Some short stories

[Hida Tetsuko]

Going to post these here, they are two stories I posted during WC. One of them wasn't heard by its intended recipient as he charged out before I could tell it

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A great samurai lord had two grown up sons. Both were married and had children.
The older son was a great warrior, he commanded the troops that served their clan and won many great battles.
The younger son was a great scholar, he studied the wisdom of the ancient masters and administered the many villages and peasants on the land of their clan.
The great lord had won many battles and brought much prosperity to their clan and advised both his sons in their actions. And as he was a man of venerable years he also studied philosophy and enjoyed the company of his grandchildren.
One day, the older son returned to the castle of his home after a number of years. He noticed that his father had grown old and frail in his absence. The older son declared "The time has come for my father to retire to a monestery. For that is the proper way of a samurai." Thus he said and said so to his to his brother.
The younger son was greatly saddened by this, for he knew his brother true. But he knew also that his brother did not speak right.
"My older brother," said the younger son. "Surely you must know that our father has been of great help to both of us in my duties in administering the lands. I know that I would not have succeeded as I have done were not for his wise counsel. Surely, you know this to be true."
"Yes, my younger brother, I know this to be true," said the older son. "But retirement is the proper way of a samurai."
"My older brother," said the younger brother. "Surely you must know that our father has been of great help to us in your duties in commanding the armies. I know that you would not have had the victories you would have had were if not for his wise counsel. Surely, you know this to be true."
"Yes, my younger brother, I know this to be true," said the older brother. "But retirement is the proper way of a samurai."
"My older brother," said the younger brother. "Surely you have seen our father around the castle in your days here. How content he is to read philosophy in the garden! How happy he is to see his grandchildren playing. Surely, you know this to be true."
"Yes, my younger brother, I know this to be true," said the older brother. "But retirement is the proper way of a samurai."
"My older brother," said the younger brother. "Surely you see how our father is happy to be here! He is happy to advise us, to read his philosophy and to see his grandchildren. If you do not know this to be true then why don't you ask him?"
The older brother thought on these words. True, he and his brother had valued the wise counsel his father had given him. True, his father had seemed happy to read philosophy in the garden and to see his grandchildren.
The older brother embraced his younger brother. "My younger brother, I have no need to ask him," said the older brother. "For you have told me, and I know these words to be true."

[Hida Tetsuko]

One day there was a ronin walking along a road at twilight, journeying to the castle of a great damiyo he had served in the wars and hoped to serve again.
Being far from any village or town, he sought a place to camp for the night. He made his fire and began cooking his dinner when, though the darkness, through the smoke he saw a face.
Immediately he drew his katana and called out into the night. There was no answer. There were no sounds beyond the normal sounds of the night. Cautiously, he withdrew to his fire.
He heard the sound of foot steps in the darkness, he again raised his katana. This time he cried out into the night "Who is there?" No sound. No answer.
His dinner done, the ronin began eating but he kept his katana ready in case it happened again.
Then a young man stepped out of the darkness.
The ronin jumped to his feet, katana out. The young man held out his hands in a sign of peace.
"Please, I am sorry to have startled you," said the young man. "I mean you no harm, this road is lonely at night. May I share your fire?"
"Share my meal," offered the ronin, passing the young man some food.
From his fine clothes, his careful speech and manners, the ronin gathered that the young man was of noble birth. A samurai from the daisho he carried. The young man asked the ronin of his travels and his plans. The ronin told him that his journey was to the damiyo's castle where he hoped to find service.
"You speak of my father," said the young man, "I too am journeying there. I will tell you that my father is a fair man and if you are a true samurai as I see you to be, you will have no problems. I will speak to him on your behalf."
"I thank you," said the ronin.
The next day it was if Tamon was at work, the strong wind drawing the clouds near and making it difficult to see. The journey took longer than it did so by twilight they could see the lord's castle ahead across the river.
"There it is," said the young man to the ronin. "I will speak with my father and you shall have a hot meal and warm bed in his barracks tonight."
The ronin and the young man crossed a bridge over the river. The fog hung low and thick until the ronin could not see the young man.
When he reached the other side, the young man was no longer there.
He looked around and could not find the young man. He went on to the damiyo's castle, and once he had said his name he was given a hot meal and a bed in the barracks as promised.
Several weeks past and he did not see the young man. He had his duties around the castle, serving the damiyo and kept an eye out but never saw him. In the end he approached the head of the castle guards. "Sama, the reason that I serve is because of the good word of his son. Please, tell me if I might find him and thank him."
"The damiyo has no son," came the reply, "or rather, he did. He was returning from a journey three years ago when he crossed the bridge in a thick fog and was killed by bandits."

