Yet, a startled shock of recognition exploded across Genshu's psyche, as his eyes passed over the shadow of his past. The man who tormented Genshu's dreams. His black tunic and gray leggings contrasted sharply with the knightly uniforms of the solders, or the business attire of the patrons. His long, black hair, reflect the dim light, and his eyes smiled a greeting of death. Yet, as he returned his gaze to where the man had stood, Genshu witnessed that he had vanished.

"How bizarre." stated Desmond, returning to Genshu's side.

"Yes?" Genshu inquired, his cold, blue eyes still gazing over the crowd, many of whom had retruned to their drinks.

"Well, it appears our room has already been rented and prepared for us." Desmond responded. "It's up stairs." Desmond finished, turning toward the stairs and walking toward the room.

Genshu's eyes narrowed, his senses heightened as he again returned his gaze to where this mysterious man had been. Then, snarling internally followed Desmond upstairs.

Upon reaching the balcony, Genshu truned once more to study the crowd, his hands resting on the rich, mahogany banister. He had seen clearly the face of his tormentor, yet he still could not recall his name. Genshu sighed and internally reprimanded himself for his inpatients. This man would make his presence known when the time came. And thus, Genshu turned and entered the room.

It was a large, spacious room, with two, full feather beds. The room itself was exquisitely decorated, for a royal emissary or master of men.

"Desmond?" Genshu asked, closing the door and removing his brown, gritty cloak.

"In here, master." Desmond called from the adjoining room. "Someone has already drawn a bath. would you care for the first bath master?"

"No, you may go ahead." Genshu responded. He had taken the small bundle of possessions he carrie under his canvas poncho-like cloak, and placed it neatly on his bed. "And please, do not call me master."

Genshu has situated his meager belongings, and started with his evening exercises of various kinds. His traveling robe, matted with sweat, Genshu began his Kata, an elegant dance of self-defense and counter attack. So driven was he, that he failed to notice Desmond return from the bath. Desmond, upon seeing Genshu, was so captivated by the power and elegance of this dance, that he immediately ran to his bed, removed his briefcase, and began scribing every movement of this ballet.

As Genshu finished his Kata, a knock at the door interrupted both men.

"I'll get it." Desmond barked, putting his pen away and easing his way off the feathery bed.

"No." Genshu responded, using the harsh, canvas cloak to wipe away the sweat. I am you servant, remember? We must not give away that we are something else until the time is right."

Though, as Genshu opened the door, the sweet, hypnotic sound of death, the whistling song of a single arrow slicing through the air, split the silence of the quickly emtying bar. Yet, as the arrow tore through the air, its momentum was ceased, as Genshu caught it mere inches from his chest, stopping it from reaching its intended target.

In a mere blink of the eye, Genshu threw the arrow aside, charged his would be killer, grabbed his assailant, and threw himself and this intended assassin through the thick banister.

The two fell from the balcony, slamming into the ground, archer first. Yet, as soon as their descending momentum had ceased, Genshu sprang from the body of the unconscious attacker, spinning into a complete, aerial cartwheel. His whole body seemed to float in midair, as he slowly rotated away from the unconscious man on the ground, until he extended his legs, his left foot touching the ground, followed by his right. He landed perfectly, touching the floor as lightly as a feather, his body poised and tensed for the next attack.

And his next assailant would attack from behind. Yet, before he struck a blow, Genshu, anticipating this assault, shifted his upper body to the left, at the same instant the attacker swung his weapon with his right hand. A heavy club tore through the air, where Genshu's head had been only a moment before. Wrapping his right arm around the right wrist of this man, Genshu turned, halfway facing his attacker, and wrapped his left arm around the man's neck, gathering him into a side headlock.

Genshu threw his weight forward, rolling into a forward somersault, dragging his captive with him. Lying on his side, still holding his intended killer, Genshu brought his leg up, and quickly kicked his attacker in the chest, twice. Releasing his grip on the now unconscious, second attacker, Genshu rolled to his shoulder blades, arching his back and kicking his legs, elevating himself from the ground, and flipping back to his feet.

