Ronin's Revenge

A demon entered Ryoma Amami’s dream. In it, instead of the emperor’s palace that he called home, Ryoma imagined placid, rolling hills dotted ever so lovingly with golden gingko trees. Despite the autumn-leaning canopies, a spring breeze seasoned the scenery in its warmth. The temporal blend soothed him so, leaving any reason for peril far behind. However, the lurking demon had different ideas about the picturesque view.

Ryoma hadn’t noticed the creeping evil until it was too late. At once, the demon’s hand gripped the samurai’s shoulder and he witnessed tranquility usurped by a boiling chaos. The breeze altered first, trading in the warm whispers with a wintry whip, seemingly cutting to the bone. From the sense of touch to sight, he watched in horror as the gingko trees erupted in a hellish blaze, profoundly contradicting the subzero chill to the air which now tried its hardest to choke the life out of him. Cracks formed and sprawled amongst the hills and they slowly crumbled into an ever-growing abyss that defied the warrior’s wildest imaginations. It was within this scope of understanding that Ryoma came to realize that he was no longer alone, that he was no longer the maker of this paradise-turned-hellscape.

“Join us,” a shrill voice whispered into Ryoma’s ear. It unsettled him so. “Join me. Together, we shall inherit the new land.” The demon’s voice had an echoing quality so that his words rapped around in Ryoma’s mind, pinging off the inner walls of his head like the blacksmith’s hammer falling upon the anvil. He yearned for silence, but the demon persisted. “Surrender your body to me and we’ll frolic in a new world of insanity!” Ryoma shook to his core as he asked, “Who are you? What are you?”

Though Ryoma’s back was turned to the monster, it still smiled so wide as to mock the samurai. “I’m an oni,” it said, “or a demon, you might say. Our lord has undone the seal to Yomi, the underworld, and through it have we all burst forth into this new home. Now join me and we will live together in a country born anew.” Ryoma wanted to ask who this ‘lord’ was that the demon belonged to, but his mind wouldn’t form the words. Instead, his instincts gave way to one goal: survival.

Ryoma wrenched his arm free from the oni’s grip and began sprinting down the hillside. In the moment, he wasn’t entirely sure where he meant to run to, but the first thing he saw in the distance were the blazing gingkoes, so he set his mind to advancing there. Whether or not he balanced the notions of danger to himself with potential protection against his pursuer due to the fiery sheath, he’d never know. All he could fathom at that particular moment was the need to keep placing one foot in front of the other, to keep moving forward, no matter what.

Such a need to progress, however, was quickly curtailed by the ever-vanishing earth mere inches beyond Ryoma’s feet. The abyss hungered for more destruction, and the lands of once beautiful, sprawling hills accommodated it so. A chasm opened in front of the sprinting warrior, but his momentum left no leeway for stopping. And even if he could, he wouldn’t dare allow the demon an opportunity to catch him. Without another option, Ryoma leapt forward and just barely landed on a platform of dirt levitating above horrid nothingness. As though he were a frog, the samurai leapt between hunks of earth hanging in a newfound sky, fearing at every moment that they would crumble beneath his feet. Thankfully, none of them actually dissipated until after he escaped to the next chunk in the chain.

After his trip of peril across the chasm, Ryoma finally landed on solid enough ground where the gingko grove stood unperturbed below their burning topsides. Leaves and berries plucked by the inferno scattered around him, emitting such a sickening smell that he nearly vomited.

Laughter erupted from behind Ryoma. The demon, betwixt bouts of merriment, said, “Come now, samurai. Did you think you could escape me here? I’m already inside your mind, melding into it and making it my own. Now that we’ve begun such an unholy union, I can freely manipulate your dreams. There’s no escape from me in this nocturnal realm.”

