The plateau, which moments before had been filled with the sound of battle, was now eerily quiet.  Not a single goblin, skeleton, zombie, or other creature of darkness remained.  Crab samurai milled about uncertain what to do next.  The battle was over, but one enemy remained.  They knew better than to approach it.  The Great Bear had made it clear before the battle began - the oni was his.

Hida Kisada looked at the oni trapped in the swirling sphere of energy summoned by Kuni Yori.  It sat on its haunches, its massive shoulders brushing the top of its prison.  Small bolts of lightning crackled and danced across the sphere.

The oni smiled.  It was a horrid sight.  The muscles of its face, obviously not used to grinning, groaned and popped as they stretched.  The beast seemed unperturbed and comfortable, as if it were in control, as if it wanted to be inside the magical cage, safe from the dangers of the world.  All the while it looked Kisada dead in the eye.

The Great Bear and the oni stared at one another, neither willing to break the silence.  It was a test of character, one with which Kisada was intimately familiar.  It took great concentration and mastery of oneself to lock eyes with a mortal foe and remain as silent as death.  Being the first to speak was tantamount to admitting your opponent had greater force of will.

Yakamo likewise remained silent.  Kisada had taught this tactic to him at a very young age, always staring the boy down until he confessed some transgression.  One of Kisada's proudest moments as a father was the first time Yakamo managed to outstare him.  The matter at hand was soon forgotten, but the lesson never would be.

The wind moaned lightly as it stirred the mist.  Hidden in that mist were the Shadowlands hordes that recently had been fighting to the death on this plateau.  Were they hiding nearby, watching to see the outcome of this titanic test of wills?

"Y-your prison is formed from the elements themselves," said Kuni Yori, unable to wait for this tableau of raw will to play to its conclusion.  He looked more physically shaken than either of the combatants.  "It will last a thousand years."

As one, Kisada and the oni turned and snarled at the shugenja.  The moment had passed.  Neither warrior could truly claim victory.

The oni tried to adopt a casual posture within the sphere.  In the end it only looked more cramped.

"After five hundred years of senseless battle, I tire of our contest.  Perhaps a millennium of rest is just what I need."

"Rest," said Kisada, "is exactly what we intend for you to have - eternal rest!"

"Your life is so short," mused the oni, "and yet you spend it all standing upon that fragile structure with no goal other than killing my people.  Tell me, Hida Kisada, don't you ever tire of a battle that will never have a final victor?"