Post by M'thack-kir on Apr 30, 2017 17:10:29 GMT 10
If you weren't already convinced of my status as a Phoenix fanboy, this unfinished fanfic will do the job :3
The young samurai was grateful for losing his footing; if he had not tripped over he might have died. His opponent's weapon swung with lethal force as it narrowly missed his head, colliding instead with empty space. As it was, Asako Meiyuu wondered if any of his ancestors looked down on him with disgust whilst he lay prone on the grass, his broken shinai beside him. Slivers of wood bit into the soft flesh between Meiyuu's thumb and index finger. He knew touching it could only make it worse, but in spite of the sharp pain he found he could not resist the opportunity to flex the injured hand a fraction. Unfortunately, the movement shifted the splinters a little, causing fresh pain and fresher blood to emanate from the wound. Meiyuu winced.
"Asako-sama, are you alright?" Shigeaki's tone was laden mostly with concern, but Meiyuu's court training allowed him to detect guilt and a good measure of remorse, too. Not that he expected anything else.
Meiyuu tried to calm himself by inhaling deeply, but he found that his injured hand would not be ignored; the sharp pain was now joined by the dull throbbing of his pulse, as though his heart knew there was a leak somewhere and rushed to find out why. At least the splinters were plugging the punctures they had made. Mostly.
"Asako-sama?"
Meiyuu looked up now reflexively, surprised to hear Shigeaki so near. Had not only a second passed? "It is nothing, Kakita-san."
The Crane bushi crouched down beside the fallen Phoenix. His chest was bare, as Shigeaki never trained fully clothed, but the sky blue hakama pleated pants he wore were of exquisite quality for fabric familiar with sword practice. Patches where sweat still made the silk glisten brightly under the morning sun were evident.
"With all due respect, Asako-sama, I am certain that my Doji cousins taught you to accept the help of friends better than that. Assuming you still consider me a friend after that bout." It was almost a question, but not quite; more of an uncertainty in the faintness of Shigeaki's voice.
Meiyuu did the best thing he could think of to put the other samurai at ease: he laughed. Sure, it was not as elegant as an impromptu haiku on companionship, but rare indeed was the poet who could devise a witty masterpiece even as he lay on his belly with a bleeding hand. "Kakita-san, it is true that my Crane sensei have taught me to seek out alliances to achieve diplomacy. However, I think you forget that I have the soul of a Phoenix, and most members of my clan are raised with a strong sense of humility."
Shigeaki nodded and extended his hand to help Meiyuu up. "Apparently you take that to heart more than others, prostrating yourself on the ground and paying respects to the samurai who just defeated you in combat."
Meiyuu laughed again, then with Shigeaki's aid managed to stand up awkwardly. Meiyuu's own clothing had darkened all along his front, the result of the damp morning grass and dirt that carpeted the training grounds of the castle dojo. He instinctively began to wipe his hands down the fabric, only to wince again from his injury. "Kakita-san, having just sparred with you I am reminded as to why we courtiers call upon our yojimbo instead of wielding a katana ourselves."
Shigeaki frowned. "You might be used to the ink brush, but you are still samurai, Asako-sama."
"You have a point, but I doubt my duties will lead to the battlefield. Father seems to have other uses for me. I should get this tended to." Meiyuu bowed slowly to the Crane, wary of losing his balance after his fall. "I do apologise for interrupting your morning training, Kakita-san, I have caused you trouble."
Shigeaki returned the bow before replying, "No trouble at all, on my end, Asako-sama. I only wish you would practise more regularly. Danger does not wait for a yojimbo to be present."
"Misa-chan, please ? I hate to mention it, but I am bleeding here." Meiyuu held out his hand, showing his little sister the wound.
Asako Misa, a year younger than her brother and a good foot shorter, did not bother looking up from the scroll she was reading, a treatise on the musical preferences of air kami. "Can't Isawa-san take care of it for you? I am not very confident with healing magic." Isawa Shota was the resident water shugenja charged with a myriad of roles at Nikesake Castle, among them overseeing the magical defence of the city itself, and just as importantly, advising Meiyuu's father on all matters relating to the kami.
"I couldn't find him, and after several minutes of searching I realised I couldn't feel the pain in my hand anymore. Is that bad?"
Misa sighed noisily, closing her scroll and looking up from her cushion at her brother. Judging by the furrowed brow and pursed lips, she was not impressed by Meiyuu's combat injury.
"Seriously, Misa, we're the same flesh and blood." To emphasise this statement, he waved his hand at her.
There might not have been too much blood visible, but it was enough to soften his sister's facial expression. She looked her brother up and and down before setting her sight on his right hand. "Ume, bring me a bowl of water," she commanded confidently, without looking at her servant who was kneeling in a far corner of the room, "and some sake, any quality."
"Hai, Asako-sama," the servant replied before leaving the room through a rear entrance.
Meiyuu shook his head. "I don't understand why you petitioned so hard for father to allow you to move into these chambers. Don't you feel exposed with so many exits? Besides, I thought these chambers were haunted."
Misa giggled dismissively. "I can protect myself from ghosts just fine, brother. The air kami like frequenting this area of the castle, which means so do I. Now hurry up and sit," she instructed, patting a cushion adjacent to her, "Or don't you want my help after all?"
He might be in his early twenties and have more authority in the city of Nikesake as the governor's third born child, but Meiyuu hurried to comply with his younger sister's wishes. He knelt down in a well-practised seiza position and placed his hand in Misa's open palms.
There was silence as she closed her eyes, and Meiyuu felt his body shiver, starting from his hand and ending with the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He shrugged uncomfortably, and watched his sister almost fearfully, not certain he liked whatever she was doing.
The rice paper door to one side of the room slid open suddenly, and Meiyuu flinched. The servant Ume entered through the open door, carrying a wooden tray with a bowl and two porcelain sake bottles.
"Relax, brother. You are harder for the air kami to read if you're all stiff."
"I don't recall asking for you-or the air kami-to read me, Misa," Meiyuu responded tersely.
His sister just laughed sweetly. "Isn't that interesting? I don't remember asking permission. This is my price for helping you. Ooh, the air kami thought your fall this morning was particularly amusing. They just wish they had thought of it first. Apparently it was an earth kami in the ground that made you lose your footing. Why do you think-" Misa gasped and opened her eyes widely, making direct contact with her brother's, although her gaze was filled with realisation whereas his was confused.
"An earth kami you say?"
Misa cleared some space on the low table in front of them for Ume to place the tray; the servant then moved back to her original position in the room as Meiyuu's sister poured a whole bottle of sake into the bowl of water gently, so as to avoid spilling. "First thing is first, brother. Let me fix your hand. The other bottle is for you to drink, if the pain increases more than I can control."
"But what happened with the earth ka-"
"Shh, let me work. If you distract me your hand might turn into water, instead of the water fixing your hand."
Meiyuu felt his On begin to slip through worry, but he managed to hold on tightly by mentally reciting his favourite tanka poem on bush warblers by Kitsune Harusaki.
Misa began muttering strange sounds under her breath as she immersed Meiyuu's right hand in the diluted sake.
He had cringed, predicting the fresh wave of stabbing pain his injury would bring when it made contact with the alcohol, but instead all Meiyuu felt was a tingling numbness from his fingertips to his wrist. He gathered up the courage to peer straight into the bowl, and was amazed to see the splinters of the broken shinai that had embedded themselves into his skin were dissolving rapidly. He stared at a sliver of wood, watching for the moment when he would see nothing but water where the wood used to be.
But then his whole arm was on fire, and Meiyuu could not help but scream in agony as his body trembled under the strain.
And yet, just as suddenly as the pain had begun, it ended, Meiyuu's arm again mercifully numb.
"Uh, sorry, that was my small mistake brother. I had to direct the water kami to a splinter that was rather firmly stuck in the muscle of your hand, and I forgot to remind the kami about taking on your pain. The water kami are very generous; they are happy to withstand the burden of someone's pain through the infinite power of the ocean, but they'll only remember to do it if you constantly ask it of them. Anyway, your hand is all better now. It might smell like sake for a while though...Brother? Meiyuu, can you hear me?"
Meiyuu rubbed his forehead with his left hand, before nodding slowly. "I understand. Thank you for taking the time to help me." Meiyuu dried his right hand on his still dirty clothing and examined his sister's handiwork. "Looks and feels as good as new."
Misa smiled warmly. "Happy to help. I do recommend not lighting any candles with that hand until you have washed thoroughly though. Just to be on the safe side." She waited for her brother to laugh, but after a few seconds of awkward silence she sighed. "I am sorry for that, Meiyuu. When it comes to the kami, my only true affinity is with the air kami. The spirits of the other elements usually ignore me or have difficulty in hearing my prayers."
Meiyuu tore his gaze from his repaired hand to look at his sister. "I appreciate your effort, Misa-chan, thank you. To show my gratitude, I will give you the very next painting that my rejuvenated hand creates. I think I have some inspiration for it already. How does that sound?"
Misa nodded, relieved that she had not harmed her relationship with her elder brother. "Sounds like a fair exchange to me, although if I don't like the painting I will have to take my spell back!" She laughed gleefully. "Now, do you want to know more about the earth kami who made you trip over this morning? I can throw that information in for free, without expecting payment of a second painting."
Meiyuu made a show of considering the offer, as though he would potentially reject it. Then he grinned. "Of course! What would convince an earth kami to pay attention to my existence? I wasn't wearing my lucky netsuke when Shigeaki and I were sparring this morning."
"Luck had nothing to do with it, brother. I think that what happened this morning was-"
Another rice paper door slid open, and Shiba Junbi stepped into the room. "Please forgive my intrusion, Meiyuu-sama, Misa-sama," the elderly samurai intoned, bowing lightly. He had retired from service as their father's yojimbo a decade earlier, but his confident bearing and broad shoulders made it easy to imagine him still wearing his resplendent orange lacquered armour that stood on display in the castle's court chambers. Junbi had not stopped serving the governor of Nikesake however, taking on the role of karo, and as Meiyuu's father's chief attendant secretary he had many duties to fulfil.
"Of course, Junbi-san, I'm sure you must be on a mission of great haste to enter my chambers so unceremoniously," Misa replied, bristling. "Tell us, what is so important that you had to barge in here unannounced?"
To his credit, Shiba Junbi did not get flustered by the words of a girl a third his age, although he did nod again in apology. "It is as you say, Misa-sama. A servant has just brought a missive from your cousin Kazuo-sama, summoning your father and Kamen-sama immediately to the Blue Tiled Room, but the governor is elsewhere in the city carrying out his duties, and Kamen-sama accompanied him. It seems rather urgent."
Misa looked at her brother, concerned, but Meiyuu ignored her. "Thank you Junbi-san, I will attend to the matter in Father's stead. As for the commander of the Provincial Guard, some of his subordinates will have to do. Send a servant to gather the first two guardsmen they can find. They are to meet me at the castle bridge immediately, armoured and armed. Hopefully there will be no need for them to find glory in battle today."
"Hai, Meiyuu-sama." Shiba Junbi bowed and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Meiyuu in turn stood up, moving to exit his sister's chambers via another door.
