from its sheath and raised above his head.<br/><br/>“The ends today,” Kazue muttered. He took several steps toward the Daimyo. He was barely visible: a silhouette against a backdrop of paper screens. To his surprise, Lord Nakamura appeared to be sitting upright, fully awake, and not the least bit disturbed by the events unfolding around him. He pulled his tanto from the sheathe upon his back and flung it toward the mighty lord. The blade cut through the air before being intercepted by several long iron needles which ripped through the paper walls. Screen doors opened, and a dozen hooded figures emerged. Kamaitachi, Kazue whispered beneath his breath. The word lingered on his tongue. How had the Tsukisuji been compromised, he wondered. He turned to Senhime.“Traitorous witch…Tsukitsuji, bring them down, now!” Kazue shouted. A mysterious figure clad in intricate tattoos threw a kunai in his direction. Kazue tumbled to the side, but failed to fully dodge the projectile which cut into his left shoulder. There was no time to dwell on the pain. He pulled the lid from the wicker basket to his side. Three, shuriken sized wasps, black as pitch fluttered through the narrow opening. Kazue pulled himself from his mortal vessel, his eyes turning pale green as seafoam. Synesthesia enveloped him: the sights, sounds and smells of the room bleeding together as he donned each insect’s skin like a cloak. Images began to solidify and take shape. The uncanny sensation of inhabiting multiple forms simultaneously was dizzying at first, but Kazue quickly coordinated the movements of his many body parts and raced toward the nearest assailant. She was a pale faced woman, clad in a red gown and brandishing needles between her fingertips. He evaded her whirl of jabs and latched onto her neck.  He sunk his multiple stingers into her pale flesh repeatedly, pumping gobs of venom into her bloodstream. The poison took effect almost immediately. She stumbled backwards. Her face turned red as an autumn poppy, her breathing weak and panicked as a thin stream of blood trickled down the left corner of her mouth. Growing limp as a wilted reed, she collapsed, blood spilling profusely from her gaping maw and coloring the floorboards with tendrils of scarlet.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center"><div class="bbMediaWrapper">
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