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Post by Shinwa on Jun 10, 2017 2:29:38 GMT 10
Mid Autumn, 1236 – The Coast off the Ivory Kingdoms
Arahime watched as the last fishing boat and staked net disappeared from sight. Doji Mushari had shared with her the planned course of the trip. The ship, the Momomaru, was manned by an Arashi crew familiar with the waters up and down the Ivory coastline. The yojimbo interacted with them very little after realizing the ship’s first mate was Arashi Parushi, the man who had made a poor joke about the Kakita school when she was visiting the Military district with Seiho before Summer Court. Still, Parushi and the crew were diligent and polite now, and Seiho had removed Parushi from his circle completely after the incident. An appropriate enough cost for such disrespect.
Passage down the river past Twin Forks to Kalani’s Landing, with its crumbling stone bridges and stepped banks, had been smooth and peaceful. The boundless gray-green ocean lay ahead of them, still cloudy and churning with the last of the monsoon rains. From here, they were to sail east, past the Aerie and a number of smaller islands that dotted the stormy waters, until they reached Aramasu’s Vigilance, where the sea was made hostile by reefs and whatever monstrous creatures might arise from the Sea of Shadows. Such dangerous waters were too risky to venture, so they would then then turn west, passing again the mouth of the twin rivers, to reach the lighthouse of Suitengu’s Torch and the jungle coastline beyond. They planned to travel up the coastline to the edge of the distance that had been explored by adventurous Mantis sailors, and then turn back and return to Second City.
The glimmering star that served as the lighthouse was already visible in the early light of evening, but it was receding as their ship made its way slowly eastward. The Crane woman felt similarly left in darkness, for although she knew her trip and destination, the ambassador still had given her no sense of its true purpose. To venture away so long just to search for shells, a job a hired crew could easily do, seemed foolish. She gripped the railing of the ship tighter, trying not to focus on her own frustration.
The old courtier emerged from below decks and came to stand beside her. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked mildly.
Arahime did not turn to look at the older man. “It is beautiful.” She paused for a moment as a gull gave a lonely cry that echoed across the sighing waters. “We’ve come far away from any port, Mushari-sama.” She turned to face him directly. “Please. Now can you tell me why are we here?”
Doji Mushari gave a soft sigh. “Very well.” He led the way down into his cabin where he knelt and poured tea for her.
Once there, the words he spoke were direct. “Arahime-san. I spoke to you before of enemies the Crane have in this court. The situation has been difficult, and I know you have suffered for it. As, you know, have I. However, we are here because a great breach of honor has been committed, and I refuse to allow such any longer. We are leaving to grant the Warlord, this one chance to compel his court into respectful dealings, or else he will find his means greatly reduced indeed.”
The young woman frowned, her jaw tightening. “Tell me.”
“You have already guessed. Yes, the rumors of the court are that you and Arashi Seiho are conducting a secret affair. I do not know, at least not specifically, where the rumors started, though I know that Seiho has not denied them. He may have encouraged them. He may have been too ashamed or cowardly to confront them in protection of your honor. Or he may been innocent of spreading them, but has not denied them out of a desire to fuel his own ego. I cannot tell.”
Arahime could not hide the anger and hurt in her expression, so Mushari hastened to continue. “The important thing you need to know is that I know you are innocent. Your clan knows you are innocent, and we refuse to allow this to besmirch your good name. I am giving Lord Arashi time to address this within his court, but the Crane consider this matter grave enough that we will take strong measures if he fails to do so. Things will not continue as they have been. I still cannot have war between the Crane and Zogeku, but this will be rectified. Do you understand me, Arahime-san?”
Betrayal, anger, grief, loneliness, fear, shame...the emotions washed over Arahime like the monsoon-driven crests that had battered the shoreline they traced. She could not keep the salt-tears from the corners of her eyes. The dishonor even of the accusations, what that meant to her house...she rubbed fiercely at her eyes with the back of her hand and set her face like flint.
“Thank you for telling me, Mushari-sama,” she said quietly. “I understand why you said nothing before. I am grateful my clan does not think so of me and I know they will treat me with justice.” But I should be allowed to win my own fights. I should have had the right to duel to clear my name.
As she wept silently into her pillow that evening, she longed for her home in Otosan Uchi. For the peaceful gardens of Shiro sano Kakita. She tried to push down the feeling of homesickness. And the feeling that Doji Mushari was still holding something back from her.
Weeks passed. There were sudden squalls, not unusual for the end of monsoon season, but generally the weather stayed well. The time was quiet, spent sitting on the sunny beach watching the heimen divers dive for snails, playing go with Mushari, or watching the coastline glide slowly by. They turned from the east to travel west, back past the twin mouths of the river and Kalani’s Landing, where they took on more supplies, and headed towards the Unknown Lands. The coastline of the Unknown Territory varied. A beach of pure, silvery-white sand ended at a cliff of black stone split into strange, hexagonal columns. Long stretches of coastline had trees growing right into the water, strange trees with wide leaves and coiling roots that looked like snakes. The sailors called the trees ‘Mangroves’.
Once Arahime saw a tiger, a huge cat of orange and red, leaping into the waves in pursuit of a small deer that had darted out of the forest. Around the boat, lazy in the water, there occasionally swam the creature known as a crocodile. A heimen diver explained to her that the crocodiles were very dangerous, but were attracted to splashing and noise. They could be avoided if not hungry or threatened, which is why the divers dared venture the dangerous water for the snails. But even with the threats of crocodiles or tigers, Arahime dreaded returning to Second City even more. But it was inevitable that the day would come.
Two days into the journey back, the duelist returned to her futon for the evening. Doji Mushari had dismissed her early. Heavy clouds had rolled in during the day and the sea was getting choppy with the promise of a light evening squall, and such seas did little to settle the older Doji’s stomach. The coastline that they passed was of undifferentiated mangrove, and any creatures it might have sheltered seemed content to hide from the impending weather. There was little for it but to turn in early.
