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I knew this would happen someday, but when the day comes I am not prepared. We were sent out on a job. It was like all the other fucking jobs we did. They chose us because we were the best. They chose us because we could end their skirmishes in one go. But, they started to fear us, and resent us for the price we extracted from them for our services.
That’s why we are all here right now. Staring up at the block destined to separate us all from our heads. Trapped like the animals that we are. I look down the row at my brothers, and I think about all the fun we had on the way to this doom, this destiny.
They lead Kyōkotsu up first. He’s howling and fighting against his binds. I smirk as it takes twelve soldiers to control him, and that is only because he is bound and injured. I remember when we met him—he was one of the last to join us—after he’d massacred a festival that had cut off his endless appetite. I could never tell if he had more intelligence in his brain than the word vomit he produced—preferring to communicate by grunting and pointing instead of holding a conversation. His appetite always matched his bulk, but his density and hunger were a price we were willing to pay to have him as a human shield. He is the tank of our band, absorbing far more arrows and weapons than a human should be able to. They only brought him down because four armies bore down on us at once. Watching his head separate from his body and roll down the hill they are undertaking our executions on leaves me feeling less remorse than I thought I would. It’s hard to mourn a rock.
Mukotsu is next, and it doesn’t surprise me to hear him whimper. He is a coward now and always was, enjoying being away from the mayhem he caused. I remember finding him as he slunk away from a village he’d gassed with a poor woman thrown across his shoulder, paralyzed. To be honest, I probably should have killed him that day, but… there were still only two of us and he was good in a fight, plus, his poisons were beyond anything I’d ever seen. Leave it to him to make someone beg for the swift death that my Banryu could give them instead of the slow suffering agony as Mukotsu’s concoctions ate through their bodies. His penchant for paralyzing the prettiest women in the villages we rated and “marrying them,” well, they were going to die anyway. At the same time, I feel nothing while he whines like a puppy as they strap him in and bring the sword down, cleaving his head off in one clean sweep. His eyes stay open and look at me from his head, yet all I feel is relief.
Ginkotsu is even harder to control than Kyōkotsu was, because he is part weapon now. I met Ginkotsu and Renkotsu together. They were already mercenaries. Renkotsu patched Ginkotsu up, often adding metal in place of missing limbs, and Ginkotsu took to becoming more machine than man. I always thought that to be strange, but it came in handy. It is hard for armies to disarm someone who is a weapon unto themselves. I grin as the soldiers keep their distance even as they lay his head onto the block, thinking perhaps he is capable of harming them even now, even bound, even with his body broken, because ultimately, any time Ginkotsu’s body was broken, Renkotsu upgraded his body. When they finally manage to cut off his head, I hear Renkotsu howl. I didn’t know the man could grieve, but, apparently he considers Ginkotsu not just his experiment, but also his friend. His sadness finally found a place deep inside of me to feel sad, but honestly? They are moments from being reunited in the afterlife, so I can’t fathom why Renkotsu sounds so sad.
Renkotsu is next, cursing the names of the lords who trapped us, vowing revenge. He is normally the calmest and most calculating of us. He is clever, so clever in fact that I never really trusted him. I’m taken aback at the emotions of his reactions to Ginkotsu’s execution. Did Renkotsu have loyalty to someone? Because it was never to me. Although, to be honest, it is always nice to have a conniving sly fox amongst your troupe, but it also meant that I always had to watch my back. Renkotsu’s schemes are great when pointed away from us, and got us out of our share of jams with his quick-thinking. But this time it won’t work. There are no words or schemes or tricks that will let us escape our fates. All of our necks have been washed and we are all going to hell today. When Renkotsu’s head rolls, I start to understand what is coming for me.
It is Suikotsu’s turn now to walk to the block, and his face is completely still. He already looks dead, like he accepts his fate. Where Renkotsu hid his true face behind a mask, Suikotsu has two faces. When we first met him, he wore the face I think he’s wearing now. The face of a gentle soul that hid a monster. But for us, it was the monster we craved, the monster we relished in, because that monster had the mind of a doctor and the soul of a killer. It made Suikotsu precise and deadly, my perfect enforcer, able to gain any and all information we might need with a single finger placed in the right part of a body. But the monster is dormant now, having decided to let the gentle doctor face his fate alone. Maybe that’s why Suikotsu looks so peaceful? Because he does not deny the monster inside of him, and believes he deserves the fate in front of him. I don’t agree. We were just doing what they paid us to do. We liked killing, and in this era plenty of people wanted—needed—people like us to do the things they only desired to do. It’s absurd enough that I stifle a laugh as Suikotsu’s head separates from his body, without a single gesture of resistance.
As they finally pull Jakotsu up from beside me, I can start to feel my anger rise. These motherfuckers ambushed us and took us out because they were afraid of what we were going to do to them. And when Jakotsu gives me the knowing look, one of sadness, I do actually let myself laugh. I don’t know if we are all going to hell, but if I ever have the chance to exact my revenge on these demons, I will. Jakotsu was the first of my band I found. He nearly sliced me open with that snake sword of his, claiming my blood “probably tastes delicious.” It was so delightfully creepy, and he was so delightfully talented at fighting, I knew it was the making of a wonderful friendship, or at least the closest I am able to come to feeling anything for someone else. We sparred and we planned and we killed. He liked playing with his prey, usually the prettiest man in a village, and I let him, because it was nice to see his eyes light up like that. He was the one who convinced me that my profession was better done with a band of those like me than going it alone, because together we could be unstoppable. Except we weren’t unstoppable. Four armies was enough to stop up.
“Bank!” I hear Jakotsu’s voice leave his mouth as the sword starts to come down on his neck. He sounds scared, sad, like he actually feels something. Something in my gut lurches. Was I ever the friend to him that he seems to think I am? Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t, and now… I’ll never have a chance. Jakotsu’s head actually rolls directly to me, and his sad eyes stare up into mine. I hope if he is still in there, the grief I am showing on my face on his behalf has given him a little comfort as his soul gets shepherded to the underworld.
Artwork commission by Inuyasha Simp
Now it’s my turn. Like with Ginkotsu, they are not taking their chances. I always looked a lot less threatening than I actually was, and they know this. I am their leader, their instigator, their creator, and ultimately, I was their doom. Why aren’t I scared? They’ve washed my neck. I’ve watched everyone who ever meant anything to me die. And now I am going to die.
That’s when I see it. The only companion in my life I ever gave a damn about: Banryu, my sword. They’re having a hard time figuring out how to handle it. It’s too much for them; it’s too much for anyone, except me. And for some reason, watching as that greedy motherfucker warlord that ambushed me spiriting away the only thing I care about, I finally feel it. Rage. Any maybe even… regret? I howl and do as much damage as I can, breaking the necks of the two soldiers closest to me. I am not meeting my fate without a fight. The very weasel of a warlord who was so sure he could squirrel away my sword is now cowering—it feels good to still be able to do that, even now, even at the end. Indeed, we killed at least a hundred of their soldiers as they tried to take us down, and I’m pleased to have killed a couple more, even bound, even walking to the block where all my brothers faced their fate.
They hold me down, spitting murderous words into my ears but I don’t hear them. As the cold metal tickles my neck before the executioner finishes the blow, I let myself reflect. Sure, we seven brothers flew too close to the Sun, but goddamn if we didn’t also live.