|
Post by Hida Tetsuko on Oct 15, 2018 8:59:36 GMT 10
The small desk in Karasu’s room was covered with paper. Letters, reports, missives, petitions…he went through them, some just required him to read, others the use of his seal. Many of them were concerning the fate of Toshi Ranbo, almost as soon as it had been taken by the Legions the age-old dispute over who would control it was renewed by the Lion and the Crane. Currently, the Imperial Legions were there for the winter. But a decision would need to be made, and soon. He sighed, turning now to a letter Kyoumi had sent him earlier. It was short, but with minimal effort other than a few choice words and thinking on her feet, Kyoumi had managed to save the Empire. Again. Pinning all of their hopes on a former Spider turned ronin, Kanpeki’s daughter and the former Mantis Champion was not something he liked. But did they have a choice? Daigotsu and Shahai’s great granddaughter marrying Crown Prince Kiseki was not something that sat well with him. But that was the price they had to pay for ending the war. Karasu frowned, putting the letter down. Ends before means, I sound just like Harun… The fact that Harun had been used as an intermediary was not something Karasu liked. He hoped the young man knew what he was getting into, but perhaps it was best if he didn’t. There was a tap on the door and it opened. Karasu didn’t move, thinking it was perhaps a servant. But when the person who entered did not move or speak, Karasu turned around. “Hitomi!” he rose to greet her. “When did you arrive?” “Earlier,” she said, her tone strangely short. “You never fail to surprise me,” said Karasu with a smile. “Come, sit. Have you eaten? Would you like some tea?” “Perhaps later,” said Hitomi. Again the shortness in tone. “I came as soon as I got your letter, I knew I had to be here. For Harun.” “Yes, the first meeting with the Nakodo and the Hiruma Daimyo is tomorrow,” said Karasu. “I am glad you are here.” “I am here to support our son,” said Hitomi angrily. “Something that seems you have been unable to do. How could you, Karasu? Throwing Harun away to the Crab like that! I thought you would no better, it is no different to what the Phoenix did to me.” “I am not throwing him away,” argued Karasu. “His actions at Toshi Ranbo put me in an impossible position. Besides, he wants to go. Every time I hear about him he’s been with the Crab Champion’s son.” “He is leaving because he was driven there by you,” Hitomi said. “You are making a mistake.” “The mistake is of his own making, Hitomi,” Karasu fired back. “You are starting to sound just like him! By defending him you defend his actions, and you place yourself against the Crane Clan.” “For killing an enemy that we all wanted killed?” Hitomi asked. “For destroying the traditions of Iaijutsu,” said Karasu. “Of course, I don’t expect you to understand…” “No, I don’t,” rebuked Hitomi hotly. “I know about traditions, Karasu. The Phoenix had them, you remember? The Elemental Council, a tradition handed down from the Tribe of Isawa, whose every word we hung on? The Shiba, paralysed to do anything because of tradition? Well, those traditions not only strangled us, but destroyed the Phoenix itself. Destroyed our lands and people with a devastating war. Brought about the wrath of Lord Moon himself and his instrument.” Her eyes were like twin fires, blazing him with her anger. “Do you know what sort of future the Phoenix has now? The desire to change, to learn from past mistakes and not repeat them. Yet here we are, talking about tradition as if it had some value over what needed to be done.” Karasu blared back at her, cold ice to her fire. “You are hardly a glowing endorsement for the Phoenix yourself,” he pointed out. “The traditions of Kakita have stood for twelve hundred years. I see no reason for them to be changed.” Hitomi made a noise showing her disgust. “Do not tell me that things have not changed in twelve hundred years,” she said. “Or that things will not continue to change. I know you still have your mother’s gaijin pistol even if you have not fired it in years.” “Do not equate my actions with his,” said Karasu coldly. “I am not,” said Hitomi. “But this has hardly come out of nowhere, hasn’t it? We knew, all of us knew, by allowing in gaijin weapons, we were opening up to forces we could not control. By having them at all we were inviting change, and if we think we can just return to the way things were then we are utter fools.” “Don’t remind me,” said Karasu. He sighed. “Hitomi, I hear you even if I don’t agree with you. But as far as Harun is concerned my hands are tied. The Daimyos want to make an example of him. This marriage…it could be good for him. The Crab already respect him and will grant him a great honour. The Crane fully support it and Harun could deal with much worse.” “Such as?” Hitomi asked. Karasu shrugged. “Exile? At least if he is here we may be able to see him sometimes.” “Will he want to see us after this?” Hitomi asked. “I don’t know,” replied Karasu with another sigh. “It is like I don’t even know him anymore.” “Perhaps we are seeing his true self,” Hitomi suggested. “If what you say is true and Harun’s marriage must happen then we must do it in the right way. He cannot think that we are abandoning him..” “I wholeheartedly agree,” said Karasu.
|
|
|
Post by Hida Tetsuko on Oct 17, 2018 0:18:51 GMT 10
In the late evening, Kyoumi sat in front of a low table spread with matching lacquered wood combs, brushes and a mirror while a servant took her hair down. Taking out the hairpins and placing them in a small round box. The servant chatted idly, as she had been asked to by Kyoumi. This was usually a good way to get an idea of what was going on in the court. But tonight, she wasn’t really listening. Her thoughts whirled, quickly crowding and skipping over each other. Her tea with Harun…his impending marriage…Arahime waving from on board a ship as it sailed away… “Leave me, please,” said Kyoumi, her voice tight and controlled. It was only when the servant left that Kyoumi let her mask drop. Only here, when she was in complete privacy, could she be herself. The words she could speak were her own and she could allow herself to feel. Arahime’s death…the wounds of grief were still so fresh, but she had had to push them aside in order to serve the Emperor. To be the Voice that Rokugan needed. The role and the distance it gave her, it did insulate her somewhat. But even though she did not let the hurt affect her, it did not mean it did not matter. And seeing Harun had not helped at all. Casually referring to his betrothal as if the past did not matter. As if what Arahime had felt for him did not matter and he had moved on with his life. And yet…what she had seen was a young man, still very much a boy, trying to make sense of himself and the world he was in. Instead of being shown compassion, Harun was being shoved to one side. An embarrassment to be hidden, shunned. And while it was right, it certainly wasn’t fair. The door opened and Kousuda entered. There was grew in his hair and beard now, more than there had been bust a few months before. Lines around his eyes as well. From worry and pain. But when he saw Kyoumi, he smiled. She brightened as well. The room seemed a little lighter, the burden of grief from the death of their daughter felt a little less heavy. They could carry it together. He kissed Kyoumi gently on the cheek and sat down behind her, removing his socks and rubbing his feet. “I heard something about a ronin near the Imperial quarters,” said Kousuda. “I take that this was one of yours.” Kyoumi nodded. “Do you remember Susumu Ketsueki?” Kousuda frowned, thinking back. “Vaguely. He was one of the Onyx Spider at Shiro Mirumoto that year? I never met him but he did turn up at the Unicorn camp with threats and demands. I think Yamada managed to beat him up, so that was good.” He frowned again. “Wait…isn’t he dead? Didn’t he die when the Onyx Scorpion set Shiro Mirumoto alight?” “I thought so too, at least for a while,” Kyoumi answered, carefully removing her hairpins. “But he has been serving Haihime for a number of years…as the ronin Kumo.” Kousuda looked ay her. “Kumo? But he was…” “At Shiro Moto?” Kyoumi asked. “Yes, yes he was.” Kousuda’s face darkened. “But why would you meet with him? You know better than me what is like, tainted and twisted. Why?” Kyoumi told him. Explaining everything thoroughly. The plan to eliminate Yuhimi, the betrothal with Haihime’s daughter that had been made in exchange, the prophecy. Everything. Kousuda sat deep in thought for a while afterwards, when he spoke his tone was serious. “Before Ketsueki had nothing but threats and insults, now he has even less. How can we trust him?” “I would never trust him,” answered Kyoumi quietly. “But I know his devotion to the Hantei line is beyond fanatical, this is something that can be used to end this war.” “And then?” Kousuda asked. Kyoumi shrugged. “I’m not sure beyond that. He got what he wanted with the marriage, if he knows what’s good for him he will keep his distance from Isanko. The Crane will make sure of that.” Kousuda nodded, a smiled started to dawn on his face. “You have outdone yourself, my wife,” he said proudly. “I don’t think many could claim saving Rokugan twice in their lifetimes. It is a pity that no one will ever know your role.” “I think it is perhaps best that no one knows,” said Kyoumi. “The things that we have done…the things that I have done.” Kousuda nodded, knowing full well what she meant. He ran his hand gently over her hair and stood up. Kyoumi removed her last hairpin and started to comb her hair. Kousuda started to remove his court clothes, hanging them up. “I saw Harun earlier,” said Kyoumi. “He is…troubled.” “I thought as much when he visited us,” said Kousuda. “But he deflected any questions I had as well as he uses that blade of his. Is it true about his betrothal to the Crab girl?” Kyoumi’s voice was tightly controlled and very small. “Yes.” The former Ide’s head whipped around to look ay her. “Oh, my dear, I am so sorry.” He rushed over to her, his garment still open. He put his arm around Kyoumi, taking her hand in his. “I know you wanted it to happen, Harun and Arahime, we all did and after the war we would have found away to make it work.” “But it’s like it all doesn’t matter,” Kyoumi said, a sob creeping into her voice. “Harun has gone cold and hard, as if he does not care how she cared for him.” “Listen to me, Kyoumi,” Kousuda said softly. “Harun is looking forward as it is all he knows how to do without looking back. Yamada was the same, it is how she managed to stay strong for so long.” “It broke her too,” Kyoumi said, wiping her tears away with her sleeve. “Harun has had a very different life to what she had,” Kousuda said. “He had all of us growing up, our strength to draw on. And that was what she wanted for him.” Kyoumi nodded. “He is still so young.” “And he has his whole life still ahead of him,” Kousuda said, gently stroking her hair. “If this path before him is the one that he must take, then we must be prepared to let him go.” She nodded again. Her hand found the scar on Kousuda’s side. Remnant of the gun shot wound he had been inflicted with long ago. Grievous at the time, it had almost killed him had Yamada not been there to get Kousuda to safety. But the wound had healed, leaving only the mark and the memory.
