He left the tent before dawn, breathing in the early fall air. A figure in white, broken only by the two swords tucked into his obi. Their deep blue sayas blending with the darkness of a starless sky. Hair as white as his kimono hung unbound, a waist-length veil hiding the scars upon his face.
The letters had all been written. The ones to his family and freinds. The ones to the various shugenja schools with a copy of the spells he had created included in each. He had sepnt the night writing instead of meditating. He felt no remorse over having done so.
Slow, steady footsteps brought him to the center of the clearing. To his left was the river and upon it's shore the Imperial barge. Standing between him and the boat was the Emperor. The highest honor one could have at thier death. It meant nothing to him. Next to the Son of Heaven stood the Imperial Herald. The cause of this ceremony.
Behind him, his best friend approached to take his place as second. To either side were samurai he could have called friends had he more time to know them. But Chisa was not. For this he was thankful. The lovely princess had been witness to too much death already.
He faced the Emperor and went to his knees, offering a bow to the Son of Heaven. When he straighten he brought his two swords from his waist and layed them out before him. His katana was placed a foot away. His second should have been carrying it, to take his head and save him face should he begin to show any sign of pain. But he would not show pain, so he did not allow his second to have his sword.
The wakizashi was set six inches in front of his knees.
From the front of his obi, he pulled a small scroll. His final Haiku.

An eager heart burns
Away the sins of life from
A love immortal

The poem was not one that many would care to understand. But the ones for whom it was meant were not here.
The small scroll was rolled up once more and slipped over the saya of his wakizashi. Then he pulled his blade.
It was not of the finest quality. But it was his. His soul.
Slowly he spun it in his hands, til the tip faced his stomach.
With eyes closed he pushed it in for the first of three cuts.
The world darkened as it readied itslef for the first light of the sun.
A moment passed and he began the second.
Birds began to sing their praises to the sky.
With the final one, he whispered a prayer to the earth, that it take his life and use it.
Dawn broke over the clearing.
In the middle sat a statue of a man, his lips parted in prayer, a wakizashi commiting the final cut. The nearest trees shed their red and yellow leaves to make room for bright green ones. Grass spread and flowers bloomed, taking mere seconds to fill the clearing with color. Vines trailed up the newely formed stone that was once an arm.
In the silence that followed, Usagi Colt retrieved his freind's katana and the saya of his wakizashi to return to the Nabuto. When the Imperial Funeral was over with, he would deliver the final letters of Hatsuhara.

Afterword:

Kageko looked down at the statue and allowed his lip to curl briefly in disgust before he mastered himself and turned to the small group of workmen who had followed him from the riverboat. "Destroy this," he ordered calmly. "But leave the head. My master wishes it for a trophy."