[Kasuga Naosuko]

Hey, ya'll kicked the bees nest with that name. When someone thought long dead is suddenly mentioned in that context it is one of two things. An insult by mocking us by saying a dead woman would make a better Shogun or the truth.

Stalking out was the best reaction for all parties.

[Hida Tetsuko]

It was, in the end anyway. I remember that red letter you sent the next morning...that Nakura happened to be around for as well. That was a busy morning.

[Shinwa]

That merely made it perfect. I think your ghost story was my favorite from the storytelling that night.
I could throw out some of my WC 5 shorts here.

[Hida Tetsuko]

Go ahead and post them. My story is a retelling of a classic ghost story that I reskinned.

[Shinwa]

My erstwhile horror story, for what it's worth...

Once upon a time, in a time of great peace in the Empire, there was a minister of the Doji. He was neither an exceptionally bright or exceptionally talented man. He had no great ideas, felt no profound insights, and suffered no great sorrows. In fact, only two things were remarkable about him in any way.

The first was that he was an extremely cautious man. And the second was that he had, locked in his heart, one beautiful, perfect painting, of a style that the Empire had never seen before.

Now, this man when he passed his gempukku, was assigned a ministry job for a kindly lord who gave him light work. He did his work competently and well. And each day when he returned home, he thought about the painting, realized it might make his lord uncomfortable, and thought, "I shall paint it tomorrow."

And when he married, he dutifully married the woman he was told, and she kept a calm and quiet house for him and his children grew and none troubled him at all. And each day, when he returned from his duties he thought about the painting and his comfortable life and thought, "I shall paint it tomorrow."

And when older, and his wife died, he felt some minor sadness, but it was the way of things, and he quietly went about his life uninterrupted. And each day, as he returned to his empty house, he thought about the painting and how it might disturb his peace and thought, "I shall paint it tomorrow."

And then, finally, he died. His fellow ministers felt obliged to attend his funeral. His children returned for a few days. And then he was forgotten. Utterly.

And the painting was never painted.

[Shinwa]

My Unicorn Storytelling story


"High in the Heavens, Prince Meadow Lark was a mighty Story-Teller. He often visited the Court of the Celestial Emperor, and his humor and wit, and his many wonderful stories, made him a great favorite of the Court. But, in every court, there who would be jealous of him, and who sought to discredit him in the eyes of the Celestial Emperor. And so they whispered and whispered and whispered, until one day the Celestial Emperor summoned Prince Meadow Lark before the Celestial Throne.

“Prince Meadow Lark!” the Celestial Emperor declared. “You have told many stories at my court, and talked of many strange and wonderful things. But I long to see one thing that I have never seen before. I wish to see the Truth. If you cannot show me the Truth, you have no place in the Celestial Court. "

Prince Meadow Lark bowed deeply to the Celestial Emperor. “I can show you the Truth, if you but give me Three days to gather it, my Lord. I will fetch it to you for all to see.”

The Celestial Emperor nodded, and Prince Meadow Lark hurried on his way. The jealous members of the Court schemed among themselves, awaiting his return. They thought he would fail, because they did not believe that there existed such a thing as the Truth and were sure the task was impossible.

But in three days, the Storyteller returned, and behind him, his yojimbo carried three great platters, each covered with a great lid. Prince Meadow Lark bowed deeply before the Celestial Emperor. "I have brought you the truth, as you have wished. But I must warn you, my Lord, you must look very carefully when you look at the Truth. A foolish man is, after all, unable to recognize the Truth when it is shown to him. Also, the Truth may be a frightening thing. Are you certain you wish to see it?”