|
|
|
Post by Hida Tetsuko on Oct 21, 2018 23:17:26 GMT 10
The next morning, Harun finished up a good session in the Hida dojo. He was beginning to get more acceptance with the other bushi that trained in the dojo. So, it was not just the Crab he sparred with, but a few from the Unicorn, Lion and Mantis Clans. Still, the Crane refused even to acknowledge him, Kakita Yashiro maintaining that aloofness as if Harun didn’t exist. He tried to not let it bother him too much. Just as he was leaving, someone came inside. It was Hitomi. “Mother?” Harun put down the bokken he was holding and went up to her. “I didn’t know you were coming to court.” “I would not have missed being at such an important occasion for you,” said Hitomi “Oh yes, that,” said Harun flatly. “You don’t sound very happy, my son,” observed Hitomi. She beckoned him to walk with her out of the dojo. “Don’t think for a moment you have to rush into this.” “I am not being given much of a choice in this,” said Harun sullenly. “Maybe it is better for everyone if I just left the clan.” “I am talking about you, not everyone,” said Hitomi gently. Harun smiled a little at this. “Well, thank you mother, but you may be one of the few Crane who thinks this.” “I see no reason to not to put you and your happiness first,” said Hitomi warmly. Harun smiled again, but it made him feel a little uneasy. They walked along in silence for a while. “Tell me about Toshi Ranbo,” Hitomi said. “Father hasn’t told you?” Harun asked. “He has, but I wish to hear it from you,” she said. So, he told her. Harun had told that many people by now what had happened that he was starting to get a little tired of the telling. But somehow repeating the story to Hitomi was helpful, a cleansing in a way. “You showed remarkable courage there, Harun,” Hitomi said when he was done. “Not many would have would have done what you did.” “You talk as if that is a good thing,” said Harun stiffly. “And you do not think it is?” Hitomi asked. “It doesn’t matter what I think,” Harun answered a little resentfully. “Harun, if you truly do not want this marriage, I can put a stop to it,” she said. “What about father?” Harun asked. “Don’t worry about him,” said Harun. “Your happiness is more important to me.” Harun nodded. “Thank you, but…if this is what remaining in the clan is going to be like then maybe it is better if I leave.” He walked off, Hitomi let him go.
Several hours later, Harun was dressed in his court close and sitting having tea in Doji Nashikyo’s sitting room. He sat on his father’s right while Hitomi sat on Karasu’s left, Nashikyo sat on Harun’s right at the end of the table. On the opposite side sat Hiruma Saito, Daimyo of the Hiruma family and next to him his daughter and heir Yosoko. The contrast between him and Karasu was quite marked, the two men could not be more different. Karasu, tall and elegant in his sky blue hitatare formal kimono with the white cord trim and emerald green obi. Saito was slightly shorter and leaner, he wore simple deep blue juban and hakama, his status as Daimyo of a Great Clan family shown with the gold-trimmed jinbaori he wore. Doji Nashikyo served tea served tea from a teapot painted with scenes of mountains and trees, each cup was shaped like a flower and in a different colour. Harun drank some of his tea, something to do since he was not expected to speak at all during this meeting. He listened to the conversation, but most of his attention was focused on Yosoko who sat opposite him. My future wife… Nasu had told Harun that Yosoko was a few years older than him, but she did not look it. The way she sat was more indicative of a shy girl unused to social settings. She kept her head down and her hands in her sleeves, not touching her tea. Her hairstyle and dress was in the same subdued style as when Harun had seen her at the art exhibition, but there were little details he had not noticed then. The pale blue flower made of folded kimono fabric that nested in her dark hair. The pale yellow obijime around her waist that contrasted with the dark grey of her obi. The delicate sandalwood fan that was tucked under her obi, a silken teal tassel bright against the grey. Sandalwood? Harun thought. Just like my mother’s, aren’t they very rare? This shyness that she showed didn’t tally with what Nasu had told him of her, or what little Harun knew himself. Apparently she was no shrinking violet. Capable with the tetsubo, blade and bow, she had been part of scouting missions beyond the wall and had even led one herself. But there was something else that could be the reason why she was acting this way. Nasu had told Harun that Yosoko had had three older brothers that had died. She had never been expected to succeed her father as Daimyo, and yet here she was. She has had to step up, that’s not easy, thought Harun. Karasu talked to Saito, talking about Harun’s time in the Legion. Harun tried to drown it out. This was the closest he had been to his father in weeks, and yet he felt more farther away from him than ever. Karasu did not even look in Harun’s direction, his on perfect. Harun tried to look for some sot of sign from Hitomi, but she gave him no indication either. He turned his attention back to Yosoko, but she still she had not looked up. What was she like? How did she feel about their upcoming marriage? He found the enforced silence paralysing, it was like he was trapped in a nightmare where no one would speak to him or even look at him. And this is my life they are deciding right here, he thought, feeling his anger rise, this is where they sell me off like a bag of rice… Harun reached out for his teacup, bumping it with his hand and causing it to clatter against the tabletop. Everyone turned to look at Harun who felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment. But there was a brief moment where he caught Yosoko’s eye, and saw she felt as trapped by this as he was. It’s okay, he said to her silently, we are in this together…
|
|
|
Post by Hida Tetsuko on Nov 6, 2018 18:52:53 GMT 10
The next day, Harun left Kyuden Hida in the pouring rain and headed for the Wall. The fifty bushi that Hida Nasu was taking to the wall set a strong pace that Harun was able to keep up with at first but was more difficult as the day went on. It had been only two months since Toshi Ranbo, two months since he had been with the Legion. Was he that much out of training? Harun had attracted a little attention, but while he was in the armour Nasu had arranged for him to wear he had a certain amount of anonymity. Like wearing a second skin. He liked it. The rainclouds were low and thick so their view of the wall on the horizon was hidden. Thick clouds, grey and…black? Was there some sort of fire? They kept on, spending the night at Shiro Kakeguchi and then heading on in the morning into the rain. It seemed even worse than the day before. Cold, hard and relentless and it would not cease until Harun would return to Kyuden Hida five days later. He had dealt with such hardships in the Legion. Long marches, training at dawn, rides through the night and through the rain. But this was something else, it soaked his purple wool and four coat and drops started creeping in under his armour, next to his skin. It wasn’t pleasant. The Crab didn’t notice the rain at all. They marched on regardless. So Harun tried to make it look as if it didn’t bother him. That afternoon they began to see more of the Wall as it emerged through the clouds. A long strip of grey, solid and unbroken. As they headed south, it got taller, and taller. And, though it didn’t seem possible, taller still. Rising above the rows of buildings of the villages that ran parallel to it. Grey against the black smoky clouds that seemed to emanate from somewhere below. Rising, and continuing to ride as they headed towards it. Impossibly tall. It seemed incredible that it could have been built by mere men. Permanent, impregnable. And yet…Harun knew that it had fallen at least once in his life time. That the Crab had been beaten back to it, bloody and at the edge of defeat. And they had held on, and survived, despite everything. When the got to the edge of the village, Harun could not help but stop and look up. “You stand there long enough with your mouth open, rain is going to fall in,” said Nasu. Harun blinked, still in awe. “It’s beyond anything I ever imagined.” Nasu nodded. “Men built that thing?” Harun asked in amazement. Nasu nodded again. “That’s all that ever stands between Rokugan and the hordes of the Shadowlands,” he said. “Stone and the blood and steel of the Crab.” Harun looked along, thinking. “Hard to get up there?” “Easier than it has been,” said Nasu. He nodded to the long rope hung up on poles that seemed to run parallel to the wall. Harun looked closer at it, the rope moved. How was that possible? He asked Nasu. “All in good time,” Nasu reassured him, leading Harun along the dirty, smoky main street of the village. “There’s a great many things you will see here that you’ll find hard to explain up north.” Harun nodded in agreement. “It seems a different world.” Nasu grinned. “Welcome to the wall.”
The smoke and the pouring rain hid a lot, and it added to the overall grim atmosphere. The street was full of Crab bushi. All heavily armoured, and most of them male. A sea of blue and grey that Harun almost seamlessly slipped into. Buildings of stone and wood lined either side of the street. Barracks, mess halls, houses and some places that seemed more inclined towards entertainment and drinking. Some of them back onto the very Wall itself. Dividing the street was the rope line, still moving and every now and again Harun could see the wheeled poles pass accompanied by a very strange metallic noise. Harun wanted to get closer to see what it was, but the rest wanted to keep moving forward. They then went into one of the barracks, the stone building even plainer than what Harun had seen at Kyuden Hida. Merely rolled futons in rows against the stone wall with an iron strongbox for possessions. When Harun got to his, he saw something carved in the stone wall. Names. Hida Yasu….Hida Noriya…Hiruma Kaigen… Harun ran his fingers along the markings. Who were these people? But Harun didn’t have time to consider this long as everyone started leaving. “You coming, Harun?” Nasu asked. “Where are we going?” Harun asked him. “Training,” said Nasu. “Then…up.” Harun went with them simply because he didn’t want to get left behind.
