Illustrated Warrior #1
Prologue

Wearing a silk robe, Ana Ishikawa kneels in seiza on a tatami, a simple straw mat. Before her rests the naginata, a six foot long spear-like halbred, razor-sharp along its inner edge, literally a "curved mowing blade." But Ana does not see the weapon, or smell the burning incense, or hear the faint sounds of the city beyond the windows of her sanctuary.

The sage Takuan once said, "Enliven the mind without dwelling on anything." To achieve the Way, the mind must be focused. It must be free -- free from the pain of yesterday, the fear of tomorrow, the storm of today.

So Ana frees her mind to go where it will, beyond this room, beyond her obligations. She pictures herself standing in a small boat. She uses a pole to propel herself toward a distant mountain, a snow-capped peak towering into the sky, an edifice as magnificent as Mt. Fuji.

Clouds cover the sun. Wind snaps her long black hair against her face. Large drops of stinging rain spatter across her cheeks. A great shape rises ahead of her, barring the way to her destination. A tremendous wave rears over her, as magnificent as that wave once captured on paper by Hokasai. Poised over her, it is fearsome in its beauty, a thousand tons of water, capped in white, perfectly still. Then, with a speed incredible for something so large, it rushes for her and her tiny boat. As she finds herself lifted into the air, twisted about by the maelstrom, suspended for an instant before she is dashed into the sea below, she realizes that the wave has a name.

The wave is called Arashi

Arashi! Her boat is torn to pieces, lost to the power of the tsunami engulfing her. Arashi! The water pulls at her feet, her legs, her waist, her stomach. She is caught in a whirlpool. There is no escape. The wave will overwhelm her. She struggles for a final breath.

Arashi!

Ana opens her eyes. She is damp with sweat, her muscles tight with the intensity of what she has seen. But she understands her vision all too well. She has not seen Masahiro Arashi for seventeen years, but still he dogs her steps, intrudes even into her quietest moments. There is no escaping her duty.

It is time.

Ana Ishikawa rises from the tatami and walks across the room to an ancient armoire of mahogany and polished brass. She flings open the doors, but the well-oiled hinges make no sound. There, displayed before her, are a dozen different weapons, bow and arrow, katana and spear, nunchuk and throwing star, as well as a full set of traditional armor. They are all gifts from her ancestors, the sohei, warrior monks of the great temple Enryaku, defenders of Kyoto, until their own folly almost destroyed them.

How much the past shapes us all, Ana thinks. But it is time to prepare her mind as well as her body.

Perhaps it is time to heed the words of another wise voice from the past. She thinks of the teachings of Master Sun Tzu and his The Art of War.

"Use your anger to throw them into disarray."

She draws the armor from the center of the display.

"Use humility to make them haughty."

The robe floats to the floor.

She gathers the rest of her battle-dress from elsewhere in the closet. The outfit is lightweight and brief, with scaled armor covered in crimson quilted silk; protection for her legs, arms and chest to absorb the impact of combat.

"Tire them by flight," she reflects as she dresses. "Cause division among them."

Her lean, muscular midriff is bare, her waist enclosed by a kusazuri, a belt and skirt of black leather.

Mostly, she does not want the clothing to get in her way. Perhaps the costume might even prove a bit distracting to her enemies.

She believes Sun Tzu would approve.

Illustrated Warrior

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