"Brother, where are you going? That isn't the direction of the castle gate." Misa's confused tone matched her one raised eyebrow.
He just turned back to face his sister and gave her a coy smile. "This is a matter of urgency, Misa, and I can't go outside in my dirt-smeared training clothing. The reputation of our family is at stake; I simply must get changed!"
When you are the son of a city governor, it is only natural to take great care in your personal appearance. Trained in the courtly arts by the Crane as he was, Meiyuu was more acutely aware than most of his kin of the knowledge that could be gleaned from examining another's attire. He himself had emerged as the victor at a moon viewing party three years earlier as the direct result of alluding to the Unicorn ambassador's fur-trimmed kimono in his poem regarding respect for one's ancestors. Most others in polite society would have avoided discussing something as taboo as animal flesh, but Meiyuu took the risk and bested the other poets with his unorthodox imagery; he also earned himself a friend in the Unicorn embassy at a young age.
The young samurai had also witnessed the abrupt dismissal of a few ambassadorial aides-especially at the Scorpion embassy-due to sloppy attire, as there was little room for error in a Great Clan's court.
The importance of looking one's best aside, Meiyuu also knew that time could potentially be of the essence, and so his training clothes were dropped in an unkempt heap only a few seconds after the lone rice paper door to his quarters had closed behind him. He rushed past the low table in the middle of the receiving room where his writing implements lay, brushes neatly organised along one side based on thickness and quality of the horse hair used. Several were still drying, but otherwise there was nothing to suggest that the governor's son had utilised the space today.
Meiyuu dashed behind the antique shoji screen depicting a battle in a forest between a pride of ferocious lionesses and a single flying phoenix; the flames of the latter flooded the landscape, enveloping the outstretched claws of the former. Somehow, the trees and leaves of this forest appeared unharmed. Meiyuu had always considered the concept of the piece particularly arrogant, but it had been painted by his ancestor Asako Kazen, a Nikesake governor in his own time, and the technical brushwork was truly exquisite.
Behind the shoji screen was an open entrance into a small storage room lined with shelves, probably designed by the original architect of the castle to house extra weapons or provisions. The room currently contained all of Meiyuu's clothing, each garment folded with care. Unlike his sister, Meiyuu had not utilised the privilege of his position to acquire a personal servant, instead seeing to his needs himself, although he did frequently rely on the servants who roamed Nikesake castle. He had categorised his attire according to various criteria, from colour schemes to gaudiness, even how complicated the garment was to don. The shelving nearest the doorway was where Meiyuu kept his simple clothes, and he hurriedly grabbed a sunrise orange kimono and its matching yellow obi sash before putting it on, deciding there was probably too little time for an under-kimono.
It took only a few minutes, but in his haste Meiyuu had wrapped his sash too tightly around his waist, and as he stepped further into the wardrobe to claim his crimson red haori jacket, adorned on the back with his family's mon so he would be recognised on the streets, he found himself unable to lift his arms up enough to put the haori on over his kimono.
"This isn't working out too well," he muttered before beginning to fix up his obi. "I am probably wasting valuable time at this point."
It took only a handful of seconds to get everything sorted, although it felt like too many minutes to Meiyuu. He walked back into his receiving room, inspected himself with the small hand-mirror that was almost as venerable as the shoji screen, and then nodded in approval. "I shouldn't shame my family going out in public like this," he observed, smiling, but just as quickly as the smile had appeared it was gone again, as Meiyuu remembered what he had forgotten in the wardrobe. He ran into the back of the room to claim his hat before rushing out of his quarters, leaving his door slightly open.
Asako Meiyuu had been under the impression that he had gotten to the drawbridge of Nikesake castle with some measure of swiftness, but when he arrived he found the two guards he had sent for already waiting for him. Shiba Kenji was ten years Meiyuu's senior, and much wiser, having served two Nikesake governors and earned great glory in the war of Dark Fire some years earlier. He was garbed in orange armour, complete with a mempo in the shape of a phoenix beak; the iron war mask adequately covered the scarring Kenji had sustained fighting against the Dark Fire Oracle's immolated servants, whilst also providing him with an intimidating air of authority, which was well warranted considering his position as deputy commander of the Provincial Guard. At his side he held a traditional naginata polearm, and the staff appeared as polished as the steel blade embedded at its head. He bowed low but stiffly at Meiyuu's approach.
"Meiyuu-sama," he grunted.
The other samurai who had answered Meiyuu's summons was the man who had almost ended his life earlier that day, Kakita Shigeaki. Whilst a member of the elite Provincial Guard defending the Phoenix Clan's southernmost holding and its environs, Shigeaki, as the only samurai to ever be inducted who was not a member of the Phoenix Clan, was adorned as he always was when on duty: in his sky blue and white lacquered armour embossed with the mon of the Crane Clan. Unlike Shiba Kenji, Shigeaki wore no helmet or mempo, and did not wield a naginata, even though the polearm was often considered the core weapon of the Provincial Guard. Instead, his bleached white hair flowed behind his head in a simple ponytail, and as for weaponry he relied solely on his daisho, having trained in the art of iaijutsu with the Kakita sensei renowned for their skill with the katana.
"Asako-sama," Shigeaki almost whispered, bowing. Meiyuu noticed him glance at his hand, checking for signs of the injury he had caused only hours before. It made Meiyuu realise what a precarious position Shigeaki must have felt himself in, causing harm to a person it was his duty to protect.
Meiyuu bowed, though not as low the other two did. "Kenji-san, Kakita-san, I am glad you were both not fulfilling duties elsewhere. I need an escort to the Blue Tiled Room, my cousin has asked for my father and the Guard to see him." He knew there would be no questions despite the mysterious summons and it was not just because the samurai of the Provincial Guard were expected to obey any order from a member of the governor's family; Kenji and Shigeaki were both intelligent samurai and would have likewise wondered what right a philosopher's son had to summon not only the governor but also the Guard. Meiyuu turned and walked along the drawbridge, over the moat protecting the castle.
"Hai," both guardsmen responded as they moved to follow, each falling into step on one side of their charge.
Meiyuu strolled out onto the wide main road of Nikesake. Since the city's founding eight centuries earlier, the other Great Clans had slowly invested resources in acquiring favours and land along this road, each establishing an embassy in the vicinity of Nikesake castle. Usually when he walked along Friendship Street, Meiyuu gazed at each of the estates erected by the other clans, but he had no time for that today.
"Asako-sama, good day!"
Meiyuu's attention was drawn to an elderly woman who was hobbling down the misshapen rock formation that comprised the entrance stairway to the Silver Dragon Embassy. Her back had bent as a sheaf of barley with age, and she supported herself with a walking stick that was a handspan too short for her needs, but Meiyuu had never witnessed anything other than a smile on Kitsuki Haname's face in all the time he had known her. Even now her eyes had crinkled closed in an expression of joy. Meiyuu gestured for his two bodyguards to stop, and then bowed to the approaching woman. "May Hotei-no-kami continue to grant his blessing of contentment on you, Kitsuki-san. You are well?" As he asked this question, he wondered how long this conversation would take, knowing he could not be discourteous to an ambassador.
Kitsuki Haname had been the resident Dragon Clan ambassador in Nikesake for just over thirty years, a statistic unheard of in almost any city in the whole of Rokugan, but she was well suited for life here. She had taken to the local custom of outrageous headgear with zeal, and today her head was adorned with a particularly unique hat made entirely of various sized bells, some as large as a ripe plum, all sewn onto a wicker frame that spiralled two feet toward the sky. "I am all the better for seeing you, young lord. I actually wanted to invite you inside for some tea, but I see that you are busy. Another time?"
Meiyuu managed to resist sighing with relief, instead bowing low to hide the smile threatening to break out on his lips. "It would be my pleasure, Kitsuki-san."
Haname's eyes crinkled with joy once again. "It is settled then. Off you go, now, Asako-sama, I am certain duty awaits!" Conversation concluded, the elderly Dragon turned around and began the slow, steady task of climbing back up the crooked stairs with the aid of her stunted walking stick.
Meiyuu picked up the pace from here, and as his two companions matched their strides with his, Shigeaki whispered, "That could have gone for hours, I am convinced she is part Sparrow."
Meiyuu politely ignored the jest, but he could feel the disapproving glance that Shiba Kenji shot across him, aimed at his junior.
"Meiyuu-sama, what a surprise to find you here!" An Asako scholar-Meiyuu had met him once but couldn’t remember his name-stood outside the entrance to the Blue Tiled Room, his eyes squinting from having spent too much time reading by candlelight.
"It shouldn't be," Meiyuu retorted, "my cousin sent for me. Why is he not here to greet me himself?" More importantly, considering Kazuo would have been expecting the arrival of the city governor and the commander of the Provincial Guard, why would he have risked the consequences of not waiting for them personally?
The scholar bowed apologetically. "Yes, well, circumstances inside are not...ideal. We have had to close off access to everyone since this morning. Of course, you and the Guard are welcome. I believe you will find Kazuo-san in his father's study." Unsure of what else to say, the scholar bowed yet again, and then moved to intercept a monk who approached to enter the renowned academy of knowledge and debate.
Kenji stepped forward. "I will enter first, Meiyuu-sama. Shige-kun, watch the young lord's back." The deputy commander entered the building, leaving Meiyuu and and Shigeaki no time to respond. They fell into line behind Kenji, and a wary silence fell upon all three samurai.
The Blue Tiled Room was the largest library in the southern Phoenix provinces, having been established by the second governor of Nikesake and carried on by the bloodline of his nephew. Shortly after Meiyuu was born his uncle Soden married the last scion of that lineage, bonding the bloodlines once more. His cousin Kazuo arrived in the world two years later.
As he walked along the narrow corridors that led to inner courtyards, to debating theatres and, of course, to multi-storeyed rooms housing the largest collections of gaijin scrolls in all of the empire, Meiyuu felt uneasy. This was the first time in his entire life that the lanterns in the hallways had ever been unlit, and the echoes of philosophers arguing vehemently in a distant chamber were not present. What had changed since Meiyuu's last visit two weeks earlier? What had been able to inflict such evil chi upon a structure famous for its welcoming and inquisitive atmosphere? He fervently hoped that he would be an adequate substitute for his father in this matter, but he felt uncertain.
Once they arrived at the north wing of the complex, the private residential area of the caretaker's family, Meiyuu finally saw his first glimpse of candlelight ahead, but as he followed Shiba Kenji into the receiving room of his uncle, he inhaled what tasted like ash-ridden air. He coughed lightly, not wanting to lose face in front of his two bodyguards, but the foul taste remained, lingering in his mouth and nose. Had Soden's wife Chiyo made a mistake in her cooking recently?
No one was in the receiving room. Kenji turned to glance at the young lord and then grunted, "Still nobody greets us, Meiyuu-sama. If you will, I ask that you stay here under Kakita-san's protection while I see why our host has forgotten his manners." His mempo covered much of his facial expression, but Meiyuu noted the furrow of concern in Kenji's eyebrows. "Shige-kun, be ready," he added quietly, before moving over to the rice paper door leading into Asako Soden's study.