|
|
|
Post by Hida Tetsuko on Nov 8, 2018 11:24:59 GMT 10
They trained in an open courtyard behind the barracks. In the pouring rain. In full armour. Drills, tests of strength and endurance. And at such a pace that it was all Harun could do to keep up. Not even training with the Legion had been this gruelling. When moved onto defensive formations, Harun stepped out, leaning against the wall to get his breath back. The Hida bushi knew them as naturally as breathing, moving flawlessly as Nasu called them out, each one finding his proper place. It’s like leaves falling in the wind, Harun thought, it’s almost beautiful. When they were done, everyone moved on straight away. No breathers, nothing. Harun went with them, trying to not show his energy was beginning to flag. But Nasu seemed to notice. “You need to go back yet?” Harun shook his head. “If they don’t get a break, I don’t.” Nasu gave a nod but didn’t say anything. When they crossed over to the other side of the main street, they passed under the rope. Firmly secured to the ground was something that looked like an iron ladder. It ran directly beneath the moving rope, continuing on to the left and to the right parallel to the wall. Had still had no idea what this was or what it was for, but he got no answers from the Crab. They just stepped over it as if it were of no consequence and kept walking. Once on the other side, they went right up to the wall in an opening between two buildings. Two ropes hung from the top of the wall and reached all the way down to the bottom. Tied to one looked like some sort of weight. Tied to the other was a large iron cage, large enough to fit several people. It descended slowly, being pulled down by two burly Crab, the cage swaying slightly as it came down. And there were people inside. Harun stood next to Nasu as the cage came down. The cage doors opened and quickly they all drew as far back as they could as the people inside came out. Harun was wondering what was going on, and then he realised why. The people who came out of the cage were clearly tainted. Pale, thin, some even with pustules and boils. Five of them in total. Harun took a deep breath in. He had seen Taint before, not just the ones he had killed with the Legion but samurai who had been infected. This was dealt with quietly to not affect morale. But these Crab bushi had weapons, they were walking about openly. Harun looked quickly at Nasu. They met eyes. Nasu shrugged. The Tainted bushi passed, they started to get into the cage. Harun went with them, jammed tight and close among the Crab. The cage doors clanged shut and were bolted, then it started to ascend. Harun felt it sway as it went up, it felt strange, he didn’t like it. He stole a quick glance at the other Crab in the cage, they were letting it bother them. Harun tried to look like it didn’t bother him. The cage went higher and higher still, it started getting very windy and cold. They were able to see more of the village spread out before the village spread out before them, the steel of the “ladders” dividing it in two. Then, with a clanking mechanical noise, he saw what looked like a small wagon moving along it trailing several wagons behind it in a train. Each of them had poles with wheels on top that connected them to the moving rope above. Harun stared. The Crab had this hidden in plane sight down here? What would the other clans think? What would the Crane? The Lion? It did seem a terribly efficient way to move supplies over along distance though. As long as you keep building those iron ladders… Nasu saw him staring. He grinned proudly. “It’s a marvel, isn’t it? The Kaiu line.” “How does it move?” Harun asked. “There.” Nasu nodded to a building where smoke was belching out. “There’s a mechanism in there.” So that’s what causing all the smoke…is it worth it? The cage stopped with a jerk and the doors at the back were unbolted and opened. Harun was at the back, his initial view of what was ahead was blocked. The crowd parted and Harun stepped out onto the wall. Harun had seen the ruins of Toshi Ranbo, saw the bodies lying in the water as the boats went into the city. He had seen those Dragon bushi outside the palace go completely and utterly insane that he was forced to cut them down. He had seen the gates of Yomi opened with the many, many Blessed Ancestors passing through. He had seen Zetsubou’s spirit ripped from his body. Harun had seen the blackness and madness in Shimekiri’s eyes before he had taken the tainted samurai’s head. Harun thought he had seen things. Horrible things. Incredible things. But nothing could have prepared him for his first look upon the Shadowlands. It had a vastness like the sea, a darkness like a moonless night, a ferocity like a raging fire. It was all of these things…and none of them. It had a presence that could be felt, like heat or cold. Malevolent, sinister. A presence that could not be ignored or turned away from. It was barren, hopelessly barren and empty with no hope of actual life. Yet things did live there, things that never rested and were never not a threat. And there was a stench that seemed to get inside his very skin. Of decay. Of corruption. Of death. He had grown up with the Crab standing strong against the Shadowlands. Despite everything, that defiance continued, unchanged in the face of everything the forces of Jigoku threw at them. But as Harun stood her on the Wall itself, he felt incredibly vulnerable. Only a very small part of something much bigger that stood in defiance of darkness because someone had to. Nasu came up behind him. “Can you see it?” He pointed to the southwest. Harun looked where the Crab bushi pointed. He thought he could see the outlines of a fortress, but the shadows were playing tricks on him so he couldn’t be sure. “Shiro Hiruma,” said Nasu. “Lost before our time, but ours to take back.” “Ours?” Harun looked at Nasu. Nasu chuckled. “In time, you need to be ready before you get on that side of the Wall.” “I want to,” said Harun, almost eagerly. He wanted to prove himself. “I know,” said Nasu. “Let’s see do your duty to my cousin first.”
Harun’s nightmares returned that night with a furious intensity. Perhaps seeing the Shadowlands for the first time, or just their mere proximity. He found himself in the throne room in Otosan Uchi, the golden screen hiding the Emperor from view. Kyoumi, his father, Arami and all the members of the court watching an Otomo making a dry, droning speech. Harun looked around, distracted and bored but he knew he couldn’t leave. But then the screen pulled back to reveal not the Emperor, but Daigotsu Shimekiri. Sitting on the Emperor’s Golden Throne, his face a mask of face paint and blood, grinning like a madman. But there was no reaction, no one even turned from watching the Otomo. Can’t they see him? Harun looked around frantically. To his father, to Kyoumi, to the Seppun guards who just stood there as if hypnotised. I’ll have to do this myself, he quickly ran towards the throne, drawing his sword as he moved, how many times do I have to kill this baka… The Seppun quickly turned on him, drawing their weapons. His father was among them, drawing people behind him as he drew the Emerald Blade. No! No! Can’t they see what is going on? Harun fought them off but there were so many. They kept coming, and coming. He fought them all. “Stop!” Arahime appeared in the purest white, she seemed to shine with light. She carried a sword red with blood. “Arahime, look, we have to kill him!” Harun pleased. “Help me! Please!” Arahime shook her head, she looked very grave. They all stopped and look at her. “You are the one who has ruined everything Harun,” she said. Her voice cold and hard. “I have to fix it.” She then plunged her katana into his chest. Harun woke up in a pool of sweat, gasping, his heartbeat thudding in his ears. His chest stung and itched where Arahime had stabbed him. And then he realised he wasn’t alone, every Crab in the barracks was in a ring around them. And next to him was Nasu, who was holding out a piece of jade to him. Harun blinked. “What? But you know me!” Nasu’s face was like stone. “Take it.” Every eye was on Harun as he took that Jade. He held it out open in his hand so they could see there was no reaction. They all then dispersed. Harun stared at Nasu. “They thought I was….” Nasu shrugged. “We all do it, Harun, no exceptions.”
|
|
|
Post by Hida Tetsuko on Nov 12, 2018 0:40:11 GMT 10
The food in the mess hall was hearty and served in large portions. Noodles, rice with everything fried and greasy and topped with bonito and broth. And eaten quickly with little regard for mess or appearances. Harun found he could not eat much, not just from the table manners of his table mates but the nightmares of Arahime had left his stomach unsettled. He could still see her, her eyes alight with cold fury, shining in white light like a star. He looked around at the crowded mess hall. What would Arahime think of this place? Would she even be here? He shrugged. Thinking of her hurt, but not thinking of her was worse. And there she was, her face staring at him in his nightmares.
Nasu said he had duties that morning, so Harun went off on his own. He still wasn’t quite sure what to make of life at the Wall. The strength and courage of the Crab he had to admire, but the fact that Nasu was able to shrug off things that were quite shocking didn’t sit quite well with Harun. Just outside the barracks there was a large stone with many markings all over it. Harun noticed that the Crab passed it slowly, touching it almost reverently. Harun went closer, it was full of names. Hida Suru…Kaiu Urei…Hida Dosan…Hida Senshin…Hiruma Kabuo… And more, many, many more. Who were these people? These had to be deaths, the names of the fallen. And then, as Harun continued to walk through the village, he began to see more of them. Little niches carved into the wall with names, more names. Chipped into the side of buildings, on rocks and shrines and even into the wall itself. He paused near one, seeing a group of Crab bushi standing quietly while one of them inscribed a name. They were silent, reverent, and then repeated the name. Loudly, confidently, as if by saying it they banished any doubts or negativity. Harun moved on, not wanting to disturb them. Later in the day, when he saw Nasu Harun asked him about the names. “Yes, they are the names of the dead,” Nasu confirmed. “When the Onyx War was at its worst and we lived on the Wall itself, we lost so many. So many sacrifices…you know something of that of course.” Harun nodded. “They need to be remembered.” “They do, but this is a bit more than that,” Nasu explained. “We keep their names here to protect them, so hopefully don’t meet them in battle later.” They walked on in silence for a moment, Harun reflected on the Crab’s words. Living on the wall. “How bad did it get?” Nasu’s face darkened. “You don’t want to know.” “Nasu, you know I wouldn’t think less of you or…” Nasu shook his head. “It’s not that,” he said. “It’s…it’s hard to explain to someone who wasn’t there.” “Tell me,” said Harun. Nasu stopped, frowning. “Might be better if I showed you. Come on.” He took Harun inside the wall, guided him around trap doors and hazards until they came to a solid iron door. The door had several heavy locks and it was also inlaid with jade. Harun helped Nasu unfasten them, both of them pulling the massive door back to reveal…another door even more sturdy than the last. Once this was open, Harun followed Nasu inside. The Crab moved slowly, like he was approaching a shrine. Inside the room was small and cold, there were no windows. Nasu quickly lit a lantern, and it was then Harun saw it. The walls were covered with markings, covering the lower half of the wall. Harun went closer, getting down on one knee to examine. Most of it was pictures, large bushi with weapons fighting oni and tainted samurai, charging into battle. Crudely made, as if those who had done it were not very good with either ink or charcoal. Or…children… Harun shuddered. Nasu got down next to Harun. “This is where I grew up. The ones who stand on the Wall now, this room was the first wall we knew. This and others like it.” He gently touched a rough drawing of the Jade Sun. “The first thing I remember was how important it was to survive, to stay alive so that I could one day to stand on the wall with my father and grandfather. To fight by the side of those who protected us.” His face clouded over. “I survived, there were many who did not.” He looked at Harun. “Did you know Harun I had an older brother?” Harun shook his head. “Yoshida, he was badly wounded. I saw him afterwards,” said Nasu. “The next day he was gone, he walked out into the Shadowlands just as our grandfather had, so resources could not be wasted on a man who could no longer fight. The Shadowlands weren’t our only enemy then. The other was hunger, the older we got the more we knew about it. Harun nodded. He knew something about this, growing up in the years of famine in the Crane lands. The children eating separately from the adults, the adults making excuses until the children were old enough to see through them. The journeys they made during those times under heavy guard, seeing the lean faces of the peasants as they passed them on the roads. And then there was that time when his family was travelling with Doji Arami and the village they had sought shelter from a storm in had no food to offer them. Arami insisted that they share what food they had with the peasants. “The Crane suffered, we all did during the famine,” said Harun, trying to help but knowing his words were hollow. “No, not like this,” insisted Nasu. “We had to fight everyday for our very survival, so that there were others to keep fighting to replace the ones that fell. And to fight the ones that go back up. No one gets this, no one wants to. If they did, they would be here.” “I am here Nasu, I can tell them,” said Harun. “And you are here too, you did survive.” Nasu touched Harun’s arm gently. “Thank you.” Harun got to his feet, trying to imagine what it was like to grow up here. To never leave these walls, to see the sun… Harun understood Nasu’s reverence, this place was a shrine to the strength of the Crab. To their survival…but at what cost?