When she arrived, there on the green and white blankets lay a pair of letters. She frowned, picking up one in well-made blue paper, scented, she could tell, with vanilla. It was old and unsealed; she opened it easily. The calligraphy was instantly recognizable.
A sting of betrayal. A marriage match? Mushari is trying to prepare a marriage match between me and Seiho? Is all of this trip just a chance to end the rumors and make sure I am no longer angry so I would be willing to accept such a thing? Her mind raced through a thousand implications, benefits to her family and clan, the changes to the Colonies, squared against Seiho’s arrogance and the disdain of the Zogeki. So much balanced against one small thing...only the sacrifice of all hope for her future happiness. And Harun.
Arahime opened the second letter. This one was newer, the paper plain and unmarked, the calligraphy without particular merit.
The young woman’s eyes narrowed. I will go. I will listen to him. But I will never, ever trust him.
A pair of lanterns lit the deck with quiet pools of light. The stars and moon were hidden by the overcast sky, but the rough silhouette of the jungle served as sufficient guide. The ship was not at anchor; the sea was choppy enough that an anchored boat invited in water washed over the sides. Fortunately, the area was clear of reefs. A steady breeze blew eastward towards Kalani’s Landing, so there was no reason to stop for the night anyway. The sailors were eager to return home. One of the sailors held the helm, another made minor adjustments to the sail when needed, and Arashi Parushi awaited her on deck, keeping watch.
Kakita Arahime took comfort in the steady weight of her daisho on her hip. She wished for her armor, but had had to acknowledge that wearing armor shipboard was foolish. “Parushi-san,” she offered, focusing on keeping her On steady and her voice cool. “You wished to speak with me?”
The big Zogeki stood near the railing, watching for pirates or any other that might threaten the ship. He looked over at her. Arashi Purashi was tall and muscular, fairer of skin than many of the others of his family. It was easy to see the Mantis blood bred true in him. He bowed. “Thank you for coming, Arahime-sama. I am...” he hesitated, “...sorry...that I did not give the letter to you earlier. I did not know how to talk about it. And with the false rumors, it was even more difficult.”
A heart of flint. A heart of steel. “When was the letter sent?”
“I’m not certain. Seiho did not give it to me until just before we left. I don’t think he wants this match either. He’s given to fascinations, maybe. But he’s young. He’d rather be the playboy. He doesn’t want the responsibility of being husband, or Warlord, a day before he has to assume it. Marrying, even to one as honorable as you are, Kakita-sama, would not permit that.”
That, Arahime could believe was true. “And you have a plan?” she asked cautiously.
“I do.” Parushi gave a look across the deck at one of the sailors who was casually mending a line that had snapped in a sudden gust of wind. He gestured for Arahime to come closer so they wouldn’t be overheard.
Arahime frowned and approached, glancing towards the dark and choppy waters and the black shadows of the shoreline. “What is it, then?” she said, her voice suspicious, but quiet.
“This.”
Purashi twisted and grabbed the back of the smaller woman’s haori with both hands, hauling sideways and upwards. Arahime flailed, her hands finding nothing but air as she reached out to grab anything she could to prevent her fall. But void and darkness surrounded her and churning waters lay below her. She was flying over the side of the ship and into the tropical waters with a splash.
The world melted into a gasp for air and a thousand bubbles. The light of the lanterns on the ship was enough, just barely, to orient her towards the surface. A few strokes, and she was able to reach it with a sputtering gasp. But before she could even cry out, another small wave crashed over her, pushing her back under again. When she made it up to the surface again, the lanterns were smaller and further in the distance. She seized another breath to call out to the ship for help, Though who would hear but Purashi himself...those others on the deck were certainly his men, or they would already be turning around for me..., but another waved shoved her down again.
By the time she emerged from the next set of choppy waves, no one on the ship could have heard her over the sound of the sea anyway.
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Post by emeralddragon on Jun 13, 2017 17:16:02 GMT 10
I knew this was coming... and still.... that fucking arsehole.
Seriously, what the hell. I eagerly await the duel that will come when she survives this
Now with anger out of the way, I love this chapter. The emotions highs and lows as the Kakita finally found all that had been kept from her. I live it.
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Post by Hida Tetsuko on Jun 13, 2017 17:26:59 GMT 10
Im angry too and I want Harun to be there to crack some heads.
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Post by Shinwa on Jun 14, 2017 12:45:35 GMT 10
Mid Autumn, 1236 – The Unknown Lands
Left in darkness, fighting for every breath, Arahime knew she only had limited strength left. Splashing and calling fruitlessly would only expend her strength and attract crocodiles. Panicking would solve nothing. She praised the fortunes for the time her mother had taken to teach her to swim, but the weight of her hakama bore her down now. And she had to save her swords. I may die here, but I will not lose my grandmother’s daisho to the sea. She took a deep breath, and slipped under the waves. With one hand, she pulled her blades around and clutched them tightly to her chest. With her other, she loosened her hakama and pulled them off underwater. Wrestling with the sodden fabric was difficult; she lost both geta in the process, but when her legs were free of the silk, she was able to move more freely. She kicked to force her head above the surface and sucked in another breath of air.
She felt the brush of fabric from the hakama drift by her leg as it was gently pulled downwards. She hooked it with a foot, then gasped another breath of air before she sank once more below the waters. She grabbed at the loose hakama with her free hand, and kicked again to force herself up again. The salt water stung her eyes, but she focused on her task. She slid her daisho into the leg of the hakama, then bound the hakama tightly around her chest so the swords were held tightly by the cloth and had no chance of slipping out. She rested in the waters once her swords were safe. The choppy waves continued to wash over her, but they did not grow worse and she was able to keep her head above the water now her hands and legs were free.