"Yes sir," the Crane replied without pause, unsheathing his katana with silent ease from its scabbard and taking a defensive stance in front of Meiyuu. The self-confidence in those two words made Meiyuu realise for the first time that this Crane samurai was prepared to give his life for a younger samurai from another clan, and the privilege of that was humbling.
Kenji snapped the door open, but after a moment's glance he lowered his naginata to a resting position, blade pointing downwards. He cleared his throat before looking back at his two companions. "Meiyuu-sama?"
From his current position Meiyuu couldn't see through the doorway into the study, but in the seconds since the door had been opened the specks of ash in the air seemed much thicker. He tried to stifle another short cough, and felt tickling phlegm catching at the back of his throat.
A strained voice called out from within the study, "Meiyuu?"
It was a familiar voice, and yet it was alien at the same time; Meiyuu had never heard anything but optimism in his cousin's tone before. Fearing all manner of things, Meiyuu approached the doorway, steadied his bearing, and then entered.
Asako Soden's study had been an austere room with few furnishings; he had always argued that his place was out in the other wings of the Blue Tiled Room complex, encountering new or forgotten knowledge, or engaging in scholarly debate. Aside from his desk, the only adornment in the room had been the set of earthenware teacups Meiyuu's mother had personally made for him to celebrate the birth of his son Kazuo, some twenty years earlier. Each of the cups depicted a different stage in the life cycle of a phoenix, representing eternity and rebirth. If he were a callous man, Meiyuu might have noted the irony of the two cups containing unfinished tea were the ones showing the dying immolation and subsequently the birth from the ashes. But Soden would not be bursting forth from his ashes, that much was certain.
Meiyuu wasn't sure how long he had been standing in the room, merely feet away from the cinders and melted bones that had presumably once been his uncle. He was in such a mingled state of perplexion and grief that he was unaware of how suffocating the air was in here, or of the two samurai standing behind him, heads bowed as they reverently waited for someone to acknowledge the situation. He couldn't identify what he saw in the remains: the reflection of candlelight on twisted steel, the gaping splinters of warped bone, rising at misshapen angles from a mound of black and grey.
"Meiyuu." His cousin's voice cut through the oppressive silence.
He fixed his gaze on his cousin, kneeling beside the grotesque sight, kimono streaked with black dust. "Ka...Kazuo," Meiyuu fought to keep his throat clear, and almost flinched as he realised that he was breathing in what was left of his own uncle. "Kazuo-kun, what happened? Where is your mother?"
Kazuo gave a weak smile. "She is sleeping. I gave her medicine." He coughed suddenly, not having the presence of mind to avoid such an inappropriate action.
Shiba Kenji stepped forward. "Young lord, I will guard the scene. Kakita-san can escort you, Kazuo-san, and his mother back to the castle, and then send a message to your father." He didn't continue, but the intended message was clear: you are not qualified to deal with this.
Meiyuu glanced at the deputy commander of the Provincial Guard before nodding. If he were as arrogant as the samurai of the Isawa family were renowned to be, perhaps he would have insisted on handling the problem himself in his father's absence.
The truth of the matter was that Meiyuu was finding it difficult to maintain his face in front of these other samurai, and he wanted to go home. "Yes, a sound plan. Kazuo-kun, let's gather your mother and anything you might want to bring and get back to the castle."
Kazuo shook his head firmly. “Meiyuu…someone came into our home and killed my father. I am going to find out why.” He then turned to make direct eye contact with his cousin before continuing, determination creeping into his tone, “ Take mother back to the castle for me, please. I will stand watch over father’s remains until a shugenja arrives to see to the consecration of his remains. If you could speak with your father and arrange for a magistrate to be assigned to investigate, we would be indebted to you.”
For a long moment Meiyuu considered the situation. He outranked Kazuo, and could demand that he leave for the safety of the castle immediately; however, he did not want to deny his cousin a chance of finding justice. “I will do everything I can, Kazuo-kun, but until Father says otherwise you will take up residence in the castle with aunt Chiyo. Kenji-san, please stand guard here over Kazuo-kun. I am sure Father will send reinforcements to assist you in preventing this section of the complex from being disturbed further.” Meiyuu felt a cough rising from his lungs. It was definitely time to leave, before he shamed himself through crude behaviour. “Kazuo-kun, do not touch anything. The magistrates will have a difficult time as it is figuring out what happened here.”
Kazuo nodded his understanding and Shiba Kenji grunted the acceptance of his orders before moving to stand guard at the entrance to the caretaker’s residence.
“Kakita-san, assist me,” Meiyuu instructed quietly before leaving the study for his aunt’s private quarters.
Even in the darkness Meiyuu could see Chiyo’s frailty. She had always been of gentle stature but now it was much more pronounced; in the wake of discovering her husband’s demise the middle-aged woman projected her vulnerability even as she slept. Meiyuu found himself hoping that the sleeping draught Kazuo had dosed her with would be potent enough to prevent her from waking.
“Shall I carry her, Asako-sama?” Shigeaki offered, only now sheathing his katana. The blade returned to its scabbard without a sound, indicative of the great care the Crane took in maintaining his weapon.
“Yes, but only as far as the exit. I would rather send for a palanquin than cause a stir in the city.” Meiyuu nodded, assuring himself that he had assessed the situation correctly. It would stain his family’s reputation to have the wife of the Blue Tiled Room caretaker handled like a sack of rice, especially down Friendship Street.
Then, something caught his eye: a tightly wound scroll partially tucked underneath his aunt’s futon. Meiyuu knelt down and picked it up.
Shigeaki bent down and carefully lifted the sleeping Chiyo into his arms. “I shall go ahead, my lord,” he whispered, politely ignoring the scroll’s discovery.
The young Asako was not listening, frowning intently at the scroll in the dim lighting. Meiyuu could barely see anything, but he felt the flaky specks of ash that had adhered to one side along its length, crumbling away at his touch. His stomach felt both heavy and very unstable as he realised he might be touching some of the remains of his uncle, and Meiyuu recoiled, unconsciously dropping the scroll; it clattered only lightly on the tatami floor. He felt profoundly unclean, and resolved to undergo a cleansing ritual as soon as he could. But what should be done with the scroll? Surely it was significant, to have been removed from Soden’s study after his demise? Several questions vied for dominance in his mind, each shouting over the others to be asked and answered. Meiyuu desperately wanted to learn the contents of the scroll, yet at the same time he feared it was not safe to do so, especially being only a room away from the scene of his uncle’s horrific death.
“I couldn’t read it here even if I wanted,” he mused, “it’s too dark.” He had a strong suspicion that any magistrate he sent to investigate the murder would want to see this possible evidence, but Meiyuu was also keenly aware of the potential damage the scroll’s contents could cause for his family, considering it may have been the reason Soden was killed. “Best to keep it safe in Asako hands,” Meiyuu sighed, before moving to his aunt’s wardrobe and collecting some spare clothing. He then unfolded an obi sash and used it to scoop up the dropped scroll, wrapping it tightly in the cloth.
He offered a short, silent prayer to any kami or other spirit that might be present, in the hope of his uncle’s soul being treated favourably in the Realm of Waiting. If that warped steel amongst the remains was his wakizashi, his spirit might receive harsher judgement…
At length, the young Phoenix turned on his heels and left the caretaker’s residence, making to catch up with Kakita Shigeaki. He pretended not to hear the coughing that broke the silence as he walked away from the area, knowing the source could only be his cousin. Kenji would choke on the ash before shaming himself in any manner, I am sure of it. He would have likely had practice too…What it must have been like to fight enemies covered in flames.
It was quite a long wait for the palanquin that would bear Chiyo from the complex to Nikesake Castle, and it felt all the longer because Meiyuu had to remain alone in a tiny recieiving room meant for visitors, watching over his sleeping aunt whilst Shigeaki stood beside the door, head bowed. The Crane kept the rice paper door open half a handspan so that he could look out at the entrance to the building. His back was turned to offer a sort of quasi-privacy for the two Asako, not that Chiyo was capable of engaging in conversation with her nephew.
It would not at all surprise me if she is incapable of conversing with anyone at all for a very long time, Meiyuu considered silently. He glanced once again at Chiyo’s sleeping face, worrying yet again about what she might have witnessed, or more importantly, how she would cope without her husband.
Shigeaki whispered something, but because he had not spoken for a few minutes, the Kakita’s voice was raspy and too quiet.
“Pardon?”
Shigeaki glanced back at the sitting Phoenix over his shoulder and cleared his throat before replying, a little too loudly this time, “The Asako are very resilient.”
Meiyuu offered him a furtive nod in return. “That is kind of you to say, Kakita-san. I hope I do not have to endure such hardship in my lifetime, however.”
The Crane shifted his stance, turning so that he could see through the doorway whilst facing his charge politely. “Some might argue that you demonstrated resilience in the aftermath of our sparring this morning, Asako-sama. But then, if anyone did argue that, I would have to kill them for making fun of the incident and then myself for harming you.”
Is…is that the barest suggestion of a smile on his lips? It’s almost as if Shige is not sure if he is making a joke or not.
The Asako’s courtier instincts told him something else was on his yojimbo’s mind. Meiyuu lowered his gaze to Shigeaki’s waist, where one hand rested on the hilt of his sheathed katana. Perhaps ‘rested’ was not quite the right way to describe it, however, as the Crane’s knuckles showed the tell-tale off-white splotches of a hand gripping a bit too tightly. He could merely be trying to cheer me up in this situation, or he could be genuinely worried that I have spoken to someone about the accident this morning.
“Kakita-san, having known you and your sister all my life I fear I would demonstrate my own sheer lack of resilience if anything happened to either of you. What happened this morning was my own fault, and I ask that you acknowledge this by forgetting about the whole embarrassing incident. I would rather not dwell on my own humiliation, and as my friend I hope you feel the same.” He concluded his request with an audible sigh, knowing this would further persuade his yojimbo to agree.
Shigeaki’s grip eased on the katana hilt ever so slightly, and his eyes seemed to lose their intense focus as he relaxed as much as a bodyguard on duty could expect to. “Yes, young lord. I will always abide by your wishes.” His tone was gentle, mixed with a small measure of gratitude. Then his attention was drawn to something outside. “Ah, the palanquin is here.”
“Good. You are to escort my aunt back to the castle and have Junbi-san send for a doctor, just in case.” Meiyuu smiled sadly as he glanced down at Chiyo’s still-sleeping figure.
“…Asako-sama? Where will you be?” Shigeaki asked, the concern of a dutiful servant evident on his face.
“There is a modest temple to Jurojin-no-kami two streets away,” Meiyuu explained matter-of-factly. “I will seek cleansing there, rather than wait to return to the castle. I will be fine on my own.”
And so the Phoenix samurai bowed in farewell and then slid the door open fully, leaving before his yojimbo could protest regarding the truth of that last statement.
It was not a common sight for a member of the Governor’s family to roam the streets of the city unattended, and Meiyuu knew that Kakita Shigeaki would report this breach of conduct to his superiors in the Guard, but he felt the inevitable consequences were worth the trouble. I need some alone time to process what I have seen.