Yet there was more to life at the Wall than there appeared to be. Even there Harun could see little glimmers of colour amid the gloom and the grey. Like the geisha who would walk the main street of the Wall village in the evenings. Their make up garish and colourful, their kimonos bright with their obis fastened at the front. Attendants lit their way with lanterns and protected them with parasols. Harun watched them go by, not sure what to think. In Crane lands, ‘ladies’ such as these would not have paraded about so openly or received so open a welcome. Then there was the kabuki play, one even Harun knew, the Thousand Cherry Blossoms. It was rough, no costumes and what little music there was hastily learned by the shamisen player and drummer. The actors roles were chosen from small scraps of paper drawn out of a helmet. Harun found the whole thing quite bizarre, but did manage to laugh in a few places and tried to appreciate it for what it was. The actors and a good portion of the audience adjourned to the sake house after the performance, including Harun amongst their numbers. They were honest, straightforward accepting Harun wholeheartedly. But he could not help but think back to that morning when he had been surrounded by a ring of Crab ready to act if he had failed the Test of Jade. The Crab had survived, but what had they turned into? And was it something Harun wanted to be a part of?
|
|
|
Post by Hida Tetsuko on Nov 13, 2018 10:52:39 GMT 10
Two days later, Harun was back at Kyuden Hida having tea with his Aunt Momoibura and his cousins. He told her about his trip to the Wall, honestly including his own mixed feelings. Momoibura smiled reassuringly. “I think that can be expected on your first trip, Harun,” she said. “The Wall is important, but unlike anything else in Rokugan. The longer you are here, the more you will understand.” “The rooms where the children were kept,” said Harun. “I had no idea it was that bad during the war.” Momoibura nodded. “That is why we cannot forget,” she said gravely. “And make sure others know.” She looked around at her daughters who nodded in agreement. “I agree completely,” said Harun. “Then that is a good start,” said Momoibura approvingly. “Now, tell me all your news, Harun. What do you think of Yosoko-sama? Is anything settled for your marriage?” “Not yet, but there’s no reason to not think it is not going ahead,” said Harun, wishing his heart didn’t feel heavy when he said the words. “As for Yosoko…well as we are proceeding the traditional way we have hardly spoken and I do not know her at all.” A thought occurred to him. “Perhaps you could answer something for me, do you know about the fan she carries with the teal tassel?” “I am sure it is just a pretty fan,” said Momoibura, a little too quickly. “But mother, you know Yoritomo Aramaki gave it to her,” said his cousin Mineko. Momoibura frowned at her daughter. “But it’s true!” The girl insisted. “I heard it from Saeki who heard it from Honoka. They are very…Oh!” She finally caught her mother’s meaning and was quiet. “I didn’t mean to pry,” said Harun, trying to salvage the situation. “You see…I found a similar fan with my mother possessions, perhaps given to her by my father.” Momoibura smiled and poured more tea. “You must tell me as soon as everything for your wedding is arranged,” she said, gesturing to the kimono on racks around her. “We need to make sure you are properly attired.” “I will,” Harun promised, picking up his teacup. Her kindness did a little to take away the growing gnawing feeling in Harun’s stomach, not much, but a little.
The Imperial Court began to wane towards a close. The winter had been mild, bringing thoughts of the coming spring. Kakita Kyoumi had been on the panel of judges that, after much deliberation, had rewarded Ikoma Sayuri the title of Turquoise Champion for her painting. The piece had been a brilliant compromise of the traditional Rokugani style with elements of the bolder, more fluid and recent methods. Hopefully, Sayuri’s tenure as Turquoise Champion would inspire other artisans. But “compromise” seemed to be a recurring theme, as Kyoumi reflected when she and Kousuda had tea with Empress Iweko Ayameko. Kyoumi was quite familiar with the Empress, not just through her role as the Voice but before when Kyoumi had been an aide to her predecessor Hida Kozan and had deftly managed to prevent the coup of the former Shogun of the Empire Akodo Kano. The Empress had been seen less in public in her declining years, but this didn’t mean she was not involved with the world. A former Hida, she always favoured pragmatism. But Kyoumi had come to her today with something that was not only controversial, but that she has deep personal misgivings about. Crown Prince Iweko Kiseki’s marriage to Isanko, Haihime’s daughter and Daigotsu Kanpeki’s granddaughter. A bargain she had made as the cost for not doing so was too high. So over tea, while seated next to her husband, Kyoumi outlined her plan and her reasons for it, leaving nothing out. The prophecy of the Kitsu, Susumu Ketsueki’s very real threats to the entire Empire and the girl Isanko herself whom Kyoumi hoped would benefit greatly educated by the Crane. The Empress listened patiently, open but perhaps a little sceptical. When Kyoumi was done, her questions were correct. “May I ask you this, Kakita-san?” A year ago, the idea of my older son’s marriage was brought up with similar outcomes, this…alliance with the Spider. I let myself be convinced for the Crane to provide alternatives, which they have. Can you tell me what has changed?” Kyoumi took a careful sip of tea. “The path we travel has not changed, Your Highness, but we see it clearer now and we see the critical juncture we are at. And while the path we must take is not one we thought we would, we must take it or lose everything we have fought for.” “This appears to be little different to blackmail,” sniffed Ayameko. “And we are giving into it.” Kyoumi’s face was a cool mask. “That thought has also occurred to me, Your Highness.” Ayameko considered this, coming to some sort of agreement with herself. “Tell me about the girl. Whom does she favour?” “Her father, Doji Sorei-san,” said Kyoumi, her voice warming a little. “This is as we had hoped when the Crane first made the match between him and Lady Haihime. He appears to have had most of the raising of her, her spirit is strong, pure and free of taint.” “She is still quite young, is she not?” Ayameko asked. Kyoumi nodded. “This is where the Crane hope to influence her character for the better. She will be trained by the Doji, protected, and when she comes of age she will be ready.” “You speak with much confidence, Kakita-san,” noted Ayameko. “I have followed her progress for a number of years, Your Highness, through her father,” said Kyoumi. “Isanko is a bright girl, charming, very easy to like.” “What of her mother?” Ayameko asked. “Lady Haihime has never sought power nor the attentions of others,” said Kyoumi. “Her role with her daughter’s future will be minimal and discreet…assuming she survives her duty to kill Yuhimi no Oni.” “Such a mother, to distance herself from her child so easily,” said Ayameko, almost sadly. “Lady Haihime is no ordinary woman, Your Highness,” said Kyoumi. “And her daughter is not one either.” “I must meet this girl for myself,” said Ayameko. “I can arrange it,” said Kyoumi, bowing. More tea was poured. The tension in the room seemed to dispel somewhat. “It is good that you asked to see me today, Kakita-san, as I had been meaning to speak to you,” said Ayameko, looking at them both as an attendant filled their cups. “To speak to both of you.” Kousuda made a smile and bow at being recognised. “It concerns your older son, Kakita Masarugi-san,” continued Ayameko. “From what I understand, he and my older son have been quite close, Masarugi-san being an influence of good on the Prince.” “You are most kind to say so, Your Highness” said Kousuda. “They both make their gempukku in the spring,” said Ayameko. “Following this, Kiseki will be making a tour of Rokugan, visiting the lands of all the Great Clans. It is my wish that Masarugi-san should accompany him.” Kousuda and Kyoumi were stunned by this. Their son, Masarugi to be a companion and confident of the future Emperor of Rokugan. A great honour, and a way to completely secure his future and that of their family. They both bowed. “I thank you, Your Highness,” said Kousuda. “I am sure that Masarugi will be worthy of the trust placed in him and will serve faithfully.” “Of course, we all wish the best for our children,” said Ayameko, a little warmness in her voice beneath the formality. “May I ask, have you had any more news of your daughter? What happened to her was cruel and tragic and you have served faithfully despite of it.” “Nothing further, Your Highness,” said Kousuda. “I do hope to leave for Zogeku in the spring to get answers for myself.” “Please let me know if you have any difficulties,” said Ayameko. “I will,” promised Kousuda. “And thank you.”
|
|
|
Post by Hida Tetsuko on Nov 14, 2018 0:03:15 GMT 10
Being back at court was an odd experience for Harun, coming back from the Wall where the threat was visible and pleasant back to court where so much was about pretence and appearance. And he was constantly reminded where he wasn’t welcome, especially in the dojo. He knew the stories that were circulated about him, probably by the Crane. The Koten ceremony was a welcome relief, it was a full day’s ride northeast from Kyuden Hida. And with several people as well as Harun to be honoured, they made quite a party, banners of the Crab, Dragon and Mantis Clans flying freely. The Crab and Mantis Champions riding as well. But no Phoenix, Harun noticed, and he didn’t see his father’s banner there either. That hurt. He rode with Koharu and Katsura Hisato and talked with other things, trying to ignore the pain. Koten, the Crab Hall of Ancestors, was an austere stone temple nestled between two mountains. Here it was that the heroes of the Crab were honoured, their stories told and kept alive. The fact that the Crab were inviting samurai from other clans to be commemorated there was exceptional. They arrived at nightfall, making camp outside and rising early the next day to gather inside. Inside Koten was dark and cold, a chill that seemed to penetrate the skin. Like at the Wall, the walls here were inscribed with names. But there were more, many more that went back many years. There were also statues. Kisada, the Fortune of Persistence standing with his great grandson of the same name and his daughter, Hida O-Ushi that continued his line. Harun felt decidedly small, what had he done compared to legends such as these? The fact that his name was to be included within these walls? They are recognising it though, which is more than the Crane would ever do… Harun sighed. Nasu came up beside him, grinning proudly. “Impressive, aren’t they?” Harun nodded. “The one on the left is your grandfather?” “Yes,” said Nasu, his voice lowering a little. “He was trained by Kisada no Fortune after he returned from Yomi, trained here even. But no one knew even then what the Crab would face…” Harun nodded again, preferring not to answer. “They’re getting started,” Nasu said. Harun went with him where the crowd had formed around one of the inscribed walls. A wall where there was room for more names to be added. In front of it stood Hida Katashi, Champion of the Crab, towering above most people in the room. Beside him was a small, wizened bald monk. Hito, Nasu explained, the Keeper of Lore. “We have come here to day honour not words, but deeds. The deeds of those who have been seen to be worthy to have their names inscribed in these hallowed halls. Those deeds we will hear of today. Step forward to be honoured…Kakita Harun-Chui.” All eyes were on Harun as he made his way forward, the crowd parted to make a path to where the Crab Champion stood. Harun bowed low. “I am honoured that you think to deem me worthy to stand amongst these giants.” Katashi indicated that Harun rise and stand beside him. “Your story, Kakita-Chui, will be repeated down the ages for those who wish to hear it.” The monk began to speak, his voice taking on a ritualistic cadence as he repeated the story of Harun’s life. He knew everything, beginning even before Harun was born with his birth father Nakura’s sacrifice. Harun’s adoption, his training at the Kakita Academy, the Topaz Championship, the battle of Shiro Moto, entering the Imperial Legions, Shimekiri…. It was complete, and accurate, but all wrong. The details were accurate, but Harun knew that it not like had been like the Crab were making them to be. They’re making me out to be some hero...that’s not me. But he had to be silent, to stand and wait for the finish. He scanned the crowd, trying to spot people he knew. Nasu, Hisato, Koharu, Momoibura, Moshi Janisha standing close to the Mantis Champion…and at the back of the crowd Harun saw his father Karasu. His heart leapt with joy. Father…he came! Did this mean Harun was forgiven? No, that was impossible, but surely his coming meant something. When Harun’s story was done, his name was solemnly inscribed on the wall. Harun watched it rather hollowly, somehow it meant even less now. He was quickly congratulated by well-wishers, excusing himself as he made his way through the crowd in search of his father. When he wasn’t to be found, Harun quickly went outside just in time to see Karasu mounting his horse. “Father!” Karasu stopped, turned to look as Harun went up to him. “You…you came,” Harun said, breathless. “Thank you.” Karasu’s face was a closed mask. “I came because this meant something to you, Harun, not to approve of what you have done.” “I know father,” said Harun, feeling like he was a little boy again. “But this…it means nothing compared to a word from you.” Karasu frowned. “Well, you know how to get that.” He rode off, Harun's heart was heavy as he watched his father ride away. Would this gulf between them ever be healed?
