Morning found them bleary eyed and poorly rested. Cho had moved her chair to the wall and slept with her head back, earning a ferocious crick in her neck. The Emerald Wind flopped down face first onto the table and slept in puddle equal parts wine and drool. But the boy slept not at all. He was wide eyed when Cho let sleep claim her, and in the same position when she woke, still staring at her across the table. When she quizzed him about it, Ein just shrugged and offered no excuse.
They breakfasted on eggs again, boiled this time, though still tasting of dried mud. It appeared the inn kept a chicken coop nearby and Flaming Fist's men had let it be. Ein ate sparingly, picking at a single egg, and leaving it unfinished. The Emerald Wind had no such qualms and ate as many as he was given, complaining about the taste with each bite.
They left the inn early, the sun was low but bright. Bruised clouds gathered in clumps on the horizon, and a meandering breeze promised a slighter cooler day than the last. They set their feet towards the sun and walked on. Cho paused briefly to offer one last prayer at the Century Blade's grave, and she promised justice for what had been done to him. She hoped he was watching from the stars. She hoped he'd approve. Likely he would council against it though, saying there was no use risking her life to honour one that was long past caring. It didn't matter, she'd carry out her justice even if the old master appeared as a yokai and forbid it; not that Cho could imagine the Century Blade coming back as a vengeful spirit. Besides, it wasn't just him she wanted justice for. Flaming Fist was responsible for the deaths of the Red Bull and Hundred Cuts. He was responsible for everyone who died when Kaishi burned. He was responsible for yet another broken oath and Cho would make him pay for it.
Cho took one last look back down the road they had travelled yesterday. Kaishi looked fine. The bodies staked by the roadside were gone, taken down sometime in the night. The fires had burnt out and the smoke cleared. The wall stood unbreached. The city on its little hill looked as alive as any other and, judging by the slow trickle of traffic now on the road, it would soon be thriving once more despite the deaths of so many of its people. It seemed a horrid waste to Cho that so many of them had died in a failed attempt to protect the city, and yet just a few days later it soldiered on as though nothing had happened. She turned her back on Kaishi then, and put it, and her failed oath, firmly in the past. Her future promised to be just as violent.
For a long time they walked in silence, passing farmers and merchants on the road, some of whom offered a polite greeting, and others gave them wary distance. It was likely the clothing, Cho decided. The Emerald Wind had his faded scale armour, long ago painted the colour of emeralds and stained with mud and blood he hadn't bothered to wash away. Cho wore her stolen blouse and trousers, taken from one of Flaming Fist's men. It fit her poorly and made her look more vagabond than hero. Worse still was the way it itched and she could only hope the corpse she had taken the clothes from had not had lice. She determined to buy some new clothing as soon as they next entered a city, preferably something of Ipian make.
The Emerald Wind was a sullen grump ranging just a few paces ahead of them to claim some measure of solitude. Given the number of bottles he had emptied last night, Cho guessed it to be a hangover and one he was unlikely to recover from quickly. She was happy for the quiet though, it gave her time to reflect on her situation and all that had happened. It also gave her time to nurture the flame of hatred and anger, turning it into a blaze she would use to fight Flaming Fist. Ein struggled to keep pace, but did not complain. Despite his obvious exertion, he did not sweat, nor slow, nor even loosen his bright red scarf. He hugged his little bag tight to his chest and soldiered on, eyes locked on the eastern horizon.
Eventually they left the road, The Emerald Wind silently veering away north from the beaten track. If he followed any track at all, Cho could not see them. She expected to see grass trampled flat, dirt churned to mud or pounded into miniature mountain ranges. But there was none of that. They waded through long blade grass, feet squelching in the mud below.
"Are you sure about this?"
The Emerald Wind startled at her words. He turned to her then, stopping and rubbing at his face. He yawned and nodded at the same time, before settling into a squint as if the southern sun was too bright all of a sudden. "Fist always makes camp at the standing stones. He thinks being so close to history makes him a part of it." He shrugged. "Complete crap if you ask me. It's this way."
Cho stopped and put a hand on Ein's shoulder to pull him to a halt. The tingling numbness that spread through her, it felt as though she were being sucked into a cold, black void. She quickly pulled her hand away and squeezed it into a fist a few times. "There are no tracks. Where are you leading us?"
The Emerald Wind nodded. "Very true. It's a small wonder. It's still this way though. Fist and what's left of his band have returned to their camp. I left some things there, I wonder if the bastards have gotten round to filching any of it yet."
Cho kept still, trying to decide if the bandit was telling the truth or leading them into some sort of trap. He had spoken to the two men back at the inn, asked them to kill Ein. It was not beyond the realms of possibility that he might have a new plan to see them both dead. But then he had ample opportunity to kill the boy back at the inn, while Cho was burying the Century Blade. The Emerald Wind could have simply stabbed the boy himself. Cho glanced down at Ein again, still and quiet, resolute and determined. She couldn't deny there was something off about the boy that went much deeper than his apparent ability to bring the dead back to mostly life.
"Are we going or not?" The Emerald Wind asked. "I know you want your revenge…"
"Justice."
The Emerald Wind threw up his hands. "Call it whatever you want. I still think it's a bad idea. You don't know Fist. He's a monster. We're already on one suicide mission, why tempt fate by throwing in a second?"
"Are you leading us the right way?" Cho asked again. She kept her voice as flat as possible, but there was anger there, creeping in and sharpening her words.
"Yes! How many times must I say it? Those two you killed back at the inn said Fist was back at the camp. We'll reach it by nightfall… Probably. It's set up on a hill overlooking everything nearby. We won't be able to approach without being seen, and we have no idea how many of his men are left."
"You sound scared."
The Emerald Wind barked out a laugh. "Fear is healthy. I saw the Century Blade kill fifty men. Men I drank, ate, and fought with. Maybe not the best warriors in the world, but skilled enough to make a living out of it. He cut them down with barely any effort. Do you know how long I lasted against the old man?"
"Yes," Ein said quietly, pale eyes fixed on The Emerald Wind.
"Seconds. One breath, two, then that sword sliding into my heart." The Emerald Wind turned away and started walking, cutting his way through the long grass with angry strides. "A man as good as that, who can beat me with such ease, and Fist killed him. That right there is a man worth being scared of. Fear of him has kept me alive for a long time. Now that I'm only mostly alive I'm even more scared."
Cho quickened her pace to catch up with The Emerald Wind, well aware that Ein was labouring to keep up. "He didn't beat the Century Blade alone. Fist's men swarmed him. Ein saw it."