The darkness made direction hard to discern, but the sounds of the waves breaking against the shore seemed to be in the direction that matched what she remembered. A shaft of moonlight from a break in the heavy cloud cover gave her enough of a silhouette to confirm it. Kisada, Fortune of Persistence, help me, she prayed, though she expected little answer. Still, the tide was coming in, and it carried the Crane bushi with it. With slow, decidedly ungraceful strokes, checking often on her weapons, Arahime swam towards shore.
Arahime had reached a place far, far beyond exhaustion as she crawled up the twisted roots of one of the strange mangrove trees. Wild and dangerous animals snuffled and cried out in the darkness. But she was ashore. She would not lose the blades of Masarugi to the waves. She could die this moment, and she would have already succeeded. Clutching her daisho, curled up near the big mangrove’s trunk and cradled in its roots like a child in her mother’s arms, the young woman slept.
Sunlight, almost too bright, filtered through the mangrove leaves, finally awakening the sleeping girl. Arahime’s whole body ached with the exertions of the previous night and the hard, snaky roots of the mangrove, and she was thirsty. She forced her eyes open.
She found herself on a small, muddy patch of shoreline, where the mangrove trees pressed all the way to the water’s edge. It took a moment for her to orient, but she remembered the maps of her passing and the journey west, and was able to form a rough idea of where she was. To the north, the mysterious jungle, a vast unknown she had never thought to enter. To the south, only the gray-green sea. On the shore to the west the mangroves grew even thicker and more dense, going right out into the water. To the east, the mangroves were broken up by more patches of muddy earth, like where she currently stood. The ground looked like it was covered with snakes, and vines and lianas hung from the branches. Somewhere, even further to the east, lay the lighthouse of Suitengu’s Torch, and the edge of the kingdom of Zogeku. But that was at least six days by boat, if she remembered the sailors’ discussions correctly. She had no idea how far it was as a journey overland.
There was no sign of a kobune. If they have harmed Mushari.... She knew the threat was meaningless, but she found some comfort in the idea that the Crane would be sure to unleash the wrath of the Empire if their only ambassador and his yojimbo had come to harm. The water was still choppy with the stiff wind, but the cloud cover had lightened in the night and the sun came through in patches.
Nothing for it, then. She was aware she knew nothing about survival in this terrible and dangerous land save what the heimen divers had told her during the journey on the coast. But she was thirsty and soaked to the bone. Addressing those things would be a start.
Arahime stripped off her clothes: juban and haori and obi, laying them up over the branches of the tree to dry. She undid the bundle of her hakama and spread that out to dry also. While she, and the clothing, dried out a little, she observed her surroundings.
A trickle of fresh water seemed to be coming from the jungle, weaving its way along the muddy flat and through the mangrove trees. It looked green and brackish, but enough to rinse the salt from her skin. It didn’t take long for her cotton juban to dry. Before dressing, however, she used it to carefully clean and dry the blades of her daisho. Without oil, if she stayed near the ocean, the steel would suffer for it, but for the moment they were well enough. She tied her obi around her waist and slid her daisho into place.
Water. The turgid water running across the ground looked dangerous, but it had rained last night. Many of the trees had broken or fallen, victims, no doubt, of the recent monsoons. She found one with a small hollow space in the stump and found there some fresh water from last night’s rain. She drank deeply, scooping the water with her hands. With the sweet blessings of the water kami, she felt like, perhaps, she might survive.
Not all of the trees were mangroves. One, which looked as though it had fallen only recently, was similar to the palm trees that bore the coconuts she had tasted in Second City. She picked her way across the roots of the mangroves to reach the head. About eight good-sized green fruits were clustered in the palm branches. She would need those for food, at the very least, and her time in second city had taught her of the white liquid that lay in them. She had also eaten a dish one evening, a stir fry of vegetables that included the tender heart of the stem of the coconut palm. That could serve as food also. But how to carry it?
She glanced over at her hakama. They were not likely to do well moving through these trees. They had served as a bag, of sorts, to carry her swords. They could do so again. She drew the kozuka, the small knife that supported the tsuba of her wakizashi. My ancestors would not be ashamed of using these blades in the ways I must in service of bringing my daisho home and defending my charge, she thought, as she carefully cut the hakama legs off just above the knees. The sharp blade sliced easily through the fabric. She trimmed to a minimum the long straps that tied the hakama on, leaving her four lengths of strapping to use.
As she worked, she watched the waters, waiting to see if, possibly, the ship would return. No sail appeared. Arahime used the kozuka to pierce the bottom and top of the two pieces of cloth cut from her hakama, and then used the straps to tie them tightly shut at the bottom, and hold them open with a strap for her shoulder at the top.
She took a moment to admire her work, and then her stomach rumbled, loudly.
The hunger deflated any feeling of victory she had experienced in finishing the bags. I have the coconuts. But I will need to be sparing. Arahime sighed. There were many lean years she had experienced growing up. She rarely had been hungry herself, but there were whole years early on when the adults refused to eat with the children at the academy. At first, she thought it was their aloofness, that they were embarrassed to be seen with the children. It wasn’t until her mother, Kyoumi, finally explained that those years were times the adults were going without to make sure the children remained fed. She knew there was a time once, in the Empire, when food was not rationed, when the guards did not stand guard as fiercely upon the storehouses as on the gates. She imagined those days would come again, but she had never known them. Still, though she had gone to bed hungry before, she feared it now. Too hungry, and I will grow weak. There is not enough food here to stay. Or water. She comforted herself by drinking some of the water remaining in the tree stump, but it was disappearing fast, even on this overcast day.
Using the tip of her katana, she cut free the green coconuts and put them in her bags. Then, determined to eat, but to save the coconuts for their water, she started trimming away the younger fronds and bark to get to the palm cabbage at the heart of the stem. Once she’d cut the trunk down far enough, a slice of her katana removed it from the palm, leaving the white, pithy core. She peeled off some strands of it and chewed. They were tasteless, but they were edible. She put the rest into her bag and, finally at the end of her strength, with no ships on the horizon, she climbed back up into the upper roots of the mangrove to sleep.