He walked down the street, taking a left into a narrow lane he was unfamiliar with but knew would lead him in the general direction of the temple. Ahead of him, a lone heimin swept the ground with a twig broom, and despite the fact that this entire lane had only a dirt floor, the peasant’s attention to detail was impressive—not a stray pebble in sight.
The heimin stopped when he realised someone was approaching, lifting his gaze to take note of Asako Meiyuu’s sunrise orange kimono, the antique wakizashi tucked into his yellow obi sash, and then the red haori jacket before lowering his gaze to the ground and taking a step to the side, executing an exceptionally low bow.
He clearly recognises I am not just a low-ranking samurai…
Meiyuu continued walking, offering the slightest of nods in acknowledgement as he passed by the peasant and neared the end of the lane. It appeared that this heimin lived in a tiny hovel at the centre of the alleyway, and yet the dirt path that spanned the entire length of the lane was in pristine condition; Meiyuu noted that it was even cleaner than some sections of the Empress’ Roads that connected each city in a convoluted chain with the Imperial Capital of Toshi Ranbo.
“Get out of my way!” barked someone harshly from a ways behind.
The Asako chose to ignore this, because there was not even a remote chance that someone would speak to him thusly, especially in this city. He reached the end of the lane and was about to walk out onto a more populated street when he heard more noise further back in the alleyway.
“I told you to move, peasant!”
This caused Meiyuu to stop and turn around, allowing him to observe two figures, halfway down the lane; the closest was the heimin, facing away from Meiyuu, holding his broom horizontally with both hands so as to prevent the other figure from passing him. The peasant seemed resolute in his stance, and despite Meiyuu’s own inexperience with battle he couldn’t help but presume the heimin had undergone military training at some point in his life.
The other, angry, figure looked like a true survivor of hardship. His face was lean, almost gaunt from malnourishment, and he was adorned in a coarse hemp kimono that showed signs of haphazard stitching to repair tears in the fabric. There was no colour to this bald man’s outfit, other than the natural off-beige of the dried hemp. Meiyuu would have mistaken him for a peasant if not for two things: he had a wakizashi tucked into his tightly wrapped obi sash, and the hilt of a katana jutted out over one shoulder, the weapon slung across his back.
No, make that three things, the Asako mused. He cloaks himself in pride, especially over peasants. This is a ronin familiar with bullying those lower in the Celestial Order than himself.
In the few seconds it took to assess the situation, the heimin had quietly replied to the ronin, although Meiyuu could not hear what was said. Evidently it was something the rogue samurai was not pleased to hear, because the ronin immediately reached for his sword, but before he could grasp the katana’s hilt he was stabbed in the eyes with the many twigs at the end of the peasant’s broom, who thrusted the tool at his foe’s face as deftly as if it had been a genuine spear or naginata. There were several simultaneous crunching sounds as thick wooden bristles snapped against the strain of the blow, but they were drowned out by the ronin’s shout of surprise and pain.
“Run, young lord!” the heimin shouted as he dropped the broom, capitalised on the ronin’s incapacitated state to kick him swiftly in the groin, and then turned on his heels to sprint down the lane toward Meiyuu. “He means you harm!”
Meiyuu didn’t know what to make of what he had just seen, or of the peasant’s urgent call…assuming he was a peasant. The Asako courtier was not certain of that, now, either. Can I trust him? How could I run and still call myself samurai?
“Young lord!” the heimin beckoned again, his brow knotted in concern. He slowed to a stop in front of Meiyuu, glancing over his shoulder to see the ronin crumpled on the ground beside the broken broom. “He will recover soon!”
Knowing he needed to be decisive, Meiyuu nodded at the heimin, muttered, “Follow me,” under his breath, and then strode out onto the wide street, not pausing to check if the peasant was in tow.
This particular street was not very busy today, with only a pair of scholars lazily meandering down the path in the general direction of the Street of Scrolls where rare texts could be found in the many stores. They strolled past, bowing to Meiyuu as they neared him, and continued on, blatantly ignoring a lone dumpling vendor who was passionately encouraging everyone within earshot to sample his miso broth.
“Would sama and his companion care for some chive and garlic dumplings?” the merchant asked, his tone laden with so much honey that Meiyuu wondered if his food was also sickly sweet.
Wait. Companion? So the heimin actually followed me? What about that ronin, my alleged attacker? The Asako courtier angled his head slightly, bringing his chin closer to his shoulder to get a look behind him using his peripheral vision. He could see the heimin standing only a few steps away, but the ronin he assaulted in Meiyuu’s alleged defence was nowhere in sight.
The interior of the local temple to Jurojin-no-kami, the Fortune of Longevity, was perhaps not as traditional as other shrines built to his honour throughout the empire’s history. This building had been shaped six centuries earlier by an earth shugenja named Isawa Kotomi, using nothing but her hands, her carving tools, and, if the legend was to be believed, twelve decades of her life. The basalt material used for the entirety of the temple was gathered from a quarry near a dormant volcano along the Dragon-Phoenix border, and painstakingly transported by the shugenja herself, having refused the offer of aid from anyone she encountered. The temple lacked a roof, exposing the carved stone walls and floor to the other elements, yet the centuries of wind and rain had not caused any erosion at all to the structure or the pillars within its confines. All temples were gateways to the divinity of the various Spirit Realms, but there was a tangible feeling of patient endurance about this temple in particular; it was almost impossible to gainsay the authority of the Fortune of Longevity after visiting this site.
Meiyuu found that he couldn’t quite articulate why he often went out of his way to visit this particular temple, even when pestered by Misa to explain his rationale. By all accounts, the traditional rivalry between the Isawa and Asako families of the Phoenix Clan should have been reason enough to compel Meiyuu to frequent shrines erected by his own extended family. But you were not arrogant like the rest of your kin, Kotomi-shiryo, the young Asako thought reverently as he stepped over the threshold of the temple doorway and into the sacred realm beyond. Your humility reverberates through the work of your devotion to the Fortunes, even to the earth kami. I am grateful for your example.
“Asako-sama,” intoned an overweight man in loose shugenja robes. Isawa Boma’s skin was heavily tanned from years of tending this shrine alone, and the familiar wisps of hair that always managed to escape his topknot were evidence that Boma had no interest in the worldly affairs of society or politics. His gruff voice helped convince those who thought otherwise, of course. The shugenja rose from his lotus position beside the shortest of the three basalt pillars standing erect in the open space of the temple. His pace was slow—pensive—as he approached the visitor, stopping to gesture to a low pile of cushions just inside the entrance.
“Isawa-san, Fortunes’ blessings upon you. Today, as on all days, I must decline your generous offer.” Meiyuu bowed low, first to Boma, and then in the direction of the pillars. As far as he could tell, only occasional tourists and the impious accepted the offer of a cushion; even elderly or ill visitors typically followed the practice of forgoing this small comfort as a sign of respect for the local kami.
Boma nodded curtly. With the barest minimum of social niceties covered, the priest examined Meiyuu’s face properly now, and for a moment it seemed as though he was looking straight through the Asako, to someone behind him. The thought made Meiyuu look over his shoulder, wondering if the heimin from before had followed him, but there was no one in sight, aside from the various citizens walking along the street outside.
Boma frowned. “You need cleansing.” It was not a question, nor an accusation intent on offering insult—just simple truth. The Isawa didn’t wait for a response, instead inhaling deeply and settling into a sturdy horse stance, legs bent just so to straddle the energy of the earth. Boma’s eyes developed an eerie white glow, so intense that it appeared his eyes had been replaced by two miniature full moons, waxing in the clear autumn sky. He began chanting, his voice somehow a thunderous whisper.
Meiyuu could feel his heart beating faster in response to the sudden thrum of energy surrounding him, a force that seemed to be simultaneously crushing him and embracing him protectively; the earth kami were smothering him with their purity. There was a blinding flash of brilliant jade light, and Meiyuu lost his vision as the cleansing ritual continued. The young Asako found himself concentrating on keeping the growing fear in check. This is different to Isawa Shota’s cleansing ritual…is something wrong? No, that can’t be the case…
Just as his focus was beginning to waver, the ritual ended. The enveloping energy dissipated, and Meiyuu’s vision was restored, although he felt the need to close his eyes and open them slowly, as if he were being exposed to a bright light in the dark of night.
“You brought something,” Isawa Boma stated in the same manner as before. His voice was quiet, yet it resonated within the temple. The gruff shugenja pointed at the folded obi sash in Meiyuu’s hands. “Unwrap that now,” he instructed, without any form of politeness.
The Asako was so stunned by the command from a lowly priest that he was unable to conceal the confusion on his face. He gawked openly at the Isawa shugenja, before audibly clearing his throat and asking, “Pardon?”
The muscles around Boma’s eyes tightened, intent upon the obi. He was silent for several seconds, until he evidently decided that an explanation was necessary. “The kami insisted on bringing the might of jade against whatever was tucked inside that garment as I purified you, Asako-sama, and that only ever happens under very specific and dangerous circumstances. Unwrap it now, and then step back.”
Recognising the fierce determination in Boma’s stance, Meiyuu complied, placing the sash on the floor, and beginning to carefully unwrap it. His movements were deliberately slow in order to provide him with the opportunity to think clearly in this tense situation. What could the kami detect on my uncle’s scroll? Specific and dangerous circumstances? Jade is only used to fight against…Fortunes save me!
With one last flick of fabric Meiyuu darted back a step, as if a snake would rise from the material and strike at him.
There was no spout of fire, no ominous smoke, and certainly no monstrous oni appearing from the hellish realm of Jigoku. Nothing happened.
It took Meiyuu several seconds to realise he was holding his breath. He exhaled before leaning forward to peer at the scroll he had brought from his uncle’s bedroom…but there was only a pile of rich, dark soot where the scroll should have been. “I do not understand. Isawa-san, what happened?”
Boma’s own face was one of open confusion as the earth shugenja’s gaze moved from the ash to rest on Meiyuu. “The stain of Jigoku is present here no longer, but I am concerned about it being here in the first place. I must insist on taking custody of the obi and its contents, Asako-sama. I would also appreciate any testimony you are willing to offer, so that I can investigate.”
What will he find? Was uncle Soden affiliated with the Shadowlands in some way? Meiyuu nodded as he thought, trying to buy time to formulate a strategy. “Hai, of course. It will need to wait until tomorrow however, as my first responsibility is to my aunt, who was widowed this morning.”
The gruff Isawa’s eyes widened in surprise, and his gaze lowered to the floor out of respect.
He won’t risk giving offense by enquiring about that just now. This should give me time to figure out what is going on…or at least to prevent shame being brought upon the family.
Meiyuu capitalised on the Isawa priest’s evident shock, stating in a confident voice, “Once my family is tended to, I will write my testimony for you to collect when you visit me at the castle. I appreciate your friendship at a time like this, Isawa-san.”
Then, without waiting for Boma to recover his wits enough to reply, the Asako bowed in farewell, spun about, and strode out of the temple, fervently hoping that the priest would refrain from discussing the situation with anyone. Well, if there is one person in the entire city who won’t gossip, it’s Boma. He’s too surly to willingly lengthen a conversation with others.
