Funeral For Friends

The sun was shining and a light breeze was blowing through the field as the assassins gathered. The Templar attack was still a fresh memory as pallbearers carried the bodies of their fallen. Already there were several rows of wrapped-up bodies, twenty long, and there were still more being brought.

Mei was walking with the bearers of one particular body, her leader and adoptive father. She was managing to keep herself together as she walked, her white dress fluttering in the breeze. He had raised her after her family was taken away from her, treated her like a beloved daughter, even gave his life for her. That was a debt that could never be repaid in this lifetime. All she could do was honor his last request, that she become a leader. And leaders had to be strong in front of those under their command.

as the last bodies were laid down, she took her place in the front of the crowd, the remaining assassins in the order. She knew Nobunaga would pay for this, he would pay for the deaths of so many of her brothers and sisters... And her father.

They lost so many that day. Masumi had little coin in her name, but between trading the silk fan she had earlier stolen and doing a few favors, she managed to obtain three omamori (personal amulets made from paper or wood, kept in a brocade bag) with inscriptions of blessings and protection. Anonymously, she slipped them to those she felt were dealing with the most grief.

She hadn't given Mei her omamori yet, the brocade red with flowers. Should she slip it with her food? Perhaps tying it to the frame of the door would be more practical? She even considered climbing out to the window of the assassin. Masumi was relieved when Mei finally left her room the day of the funeral, which allowed the house keeper simply to leave the small gift in the Mongolian's room.

Thiago drew a heavy sigh. This may have been a victory, but it was pyrrhic at best. The Nagasaki Assassins lost half of their numbers. Their allies in Mutsu and Echigo would not be pleased, especially since the Nagasaki Assassins were the Order's largest guild in Japan. Oda's men probably totaled about as many as the number of Assassins throughout the world. As he thought upon how bleak the situation was, a tear sprung from his eye.

Yuzuru kept his face stoic as he looked upon the deceased. He had known many of them well, and it hurt immensely to see them gone. Taking out a bottle of sake, he slowly poured a line at the feet of his former allies. "For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die: A time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; A time to break down, and a time to build up: A time to weep, and a time to laugh: A time to mourn and a time to dance: For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven."

An assassin behind Yuzuru scoffed, saying, "What kind of words are those for a funeral? A time to dance? Do you really think we're going to dance on this day?"

"Ecclesiastes," Yuzuru murmured. "A sad book. The Lord's words are not always happy ones."