It was dark but the moon was up when a low coughing sound awakened her. Arahime could hear the sound of something grunting around on the muddy strip very near her. A lance of fear pierced her, but she fought down the emotion to hold very still until the moonlight revealed what she faced. The moonlit ground below her offer no comfort, for emerging from the waves gently splashing up on the muddy stretch of ground were a pair of large crocodiles. She stayed frozen, praying they were not hunting, that they would have no reason to come after her. I might be able to take one…maybe. But the heimen said they have hides of iron. I don’t think I could take both. Not in the dark, on this terrain. She watched as one of the great creatures looked up at her, then continued on to the muddy base of another mangrove near her. She could hear it begin to dig the muddy leaf litter, building its nest. The second was also moving to lay eggs nearby.
The hours had stretched on, but the crocodiles did not leave. Arahime was trembling with weariness, when the sight of motion near her made her flinch. At first she thought it was an enormous spider, crawling from the tree in the evening twilight. It was with only a little relief that she realized that it was no spider. It was instead an enormous crab, larger than one of the coconuts she’d found, venturing down the very tree she had been sheltering. Because of the presence of the reptiles, she could do nothing as it slowly crawled over her leg and settled by her foot.
The girl was exhausted, but she did not dare sleep or move all night. At dawn, the two crocodiles slid into the water to hunt. The instant they were truly gone, Arahime drew her katana and sliced the patient crab in half. She picked up the pieces and dumped each half in her bag. It kept moving slowly. Not a spider. A crab…and maybe food. She wiped her blade on haori sleeve and sheathed it. Food. That’s one good thing, at least.
She would not be able to survive another night here, where the female crocodiles had laid their eggs and would return to protect their nests. She would not survive without sleep. Arahime drank the last of the water trapped in the tree trunk and slung her bags of coconuts, palm cabbage, and crab over her shoulder. She watched the water warily, but her eyes were only for the east, along the coastline that would lead her back to Suitengu’s Torch. Even nearer was the next rise of black cliffs that might keep her out of the wet to where she could make camp and have a safer view. If I could only follow the shoreline… But nearby, all she could see was more mangroves pushing right into the water, and the cuts of channels too wide to cross, at least at their mouths.
Her only hope was to go deeper into the jungle, past the mangroves and crocodiles of the beach, and then try to make her way to that high ground she had seen from afar. I have been lucky so far. I pray my luck holds out. There is nothing else I can do. Arahime tore a tougher strip off the palm heart and chewed it as she made her way eastward and deeper into the jungle.
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Post by Shinwa on Jun 14, 2017 12:46:09 GMT 10
I'm glad you're enjoying the story. Thank you very much for the compliments and I hope you enjoy the new chapter.
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Post by Hida Tetsuko on Jun 14, 2017 13:11:01 GMT 10
Now she is truly a "wild princess"
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Post by Shinwa on Jun 21, 2017 0:30:44 GMT 10
Mid Autumn, 1236 – The Unknown Lands
There is new prey in her hunting grounds today. Soft prey. Sweet prey. Toothless prey. Clawless prey.
Yes, it had the scent of the heaven of all animals upon it. Lesser creatures would turn away from such prey. But she was no animal. She was the daughter of the Endless Hunger, the spawn of the Red Bashe who brought eternal death. Whose fang could slay a god. She was Bonedrinker. She feared no wrath of beast or spirit. And she was hungry.
But first…to not be foolish. She had hunted and eaten such prey before. Many had a hard metal shell around them when she faced them, but this one looked soft and tender. Even so, these creatures were tricky. They could summon the sharp tooth that cut deeply. The prey she had eaten before carried their tooth in their hands. Still, they never got the chance to use their tooth before she crushed the life out of them. And no tooth, however sharp, could be summoned before she could encircle her prey. She saw no tooth in this prey’s grip, but she must be wary when dealing with such creatures. She had no enjoyment of pain.
Besides, another was near. The cat could steal her prey first, it was true. But the cat would not hesitate to strike at Her should she let down her guard within his territory. The lord of these woods would attack while she swallowed her meal and force her to disgorge. He would give her no rest while she digested her prey here.
It was no matter. She was wise and cunning and had no need of haste. She could see which way this stumbling prey was moving through the cat’s territory, and await it nearby. At just the right moment…
The bonedrinker slithered off. She was hungry, but she was always hungry. She was a hundred years old and patient. She could wait a little longer.
Once she was a safe distance from the crocodiles and her thirst and hunger could no longer be easily ignored, Arahime sat down on a fallen log to rest. She removed the bisected crab from one of her bags first. It will spoil quickly anyway. I can’t save it. She looked at the creature with assessing eyes. It’s not so different from the crabs they would catch in traps near Otosan Uchi. The meat is probably fine. She had never prepared such a thing for herself, but eating crab raw was not strange for her. Seafood around the purified city had started growing more abundant in the last 5 years, and crabs were carried live in barrels to other places like the Academy. Arahime used the kogai hairpin from her wakizashi to break open the crab, pushing it into the crevasses and eating the tender, sweet flesh. A few of the nearby hollows where leaves attached to stem still held some of the last night’s rains, and she could drink. She gratefully cleaned her kogai and dutifully buried the remains of the crab.
Refreshed by the protein, the Crane samurai-ko had to face the next obstacle. Without geta, her feet were bound to get injured, and she shuddered to think of what would happen if she found herself unable to walk. Fortunately, she still had her haori and jubon. She didn’t like the idea of giving up much of the haori; the night had been cool, and it would be colder still under the trees. But she was able to cut the sleeves from her jubon and use strips cut from them to bind pieces of bark to her feet. It was a rough effort, but it would serve.