Genshu now faced tow more men, seeing for the first time his attackers. They were dressed in ragged clothing, and their faces were concealed. These men were obviously bandits, or meant to be bandits, as Genshu realized their stance and posture were of well trained, hardened fighters, not rogues. Yet, seeing this display of skill, these two remaining 'bandits' chose discretion over bravery, and fled.

Genshu turned to the second unconscious 'bandit' studying his clothing again, and pulled away the mask, studying his face. Genshu was now certain of one thing, someone knew he was here. Genshu turned away from the two unconscious men, and walked back to his room.

"Master, you are unhurt?" Desmond asked.

Genshu sighed inwardly. He did not wish to be addressed as 'master' but he had grown too weary to argue over the point. Rather than speak, Genshu merely nodded to Desmond, sat on his bed, and began to meditate on the events of the evening.

The world itself dissolved into a collage of images, as Genshu pondered the events taking place in his life, and reflecting on his past. He soon found himself in a happier time, a time which, despite himself, his mind abandoned long ago. He sat on a hillside, not in his robes of warfare, but in a cloak of a noble. The emerald green grass of this field was besieged by the colors of countless flowers, which peppered the landscape with their hues and fragrance.

At his side sat a raven-haired maiden, her beauty dwarfing that of the picturesque image of the landscape. Her lips were as wine, intoxicating, yet luring at the same instant. She smiled at Genshu, and drew near to kiss him. As their lips touched in a passionate embrace, her body dissolved in his arms, tuning to dust and returning to the earth, the sand, once her slipped through Genshu's fingers.

The scene of the mountain and landscape faded along with the image of the woman. Genshu now stood in a field of nothing, a vast gray void that encompassed the world. Nothing stood in this land, save a monument or structure, towering in the near distance. Genshu began walking toward the structure, every step echoing as a thousand. For what seemed an eternity, Genshu continued toward the stone monolith. The monument loomed before him, and it was with slow realization that he understood what he was staring at. It was a shrine, a monument to the hero of Harmonia, master Kin. His former master who betrayed his trust and used the samurai to butcher the plainsmen of the Eastern Grasslands, under the orders of High Priest Sarasai. The master he challenged to a Duel of Honor, defeated, and refused to kill, a further disgrace upon his life. The master, whose spirit and honor he broke. The master he betrayed.

The ground beneath Genshu's feet broke, split in half as spires of fiery columns engulfed the sky. And as Genshu watched the world crumble, a skeletal figure, deformed from his tomb of death, emerged from the fire, his hands reaching forth and clutching Genshu's throat, tearing at his flesh.

"You have failed Genshu!" The skeleton figure cackled. "You have no honor. You defeated me in a Duel of Honor, you you let me live. You have disgraced yourself and the temple. I shall enjoy watching you die!"

And with these words, the tendons, muscles and skin grew over the grinning skeleton, a grotesque display of regeneration. Genshu had become physically ill watching this scene, yet was compelled to continue his observation.

The physical form of the figure began to take shape, his skin smoothing and his long, black hair grew from his scalp. His arms were tightly muscled and his chest broad. And it was then, that Genshu realized he stared into the cold, silver-gray eyes of his tormentor. And for the first time in his life, Genshu felt the grip of fear.

Genshu snapped his eyes open, forcing to bring himself from his deep trance. Sweat poured from his body and his heart threatened to tear itself from his chest.

Desmond was immediately by his side. "Master, what has happened?"

But Genshu did not respond he could not. His mind had fixed itself on the image of his antagonist, the hideous, grinning face, burning into his mind.

A knock at the door shook both men from the current situation. Easing himself from the shaken samurai, Desmond opened the door. After a brief conversation with whoever was on the other side, Desmond returned.

"It appears we have been granted an audience with Lord Gordo." Desmond said, looking at the parchment.

"When?" Genshu inquired, having recomposed himself.

"Tomorrow."