The young samurai was grateful for losing his footing; if he had not tripped over he might have died. His opponent's weapon swung with lethal force as it narrowly missed his head, colliding instead with empty space. As it was, Asako Meiyuu wondered if any of his ancestors looked down on him with disgust whilst he lay prone on the grass, his broken shinai beside him. Slivers of wood bit into the soft flesh between Meiyuu's thumb and index finger. He knew touching it could only make it worse, but in spite of the sharp pain he found he could not resist the opportunity to flex the injured hand a fraction. Unfortunately, the movement shifted the splinters a little, causing fresh pain and fresher blood to emanate from the wound. Meiyuu winced.
"Asako-sama, are you alright?" Shigeaki's tone was laden mostly with concern, but Meiyuu's court training allowed him to detect guilt and a good measure of remorse, too. Not that he expected anything else.
Meiyuu tried to calm himself by inhaling deeply, but he found that his injured hand would not be ignored; the sharp pain was now joined by the dull throbbing of his pulse, as though his heart knew there was a leak somewhere and rushed to find out why. At least the splinters were plugging the punctures they had made. Mostly.
"Asako-sama?"
Meiyuu looked up now reflexively, surprised to hear Shigeaki so near. Had not only a second passed? "It is nothing, Kakita-san."
The Crane bushi crouched down beside the fallen Phoenix. His chest was bare, as Shigeaki never trained fully clothed, but the sky blue hakama pleated pants he wore were of exquisite quality for fabric familiar with sword practice. Patches where sweat still made the silk glisten brightly under the morning sun were evident.
"With all due respect, Asako-sama, I am certain that my Doji cousins taught you to accept the help of friends better than that. Assuming you still consider me a friend after that bout." It was almost a question, but not quite; more of an uncertainty in the faintness of Shigeaki's voice.
Meiyuu did the best thing he could think of to put the other samurai at ease: he laughed. Sure, it was not as elegant as an impromptu haiku on companionship, but rare indeed was the poet who could devise a witty masterpiece even as he lay on his belly with a bleeding hand. "Kakita-san, it is true that my Crane sensei have taught me to seek out alliances to achieve diplomacy. However, I think you forget that I have the soul of a Phoenix, and most members of my clan are raised with a strong sense of humility."
Shigeaki nodded and extended his hand to help Meiyuu up. "Apparently you take that to heart more than others, prostrating yourself on the ground and paying respects to the samurai who just defeated you in combat."
Meiyuu laughed again, then with Shigeaki's aid managed to stand up awkwardly. Meiyuu's own clothing had darkened all along his front, the result of the damp morning grass and dirt that carpeted the training grounds of the castle dojo. He instinctively began to wipe his hands down the fabric, only to wince again from his injury. "Kakita-san, having just sparred with you I am reminded as to why we courtiers call upon our yojimbo instead of wielding a katana ourselves."
Shigeaki frowned. "You might be used to the ink brush, but you are still samurai, Asako-sama."
"You have a point, but I doubt my duties will lead to the battlefield. Father seems to have other uses for me. I should get this tended to." Meiyuu bowed slowly to the Crane, wary of losing his balance after his fall. "I do apologise for interrupting your morning training, Kakita-san, I have caused you trouble."
Shigeaki returned the bow before replying, "No trouble at all, on my end, Asako-sama. I only wish you would practise more regularly. Danger does not wait for a yojimbo to be present."
"Misa-chan, please ? I hate to mention it, but I am bleeding here." Meiyuu held out his hand, showing his little sister the wound.
Asako Misa, a year younger than her brother and a good foot shorter, did not bother looking up from the scroll she was reading, a treatise on the musical preferences of air kami. "Can't Isawa-san take care of it for you? I am not very confident with healing magic." Isawa Shota was the resident water shugenja charged with a myriad of roles at Nikesake Castle, among them overseeing the magical defence of the city itself, and just as importantly, advising Meiyuu's father on all matters relating to the kami.
"I couldn't find him, and after several minutes of searching I realised I couldn't feel the pain in my hand anymore. Is that bad?"
Misa sighed noisily, closing her scroll and looking up from her cushion at her brother. Judging by the furrowed brow and pursed lips, she was not impressed by Meiyuu's combat injury.
"Seriously, Misa, we're the same flesh and blood." To emphasise this statement, he waved his hand at her.
There might not have been too much blood visible, but it was enough to soften his sister's facial expression. She looked her brother up and and down before setting her sight on his right hand. "Ume, bring me a bowl of water," she commanded confidently, without looking at her servant who was kneeling in a far corner of the room, "and some sake, any quality."
"Hai, Asako-sama," the servant replied before leaving the room through a rear entrance.
Meiyuu shook his head. "I don't understand why you petitioned so hard for father to allow you to move into these chambers. Don't you feel exposed with so many exits? Besides, I thought these chambers were haunted."
Misa giggled dismissively. "I can protect myself from ghosts just fine, brother. The air kami like frequenting this area of the castle, which means so do I. Now hurry up and sit," she instructed, patting a cushion adjacent to her, "Or don't you want my help after all?"
He might be in his early twenties and have more authority in the city of Nikesake as the governor's third born child, but Meiyuu hurried to comply with his younger sister's wishes. He knelt down in a well-practised seiza position and placed his hand in Misa's open palms.
There was silence as she closed her eyes, and Meiyuu felt his body shiver, starting from his hand and ending with the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He shrugged uncomfortably, and watched his sister almost fearfully, not certain he liked whatever she was doing.
The rice paper door to one side of the room slid open suddenly, and Meiyuu flinched. The servant Ume entered through the open door, carrying a wooden tray with a bowl and two porcelain sake bottles.
"Relax, brother. You are harder for the air kami to read if you're all stiff."
"I don't recall asking for you-or the air kami-to read me, Misa," Meiyuu responded tersely.
His sister just laughed sweetly. "Isn't that interesting? I don't remember asking permission. This is my price for helping you. Ooh, the air kami thought your fall this morning was particularly amusing. They just wish they had thought of it first. Apparently it was an earth kami in the ground that made you lose your footing. Why do you think-" Misa gasped and opened her eyes widely, making direct contact with her brother's, although her gaze was filled with realisation whereas his was confused.
"An earth kami you say?"
Misa cleared some space on the low table in front of them for Ume to place the tray; the servant then moved back to her original position in the room as Meiyuu's sister poured a whole bottle of sake into the bowl of water gently, so as to avoid spilling. "First thing is first, brother. Let me fix your hand. The other bottle is for you to drink, if the pain increases more than I can control."
"But what happened with the earth ka-"
"Shh, let me work. If you distract me your hand might turn into water, instead of the water fixing your hand."
Meiyuu felt his On begin to slip through worry, but he managed to hold on tightly by mentally reciting his favourite tanka poem on bush warblers by Kitsune Harusaki.
Misa began muttering strange sounds under her breath as she immersed Meiyuu's right hand in the diluted sake.
He had cringed, predicting the fresh wave of stabbing pain his injury would bring when it made contact with the alcohol, but instead all Meiyuu felt was a tingling numbness from his fingertips to his wrist. He gathered up the courage to peer straight into the bowl, and was amazed to see the splinters of the broken shinai that had embedded themselves into his skin were dissolving rapidly. He stared at a sliver of wood, watching for the moment when he would see nothing but water where the wood used to be.
But then his whole arm was on fire, and Meiyuu could not help but scream in agony as his body trembled under the strain.
And yet, just as suddenly as the pain had begun, it ended, Meiyuu's arm again mercifully numb.
"Uh, sorry, that was my small mistake brother. I had to direct the water kami to a splinter that was rather firmly stuck in the muscle of your hand, and I forgot to remind the kami about taking on your pain. The water kami are very generous; they are happy to withstand the burden of someone's pain through the infinite power of the ocean, but they'll only remember to do it if you constantly ask it of them. Anyway, your hand is all better now. It might smell like sake for a while though...Brother? Meiyuu, can you hear me?"
Meiyuu rubbed his forehead with his left hand, before nodding slowly. "I understand. Thank you for taking the time to help me." Meiyuu dried his right hand on his still dirty clothing and examined his sister's handiwork. "Looks and feels as good as new."
Misa smiled warmly. "Happy to help. I do recommend not lighting any candles with that hand until you have washed thoroughly though. Just to be on the safe side." She waited for her brother to laugh, but after a few seconds of awkward silence she sighed. "I am sorry for that, Meiyuu. When it comes to the kami, my only true affinity is with the air kami. The spirits of the other elements usually ignore me or have difficulty in hearing my prayers."
Meiyuu tore his gaze from his repaired hand to look at his sister. "I appreciate your effort, Misa-chan, thank you. To show my gratitude, I will give you the very next painting that my rejuvenated hand creates. I think I have some inspiration for it already. How does that sound?"
Misa nodded, relieved that she had not harmed her relationship with her elder brother. "Sounds like a fair exchange to me, although if I don't like the painting I will have to take my spell back!" She laughed gleefully. "Now, do you want to know more about the earth kami who made you trip over this morning? I can throw that information in for free, without expecting payment of a second painting."
Meiyuu made a show of considering the offer, as though he would potentially reject it. Then he grinned. "Of course! What would convince an earth kami to pay attention to my existence? I wasn't wearing my lucky netsuke when Shigeaki and I were sparring this morning."
"Luck had nothing to do with it, brother. I think that what happened this morning was-"
Another rice paper door slid open, and Shiba Junbi stepped into the room. "Please forgive my intrusion, Meiyuu-sama, Misa-sama," the elderly samurai intoned, bowing lightly. He had retired from service as their father's yojimbo a decade earlier, but his confident bearing and broad shoulders made it easy to imagine him still wearing his resplendent orange lacquered armour that stood on display in the castle's court chambers. Junbi had not stopped serving the governor of Nikesake however, taking on the role of karo, and as Meiyuu's father's chief attendant secretary he had many duties to fulfil.
"Of course, Junbi-san, I'm sure you must be on a mission of great haste to enter my chambers so unceremoniously," Misa replied, bristling. "Tell us, what is so important that you had to barge in here unannounced?"
To his credit, Shiba Junbi did not get flustered by the words of a girl a third his age, although he did nod again in apology. "It is as you say, Misa-sama. A servant has just brought a missive from your cousin Kazuo-sama, summoning your father and Kamen-sama immediately to the Blue Tiled Room, but the governor is elsewhere in the city carrying out his duties, and Kamen-sama accompanied him. It seems rather urgent."
Misa looked at her brother, concerned, but Meiyuu ignored her. "Thank you Junbi-san, I will attend to the matter in Father's stead. As for the commander of the Provincial Guard, some of his subordinates will have to do. Send a servant to gather the first two guardsmen they can find. They are to meet me at the castle bridge immediately, armoured and armed. Hopefully there will be no need for them to find glory in battle today."
"Hai, Meiyuu-sama." Shiba Junbi bowed and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Meiyuu in turn stood up, moving to exit his sister's chambers via another door.
