Life is duty. Katsumi had learned this at a young age. She had been given a wakizashi crafted in the colors of the Dragon clan at seven. The hilt was painted green with a gold dragon curled along it, mouth open so it appeared the blade shot straight from the dragon’s mouth. It was terribly uncomfortable before she had wound the cloth around the long since faded colors. That dragon barely recognizable, worn down so much no one would know what it originally was, except Katsumi. She remembered clearly the way it looked. The way it felt in her hand. The weight of it, much heavier than she had believed it would be, only entrusted with a small, crudely made knife before that time. She remembered the man who it used to belong to and the way he had glared at her. He was a monster in her memory, the way she had seen him at the age of seven. Even on his knees he was taller than her, shoulders hunched as if he was getting ready to spring on her. Looking down on her with strands of hair hanging across his face, torn loose from his fight with her family. Her brother gripped the Dragon’s hair, his katana pressed against the man’s back, keeping him from fleeing. Her father kneeling next to her, pointing and explaining where she was to put the blade in order to stop his heart.
The Dragon was glaring at Katsumi as she approached. He looked down on her with disgust, with hatred. He was her sacrifice, her offering. The first to die by her hands. The one that would bring her into a life of duty, bringing her into the family, the Spider clan. Her brother pulled on the Dragon’s hair, straightening him. The Dragon’s armor had already been removed to prevent it from being sullied, it could prove to be useful at a later time. His kimono had been pulled away by her father so he could better instruct her on the point of entry, now hanging around his arms, the ropes binding his hands behind his back preventing it from falling away. Katsumi placed the tip of the wakizashi against the Dragon’s chest, her other hand cupping the end of the hilt for added strength and stability. She shifted her feet, getting ready to push with all her might.
“I will bring the Empire to its knees. I will bring death to your family. Your life ends by my hand. I am the Spider clan.”
Every day from then on, she was a Spider. Even before they were accepted by the Empire, they were Spider. When they were ronin, or Dragon, or Phoenix, they were Spider. When the clan was declared outlaws, when they were hunted, when they couldn’t bare their mon, they were still Spider. The Dark Lord decreed it, and it was so. In her heart she knew she was Spider clan. And now, six years after she first became part of the family, they were all Spider clan. They were part of the Empire, achieving great clan status with the sacrifice of the Dark Lord. His name she shared, as did all those she traveled with, all those in her family. They may not have been tied by blood, not even her father was of relation to her. But blood doesn’t make you a Spider, duty does.
The Dragon was glaring at Katsumi as she approached. He looked down on her with disgust, with hatred. He was her sacrifice, her offering. The first to die by her hands. The one that would bring her into a life of duty, bringing her into the family, the Spider clan. Her brother pulled on the Dragon’s hair, straightening him. The Dragon’s armor had already been removed to prevent it from being sullied, it could prove to be useful at a later time. His kimono had been pulled away by her father so he could better instruct her on the point of entry, now hanging around his arms, the ropes binding his hands behind his back preventing it from falling away. Katsumi placed the tip of the wakizashi against the Dragon’s chest, her other hand cupping the end of the hilt for added strength and stability. She shifted her feet, getting ready to push with all her might.
“I will bring the Empire to its knees. I will bring death to your family. Your life ends by my hand. I am the Spider clan.”
Every day from then on, she was a Spider. Even before they were accepted by the Empire, they were Spider. When they were ronin, or Dragon, or Phoenix, they were Spider. When the clan was declared outlaws, when they were hunted, when they couldn’t bare their mon, they were still Spider. The Dark Lord decreed it, and it was so. In her heart she knew she was Spider clan. And now, six years after she first became part of the family, they were all Spider clan. They were part of the Empire, achieving great clan status with the sacrifice of the Dark Lord. His name she shared, as did all those she traveled with, all those in her family. They may not have been tied by blood, not even her father was of relation to her. But blood doesn’t make you a Spider, duty does.
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