Once, I had a dream of dying by fire. I thought its prophecy was meant for Tomoe but I was wrong. It was meant for me. It was meant for everyone. I sit here in the darkness, in the shelter of this ruined house. I know that it is night now though the sky, visible through the tumbled boards above me, seems no different, no darker than it has all day. It has been many years since I walked uncloaked and unprotected in the daylight. I have vomited blood again. Its black splatters make cryptic patterns on the grey ash that covers the ground. I hope that my illness is only due to shock. I came here to escape. The thought of it amuses me now. I fled Tokyo’s fires and bombings and the ruins of my empire, however small it had been. The war had stripped me of almost everything. It had taken Toru, my trusted mortal assistant. It had taken even my estates. Only here, in this one place, I still had interests that were untouched.