"Brother, where are you going? That isn't the direction of the castle gate." Misa's confused tone matched her one raised eyebrow.
He just turned back to face his sister and gave her a coy smile. "This is a matter of urgency, Misa, and I can't go outside in my dirt-smeared training clothing. The reputation of our family is at stake; I simply must get changed!"
When you are the son of a city governor, it is only natural to take great care in your personal appearance. Trained in the courtly arts by the Crane as he was, Meiyuu was more acutely aware than most of his kin of the knowledge that could be gleaned from examining another's attire. He himself had emerged as the victor at a moon viewing party three years earlier as the direct result of alluding to the Unicorn ambassador's fur-trimmed kimono in his poem regarding respect for one's ancestors. Most others in polite society would have avoided discussing something as taboo as animal flesh, but Meiyuu took the risk and bested the other poets with his unorthodox imagery; he also earned himself a friend in the Unicorn embassy at a young age.
The young samurai had also witnessed the abrupt dismissal of a few ambassadorial aides-especially at the Scorpion embassy-due to sloppy attire, as there was little room for error in a Great Clan's court.
The importance of looking one's best aside, Meiyuu also knew that time could potentially be of the essence, and so his training clothes were dropped in an unkempt heap only a few seconds after the lone rice paper door to his quarters had closed behind him. He rushed past the low table in the middle of the receiving room where his writing implements lay, brushes neatly organised along one side based on thickness and quality of the horse hair used. Several were still drying, but otherwise there was nothing to suggest that the governor's son had utilised the space today.
Meiyuu dashed behind the antique shoji screen depicting a battle in a forest between a pride of ferocious lionesses and a single flying phoenix; the flames of the latter flooded the landscape, enveloping the outstretched claws of the former. Somehow, the trees and leaves of this forest appeared unharmed. Meiyuu had always considered the concept of the piece particularly arrogant, but it had been painted by his ancestor Asako Kazen, a Nikesake governor in his own time, and the technical brushwork was truly exquisite.
Behind the shoji screen was an open entrance into a small storage room lined with shelves, probably designed by the original architect of the castle to house extra weapons or provisions. The room currently contained all of Meiyuu's clothing, each garment folded with care. Unlike his sister, Meiyuu had not utilised the privilege of his position to acquire a personal servant, instead seeing to his needs himself, although he did frequently rely on the servants who roamed Nikesake castle. He had categorised his attire according to various criteria, from colour schemes to gaudiness, even how complicated the garment was to don. The shelving nearest the doorway was where Meiyuu kept his simple clothes, and he hurriedly grabbed a sunrise orange kimono and its matching yellow obi sash before putting it on, deciding there was probably too little time for an under-kimono.
It took only a few minutes, but in his haste Meiyuu had wrapped his sash too tightly around his waist, and as he stepped further into the wardrobe to claim his crimson red haori jacket, adorned on the back with his family's mon so he would be recognised on the streets, he found himself unable to lift his arms up enough to put the haori on over his kimono.
"This isn't working out too well," he muttered before beginning to fix up his obi. "I am probably wasting valuable time at this point."
It took only a handful of seconds to get everything sorted, although it felt like too many minutes to Meiyuu. He walked back into his receiving room, inspected himself with the small hand-mirror that was almost as venerable as the shoji screen, and then nodded in approval. "I shouldn't shame my family going out in public like this," he observed, smiling, but just as quickly as the smile had appeared it was gone again, as Meiyuu remembered what he had forgotten in the wardrobe. He ran into the back of the room to claim his hat before rushing out of his quarters, leaving his door slightly open.
Asako Meiyuu had been under the impression that he had gotten to the drawbridge of Nikesake castle with some measure of swiftness, but when he arrived he found the two guards he had sent for already waiting for him. Shiba Kenji was ten years Meiyuu's senior, and much wiser, having served two Nikesake governors and earned great glory in the war of Dark Fire some years earlier. He was garbed in orange armour, complete with a mempo in the shape of a phoenix beak; the iron war mask adequately covered the scarring Kenji had sustained fighting against the Dark Fire Oracle's immolated servants, whilst also providing him with an intimidating air of authority, which was well warranted considering his position as deputy commander of the Provincial Guard. At his side he held a traditional naginata polearm, and the staff appeared as polished as the steel blade embedded at its head. He bowed low but stiffly at Meiyuu's approach.
"Meiyuu-sama," he grunted.
The other samurai who had answered Meiyuu's summons was the man who had almost ended his life earlier that day, Kakita Shigeaki. Whilst a member of the elite Provincial Guard defending the Phoenix Clan's southernmost holding and its environs, Shigeaki, as the only samurai to ever be inducted who was not a member of the Phoenix Clan, was adorned as he always was when on duty: in his sky blue and white lacquered armour embossed with the mon of the Crane Clan. Unlike Shiba Kenji, Shigeaki wore no helmet or mempo, and did not wield a naginata, even though the polearm was often considered the core weapon of the Provincial Guard. Instead, his bleached white hair flowed behind his head in a simple ponytail, and as for weaponry he relied solely on his daisho, having trained in the art of iaijutsu with the Kakita sensei renowned for their skill with the katana.
"Asako-sama," Shigeaki almost whispered, bowing. Meiyuu noticed him glance at his hand, checking for signs of the injury he had caused only hours before. It made Meiyuu realise what a precarious position Shigeaki must have felt himself in, causing harm to a person it was his duty to protect.
Meiyuu bowed, though not as low the other two did. "Kenji-san, Kakita-san, I am glad you were both not fulfilling duties elsewhere. I need an escort to the Blue Tiled Room, my cousin has asked for my father and the Guard to see him." He knew there would be no questions despite the mysterious summons and it was not just because the samurai of the Provincial Guard were expected to obey any order from a member of the governor's family; Kenji and Shigeaki were both intelligent samurai and would have likewise wondered what right a philosopher's son had to summon not only the governor but also the Guard. Meiyuu turned and walked along the drawbridge, over the moat protecting the castle.
"Hai," both guardsmen responded as they moved to follow, each falling into step on one side of their charge.
Meiyuu strolled out onto the wide main road of Nikesake. Since the city's founding eight centuries earlier, the other Great Clans had slowly invested resources in acquiring favours and land along this road, each establishing an embassy in the vicinity of Nikesake castle. Usually when he walked along Friendship Street, Meiyuu gazed at each of the estates erected by the other clans, but he had no time for that today.
"Asako-sama, good day!"
Meiyuu's attention was drawn to an elderly woman who was hobbling down the misshapen rock formation that comprised the entrance stairway to the Silver Dragon Embassy. Her back had bent as a sheaf of barley with age, and she supported herself with a walking stick that was a handspan too short for her needs, but Meiyuu had never witnessed anything other than a smile on Kitsuki Haname's face in all the time he had known her. Even now her eyes had crinkled closed in an expression of joy. Meiyuu gestured for his two bodyguards to stop, and then bowed to the approaching woman. "May Hotei-no-kami continue to grant his blessing of contentment on you, Kitsuki-san. You are well?" As he asked this question, he wondered how long this conversation would take, knowing he could not be discourteous to an ambassador.
Kitsuki Haname had been the resident Dragon Clan ambassador in Nikesake for just over thirty years, a statistic unheard of in almost any city in the whole of Rokugan, but she was well suited for life here. She had taken to the local custom of outrageous headgear with zeal, and today her head was adorned with a particularly unique hat made entirely of various sized bells, some as large as a ripe plum, all sewn onto a wicker frame that spiralled two feet toward the sky. "I am all the better for seeing you, young lord. I actually wanted to invite you inside for some tea, but I see that you are busy. Another time?"
Meiyuu managed to resist sighing with relief, instead bowing low to hide the smile threatening to break out on his lips. "It would be my pleasure, Kitsuki-san."
Haname's eyes crinkled with joy once again. "It is settled then. Off you go, now, Asako-sama, I am certain duty awaits!" Conversation concluded, the elderly Dragon turned around and began the slow, steady task of climbing back up the crooked stairs with the aid of her stunted walking stick.
Meiyuu picked up the pace from here, and as his two companions matched their strides with his, Shigeaki whispered, "That could have gone for hours, I am convinced she is part Sparrow."
Meiyuu politely ignored the jest, but he could feel the disapproving glance that Shiba Kenji shot across him, aimed at his junior.
"Meiyuu-sama, what a surprise to find you here!" An Asako scholar-Meiyuu had met him once but couldn’t remember his name-stood outside the entrance to the Blue Tiled Room, his eyes squinting from having spent too much time reading by candlelight.
"It shouldn't be," Meiyuu retorted, "my cousin sent for me. Why is he not here to greet me himself?" More importantly, considering Kazuo would have been expecting the arrival of the city governor and the commander of the Provincial Guard, why would he have risked the consequences of not waiting for them personally?
The scholar bowed apologetically. "Yes, well, circumstances inside are not...ideal. We have had to close off access to everyone since this morning. Of course, you and the Guard are welcome. I believe you will find Kazuo-san in his father's study." Unsure of what else to say, the scholar bowed yet again, and then moved to intercept a monk who approached to enter the renowned academy of knowledge and debate.
Kenji stepped forward. "I will enter first, Meiyuu-sama. Shige-kun, watch the young lord's back." The deputy commander entered the building, leaving Meiyuu and and Shigeaki no time to respond. They fell into line behind Kenji, and a wary silence fell upon all three samurai.
The Blue Tiled Room was the largest library in the southern Phoenix provinces, having been established by the second governor of Nikesake and carried on by the bloodline of his nephew. Shortly after Meiyuu was born his uncle Soden married the last scion of that lineage, bonding the bloodlines once more. His cousin Kazuo arrived in the world two years later.
As he walked along the narrow corridors that led to inner courtyards, to debating theatres and, of course, to multi-storeyed rooms housing the largest collections of gaijin scrolls in all of the empire, Meiyuu felt uneasy. This was the first time in his entire life that the lanterns in the hallways had ever been unlit, and the echoes of philosophers arguing vehemently in a distant chamber were not present. What had changed since Meiyuu's last visit two weeks earlier? What had been able to inflict such evil chi upon a structure famous for its welcoming and inquisitive atmosphere? He fervently hoped that he would be an adequate substitute for his father in this matter, but he felt uncertain.
Once they arrived at the north wing of the complex, the private residential area of the caretaker's family, Meiyuu finally saw his first glimpse of candlelight ahead, but as he followed Shiba Kenji into the receiving room of his uncle, he inhaled what tasted like ash-ridden air. He coughed lightly, not wanting to lose face in front of his two bodyguards, but the foul taste remained, lingering in his mouth and nose. Had Soden's wife Chiyo made a mistake in her cooking recently?
No one was in the receiving room. Kenji turned to glance at the young lord and then grunted, "Still nobody greets us, Meiyuu-sama. If you will, I ask that you stay here under Kakita-san's protection while I see why our host has forgotten his manners." His mempo covered much of his facial expression, but Meiyuu noted the furrow of concern in Kenji's eyebrows. "Shige-kun, be ready," he added quietly, before moving over to the rice paper door leading into Asako Soden's study.