|
|
|
Post by Hida Tetsuko on Nov 15, 2018 17:27:12 GMT 10
There was a festive air in the camp that night, especially from the Mantis and the Crab that seemed to wish to outdo each other in drinking. Harun was invited to be a part of it, but felt a little separate, as if he wasn’t enjoying himself. All he had in his mind was the image of his father Karasu, riding away. Yoritomo Sano, whose name had gone up on the wall after Harun’s, did his best to make Harun feel welcome and Harun was already familiar with most of the Mantis delegation. All but one of them were friendly towards Harun, and the he caught the name of the one who wasn’t: Yoritomo Aramaki. Aramaki…he gave Yosoko that fan… Harun remembered, no wonder he doesn’t want to talk to me… When Harun was sure he wouldn’t be missed, he left. Intending to turn in when Janisha saw him. She walked up to him. “This is different to when I last saw you at Shiro Moto, Harun,” she said after they exchanged greetings. “Yes, well a lot has happened in a year, Moshi-sama,” said Harun. “Indeed,” said Janisha said with a nod. “Walk with me a little, with you?” They left the raucous drinking party, heading behind the row of tents to where it was quiet. “You distinguished yourself at Toshi Rambo, quite markedly,” said Janisha. “It is all you hoped?” “No,” said Harun. “If I could just have killed Shimekiri without…everything else, I would have.” He sighed. “Everyone is just taking it the wrong way. The Crane see me as a disgrace…the Crab welcome me as a hero…” “And what is it you see yourself as?” Janisha asked. “I don’t know,” Harun answered. “I thought I did, now I am not so sure.” “You cannot always control the consequences of your actions Harun,” said Janisha. “Perhaps it is better that way.” A small smile appeared on her face. “Do you know the story of how I became Mantis Champion?” “No, but I have been curious,” said Harun. “Years ago, at the court at Shiro Mirumoto, I was attempting to heal the rift between the Mantis from Rokugan and Zogeku,” she said. “There were two factions, and I managed to get the leaders to sit down together. Yoritomo Ichido from Rokugan, and Warlord Arashi from Zogeku. While this was going on, there was a contest where people competed to become the next Mantis Champion, the right to wield Yoritomo’s Kama…your Uncle Kousuda was one of the ones who competed.” “Uncle Kousuda?” Harun looked at her. “He was there right up until your mother Yamada forbade him to continue,” said Janisha. “So I got the two sides together, and that was when Ichido won the contest…and then he passed the kama to me.” She smiled again. “And there I was Mantis Champion, with Yoritomo’s Kama, something I had never had the ambition to have or thought I had the right to.” “Perhaps that was why it was right for you to have it,” suggested Harun. “From what I know, you did great things for the Mantis.” “Thank you,” said Janisha. Someone called Janisha’s name, they both turned to see the Mantis Champion, Yoritomo Ogura. Beside him was a boy of about fourteen, “My husband and my son Jiyu,” said Janisha, her veneer of formality slipped a little. Harun nodded. “I should go,” he said. “Harun,” Janisha said, stopping him as he walked away. Her voice more serious. “This may be the last time I see you, I wish you well in your life.” “Thank you, Moshi-sama,” said Harun, bowing and then leaving. But before he was out of sight, he turned to see Janisha embrace her son. It could have been anywhere. The cabin of a ship on the high seas…in the restored Toshi no Gohei…or in Zogeku, with its wild beauty beside the river. But it was in this tent, among the others that were encamped in the shadow of Koten, that Janisha sat with her family for what would be the last time. They all knew, even Jiyu, and though this hung over them like a shadow they tried to make the best of it. Tried to make this last time be a good memory. But it was difficult. Janisha looked at Jiyu, her only son and the only thing that could not be taken away from her. Her duties to Shahai as the Oracle of blood had demanded much of her, had even had forced her to be parted from him to serve at Haihime’s side. But Jiyu was her legacy, her hope for the future and for the Mantis Clan. One day he would win the right to wield Yortomo’s Kama, just as she had and just as his father Ogura had done. Jiyu strongly favoured his father, which was understandable as Ogura had had most of the raising him. Daring, already quite skilled in combat. He would make his gempukku in a year or two. Janisha wished she would be around to see it. Jiyu knew what was going on, had accepted it as best he could. But that didn’t mean he liked it. He sat there sullenly, silently, until he could no more. “It’s not fair!” He shouted, glaring at his mother accusingly. “All my life you were always away and I hardly saw you, and now you are back you are going away…to die.” His glare was like fire. “Don’t you care? Don’t you care what happens to us? To the Mantis?” “Jiyu!” warned Ogura. “Don’t you dare speak to your mother like that!” “Why not? I meant everything I said!” Jiyu argued. “And it’s not as if I will get another chance to!” Ogura glared back at his son. “No, Jiyu, you are right,” said Janisha, her voice rising a little with anger. “It isn’t fair at all on you. You didn’t ask for this, you didn’t ask to be born into this.” “I was hoping you returning to Rokugan meant it was all going to be over,” said Jiyu. “That we could be a family…somehow.” “And you have every right to want that, my son,” said Janisha. “And you will have it, one day when I have done what I need to do to make it happen.” “Why does it have to be you, mother?” Jiyu asked. “Can’t it be someone else?” “You say I should ask another to accept this burden to spare myself?” Janisha asked. “You will be a samurai soon, Jiyu, and you know that this is wrong.” Jiyu shook his head, throwing off her touch and storming out of the tent. “Jiyu! Get back here and apologise!” Ogura demanded. “Jiyu!” “Let him go for now,” said Janisha with a sigh. They talked for a while over the remains of the meal Jiyu had abandoned. Sharing experiences, memories. The test of skill that Ogura had won in order to marry Janisha. Rebuilding the Mantis Isles after the disasters and deaths that had plagued them. They were happy years even, short years but still happy. It was when Jiyu had been born, it was when they all stood together to craft a future for the Mantis. And then she had had to leave, called away by her obligations as Shahai’s oracle. “You have passed it on, the Oracle?” Ogura asked. Janisha nodded. “Soshi Kenshio is her name,” she said. “I am not sure where she is now, but the power was fading. Everything is waning.” “What about Teru?” asked Ogura. Teru had been a Shosuro infiltrator that had been with Janisha virtually unnoticed for many years. Ready to kill her if she displayed any hint of the Shadowlands taint. “Teru is with her,” said Janisha. “He was sworn to the Oracle, not to me.” Ogura nodded. “So, I suppose this is it then?” “Just about,” said Janisha, her voice pained. They both turned as someone came into the tent. It was Jiyu, red-faced and embarrassed. And limping a little “Mother, I wish to say sorry for my words earlier.” He bowed. Janisha went up to him. “You come up with all of that on your own?” “Some,” admitted Jiyu with a shrug. “Some of it was Sano, he said he’d thump me again if I disrespected you.” Janisha put her hands on her son’s shoulders. He’s going to be as tall as his father one day, she thought with a little pain. “My son, there’s nothing wrong with what you feel. One day you’ll understand why it was me who had to act.” She looked down at him. “The future still needs people to make it happen.” Janisha stayed up into the night, writing the letter to her son that he would read when he came of age. So much to tell him, to explain, words she wanted him to carry and remember. But it seemed as if words were not enough to convey how she felt. She carefully sealed the letter, Ogura would hold it in trust until then. She then laid down a blank piece of paper, much larger. She stared at its emptiness, her brush hovering over its surface. Once, years ago, at the Imperial Court she had given a set of paintings to the Emperor. Three of what would be a set of five. The fourth one she had done later and sent it on as promised, a painting of the Valley of the Centipede, home of the Moshi family. The final one she knew would be painted when she left Rokugan. She put her brush to paper and started it. It was time.
