The last soldier was down. War was over.
Red stains covered all, Dead bodies lied everywhere.
No one won this bloody fight. Lives were lost, the samurai's.
Lost souls showing pride, Looking for a place to hide from light.
Hear the sound, Here they are, The red mist shows the path.
Coming from the red-leaved forests, Burgundy shining silhouettes approaching.
Covered in silken kimonos, Accompanied by will-o'-whisps.
The rulers of the gates, The guardians of the scarlet temple.
The carriers of the voice, The voice of the divine.
So they go, Shining bright, Showing them the path.
Called by many the aspects of the fox, The so claimed beacons of the souls.
The wielders of the blade, They are called Crimson Edge.
Leading the souls to the red gates So as to meet their written fate.
They will judge their hearts To be sure they deserve to reach the divine.
The waiting kitsunes Guarding the gates... Who's soul will be judged today?