There once was an austere shinobi, Amra, who traversed the country’s outskirts. She traveled alone because, as a child, she had lost her mother and her people when the Shogun’s samurais sent firehounds to burn down their tiny settlement.

         After her master had adopted her and trained her in the shinobi art, Amra rode on her horse from village to village, fending off samurai raiders in exchange for the village peoples’ compensation. While she enjoyed this nomadic lifestyle, what she really desired was a certain trinket of much value to her: a small, gold elephant figurine, its forehead adorned with a scarlet ruby.

          During her last escapade, the chief of a small tribe had offered her the measliest of funds. When she began to leave, the chief pleaded and begged for her help. As she turned around and began unsheathing her katana to placate the man, her eyes fell upon the gold chain around his neck and followed it to the murky figure that bulged under his white linen shirt. “What have ye here?” she asked. The man revealed the necklace and there it was: the chain led to a ruby-studded, golden elephant. The shinobi denied the money offered to her and took only the trinket. Before she set off again for the foothills, she used the jagged edge of her katana to decapitate the incoming samurai raiders.

          The trinket had once belonged to her mother and had gone missing after the raid. However, having now acquired it, the nostalgic shinobi rode toward the center of the country, back to the remains of her old village. Although, she was unaware that her whereabouts were being tracked.

          Atop a mountain many kilometers away, the great Duke Lobhi sat with a soothsayer in the great hall of his castle. “Tell me, lady, what do you see? Where shall I find this last relic, this ruby-studded prize?”

          Across the table, the soothsayer’s eyes shut, and her body convulsed sporadically, a disturbed countenance accompanying each of these fits. With her eyes yet unopen, she spoke. “There is a lone shinobi who bears the Mark of Tokugawa on her right cheek. With the trinket you seek, she makes way for the city now.”

          Having heard this, the duke dispatched a group of armed horsemen to find the shinobi: a spearman, an archer, and three swordsmen. The group rode for three days and three nights until they reached the valley which the shinobi now crossed. From afar, they saw the dark red mark on her cheek.

          As her horse trotted along, Amra held the heirloom and thought to herself. “The culmination of my endeavors has led me to this, yet my heart feels as empty as that day. I shall bury this trinket in the old village and maybe that will do.”

          Distracted by thoughts of her acquired heirloom, the shinobi was not as alert as usual. She only noticed the advancing horsemen when she heard the steady drum of hooved steps behind her. Amra then turned to face the four warriors heading in her direction. They rode to a halt only meters apart from her.

          Sternly, she asked. “Which man has sent thou lowly soldiers to kill me?”

          The horsemen, abiding by their code of honor, answered truthfully. “Shinobi, our esteemed Duke Lobhi has proclaimed an order to retrieve something you currently have, a golden trinket which recently came into your possession. Hand it over and there shall be no need to kill you.”

          “Soldiers,” she tapped the mark on her cheek, “let’s do away with the jests and commence.” And, acknowledging the mark, the horsemen charged.

          The spearman jabbed and the swordsmen slashed.

          Amra, skilled in the art of dismantling large offenses, galloped away from them to stagger their offensive front, spun around and parried with her katana, and then, one by one, she used the forward power of the moving horse to amplify her swinging katana and slice cleanly through their necks.

          Believing she had won, she sheathed her sword.

          Suddenly, there was a subtle whistling noise, and she felt the burning touch of an arrow in her shoulder. She fell off her horse, wincing in pain. As she did, an archer rode up and snatched the necklace. He began riding away, so Amra pulled out her katana and threw it at him like a dagger, striking him in the small of his back. The archer fell off the horse, but the horse kept riding away with the trinket attached to its saddle.

          The shinobi, still stuck with an arrow, beat and questioned the man until he finally pointed to the distant peak. Jumping onto her horse, she went toward the mountain where the duke’s castle stood. Determined to defeat this mysterious foe, she rode for three days and three nights.

          Duke Lobhi brought the soothsayer into the great hall once again. “Look, soothsayer. Does the trinket come this way?”

          After her convulsions, she answered. “Yes, sir. The trinket comes riding upon an empty horse it seems. Your men are all dead, and the shinobi heads this way for vengeance, to reclaim her possession.”

          He scoffed. “She heads this way!? To hell with the men, peasants wrapped in metal. I will take care of her.” The duke signaled the guard and was brought an old, worn katana.

          At the end of her voyage, the shinobi came riding up to the castle, bandaged where the arrow had been. She entered through the raised portcullis, fought her way through the impotent guards, dismounted her horse, and went toward the great hall.

          Amra found the door to the great hall open and, calmly, she strode in. The duke’s voice boomed. “Shinobi! You have come for your trinket, I assume. But I must warn you: I cannot let you have it!”

          Duke Lobhi now wore the golden heirloom around his neck.

          “Let it be so, thief. Living men might hold onto things, but dead men will give anything away.” The shinobi unsheathed her sword, and the duke did the same.

          They both advanced forward and clashed swords. Thrusting and parrying, they looked for chinks in each other’s defense.

          Amra was slow to establish her stance on one of the clashes, so the duke thrust at her side underneath her elbow. She evaded the attack quickly and cut a deep gash on the man’s extended arm.

          The duke dropped his sword and fell back on the ground. He was defenseless. With her sword to his neck, the duke fearfully shut his eyes.

          Amra looked at the disheveled beard on the man’s face, the worn hilt of his katana, and looked up at the far back wall of the great hall. Along the wall, there were valuables of all kinds: silk tapestries, golden statues, and barrels of various ornaments.

          She asked. “Why do you have all of this?”

          The duke opened his eyes. “Hmm? What do you mean? These are some of the finest treasures one can possibly have.”

          The shinobi looked up again and saw all the valuable worthless treasures the duke had compiled. She looked at the trinket and she saw a golden elephant—she saw gold in the shape of an elephant.

          Then she looked into the duke’s eyes and saw not a foe nor a comrade but just a fellow.