"Yes sir," the Crane replied without pause, unsheathing his katana with silent ease from its scabbard and taking a defensive stance in front of Meiyuu. The self-confidence in those two words made Meiyuu realise for the first time that this Crane samurai was prepared to give his life for a younger samurai from another clan, and the privilege of that was humbling.
Kenji snapped the door open, but after a moment's glance he lowered his naginata to a resting position, blade pointing downwards. He cleared his throat before looking back at his two companions. "Meiyuu-sama?"
From his current position Meiyuu couldn't see through the doorway into the study, but in the seconds since the door had been opened the specks of ash in the air seemed much thicker. He tried to stifle another short cough, and felt tickling phlegm catching at the back of his throat.
A strained voice called out from within the study, "Meiyuu?"
It was a familiar voice, and yet it was alien at the same time; Meiyuu had never heard anything but optimism in his cousin's tone before. Fearing all manner of things, Meiyuu approached the doorway, steadied his bearing, and then entered.
Asako Soden's study had been an austere room with few furnishings; he had always argued that his place was out in the other wings of the Blue Tiled Room complex, encountering new or forgotten knowledge, or engaging in scholarly debate. Aside from his desk, the only adornment in the room had been the set of earthenware teacups Meiyuu's mother had personally made for him to celebrate the birth of his son Kazuo, some twenty years earlier. Each of the cups depicted a different stage in the life cycle of a phoenix, representing eternity and rebirth. If he were a callous man, Meiyuu might have noted the irony of the two cups containing unfinished tea were the ones showing the dying immolation and subsequently the birth from the ashes. But Soden would not be bursting forth from his ashes, that much was certain.
Meiyuu wasn't sure how long he had been standing in the room, merely feet away from the cinders and melted bones that had presumably once been his uncle. He was in such a mingled state of perplexion and grief that he was unaware of how suffocating the air was in here, or of the two samurai standing behind him, heads bowed as they reverently waited for someone to acknowledge the situation. He couldn't identify what he saw in the remains: the reflection of candlelight on twisted steel, the gaping splinters of warped bone, rising at misshapen angles from a mound of black and grey.
"Meiyuu." His cousin's voice cut through the oppressive silence.
He fixed his gaze on his cousin, kneeling beside the grotesque sight, kimono streaked with black dust. "Ka...Kazuo," Meiyuu fought to keep his throat clear, and almost flinched as he realised that he was breathing in what was left of his own uncle. "Kazuo-kun, what happened? Where is your mother?"
Kazuo gave a weak smile. "She is sleeping. I gave her medicine." He coughed suddenly, not having the presence of mind to avoid such an inappropriate action.
Shiba Kenji stepped forward. "Young lord, I will guard the scene. Kakita-san can escort you, Kazuo-san, and his mother back to the castle, and then send a message to your father." He didn't continue, but the intended message was clear: you are not qualified to deal with this.
Meiyuu glanced at the deputy commander of the Provincial Guard before nodding. If he were as arrogant as the samurai of the Isawa family were renowned to be, perhaps he would have insisted on handling the problem himself in his father's absence.
The truth of the matter was that Meiyuu was finding it difficult to maintain his face in front of these other samurai, and he wanted to go home. "Yes, a sound plan. Kazuo-kun, let's gather your mother and anything you might want to bring and get back to the castle."
Kazuo shook his head firmly. “Meiyuu…someone came into our home and killed my father. I am going to find out why.” He then turned to make direct eye contact with his cousin before continuing, determination creeping into his tone, “ Take mother back to the castle for me, please. I will stand watch over father’s remains until a shugenja arrives to see to the consecration of his remains. If you could speak with your father and arrange for a magistrate to be assigned to investigate, we would be indebted to you.”
For a long moment Meiyuu considered the situation. He outranked Kazuo, and could demand that he leave for the safety of the castle immediately; however, he did not want to deny his cousin a chance of finding justice. “I will do everything I can, Kazuo-kun, but until Father says otherwise you will take up residence in the castle with aunt Chiyo. Kenji-san, please stand guard here over Kazuo-kun. I am sure Father will send reinforcements to assist you in preventing this section of the complex from being disturbed further.” Meiyuu felt a cough rising from his lungs. It was definitely time to leave, before he shamed himself through crude behaviour. “Kazuo-kun, do not touch anything. The magistrates will have a difficult time as it is figuring out what happened here.”
Kazuo nodded his understanding and Shiba Kenji grunted the acceptance of his orders before moving to stand guard at the entrance to the caretaker’s residence.
“Kakita-san, assist me,” Meiyuu instructed quietly before leaving the study for his aunt’s private quarters.
Even in the darkness Meiyuu could see Chiyo’s frailty. She had always been of gentle stature but now it was much more pronounced; in the wake of discovering her husband’s demise the middle-aged woman projected her vulnerability even as she slept. Meiyuu found himself hoping that the sleeping draught Kazuo had dosed her with would be potent enough to prevent her from waking.
“Shall I carry her, Asako-sama?” Shigeaki offered, only now sheathing his katana. The blade returned to its scabbard without a sound, indicative of the great care the Crane took in maintaining his weapon.
“Yes, but only as far as the exit. I would rather send for a palanquin than cause a stir in the city.” Meiyuu nodded, assuring himself that he had assessed the situation correctly. It would stain his family’s reputation to have the wife of the Blue Tiled Room caretaker handled like a sack of rice, especially down Friendship Street.
Then, something caught his eye: a tightly wound scroll partially tucked underneath his aunt’s futon. Meiyuu knelt down and picked it up.
Shigeaki bent down and carefully lifted the sleeping Chiyo into his arms. “I shall go ahead, my lord,” he whispered, politely ignoring the scroll’s discovery.
The young Asako was not listening, frowning intently at the scroll in the dim lighting. Meiyuu could barely see anything, but he felt the flaky specks of ash that had adhered to one side along its length, crumbling away at his touch. His stomach felt both heavy and very unstable as he realised he might be touching some of the remains of his uncle, and Meiyuu recoiled, unconsciously dropping the scroll; it clattered only lightly on the tatami floor. He felt profoundly unclean, and resolved to undergo a cleansing ritual as soon as he could. But what should be done with the scroll? Surely it was significant, to have been removed from Soden’s study after his demise? Several questions vied for dominance in his mind, each shouting over the others to be asked and answered. Meiyuu desperately wanted to learn the contents of the scroll, yet at the same time he feared it was not safe to do so, especially being only a room away from the scene of his uncle’s horrific death.
“I couldn’t read it here even if I wanted,” he mused, “it’s too dark.” He had a strong suspicion that any magistrate he sent to investigate the murder would want to see this possible evidence, but Meiyuu was also keenly aware of the potential damage the scroll’s contents could cause for his family, considering it may have been the reason Soden was killed. “Best to keep it safe in Asako hands,” Meiyuu sighed, before moving to his aunt’s wardrobe and collecting some spare clothing. He then unfolded an obi sash and used it to scoop up the dropped scroll, wrapping it tightly in the cloth.
He offered a short, silent prayer to any kami or other spirit that might be present, in the hope of his uncle’s soul being treated favourably in the Realm of Waiting. If that warped steel amongst the remains was his wakizashi, his spirit might receive harsher judgement…
At length, the young Phoenix turned on his heels and left the caretaker’s residence, making to catch up with Kakita Shigeaki. He pretended not to hear the coughing that broke the silence as he walked away from the area, knowing the source could only be his cousin. Kenji would choke on the ash before shaming himself in any manner, I am sure of it. He would have likely had practice too…What it must have been like to fight enemies covered in flames.
It was quite a long wait for the palanquin that would bear Chiyo from the complex to Nikesake Castle, and it felt all the longer because Meiyuu had to remain alone in a tiny recieiving room meant for visitors, watching over his sleeping aunt whilst Shigeaki stood beside the door, head bowed. The Crane kept the rice paper door open half a handspan so that he could look out at the entrance to the building. His back was turned to offer a sort of quasi-privacy for the two Asako, not that Chiyo was capable of engaging in conversation with her nephew.
It would not at all surprise me if she is incapable of conversing with anyone at all for a very long time, Meiyuu considered silently. He glanced once again at Chiyo’s sleeping face, worrying yet again about what she might have witnessed, or more importantly, how she would cope without her husband.
Shigeaki whispered something, but because he had not spoken for a few minutes, the Kakita’s voice was raspy and too quiet.
“Pardon?”
Shigeaki glanced back at the sitting Phoenix over his shoulder and cleared his throat before replying, a little too loudly this time, “The Asako are very resilient.”
Meiyuu offered him a furtive nod in return. “That is kind of you to say, Kakita-san. I hope I do not have to endure such hardship in my lifetime, however.”
The Crane shifted his stance, turning so that he could see through the doorway whilst facing his charge politely. “Some might argue that you demonstrated resilience in the aftermath of our sparring this morning, Asako-sama. But then, if anyone did argue that, I would have to kill them for making fun of the incident and then myself for harming you.”
Is…is that the barest suggestion of a smile on his lips? It’s almost as if Shige is not sure if he is making a joke or not.
The Asako’s courtier instincts told him something else was on his yojimbo’s mind. Meiyuu lowered his gaze to Shigeaki’s waist, where one hand rested on the hilt of his sheathed katana. Perhaps ‘rested’ was not quite the right way to describe it, however, as the Crane’s knuckles showed the tell-tale off-white splotches of a hand gripping a bit too tightly. He could merely be trying to cheer me up in this situation, or he could be genuinely worried that I have spoken to someone about the accident this morning.
“Kakita-san, having known you and your sister all my life I fear I would demonstrate my own sheer lack of resilience if anything happened to either of you. What happened this morning was my own fault, and I ask that you acknowledge this by forgetting about the whole embarrassing incident. I would rather not dwell on my own humiliation, and as my friend I hope you feel the same.” He concluded his request with an audible sigh, knowing this would further persuade his yojimbo to agree.
Shigeaki’s grip eased on the katana hilt ever so slightly, and his eyes seemed to lose their intense focus as he relaxed as much as a bodyguard on duty could expect to. “Yes, young lord. I will always abide by your wishes.” His tone was gentle, mixed with a small measure of gratitude. Then his attention was drawn to something outside. “Ah, the palanquin is here.”
“Good. You are to escort my aunt back to the castle and have Junbi-san send for a doctor, just in case.” Meiyuu smiled sadly as he glanced down at Chiyo’s still-sleeping figure.
“…Asako-sama? Where will you be?” Shigeaki asked, the concern of a dutiful servant evident on his face.
“There is a modest temple to Jurojin-no-kami two streets away,” Meiyuu explained matter-of-factly. “I will seek cleansing there, rather than wait to return to the castle. I will be fine on my own.”
And so the Phoenix samurai bowed in farewell and then slid the door open fully, leaving before his yojimbo could protest regarding the truth of that last statement.
It was not a common sight for a member of the Governor’s family to roam the streets of the city unattended, and Meiyuu knew that Kakita Shigeaki would report this breach of conduct to his superiors in the Guard, but he felt the inevitable consequences were worth the trouble. I need some alone time to process what I have seen.