|
|
|
Post by Hida Tetsuko on Nov 16, 2018 0:15:36 GMT 10
Harun’s second betrothal meeting took place in the rock garden at Kyuden Hida. Cushions were set out for both parties on both sides of a table with the nakodo Doji Nashikyo down one end. Harun sat to the right of his father, across the table from Hiruma Yosoko. He was silent, his face was still as his mother and father spoke with the Hiruma Daimyo, his tea sitting untouched on the table before him. If this meeting went as he expected it to, if it went well then the formal terms of his marriage could be settled. The wedding day could be set. He looked over at Yosoko, she was looking down again, looking as removed from the whole affair as she was. What was she thinking? What was she really like? Harun picked up his teacup and drained it. At the other end of the table, Nashikyo caught his eye as she poured more tea. “Kakita Harun-san, why not take Hiruma Yosoko-san for a turn about the garden?” Nashikyo suggested. This too was part of the tradition. Obediently, Harun got to his feet and walked off with Yosoko. They walked for a while in silence, each not knowing what to say. “Nasu said that you have been to the Wall,” said Yosoko. “How did you find it? Harun considered his words. “Different,” answered Harun. “You are being polite,” said Yosoko. Harun shrugged. “Crane habits, I guess.” Yosoko smiled a little. “Don’t apologise, I rather like it,” she said. “It is…different from what I usually see.” They continued to walk. “But you’re not much of a Crane as you are something else, are you Kakita-san?” “That is true, my birth mother was an Utaku battlemaiden, my father a Yasuki,” Harun said. “Where is it that you belong then?” Yosoko asked. He shrugged again. “I am not sure, I don’t think I have ever been.” “You could belong here,” Yosoko suggested. “That is true,” Harun said. “We must take what fate and the Fortunes throw at us, I suppose.” Yosoko nodded, opening her fan. The sandalwood was painted with scenes of waves, the teal tassel rested on the back of her hand. Harun drew in closer to her, his voice low. “I…I know who gave you the fan, Hiruma-san.” Yosoko’s eyes widened, she stopped. “I…how do you know?” “You care for him, don’t you?” Harun asked. “That’s why you always carry it.” She didn’t respond. “It’s all right,” said Harun reassuringly. “You can tell me.” They walked on in silence for a few moments. “Yes, his name is Yoritomo Aramaki,” Yosoko said. “He’s been bringing us supplies on his ship for a while. He…” Her voice grew very small. “He wanted me to marry him, until…” “Until I came along,” Harun finished glumly. Yosoko nodded. They walked on in silence. “I…cared deeply for someone,” said Harun. “Then she went away, and then she died.” “You carry her with you, still,” observed Yosoko. Harun looked at her. “Is it that obvious?” “Only from another who knows what to look for,” said Yosoko. Harun made a smile, he looked over at the table where the negotiations were still taking place. “What do make of all of this? Of…us?” Yosoko bowed her head. “We both have a duty to our families,” she said. “Nothing else matters, not even what we want.” “I agree,” said Harun. He looked at her up and down, it seemed as if they were both at the same point, hearts pledged to others, hands pledged to each other. That was often the way often the way of marriage in Rokugan, for people like them. Then why was it so hard to accept?
Later that evening, Harun went through the chest of his mother’s things in his room. The letter she had written to him, the letters between her and his father Nakura. The fan he was sure his father had given her. He opened it out, painted in white on the purple silk, a horse leaping over a carp. With all his heart, Harun wished he could place it in Arahime’s hands on their wedding day. See it tucked into her obi as they pledged their vows to each other. But she was gone from him, gone forever. He closed the fan and put it away.
Harun dreamed that night he was back at the Kakita Academy. He walked through it, his sandals echoing through the empty halls. But he could not see anyone nor hear anyone. No one in the gardens, in the outer courtyard, in the dormitories, in the dining room, the main dojo…all empty. Where is everyone? Harun wondered. Have they been evacuated? Is that what has happened again? Was there an Onyx army about to attack the castle? That was what had happened when he and Arahime had been evacuated as children. His father had taken charge of that, making sure the children were safe in Otosan Uchi from the advancing horde. But Harun couldn’t hear anything but the sound of his own footsteps. Then he stopped, there was someone else walking around. He ran towards the sound, it was coming from near the sensei’s quarters. When he got there, he saw a peasant with a broom sweeping away leaves that had blown in from outside. When he saw Harun, he stopped sweeping and bowed low. “Forgive me, samurai-sama,” said the peasant. “But you will not find anyone here.” “Where have they gone?” Harun asked. “Has everyone been evacuated?” The peasant looked at him confusedly. “Evacuated? No, no one comes here anymore, no one has for a long time. Not since the samurai stopped duelling.” Harun stared at him, aghast. “What?! But…but why?” The peasant shrugged. “Well, I guess they found better weapons. Easier, no need to spend years learning how to swing a sword.” “No, no, that can’t be!” Harun shouted, looking in all of the rooms. Hoping to find someone, anyone to tell him this wasn’t true. He came at last into the Master Sensei Kakita Kenshin’s room. The table was set for tea, two cups and the teapot between, as it had been the night Harun had come back from Unicorn lands. And to one side of the table was Kenshin’s daisho on its stand. They were beautiful in their blue and gold, the swords of a Kenshinzen. But they were sheathed, and covered in dust. As if they had not been touched for some time. An explosion hit the castle walls, he ran to the window and saw two immense armies facing off against each other. One Lion, one Crane, not fighting with swords and spears but with exploding weapons of gaijin powder. Harun recoiled in horror, falling to his knees. Did I do this? Did I cause this? No! No! He held his head in his hands. He woke up in a pool of his own sweat. Gasping and staring at the ceiling. His heartbeat pounding in his ears. Had he cried out? Had anyone heard him. He hoped not.
|
|
|
Post by Hida Tetsuko on Nov 17, 2018 12:55:54 GMT 10
Alone in the dojo, Harun’s bokken was a blur as he went through his exercises. Katas, stances, lunges, feints…again, again and again. But wasn’t enough, not nearly enough to dispel his nightmare. The empty academy, the traditions of Kakita abandoned. It couldn’t happen, it couldn’t, it couldn’t… he refused to admit it. He stopped, chest heaving, sweat dripping off him. He took a deep calming breath, then noticed he was no longer alone. Quite a few bushi had arrived to train. Crab, Lion, Unicorn, Dragon, a Phoenix…and the Crane. Harun raised his bokken again, going into another kata. And then he heard the words. “There he goes again, the gaijin Crane.” Harun whirled around to see who it was, it came from behind him. It had to come from the Crane. They all stared at him, a row of pale blue. Harun’s anger flared. Would he or wouldn’t he? He decided he would. He strode towards them, his anger rising like an oncoming storm. He faced them. “Which of you was it?” He stared them down. “Which of you wishes to face the gaijin Crane, eh?” He slid his sword slightly out of its saya, exposing the blade. “Come on! Step up!” Kakita Yashiro stepped forward. “I will.” His face was still, his voice calm. Harun glowered. “Fine,” he spat. “We will settle it now which of us is better.” Yashiro nodded. “Blades, to the first blood.” A ring formed around the two Kakita, the Crane and Dragon on Yashiro’s side, the Crab and Unicorn on Harun’s. The Crab shouted insults at the Crane as Harun prepared. “He’s a pissant, Harun,” said Nasu. “Wipe that smug look off his face.” Harun looked at Nasu in surprise, frowning. He then went into the middle of the circle where Yashiro was waiting. The Phoenix bushi, Shiba Jintao, had been chosen to officiate. He checked their swords and called for silence. Harun and Yashiro took up their stances. They stared each other down, their hands ready to draw. Waiting for the moment to strike. And then the tension broke. Behind Harun, Nasu gave a laugh. “Doesn’t matter if you don’t strike first, Harun, you can always shoot him after.” Harun quickly turned, looking at Nasu in horror. He doesn’t mean that, surely? He looked at Nasu, grinning at Harun, laughing with the other Crab at his own joke. Oh Kami, he does! Karasu’s words at Toshi Ranbo came back to him. You had to go in and be the hero, didn’t you?...How many others do you think will try and do as what you did? Kyoumi’s words, My poor Harun, you are still Crane. What do you think it means? Shimekiri’s cold black eyes, mocking him in his madness before his death, Enjoy your victory. The empty halls of the Kakita Academy, the traditions of Kakita, of duelling, the beauty and wonder of the Kenshinzen…all abandoned because of him. For his actions. It was like a shard of ice had pierced his heart. What have I done? What have I done? Yashiro looked between Harun and the Shiba. He looked confused. Harun’s thoughts faced. I have done this, I have to end this now, I have to end this right. Harun bowed, lower than he needed to so he could show his deference. “I concede,” he said. “You are the better samurai, Kakita Yashiro-sama.” Yashiro looked down at Harun coolly, he betrayed no emotion. “I accept,” he said. Harun left the dojo, leaving the stunned silence of everyone behind, and went in search of his father. He had to face what he did like a samurai.
|
|
|
Post by Hida Tetsuko on Nov 17, 2018 23:55:42 GMT 10
Harun’s thoughts whirled like a storm as he headed to his father’s quarters. They were right…all of them…father, Kyoumi, Arami…even Doji Teruhime…how could they live with me doing this? How could I live with myself? I have been so very blind. Karasu wasn’t there when Harun arrived, but the ronin Saigou took one look at Harun and went in search of him, telling Harun to wait inside. Harun sat in seiza in the middle of the floor, waiting, his heart pounding in his ears. His head was bowed, looking at the floor. When he heard his father enter, Harun immediately threw himself on the floor, his face on the tatami. He did not look up as his father crossed the room. There was a long silence in which neither of them spoke. Harun took a deep breath, but he did not dare move. Karasu looked down at his son, prostrating himself before him. A samurai awaiting judgement, like many others had before him. “Harun, you have something to say?” Karasu asked. His voice was careful and controlled. Harun rose slightly, still keeping his head bowed. “Father, through my own actions I have committed a most grievous disgrace on the Crane Clan. I have disgraced you, I have disgraced the Imperial Legions, I have disgraced the our family and the traditions of iaijutsu.” Harun took a deep breath, keeping his voice even. “I was wrong, I disobeyed orders, I used gaijin weapons in a duel. I thought I was justified at the time, thought I was saving people but the truth is…” His voice faltered a little. “The truth is, I was afraid for my friends, for you. And I let that fear guide my actions.” He closed his eyes. “I do not deserve the honours that the Crab are bestowing on me.” He took another deep breath. “If you so wish, I will perform the three cuts to atone for the shame to our family.” He prostrated himself again, awaiting his father’s decision. Karasu looked down at him. He knew that no one would question if he granted Harun’s seppuku. Some had called for it, some had said it was even too late. But Karasu could not do it. Harun was his son, and while his actions were in excusable Karasu knew that they were brought about by his actions. He had to accept that. They all had to accept that. “Harun, get up,” said Karasu. Harun dared look up, confusion on his face. “Father?” “It is not my wish that you perform the three cuts,” said Karasu. “You have acknowledged you fault in this, that was my wish, and that is enough. I forgive you.” “But…the others…” Harun’s words caught in his throat. “Don’t they want…” “Leave that to me,” Karasu said firmly. Harun bowed. “I am grateful for your mercy.” “See that you continue to prove worthy of it,” said Karasu. Harun nodded, but he foresaw a snag. “I will but…the Crab will not see it this way, even after I marry into them. If it is still your wish…” “No,” said Karasu, with a grateful sigh. Harun would have done his duty and gone ahead with the marriage, but Karasu could spare him that “It will not go ahead, you need concern yourself with it no longer.” Harun felt as if a great weight had been lifted off his chest. “Thank you…father.” “You know what has to happen now, don’t you Harun?” Karasu asked. “There can be no more Legion, no more Kakita Academy. You will be found a posting as befitting your actions. Do you understand?” “Yes,” said Harun. “You may go,” said Karasu. I had such hopes for him, Karasu thought as Harun left, but now, it is good that he has come home.
