"We're all that's left.", the weight of his katana seemed to pull him down into the sand as Jin made his way across the other end of the beach.

Blood dripped from the tip of the blade, drawing a clear line of where he had been and where he headed. Next to him was Lord Shimura.

Jin was barely thirty, by no means old and well trained. He had stamina and endurance but after all the enemies he had cut down he sweated.

His uncle was a good amount older than him, a man who had enjoyed many years of peace before this night. He had the same training as Jin but was far from those years. It was a wonder that he still managed to keep up with the younger.

"There is only one path for us.", his voice shook, sounded breathless but the grip he had on his katana did not falter for a second. "Find the Mongol leader and end him here."

"I'll fight beside you till the end."

"I know."

He did not dare ask but the last words of his uncle made him feel burdened. They sounded less determined than before the fight. Almost as if he did not doubt that he'd be by his side till the end.

Because he could see an end. And he feared it.

Flames enlightened their path as Jin and Lord Shimura made it to the last place at the beach where the Kahn could have been.

And indeed.

Stopping in the safety of the shadows, Lord Shimura pointed towards a horse with a large man up top. It was decorated with the finest of armour that a steed could have.

A helmet of silver and red stones sat on his head while his paw like hand was wrapped around a spear that seemed too heavy to swing for an ordinary man.

But this was no ordinary man. This was Khotun Kahn.

"There, the Mongol leader.", the breathing of the Lord was heavy, exhausted.

Jin could almost feel the air burn in his own lungs.

"I'm ready, uncle.", his grip on his blade tightened.

Lord Shimura looked at him.

"We end this, together."

He took a deep breath. And then nodded.

Fire rained down on them once more. Arrows and balls of fire exploded at their feet. The heat almost burned the skin to Jin's skull.

He could taste blood in his mouth.

Unimpressed by the measly effort of the samurai, Khotun Kahn waited. He was so close, an arrow would have struck him down if only one of them would have had a bow.

But they never reached him.

All at once Jin felt an unholy force that tore him to the ground. Pain jabbed into his knees, over and over again. Blood obscured his view as he fell into the sand.

The force of two arrows pierced through the back of his armour. He could feel the metal spikes dig into his flesh. It made blood run down his back. He coughed, blood ran from his lips.

Then everything went dark. It was almost like a dream.

How had he been foolish enough to believe eighty samurai could stand against an army?

No, perhaps this wasn't foolery but plain ignorance. Simple.

Thoughts filled the darkness while he battled with the cold of death for his consciousness. He did not wish to die but every breath felt like a punishment.

All kinds of warm liquids covered his skin.

Was that his own blood?

The water of the sea?

Or even melted metal?

He wondered what the Mongols did to those that they truly did not respect. Perhaps they would dismember them, cut them into pieces and wore them along their clothing like the barbarians that they were.

They had struck him down from behind his back. Like cowards. And now he was the one who'd suffer the consequences of their dishonesty.

Again, he took a trembling breath. There was a fire nearby. He could hear the flames crack and whisper. Soft touches of their sizzling fingers warmed his lips, his cheeks.

Steps made the ground tremble that he was chained to.

Khotun Kahn approached and he only had one goal. Jin's fingers dug into the sand, barely noticeable. Next to his head, his blade pierced the sand. His body wasn't even able to react to it.

The katana remained standing upright in the ground as the general moved on, believing that the Lord of clan Sakai had perished in this battle.

Flames lit his way as he walked along the shore to where his men had taken a prisoner.

Lord Shimura.

With a face of stone, the Mongol leader stopped in front of the chained samurai. Then he bowed, surprisingly polite and proper.

"I am Khotun.", he introduced himself in the language of the Japanese. "Cousin of Kublai. Grandson of Genghis."

The samurai pulled a face, visibly upset that the outsider spoke like one of his own.

Slowly, Khotun approached, kneeled down and simply put his hand on the shoulder of his prisoner. An incredibly rude gesture considering that Shimura was a lord. But to the general this was a sign of respect.

"Brother...", he said. "You are a warrior. I can see that. You trained your whole life for this. And you have won battles... that lesser man have called unwinnable, yes?"

He picked up the blade of the Shimura clan that lay in the sand in front of the Lord's knees and examined it. He was polite about it, held it with both his hands and made sure that the steel wasn't damaged.

He even smiled a little at the sight of the beauty. However, the admiration didn't last long.

"But while you were sharpening your sword... do you know how I prepared for today?", he continued. "I learned. I know your language. Your traditions. Your believes. Which villages to tame and... which to burn. So I will ask you once again, samurai. Do you surrender?"

Lord Shimura had cloaked himself in a veil of silence. Sweat ran down his temple while blood stuck to his face. A shimmer filled the brown eyes of his, intelligent, wise even.

He did not answer. However, that was more than enough answer for the Kahn.

With a respecting nod of his head he rose from the ground, the katana of the Shimura clan in hand and let it chase down on the samurai.