He walked down the street, taking a left into a narrow lane he was unfamiliar with but knew would lead him in the general direction of the temple. Ahead of him, a lone heimin swept the ground with a twig broom, and despite the fact that this entire lane had only a dirt floor, the peasant’s attention to detail was impressive—not a stray pebble in sight.
The heimin stopped when he realised someone was approaching, lifting his gaze to take note of Asako Meiyuu’s sunrise orange kimono, the antique wakizashi tucked into his yellow obi sash, and then the red haori jacket before lowering his gaze to the ground and taking a step to the side, executing an exceptionally low bow.
He clearly recognises I am not just a low-ranking samurai…
Meiyuu continued walking, offering the slightest of nods in acknowledgement as he passed by the peasant and neared the end of the lane. It appeared that this heimin lived in a tiny hovel at the centre of the alleyway, and yet the dirt path that spanned the entire length of the lane was in pristine condition; Meiyuu noted that it was even cleaner than some sections of the Empress’ Roads that connected each city in a convoluted chain with the Imperial Capital of Toshi Ranbo.
“Get out of my way!” barked someone harshly from a ways behind.
The Asako chose to ignore this, because there was not even a remote chance that someone would speak to him thusly, especially in this city. He reached the end of the lane and was about to walk out onto a more populated street when he heard more noise further back in the alleyway.
“I told you to move, peasant!”
This caused Meiyuu to stop and turn around, allowing him to observe two figures, halfway down the lane; the closest was the heimin, facing away from Meiyuu, holding his broom horizontally with both hands so as to prevent the other figure from passing him. The peasant seemed resolute in his stance, and despite Meiyuu’s own inexperience with battle he couldn’t help but presume the heimin had undergone military training at some point in his life.
The other, angry, figure looked like a true survivor of hardship. His face was lean, almost gaunt from malnourishment, and he was adorned in a coarse hemp kimono that showed signs of haphazard stitching to repair tears in the fabric. There was no colour to this bald man’s outfit, other than the natural off-beige of the dried hemp. Meiyuu would have mistaken him for a peasant if not for two things: he had a wakizashi tucked into his tightly wrapped obi sash, and the hilt of a katana jutted out over one shoulder, the weapon slung across his back.
No, make that three things, the Asako mused. He cloaks himself in pride, especially over peasants. This is a ronin familiar with bullying those lower in the Celestial Order than himself.
In the few seconds it took to assess the situation, the heimin had quietly replied to the ronin, although Meiyuu could not hear what was said. Evidently it was something the rogue samurai was not pleased to hear, because the ronin immediately reached for his sword, but before he could grasp the katana’s hilt he was stabbed in the eyes with the many twigs at the end of the peasant’s broom, who thrusted the tool at his foe’s face as deftly as if it had been a genuine spear or naginata. There were several simultaneous crunching sounds as thick wooden bristles snapped against the strain of the blow, but they were drowned out by the ronin’s shout of surprise and pain.
“Run, young lord!” the heimin shouted as he dropped the broom, capitalised on the ronin’s incapacitated state to kick him swiftly in the groin, and then turned on his heels to sprint down the lane toward Meiyuu. “He means you harm!”
Meiyuu didn’t know what to make of what he had just seen, or of the peasant’s urgent call…assuming he was a peasant. The Asako courtier was not certain of that, now, either. Can I trust him? How could I run and still call myself samurai?
“Young lord!” the heimin beckoned again, his brow knotted in concern. He slowed to a stop in front of Meiyuu, glancing over his shoulder to see the ronin crumpled on the ground beside the broken broom. “He will recover soon!”
Knowing he needed to be decisive, Meiyuu nodded at the heimin, muttered, “Follow me,” under his breath, and then strode out onto the wide street, not pausing to check if the peasant was in tow.
This particular street was not very busy today, with only a pair of scholars lazily meandering down the path in the general direction of the Street of Scrolls where rare texts could be found in the many stores. They strolled past, bowing to Meiyuu as they neared him, and continued on, blatantly ignoring a lone dumpling vendor who was passionately encouraging everyone within earshot to sample his miso broth.
“Would sama and his companion care for some chive and garlic dumplings?” the merchant asked, his tone laden with so much honey that Meiyuu wondered if his food was also sickly sweet.
Wait. Companion? So the heimin actually followed me? What about that ronin, my alleged attacker? The Asako courtier angled his head slightly, bringing his chin closer to his shoulder to get a look behind him using his peripheral vision. He could see the heimin standing only a few steps away, but the ronin he assaulted in Meiyuu’s alleged defence was nowhere in sight.
The interior of the local temple to Jurojin-no-kami, the Fortune of Longevity, was perhaps not as traditional as other shrines built to his honour throughout the empire’s history. This building had been shaped six centuries earlier by an earth shugenja named Isawa Kotomi, using nothing but her hands, her carving tools, and, if the legend was to be believed, twelve decades of her life. The basalt material used for the entirety of the temple was gathered from a quarry near a dormant volcano along the Dragon-Phoenix border, and painstakingly transported by the shugenja herself, having refused the offer of aid from anyone she encountered. The temple lacked a roof, exposing the carved stone walls and floor to the other elements, yet the centuries of wind and rain had not caused any erosion at all to the structure or the pillars within its confines. All temples were gateways to the divinity of the various Spirit Realms, but there was a tangible feeling of patient endurance about this temple in particular; it was almost impossible to gainsay the authority of the Fortune of Longevity after visiting this site.
Meiyuu found that he couldn’t quite articulate why he often went out of his way to visit this particular temple, even when pestered by Misa to explain his rationale. By all accounts, the traditional rivalry between the Isawa and Asako families of the Phoenix Clan should have been reason enough to compel Meiyuu to frequent shrines erected by his own extended family. But you were not arrogant like the rest of your kin, Kotomi-shiryo, the young Asako thought reverently as he stepped over the threshold of the temple doorway and into the sacred realm beyond. Your humility reverberates through the work of your devotion to the Fortunes, even to the earth kami. I am grateful for your example.
“Asako-sama,” intoned an overweight man in loose shugenja robes. Isawa Boma’s skin was heavily tanned from years of tending this shrine alone, and the familiar wisps of hair that always managed to escape his topknot were evidence that Boma had no interest in the worldly affairs of society or politics. His gruff voice helped convince those who thought otherwise, of course. The shugenja rose from his lotus position beside the shortest of the three basalt pillars standing erect in the open space of the temple. His pace was slow—pensive—as he approached the visitor, stopping to gesture to a low pile of cushions just inside the entrance.
“Isawa-san, Fortunes’ blessings upon you. Today, as on all days, I must decline your generous offer.” Meiyuu bowed low, first to Boma, and then in the direction of the pillars. As far as he could tell, only occasional tourists and the impious accepted the offer of a cushion; even elderly or ill visitors typically followed the practice of forgoing this small comfort as a sign of respect for the local kami.
Boma nodded curtly. With the barest minimum of social niceties covered, the priest examined Meiyuu’s face properly now, and for a moment it seemed as though he was looking straight through the Asako, to someone behind him. The thought made Meiyuu look over his shoulder, wondering if the heimin from before had followed him, but there was no one in sight, aside from the various citizens walking along the street outside.
Boma frowned. “You need cleansing.” It was not a question, nor an accusation intent on offering insult—just simple truth. The Isawa didn’t wait for a response, instead inhaling deeply and settling into a sturdy horse stance, legs bent just so to straddle the energy of the earth. Boma’s eyes developed an eerie white glow, so intense that it appeared his eyes had been replaced by two miniature full moons, waxing in the clear autumn sky. He began chanting, his voice somehow a thunderous whisper.
Meiyuu could feel his heart beating faster in response to the sudden thrum of energy surrounding him, a force that seemed to be simultaneously crushing him and embracing him protectively; the earth kami were smothering him with their purity. There was a blinding flash of brilliant jade light, and Meiyuu lost his vision as the cleansing ritual continued. The young Asako found himself concentrating on keeping the growing fear in check. This is different to Isawa Shota’s cleansing ritual…is something wrong? No, that can’t be the case…
Just as his focus was beginning to waver, the ritual ended. The enveloping energy dissipated, and Meiyuu’s vision was restored, although he felt the need to close his eyes and open them slowly, as if he were being exposed to a bright light in the dark of night.
“You brought something,” Isawa Boma stated in the same manner as before. His voice was quiet, yet it resonated within the temple. The gruff shugenja pointed at the folded obi sash in Meiyuu’s hands. “Unwrap that now,” he instructed, without any form of politeness.
The Asako was so stunned by the command from a lowly priest that he was unable to conceal the confusion on his face. He gawked openly at the Isawa shugenja, before audibly clearing his throat and asking, “Pardon?”
The muscles around Boma’s eyes tightened, intent upon the obi. He was silent for several seconds, until he evidently decided that an explanation was necessary. “The kami insisted on bringing the might of jade against whatever was tucked inside that garment as I purified you, Asako-sama, and that only ever happens under very specific and dangerous circumstances. Unwrap it now, and then step back.”
Recognising the fierce determination in Boma’s stance, Meiyuu complied, placing the sash on the floor, and beginning to carefully unwrap it. His movements were deliberately slow in order to provide him with the opportunity to think clearly in this tense situation. What could the kami detect on my uncle’s scroll? Specific and dangerous circumstances? Jade is only used to fight against…Fortunes save me!
With one last flick of fabric Meiyuu darted back a step, as if a snake would rise from the material and strike at him.
There was no spout of fire, no ominous smoke, and certainly no monstrous oni appearing from the hellish realm of Jigoku. Nothing happened.
It took Meiyuu several seconds to realise he was holding his breath. He exhaled before leaning forward to peer at the scroll he had brought from his uncle’s bedroom…but there was only a pile of rich, dark soot where the scroll should have been. “I do not understand. Isawa-san, what happened?”
Boma’s own face was one of open confusion as the earth shugenja’s gaze moved from the ash to rest on Meiyuu. “The stain of Jigoku is present here no longer, but I am concerned about it being here in the first place. I must insist on taking custody of the obi and its contents, Asako-sama. I would also appreciate any testimony you are willing to offer, so that I can investigate.”
What will he find? Was uncle Soden affiliated with the Shadowlands in some way? Meiyuu nodded as he thought, trying to buy time to formulate a strategy. “Hai, of course. It will need to wait until tomorrow however, as my first responsibility is to my aunt, who was widowed this morning.”
The gruff Isawa’s eyes widened in surprise, and his gaze lowered to the floor out of respect.
He won’t risk giving offense by enquiring about that just now. This should give me time to figure out what is going on…or at least to prevent shame being brought upon the family.
Meiyuu capitalised on the Isawa priest’s evident shock, stating in a confident voice, “Once my family is tended to, I will write my testimony for you to collect when you visit me at the castle. I appreciate your friendship at a time like this, Isawa-san.”
Then, without waiting for Boma to recover his wits enough to reply, the Asako bowed in farewell, spun about, and strode out of the temple, fervently hoping that the priest would refrain from discussing the situation with anyone. Well, if there is one person in the entire city who won’t gossip, it’s Boma. He’s too surly to willingly lengthen a conversation with others.