Eyes and mouths aplenty arrived in the fire above Ryoma’s head. They flickered in tune to the flame’s sprawling waves. The eyes glared at him with an intense menace while the mouths chanted “Join us” again and again. Ryoma only had two choices: either he could cower beneath the intrepid onslaught; or, he could make a break for it and continue his quest to outrun the nightmare. He chose the latter.

Ryoma sprinted forward, but the roots from the gingko ahead of him sprung to life and swatted the legs out from under him. He fell with a thud, crying out until his teeth carved into the dirt. Though they were ablaze merely a moment ago, the grove extinguished within an instant, perhaps due to the arctic airstream, and darkness befell his mind. Within the dream, it had still been sunset, but in the new nightmare, a miserable, moonless midnight surrounded his being.

Attempting to rise to his feet, Ryoma felt the demon’s hand on his leg, keeping him locked firmly in place. “Let go of me!” He yelled, but the oni merely chuckled in response. “I’m so sorry, samurai,” it said, “but I’m afraid your time has come. Give in to my presence already and we’ll be done with this torment. You’ll love being fused to me; I promise. The havoc we’ll spread shall be legendary!”

Ryoma thought to punch down to the demon’s grip in an effort to break free, but before he could square up his fist, a gingko root wrapped around his right arm, paralyzing it. “No,” he grunted and tried with his other hand to wrest control from the evil plant albeit fruitlessly. Then, yet another root encased his left arm until it was transfixed. As he struggled against the gingko’s wrath, the warrior could feel the demon beginning to crawl up from the trunk of his leg to the small of his back and then working its way up to his shoulders. Eventually, the monster was level with Ryoma’s head.

With a low whisper, the demon told Ryoma, “I’ve grown tired of this to-and-fro farce. Let’s end the madness now, shall we? Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle; you won’t feel a thing.” With that disclaimer, Ryoma felt a tongue or tentacle enter his ear. He screamed and started to shake his head wildly in protest, but another root made a crown around his skull and kept him immobilized. All Ryoma could do was scream as the invader impaled his mind.

Beautiful, horrific colors filled Ryoma’s vision as the intruding demon began erasing his free will. His vision betrayed him as memories of those he knew flashed by and returned to oblivion as soon as they came. He could feel everything that made him Ryoma melting down and fading away. The struggle of his head and arms lessened as the process proceeded. Before long, he would belong to the demon.

Not a moment too soon, however, a blinding light engulfed the black night. Ryoma initially thought to close his eyes from the sudden, sensory overload, but the warmth from the beams comforted and calmed him somehow, so he decided to look. Hovering above him and the demon was a scarlet silhouette amidst the luminescent plain. Ryoma noted that it held the stature of a man though no further details could be gleaned. However, after a few moments, something donned on the samurai sworn to protect the emperor.

“Your Highness!” Ryoma yelled. As if it couldn’t be more obvious, the warrior realized that his duty to protect the emperor couldn’t be fulfilled were he to lose the battle at hand. Then, it occurred to him that if a demon invaded his body, there would be no reason another wouldn’t be attempting to possess his Highness. “Don’t worry,” Ryoma yelled, “I’m coming to save you!” The silhouette reached out its hand.

Ryoma, with a renewed sense of purpose, flexed his muscles as hard as he could, and to both his and the demon’s surprise, the gingko roots began withering away. “What are you doing?” The demon asked. “How are you doing this?” Ryoma didn’t bother answering. His focus was set solely on the apparition before him. He craned his neck forward and snapped the plant crown right in two. “Your Highness!” He repeated, a vigor burning in his breast.

The demon planted its feet in the dirt and pulled back with all its heinous might, causing Ryoma to stumble back in shock. However, his gusto could not be so easily broken. The samurai lunged forth, straining on the oni’s balance, and a battle of wills commenced. Powerful though the demon may have been, Ryoma had inadvertently regained his composure and therefore his control over the dreamscape. Slowly yet steadily, Ryoma outpaced the demon and inched closer and closer to the figure in the sky.

With one last push, Ryoma lurched forward and took the silhouette by the hand.