Five hours later, Arahime realized she was beginning to lose track of the sun. When there were spaces between the trees, she could see it shining ahead of her. But now it had passed overhead. Even though the ground was clearer and less muddy the trees overhead had grown closer together, casting all into a perpetual gloom. Each time she came across the broad channel of a river in the jungle, she ended up being driven inland in order to be able to cross, and it was harder to determine where she was.
Weariness was overwhelming her also. She was forced to turn her attention to finding a place to rest. She had no hammock to string and no way of making one, and she had no desire to sleep on the ground. Ants that would eat a samurai out of his armor… She shuddered at the remembered warning. Finally, she found a tree with a few promising low branches. She picked up a pair of fallen limbs and rested them parallel to two of the branches, creating a space big enough to sit on and at least a few feet above the ground. Too tired to do more, she crawled into the pathetic nest and quickly fell asleep.
It was just before dusk when she awakened. It was hard to see in the growing gloom. Around and below her, the jungle had grown very still and quiet. Except there. Not four feet away, gleaming, powerful, and majestic in the darkness, Arahime could see a pair of glowing golden eyes. A hide of dark orange and black stripes. No mane, but a powerful head and jaws. And paws that could pull her easily from her poor shelter with a single swipe. Tiger.
She knew that she should draw and attack, that there was no chance for her should she become pinned by the magnificent animal. But for that moment, fear, awe, or raw instinct stayed her hand.
She stared into its glowing eyes; entranced.
It stared back at her.
Arahime prepared herself for death.
The tiger merely blinked slowly at her, turned, and walked away, disappearing into the darkened forest.
Arahime slept again. She did not understand why the tiger had not claimed her life. In the end, though, she decided that, whether it was her fate to die in a tiger’s jaws or not, she would surely die if she did not sleep.
In the morning, thirst and hunger stalked her again. Time for cutting practice. At the Academy, you were not allowed to compete in the Topaz championship unless you’d proved your draw against an iron do, an iron chestpiece. Arahime knew the shape and hardness of the coconut would prove a challenge, but this, at least, was something she’d been trained for. She was rested and as fresh as could be hoped for. She braced the coconut between two fallen limbs and took her stance.
Breathe.
Focus.
Strike.
Her silvery blade flashed through the muggy air and sliced the top of the green coconut, sending it spinning. Arahime couldn’t help but smile at the clean cut, and, aware of the humor of the gesture, bowed to the coconut. She wiped and resheathed her katana.
The coconut water may have been the sweetest, most delicious thing she had ever tasted. Even after just a day the leaf-trapped rainwater had been growing stagnant, but this was sweet and fresh and she drank greedily. Using the kogai again, she was able to scrape free some of the coconut flesh and eat it. Arahime found it delicious. She gave thanks to her ancestors that had left this worthy blade to her. It had saved her life many times already, and she had only been in the jungle three days.
The sweet prey has come out.
Her tongue could easily mark the boundary of the Tiger, though the prey walked oblivious through the domain it had taken her two days to pass.
She who was Bonedrinker was unwilling to challenge the cat, especially while digesting. But he was simple to avoid. The treetops were as easy to pass as the ground to her. She glided, silent, limb to limb, watching the passage, waiting for her moment. A moment of greater cover, greater gloom. A moment of distraction.
The trees grew closer together here, leaning in, dark. Vines hung from the branches. It was her favorite type of hunting ground.
A few more steps.
She shifted slightly in the treetops to loosen her coils, and then release….
“This one will be mine!”
The leaves gave only the barest rustle of warning from above, but trained reflex from ten thousand hours of sword took hold. The blade of Masarugi was out of its saya before even thought, moving with force in front and above her.
It connected and sliced through scale, skin, flesh, bone, before Arahime had even registered what had attacked her. The head and a foot or so of enormous serpent, still moving, fell to the ground at her feet, no longer attached to the body.
The Kakita had no time to stare at it, for the snake’s attack had been made with more than just the head. Already in motion, weight overborn, coil after coil of reptile fell from the close, vine-filled tree canopy above. Though no volition moved those lifeless coils, they were massive and heavy, and they dropped on the much smaller human below. The weight of them knocked Arahime to the ground.
A sharp pain stung Arahime’s back as she collapsed under the weight, driven down onto a sharp rock propped amidst the roots of the tree above. But that was an inconsequential pain compared to the giant snake that was crushing her with its deadweight. She let go her katana and heaved with all her strength, finally pulling herself free of the body of the giant serpent.
It took much more pushing and tugging to win free her katana from under the still-twitching corpse. Only then, after she’d cleaned and resheathed the blade, could Arahime take a look at the creature which had attacked her.
It was, she could see now, an enormous snake. Its body was thicker across than her forearm. Its blunt, squarish head was even larger. Its scales were swirled patterns of dark greens, blacks, reds, and browns, indistinguishable from the trees overhead. Golden eyes with slit pupils stared blankly at her, and the open mouth had wickedly sharp-looking teeth.
Arahime stared at it, unable to even comprehend the size of this creature. She could feel the trickle of blood running down her back where she had caught against the rock, and the trickle of sweat running down her face. Suddenly the overwhelming nature of the challenge of this place finally impressed itself upon her, with a blow as heavy as the descending serpent.
She had been raised in the palaces of the Emperor, in the halls of the Kakita Dueling Academy where the Emperor’s own son studied. She had never even been outside that bejeweled world. She only listened to stories of the dangers beyond those walls. She knew those dangers were out there; she was sure Harun had seen them already. But she, even in her journey to Second City, had never really left the courts.
And now she, the pretty, white-haired Crane princess, was all alone in a vast, trackless wild. She was surrounded by creatures who could eat her, from tigers to leeches to bats. Creatures so huge they could eat an elephant, if the stories of the Red Hunger were true. Creatures she could never hope to fight. And it was getting harder and harder to tell where she was. She thought she was heading east, but she couldn’t find the paths south that would reach the shoreline; the trees grew too dense. She had nothing, not even a sense of direction, to show her the way. All she had were the swords of Masarugi, a torn haori and jubon, six coconuts, the giant, probably poisonous, body of an enormous dead snake…and…what else, exactly?