|
|
|
Post by Hida Tetsuko on Nov 18, 2018 13:23:36 GMT 10
That evening, Karasu accompanied Empress Iweko Ayameko and her son Crown Prince Iweko Kiseki to the Hida Dojo. Karasu wore the Emerald Armour and carried the Emerald Blade, but his role was purely ceremonial. The dojo was empty when they arrived, save for the Master Sensei Hida Senchou. Senchou was tall as Crab often were, and wore only deep blue hakama pants even thought the evening was rather chilly. On his bare upper body, Kiseki could see how his service on the wall had marked him. Ugly scars, to his side, his chest and arms and most of them had not healed cleanly. Kiseki thought the Crab sensei’s state of undress was rather inappropriate, but as his mother had explained the lands of the Crab were a different world to what he was used to. One of the many different worlds that made up Rokugan, and he would need to know them all if he was to succeed his father as Emperor. The Prince and the Hida exchanged bows, the former giving the latter the briefest of courtesies. Senchou did not even seem to notice. “My mother said that you had something to teach me, Hida-san,” said Kiseki, sounding rather sceptical. “That depends, Your Highness,” said Senchou. “Are you prepared to learn?” Kiseki narrowed his eyes. “I am here, surely that counts for something.” “Words matter little here, my Prince, and nor do intentions,” said Senchou. “You must let your weapon speak for you, this is the only language the Shadowlands understand.” “I am destined for other duties, what need have I of this?” Kiseki asked loftily. “You begrudge the Crab their ancestral duty when all would gladly die for you?” Senchou challenged. “Or the Esteemed Empress, your mother? She began her training here, in this dojo. Would you begrudge them?” “No,” said Kiseki quickly. Senchou gave a chuckle. “I thought so.” He reached down to pick up the wooden sword that lay at his feet. He tossed it to Kiseki who easily caught it. “This is your first lesson. Hit me, if you can.” Kiseki dropped into a fighting stance and lunged at the Hida sensei, his form an excellent example of the Kakita form, as smooth as a flowing river. But Senchou was too quick for him, surprisingly agile for his huge size. The Prince attacked him, but the Hida moved in a blur, moving just out of the reach of the bokken. Kiseki concentrated, attempting to anticipate the Crab’s moves, finally striking him on the shoulder. Kiseki laughed. “I did it!” So pleased with himself, Kiseki dropped his guard. Senchou took this as an opportunity to disarm him, taking the bokken and then using it to knock the Prince’s feet out from under him. Kiseki sprawled on the floor, Senchou pointed the tip at his throat. “What good is your first strike, my Prince, if you do not have your sword.” Kiseki stared at it, incensed at the Hida’s trickery but also impressed. “Never let your guard down,” said Senchou. “Not in the dojo, not on the battlefield or in the palaces. That is your first lesson.” “Yes…sensei,” answered Kiseki. Senchou lowered the wooden sword, letting Kiseki get to his feet. “Once you are a man, my Prince, you will come to me,” said Senchou. “We will have a lot to do.” Kiseki bowed, not just a courtesy but one of a student acknowledging the lesson of a teacher. This seemed to amuse Senchou somewhat, he returned the bow and left. The doors to the dojo opened and Kiseki turned to look. Inside came two people. Doji Sorei, resplendent in his pale blue hitatare, with his daughter Isanko. The girl wore a pale pink furisode with a blue obi and violets in her white hair. The pair made their bows to the Empress and Prince. Kiseki looked at the girl curiously, then glanced at his mother. Ayameko nodded. Kiseki went forward to greet Isanko. And on the upper level of the dojo, three figures observed the exchange. Haihime, daughter of Daigotsu Kanpeki; Moshi Janisha, the former Oracle of Blood; and Kumo, once Susumu Ketsueki and High Priest of Shahai. Everything they had worked towards culminated in this moment, what was to be the joining of the Hantei and Iweko bloodlines. A curious meeting of dark ambitions, divine prophecies to give Rokugan the future it needed. But this is also where their duties ended. Yuhumi no Oni, who carried the bloodline of two gods, was still in the Shinomen Mori. He had to be stopped at all costs or he would rise again. Kumo looked at Janisha and Haihime. Who would have thought we would be the heroes of this story? They then departed, the final battle ahead of them.
|
|
|
Post by Hida Tetsuko on Nov 18, 2018 14:18:14 GMT 10
After he returned from the dojo, Karasu sat on a bench near the rock garden. Some of the dark clouds that hung over them all were beginning to clear. Prince Kiseki’s betrothal to Isanko would be announced to the Imperial Court in the morning, the marriage to take place once Isanko had come of age. Toshi Ranbo would be administered by the Crab Clan until the city was declared free of taint. And then there was Harun… Karasu sighed. Someone entered the courtyard, he looked up to see it was Doji Arami on his way to bed. On seeing Karasu, Arami approached. “There have been rumours that your son left a confrontation in the dojo,” said Arami. “I hope this means that he has come to his senses.” “He has,” said Karasu. “Of course, he will take the proper course of action following this?” Arami asked. “No,” said Karasu. “Harun offered his seppuku, I refused him.” Arami looked at him, the shock of Karasu’s words competing with his desire to keep his composure. Karasu sighed. “Sit down, Arami,” he said. “I know what you want to say, I have been hearing nothing but it ever since Toshi Rambo. It is not as simple as you might think.” Arami sat down on the bench. “How can it not be?” He asked, sounding a little miffed. “Because of us,” Karasu answered. “You were there all those years ago when we begged the throne for the use of gaijin weapons to war against the Onyx. We compromised our culture, our ideals, our values for survival. Those choices led us to here, we need to accept that and the consequences that came of it.” Arami considered this. “That doesn’t excuse what Harun has done.” “No, it doesn’t, and he knows this as well,” said Karasu. “What matters is what we do now, the way forward for Rokugan. For Iaijutsu. For our culture, our traditions and our future. Will you help me?” “I would be glad to,” said Arami. A silent moment passed between them. The animosity between the two friends was healed. “I always considered that you did far more to save Rokugan than I did, Arami,” said Karasu. “You are very kind to say so,” said Arami. “I am not being kind,” said Karasu. “I am being honest.”
|
|
|
Post by Hida Tetsuko on Nov 21, 2018 23:13:29 GMT 10
The walls of Kyuden Hida seemed an unlikely place for the Susumu Shibatsu to take a leisurely stroll, but he was there with a purpose. Kakita Harun had made himself scarce since that display in the dojo. He had not been seen in the dojo since, and rarer still around the castle. Shibatsu sought him out on the walls, and his search had not been in vain. There he could see the Kakita bushi, trying to extricate himself from some Crab who were clearly admirers of how he had dispatched of Daigotsu Shimekiri. Shibatsu approached, his black silken court robes swishing as he walked. He went up behind Harun and made a light cough. “Pardon me.” Harun turned around. “Lord Shibatsu.” The three young men bowed. Shibatsu made a gesture with his fan towards Harun. “Friends, a moment to speak with the son of the Emerald Champion alone.” The Crab drew back, Shibatsu moved off and with his fan signalled for Harun to follow. They walked along in silence for a few minutes, Harun seemed relived to no longer be with the Crab but wasn’t sure what to make of the Emperor’s own brother and Champion of the Spider Clan seeking out his company. Shibatsu had followed Harun’s career with some interest in the last few years, which had not been hard given the young man’s prominence. The Crane had sought to tame him, with all his wildness and his gaijin blood. Had they succeeded? Shibatsu wasn’t sure it would be an altogether bad thing if they did not. Shibatsu came to a stop, the Kaiu Wall was visible to the south. Harun stood next to him, his eyes on the horizon, waiting for Shibatsu to speak. “The Crab bushi are quite interested in your accomplishments in Toshi Ranbo, Kakita Harun,” said Shibatsu. “You seem to have made an impression.” Harun seemed to stiffen at Shibatsu’s words. ““I did what I had to do, My Lord. I do not take pride in it.” “You removed quite the long-term embarrassment, both to your clan and to the Iweko, from what I have heard,” said the Lord of the Spider, continuing to stare at the distant wall. “You did as we all must.” I know he has been there and seen the Crab's ‘creations’, thought Shibatsu, he knows how far we can go to ‘do what we must.’ Harun didn’t reply, so Shibatsu continued to speak. “I find dealing with the Crab has historically been tedious. Their valour and sacrifice is of course worthy of praise and reward. And yet their disdain for honour and right behaviour stymies the effort to reward them. To do so would make it seem that their disdain itself is being rewarded. Don’t you think?” Harun shifted awkwardly. “I…do not consider myself in a good position to judge.” Shibatsu motioned with his fan to the Kakita mon on Harun’s clothing. “Perhaps not yourself, but is it not the Crane’s duty to judge what is and is not worthy? To develop and advance the culture of the Empire?” “I suppose,” said Harun, still sounding awkward. Shibatsu smiled, trying to sound reassuring. “Well. The Crane and the Crab have their duties. My duties offer me a certain...latitude...in rewarding those who are worthy of reward, even if proper face requires their deeds be rightly condemned.” Harun looked troubled, unsure if he should speak and he was about to when Shibatsu continued. “I do hope you find your assignment to Seawatch Castle pleasant, Harun-san. The ocean can be beautiful in the spring.” Harun’s eyes widened but he didn’t answer. He didn’t know, Shibatsu realised. Aloud, he said, “But if you find your time there taxing, or if there is anything else that you might wish for, please do not hesitate to write to me. Some duties are a pleasure.” Harun’s voice was careful and controlled, clearly he was again looking for a way to escape. “I am very grateful, Lord Shibatsu. “ He bowed low. “I will obey my father’s orders gladly, if that is where he sends me. But I am grateful for the kindness of your offer anyway.” Shibatsu smiled as it he expected this answer. He closed his fan and tucked it into his obi. “Another day then. For now...I think I shall go get some kave. Enjoy the view, Chui.” As Shibatsu walked away, he could not resist a backward glance. He refuses now, but when the quiet of Seawatch gets to him, he will remember.
