01 The Death of Akumoto YukimiAkumoto Yukimi stirred from the depths of dreaming, waking to the smell of her own blood. It trickled down from her nose, curling over the contours of her mouth and towards the smooth curve of her chin. She swiftly reached into the sleeve of her kimono and withdrew a handkerchief. Pressing it against her face, she waited for the flow to staunch. This time, she did not weep.Alone, Yukimi sat in the Japanese fashion upon a tatami floor. She was centred in a windowless room. Although the room was furnished quite minimally in a contemporary Japanese style, there were subtle historical touches, such as the screened sliding door behind Yukimi Akumoto. This room one specially reserved for her most private and personal of meditations now served as the perfect place to sit and confront the very serious matter of her executioner.Someone is already waiting for you.Xians words resonated with sharp clarity. Fleetingly, she wondered who hed selected for the task.