Harun would say “Hope” in that calm, quiet way of his. He’d just put his head down and plow through it over and over until it is done. He probably wouldn’t even wonder if it was hopeless. It was always me with ten thousand questions and no answers.
Arahime wasn’t going to give up yet. She’d done well so far. But Second City…I could be trying to reach the Jade Sun. I’d make it there alive just as easily. If I make it back to Second City, maybe I’ll go to Tengoku next…go right up the Jade Dragon and ask him to start guiding Ningen-do again. Maybe talk to a few Kami along the way.
The image was so funny, her course so impossible, that at that moment she did the only thing she could do when faced with the hand her fate had dealt her.
She sat down on the coils of the dead snake and laughed until she cried.
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Post by Hida Tetsuko on Jun 21, 2017 0:52:35 GMT 10
Love the foreshadowing and the shout out to Harun. He'd keep it together if he was out there.
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Post by emeralddragon on Jun 21, 2017 13:41:54 GMT 10
Loved the snakes perspective, and the fight between the snake and Arahime was brilliant, over so fast that the dead body gave her more issues then the living creature did.
Her Sensei would be proud.
Also the bowing the the coconut was a cute moment and balanced the grimness of the latter chapter.
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Post by Shinwa on Jun 22, 2017 7:01:34 GMT 10
Mid Autumn, 1236 – Lion Lands - Guest Author Hida Tetsuko!
The only thing good about a frustrating day on the battlefield, Harun knew, was that it ended. As the sun was setting, the Kyoujin Platoon patched up their minor wounds and saw to their horses. It was nightfall when Harun finally made it to the fire, by then Shinjo Sayaka had put on a pot of rice to boil as well enough yakatori skewers for everyone. And as it was her night to cook, that meant there would also be flat bread.
Harun sat down to wait, pulling a small piece of paper from inside his kimono and unfolding it carefully. He had ready the words many times, he knew them by heart by now. But still he liked to read them.
In his mind, Harun could see Arahime serving the Clan in Zogeku, the white-haired grey-eyed Crane girl no doubt causing a stir amongst the darker-skinned Zogeki.
“Still reading that thing, Harun?”
Harun looked up, the Gunso Koharu was looking at him sceptically. The Kyoujin were a close group. It was hard to keep secrets. They knew about Arahime, way more than Harun had intended to tell them after an evening when Sayaka had passed around some kumis she had made.
“Have I told you it’s a hopeless case?” Koharu asked. She came from a peasant background and had an extremely practical mind.
“You have, Gunso,” said Harun with a nod.
“Well, it’s clear you haven’t listened, as you’re still mooning over that Crane girl,” Koharu said. “Might as well wish for the moon itself.”
Utaku Asuna’s words came back to him. You know it’s not going to happen, Harun…she’s Crane and she’s kuge…she’s never going to marry you…she’s going to be traded away like a sack of rice…
“No, I think it’s romantic,” said Daidoji Akemi, smiling at Harun. “This is war, and it’s been going on longer than we’ve been alive. Sometimes I want to take a rest from cold, hard realities.” She touched the pistol that hung from a holster on her obi.
The food was ready then, Harun put the paper away. He looked around at the rest of the Kyoujin while they ate. He would go with them anywhere, and before the year was out they would be marching on Toshi Ranbo.
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Post by Shinwa on Jun 23, 2017 6:37:00 GMT 10
Mid Autumn, 1236 – The Unknown Lands
She might have made it, except for the Bonedrinker.
The cut she had received when she fell after slaying it was so minor, it seemed inconsequential. It stung, certainly, but she was more troubled by the torn haori and how she would mend it than the injury itself. She could not see it of course, situated as it was under her shoulder blade. If she stretched, she could reach it, just barely, but she had no sake to pour on it or bandages to wrap herself with even if she could bind it properly. But the warmth of the tropical sky and the jade sun would heal it quickly, Arahime was certain.
It was not to be.
The day after fighting the Bonedrinker went well. She even found a fig tree, heavy in season and filled with tiny monkeys that shrieked and screamed at her as she filled her bags with the ripe, juicy fruit. She smiled at them and, amused and grateful for the bounty, thanked them for allowing her a share of the spoils. It rained in the evening again, and this time she was ready, rinsing the blood and dirt from her skin and catching the sweet waters in the remains of some of the coconut shells she had cut. She drank deeply.
But under the leaves and in the humid air, her clothes would not dry out, and she had to sleep in them damp and cold. In the morning, the wound on her back burned and she felt thirsty and off center. When she touched it, the skin felt hot and puffy. Stay and rest? Go on and hope for shelter? She pushed herself on.
Her fever climbed as she forced herself through another day. The skin of her face and hands felt stretched and swollen. She drank more, but the water tasted bad. She curled up in a wide-leafed bush for a fitful sleep, too exhausted to continue. None pursued her but the terrible dreams that were beginning to creep in.
Another day. The fever did not slack, nor did the pain. She did not make it very far that day before she had to sleep again.
The next day she felt a horrible burning sensation on her back more painful than anything she had ever imagined. She could feel....something rooting around under her haori and jubon, under her skin. Her fingers scrambled, panicked, to reach it, even if she had no idea how to stop this horror, but she could not reach. Even if she could have, it was just as likely to make it worse. The skin was peeled back and seeping now, and when she looked at her fingertips her hand had come away filthy with blood and pus. The thoughts moved, ephemeral, through the scattered cords of her fevered mind. Can’t stop. I can’t stop here. If I stop....I’ll die. I refuse.
She tried to cut the last of her coconuts, but her strength and focus eluded her and it rolled away from her blow. She tried twice more, and, failing, gave a scream of rage and frustration. With difficulty, she resheathed her sword.