On his way back to his room, Harun was confronted by someone else. This time it was far more welcome, Akodo Koneko. Her red hair was in braids and she had small pink flowers in her hair. And she was smiling, which was certainly an improvement on when Harun had last seen her. “It is good to see you looking so well, Koneko,” he said. “I had hoped to see you before court ended.” “Mother was saying your betrothal fell through,” said Koneko, her golden eyes a little serious. “I am sorry.” Harun shrugged. “These things happen,” he said. “From what I hear, Yosoko and Aramaki are very happy.” Koneko giggled. “I didn’t see the wedding but I didn’t need to. Mantis and Crab can get very loud with the celebrating.” Harun nodded. “I have heard similar stories from my parents wedding.” Koneko looked as if she were to say something, but then changed her mind and said something else instead. “I…I heard you were at the wall. What was it like?” “You seem very informed about my comings and goings,” Harun teased. Koneko blushed deeply. “Yes, I was at the Wall for a few days with the Crab Champion’s son. It was…harsh, but the Crab are dedicated in their duty. They have to be, they protect us all.” Koneko nodded, again she looked as if she was working up the courage to say something, but decided not to. “Can I ask what is next for you, then? Will you be returning to the Legion in the north?” “No,” said Harun. “Because of what I have done, the shame and disgrace I have brought to my clan and to my family, I won’t be. I will be staying in the south, I have been assigned to Seawatch Castle.” Koneko’s eyes widened in surprise. “So…you are not returning north?” Harun shook his head. “I am sorry.” Koneko’s face fell. Harun sighed, he was sure now that Koneko had felt something for him—or imagined she did—ever since he had come into her house with Majid that fateful spring night. There was a simplicity and pureness about her that was charming and that was unmarked by the tragic passing of her father Zetsubou. He hated to hurt her, but he owed her honesty. “Koneko, I like you, you are very kind but there is something that you need to hear,” said Harun. “I do not think that there is a future for us as you see it. I am not good for you and I will not bring my shame into your family.” “But…but…in a few years it could all change,” Koneko protested. “I will be of age, this will all quiet down, I promise.” “You don’t know that,” said Harun. “I would hate to see you treated as I am, it wouldn’t be fair. Besides, your cousin would never allow it, nor would your uncle.” “Mother would!” Koneko argued. “She and father married when everyone was against it, including Uncle Kibo. If they could do it, so can we!” “Koneko, you need to listen to me,” Harun pleaded. “What you are talking about is just not possible. Please, do not make me say things that will hurt you.” Koneko’s face crumpled, wiping her face on her sleeve. “Is…is there someone else.” “There was, but it doesn’t matter,” said Harun. “Tell me,” said Koneko, her voice wavering. “She died,” said Harun. “I loved her…but never told her. I don’t think I could care for anyone else like I still do for her, and that wouldn’t be fair to you.” Koneko’s eyes were red and swollen from her tears. Harun was touched, of all the things that were going on in the world it was reassuring to see girls like her still swayed by the impulses of their own hearts. So normal. “Koneko, you hate me today, and you probably will tomorrow,” said Harun. “But you will have better days than this, days when you will look back and see this differently. And soon, I hope.” “It doesn’t feel this way,” said Koneko. “I know,” said Harun. “But one day, you will.”
In the days before Harun left, there were a few things still to take care of. He witnessed Koharu and Katsura Hisato swearing their swords and their lives to the Crab Champion. Harun stood at the back, hoping the tall Crab bushi in front of him were enough to conceal him. Nasu sat on the dais at his father’s right hand, he did not appear to see Harun. Harun also went to see his aunt and cousins. Momoibura was sad about his leaving, but did her best to not show it. He let her keep his father’s shamisen though, it was far better for it to stay in the family. Though it was nice to hear it played one last time. The night before he left, Harun packed up his possessions. The chest with his mother’s things would of course be going with him to Seawatch. He looked through the letters again before putting them away. The one from his mother, the ones between his mother and his father, the one from Arahime…and another letter on yellow paper that had not been opened. It carried the seal of the Lion Clan. Of course, it’s from Akodo Kibo. Harun had not read it. He broke the seal. A flower fell out, a pressed white chrysanthemum. Harun picked it up. Truth? He held it as he read the letter.
Kakita Harun,
News has come to me of our victory at Toshi Ranbo, a long-awaited milestone. These things always come at a cost, and news of your deeds have spread wide with even wider reactions from the empire at large.
I realize that many may have spoken or not spoken to you about what occurred there in that room. But remember this, Akodo-no-Kami wrote that Honour is not determined by what others think of you, but of what you think about yourself. It is your Honour that carries this burden, not mine and not theirs. Would I have done it exactly the same way? No, but my few changes in timing may not have resulted in the same outcome.
These are interesting times. Times of consequence and change. Many things that my generation did merely to survive will have their price paid by your generation just as my generation paid for the survival of my parents’ generation. We are all connected in this way.
There is no taking back that which has been done. There is only accepting our mistakes as part of who and what we are and striving to be better for it. I know this better than many, but such is a story for other times.
Although, your mother did the same sort of thing, you know. Threw out duelling tradition to do what she thought was right. Risked everything, even you, to do so. It would seem that you're more like her than you know.
In Honour and sacrifice for our Empire,
Akodo Kibo
Harun put the letter down, the words were ones he needed to hear but he wasn’t sure of he would have seen that before. Even but a few days before. … “Honour is not determined by what others think of you, but of what you think about yourself”…And what I thought of myself has changed. How could I have been so selfish? Harun folded the letter carefully, putting the flower back inside, then put it in the chest with the others. He then locked the chest. There was a tap on the door, Harun went to open it. It was Hida Nasu. Harun bowed. “Hida-sama, I wasn’t expecting to see you,” said Harun. Nasu dismissed Harun’s concerns with a wave. “Come on now, surely we are passed all that.” Harun let him in, closing the door behind him. They sat on the stone floor across from each other.“I got my posting, Nasu,” said Harun. “Seawatch, I leave tomorrow.” Nasu made a rude noise. “What a waste of your talents!” Harun shrugged. “Perhaps, but it is what I deserve after what I did.” “What you did was no different from any Crab would he find himself in your position,” said Nasu. “I know,” said Harun, meeting his eyes directly. Nasu was the first to look away. “I still don’t understand,” he said. “How you have been treated by the Crane—by your own father—is shameful. The Crab were ready to welcome you with open arms, even into my own family. Why? Why did you reject us?” “I did this because how he do things matters,” Harun explained. “I forgot for a while why this was important, you reminded me.” “That was not my intention,” said Nasu. “You should know I didn’t mean anything by that.” “It doesn’t matter whether you did or not, the fact you said it matters,” Harun said. Nasu shook his head. “I don’t get you.” “I didn’t think you would,” said Harun. Nasu stood. “I should go,” he said, heading for the door. “May the Fortunes favour you, Harun.” Harun watched him leave. He never will understand, he thought, but maybe it is best that he doesn’t.
That night, Harun dined with his parents. Hitomi was pleased that Harun and Karasu were talking, but there was still the distance between father and son. The gulf had narrowed, and they could reach across and speak to each other, but it still remained. Harun didn’t mind at all, he considered it an improvement and possibly even more than he deserved. “You might find Seawatch rather quiet after the Legion,” said Karasu. “Much has been damaged from the tsunami from the Seals, and the war delayed a lot of repairs. Hopefully that will change.” “Good,” said Hitomi approvingly. “The war has been going on for so long, I am not sure many remember what peace is like.” “I suppose I will find out for myself soon enough,” said Harun. “It might even be good.” “You might, at first,” said Karasu. Afterwards, Karasu gave Harun back his armour. Harun checked it over, making sure it was ready for him to wear the next day. He looked at the helmet last of all, the golden crane spreading its wings against the blue. He looked at his father. “My mother Yamada, she killed the man who made this, didn’t she?” Karasu nodded, not at surprised that Harun knew this. “She did,” he said gravely. “He gave her armour too…which she relinquished before she left.” “How do you reconcile what she has done with who she is?” Harun asked. “I don’t,” said Karasu. “Because I know she has no illusions about what she is doing for Shiba Michio, and why. And I know that once this is all over, once the Jade Hand appears, that she will answer for them.” Harun looked down at the helmet again. “Will I ever see her before that happens?” “I don’t know, that is entirely up to her,” said Karasu. “But I do know this: if you truly need her, Harun, she will find you.” Harun didn’t find this completely reassuring. He put the helmet away. The next day, Harun left Kyuden Hida in the cold dawn. He looked back and he saw two figures on the battlements, one in green with dark hair, one in blue with white. Isanko and Prince Kiseki. Prince Kiseki stood still, as if he did not even see Harun. But Isanko waved. Harun smiled and returned her wave. He rode down the road, getting to the gates and then looked back. But they had gone.
That evening, as the Imperial Court made ready to return north to Otosan Uchi, three Crane continued a tradition that they had observed for many years. Kakita Kyoumi, Kakita Karasu and Doji Arami gathered for tea. Much had intervened, marriages, children the war…but they had done their best to maintain the tradition. Kyoumi presided over the tea. In each of the cups was a tea bulb, when hot water was poured in the bulb opened up like a flower in bloom. Arami looked at it, smiling. “I have not seen these for a long time,” said Arami. “Where did you get them?” “Yasuki Koji,” said Kyoumi. “He had hoped that they could entice me to tell him where his sister is. You remember Yamase?.” Arami nodded. Karasu examined the cup carefully. The set was familiar. It was a translucent blue, it had to be the tea set he had in his tent, until he had broken it the night Toshi Ranbo was taken. The pieces had been put back together, with gold powder in the cracks. He looked over at Kyoumi and smiled. “How did you do it?” he asked Kyoumi only smiled in return. “I have had it for a while,” she said. “I was waiting for the right moment. It is yours of course.” Karasu put the cup down. “Harun left this morning,” he said. “I thought it best to keep it quiet. On his own he is faster and can get well ahead of the main train.” “You will be at Tsuma this spring?” Kyoumi asked. Karasu nodded. “I am needed at the Topaz Championship for Prince Kiseki’s gempukku. Will Kousuda be there?” “I am not sure,” said Kyoumi. “It depends when the Crane delegation leaves for the Summer Court in Zogeku, he wants to go with them.” “If there is anyone who can get answers from them, it is Kousuda,” said Karasu with confidence. “Hopefully we don’t have to take action, the last thing we need is a war so soon after this one.” “You think it could happen?” Arami asked. “I refuse to rule out any possibility,” Karasu replied. Arami nodded, managing to look calm as he sipped his tea. “There are reasons to look forward,” said Kyoumi hopefully. “Good reason.” “Thanks to you, cousin,” said Karasu. “Thanks to all of us,” said Kyoumi.
|
|