Still she stumbled on.
Images and sounds....fragments of memory....came to her unbidden. Visions of the past surrounded her, crowding close, their significance eluding her.
Her mother weeping into her blankets, shoulders quivering with the power of her tears. Arahime’s little-girl hands tug on her elbow to make her come out.
“Mama! Mama! What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
Her mother does not answer, but lays very still for a long moment. Then she sits up, face tear-streaked, but composed. She radiates the calm confidence she always seems to have, even undershod with grief. “My....” A pause. Time to start again. “Someone I know did a terrible, evil thing last night. She killed someone I cared for deeply.” Her mother gathers her up into her arms and wraps them tightly around her. “But don’t worry, Arahime-chan. She won’t hurt you. I will protect you.”
Part of her, the young child that wailed franticly in her mind, longed for her mother’s embrace, longed to hear those words again. If I stop…I won’t see them again. I won’t see my parents again.
Arahime stumbled onwards under the trees. Only movement and memory.
”Faster, Papa! Faster!”
Her father laughs as he holds his horse on a loose lead, one hand resting gently on Arahime’s leg to keep her securely in the saddle. From up here, she could reach out and touch the top of his greying, curly hair. She releases one of the reins to do so.
“No…hold on to the reins, Arahime-chan. You will confuse him if you let go until he’s used to you. You must make friends with him first.”
She dutifully takes back the reins. “But he likes me. See! I want to go as fast as Harun!”
Her father glances over to see his cousin’s son already being led by his stablekeeper into a solid trot and sighed. “Maybe I’m not ready for my little Crane wildflower to grow up so quickly, Arahime-chan. I will go a little faster.”
Arahime stumbled. I need to go faster....Father will be at Second City....he’ll lead me there.... The world was a blur of greens and browns, shadowed and distorted around the edges, but offered no guides.
Her mother comes forward, dressed in her kimonos of white trimmed with blue and Imperial jade. She hands Arahime a daisho that seems ancient. The saya is a beautiful pearl white, and the tsuba of the katana is gold with the image of a crane flying over a river scattered with cherry blossom. “Your grandmother’s sword,” she says, a soft smile curving her lips.
The image faded away like a ghost, replaced by another image.
Another white-haired girl, no older than ten, with a serious face. Though so young, she already has an earthy beauty that had been compared to that of Doji Mioko. She looks up with resolute gray eyes at an older man with craggy features, graying hair bound in a topknot, sky blue hashimo and hakama stained with blood. He bears the mon of a Kenshinzen.
“Your grandfather’s sword,” the Kenshinzen says, desperately trying to mask his fear from his children though his voice cracks with grief. He hands the young girl the blade. “Keep it safe. Keep your brother and your mother safe. You, and Toshiki, you hold with you the honor of our family. Our clan. Our Empire. Serve them well.”
Another image.
The victorious young Topaz Champion, black hair and gray eyes, unable to hold back the grin as he bows.
”Your grandfather’s sword,” says the aged Sensei, his robes marked with the Kenshinzen mon. He draws the blade and saya from his own obi and hands them over. The corner of his mouth crooks upwards. “I will not be needing it any more, after all.”
Flicker....
”Your grandfather’s sword.” The stiff-necked general with the Kenshinzen mon passes the blade to a young soldier.
Flicker....
”Your grandfather’s sword.” An well-dressed courtier....
Flicker....
”Your grandfather’s sword.” A grieving widow…
Flicker....
”Your grandfather’s sword.”
Generations flickered past, warriors and poets, children and ancient, men and women…and Arahime stumbled forward. I need to get the sword home....I promised. I promised I’d keep it safe....
She slept at some point, then woke, and when she did, a piercing pain filled her whole left side. She found herself choking and gasping for air. She coughed, and, looking down, found blood staining the back of her sleeve where she had covered her mouth. A few coherent thoughts caught on the fever-frayed tendrils of her mind.
I have to get to Second City.... it could be just a few miles away.... It could be right there.... Harun will be waiting for me....he promised he’d come....
A last fevered image amidst the green and growing darkness.
He looks so handsome, wearing the armor of the Topaz Champion. Black curly hair, dark skin, brown, serious eyes looking down at her. She laughs at him to see him looking so magnificent. It is better to do that than do what she really wished. It is cheating at the game, after all, for her to tell him that he makes her heart flutter. You aren’t supposed to feel that way for your classmate. You aren’t supposed to feel anything but your passion for duty. Samurai.
But he does not laugh back. “I’m leaving, Arahime-chan. I’ve been given permission to go on musha shuga, to visit with my birth mother’s clan. To see what I could learn of her, and of my father.”
Her laughter ends. “So quickly? I thought it would take at least a month to get your assignment...”
Harun shakes his head. “I want to reach Dragon lands before the armies start marching. But don’t worry. I promise I will be back in time to watch your Gempukku. You are sure to win the Topaz Championship.”
....I Promise....
She laughs again, but it is false. “I’ll hold you to that, Harun-san....and if you don’t I’ll....”
The serious young man grins. “You’ll what, Arahime-san?”
She opens her mouth to say something tender and hurt, then shuts it again, changing her mind. Too sweet. Better to be tart. “I’ll tell you exactly what I think about you and such terrible ill manners! That’s what. And that’s a promise!”
....I Promise....
....I Promise....
Footstep follows footstep. Lips stained with blood. She can feel them in her...can feel the poison in her blood.
...I Promise...
Her fever burns. She can barely see. Too much fire...
...I Promise...
She coughs again…She can’t seem to get enough air to fill her lungs. Too much air...
She falls to her knees, and can’t find the strength to stand again. No strength left, only pain.
I am not going to die here.
My name is Kakita Arahime and I am not going to die here.
I am a daughter of the line of Kashiwa and I am not going to die here
My line is the line of a hundred generations of Kenshinzen. A line of Empresses.
I descend from the blood of Yasurugi and Konoshiko. I descend from the blood of Kakita and the First Men. I descend from the blood of Doji-no-kami, daughter of Heaven.
I am not going to die here.
I will not abandon the daisho of Masarugi here. I will not abandon the blades of Kaori here.
I will not die in some hot, filthy jungle to be eaten alive by insects.
I am not going to let my mother and father mourn me.
I am not going to let Harun, that baka, ditch me without giving him a piece of my mind.
I am not going to die here.
I am not going to die...
I am not...
I am...
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Post by Hida Tetsuko on Jun 23, 2017 7:39:46 GMT 10
Aw, I really liked that update.
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Post by emeralddragon on Jun 23, 2017 13:25:10 GMT 10
Well done.
We have definitely hit her low...from here things can only get better.
I hope that wound only festered and didn't go gangrenous. Its not in a good place for amputation.
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Post by Shinwa on Jun 23, 2017 23:42:54 GMT 10
Thanks. I don't think you can amputate a lung, unfortunately. This story might be shorter than I thought.... But yes, this is as about as bad as I think it could get for anyone, really. I had to do some cleanup this morning. I just get too eager to post. Oh well.
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Post by Shinwa on Jun 25, 2017 23:11:11 GMT 10
Late Autumn, 1236 – Toshi Ranbo Guest Author Hida Tetsuko!
It had been raining for three days when the message came. Three days of raids at the city walls while the mud grew deeper and thicker. Three days, and Isawa Taka said the rain would probably continue.
The day had been bad, losses to Kyoujin Platoon though the Nikutai Utaku Kenji told him not to blame himself.
He sat with a writing tablet in a corner of the tent he shared with the other Nikutai. The letters never got easier, and Harun wasn’t even sure if they would get to the families of the dead. But it was important to write them, it was his responsibility to his men.
“Gunso.” Utaku Kenji poked his head inside the tent. “Messenger for you, from the Champion.” From his father, this could mean good news...or bad. All the same, he couldn’t keep him waiting. He pulled the hood of his purple wool cloak over his head and headed out into the rain.
Soon he was on his horse, heading towards the Emerald Champion’s tent. He could see the emerald green banner, flying free in the middle of the vast encampment that surrounded Toshi Ranbo. They had been laying siege to the city for three weeks and only had just begun to make an impression on the city’s defenses. Hopefully, that would change and soon, before autumn had turned to winter.
When he arrived at the tent, Kakita Karasu was talking with his second in command Akodo Ryoichi. At Harun’s arrival, Ryoichu made a bow and took his leave. He gave as small smile to Harun, it looked sad and a little sympathetic. Harun had known Ryoichi most of his life, he was almost family. What did he know that Harun didn’t?
Harun made a bow, as was fitting of a soldier of the Emerald Legions. But the informal way that Karasu received his bow made it clear that he hadn’t sent for Harun as his commander, but as his father.
“Father, is there something wrong?” Harun asked. One of his siblings? His mother? Or was it...no, that was too terrible to think about.
“Sit down, Harun,” Karasu said. He looked tired, older than his thirty-nine years.
“Is it something terrible?” Harun asked. “Is it...my mother?”
“No, no,” Karasu said, shaking his head. “It’s...Arahime.”
Harun held his breath, he had been dreading hearing her name. Surely, nothing could have happened to her…
“She was travelling onboard ship with the Crane ambassador,” Karasu said. “During the night, she fell overboard.”
The words cut like a blade at Harun’s heart. “But...she knows how to swim...she couldn’t...”
Karasu shook his head. “Even if she did manage to swim to shore, there’s no hope. She would have been torn to pieces by animals. I’m sorry.”
I’m sorry...
I’m sorry...
There’s no hope...
There's no hope...
The words seemed far away to Harun.
Arahime couldn’t be dead. It couldn’t be true.
He saw her, pushing him into a cupboard at the Academy to hide from Hayate. Proudly shouting that if they wanted to know where Harun was, they would have to fight her.
She was in the garden, beneath the blooming sakura tree, playing The Promise of Heiwa on her shamisen. A trailing pink hana kanzashi in her white hair.
She was beside him, riding her horse in the summer twilight, her long hair streaming behind her as she urged her horse into a gallop. Taking off and yelling for Harun to hurry up.
Arahime couldn’t be dead. How was it possibly so when she was so full of life?
Karasu’s hand touched his shoulder gently, like a father comforting a child. And like a child, Harun sought reassurance in his face. A denial, that it was all a terrible mistake.
But there was none, only truth.
Harun fell to his knees, a low moan escaping his lips. Tears flowed down his cheeks, his hands pulled at his beard, his hair. He wanted to feel pain, anything to deaden the pain he felt inside.
Karasu grabbed his hands. His voice was cold, and harsher than Harun had ever heard him. “Harun, we will find who did this and make them pay. The Crane have sworn.”
“Send me, father,” Harun pleaded. “Let my blade avenge Arahime’s death. Send me!”
Karasu shook his head. “No,” he said. “I know you want to; I know your heart burns with the rage of vengeance. But that is not your place, my son.”
Harun bowed his head, letting his tears flow freely. Each one a reproach on himself for never speaking to her, for never telling how he felt. How he loved her, that she completed him, how he was lost without her. There were not enough tears, not nearly enough.
It was evening when he returned to camp. Kenji, seeing him riding in, made sure that everyone kept their distance as Harun went to the tent. His grief was soon lost in the nothingness of sleep.
The next morning when he awoke, his eyes were swollen from crying, his mood grey and lifeless. But still, he dressed, still donned his armour. Still, he mounted his horse and went into battle with his men.
The morning after his father Nakura had been killed, his mother Yamada still got her sword and fought beside Karasu in battle. Still went before the Emperor and petitioned to have Karasu made Emerald Champion. There were still battles to fight, she had said. There were always battles to fight, Harun knew, and this was his duty.
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