The Celestial Emperor nodded, and the Celestial Court looked eagerly at the great Platter of Silver to see what he had hidden there. Prince Meadow Lark went to the first yojimbo, and lifted the great lid of the platter, but on it lay a Truth no larger than a single grain of rice.

The Celestial Court was mightily offended, and began speaking among themselves behind raised fans. Even the Celestial Emperor was angry. “What is the meaning of this?” He demanded. “This Truth is too puny and insignificant for the Celestial Court of the Emperor of the Nine Heavenly Mountains and the Five Rivers of Fire and the Three Bottomless Seas. The Celestial Emperor is deserving of a Greater Truth than this! Get it out of my sight immediately!”

Prince Meadow Lark looked worriedly at the angry members of the Court, and even more at the angry Celestial Emperor, and he quickly swallowed the Truth like a Rice Grain so that none of the Court might have to look upon it further. He then bowed, even deeper, and said, “I have brought another Truth that is larger, if you wish to see it. Maybe that will please you?”

The Celestial Emperor nodded, and Prince Meadow Lark lifted the lid from the second platter, which was made of pure gold. On it, there lay a Truth that was round and plump and no bigger than a single green bean.

The Celestial Court was even more offended, and started to whisper of mockery. The Celestial Emperor began to turn red. Great was his fury. “I asked for Truth, and you bring me this thing, no larger than a Bean? I rule the 700 orders of Animals and the 700 orders of Fishes and the 700 orders of Birds, and the Dragons of Heaven bow before me! You think that I would be satisfied with such a small Truth? Remove it from this place immediately!”

Prince Meadow Lark looked even more worried, and hurriedly swallowed the Truth like a Green Bean to conceal it from the Emperor as quick as could be. “Very well, my Lord,” he finally said. “I have one last Truth I can show you. Do you truly wish to see it? It is much larger than the others, but...”

The Emperor roared “Show it to me!”

Prince Meadow Lark quickly bowed, and lifted the lid of the platter made of Jade. Immediately, there sprung from the platter the most hideous bakemono that ever existed. His eyes were in his belly and his mouth was on the top of his head and he had feet where his ears should be and arms where his feet should be. The bakemono howled and gibbered and raced around the Court of the Celestial Heavens, screaming a blood-curdling cry. The courtiers dived behind cushions and crawled under the takama, terrified out of their minds, for any who looked upon the bakemono was filled with terror and dread. Even the Celestial Emperor ducked behind the Celestial Throne.

Finally, the mighty warrior, Princess Fury, grabbed the Celestial Jade Chamberpot and used it to crush the Bakemono into Jigoku. Slowly, the Celestial Court recovered themselves, and the Celestial Emperor returned to his seat upon the throne.

After a long period of time, the Emperor said, with caution, “Is that the last thing you have to show me, Prince Meadow Lark?”

Prince Meadow Lark nodded, and said, “Hai, my Lord. Fury has killed the Truth.”

The Emperor thought about this for a long moment, and said finally. “I wish to examine the other Truths more carefully. Perhaps the Celestial Court was too hasty in judging them inadequate.”

Prince Meadow Lark shook his head. “I am very sorry, my Lord, but in order to remove them from your sight, I was forced to swallow those Truths. I cannot bring them back. But, my Lord. If the Celestial Court watches and listens very carefully when I speak, they may manage to catch a glimpse of those truths from where they lie now.”

And with that, he turned and left the Celestial Court."

[Shinwa]

This was another story I used a couple of times. It is not original, it's very traditional though I made this telling up. I like to think this one is why it's called 'The Crane Clan', though there are a couple of other traditional stories featuring Crane. This is one of the oldest though.

Once, long ago, before even the kami fell from the heavens, there lived a man...a farmer on the outskirts of a prosperous village. He was a poor man, a simple man, who worked the fields and came home alone."

One day, he was in the forest looking for firewood when he came across a crane with a wounded wing. It was being hounded by a wolf. He threw a rock at the wolf, and the wolf ran away, not really that interested in the feast anyway. The man thought about cooking it up and eating it himself, because food was often scarce for him in those times. But in the end, he decided that he wasn't that hungry either. So he checked her wing over and let her go, returning to his small house.

A few days later, a beautiful woman arrived at the door to this poor farmer's house. She asked him to help her...she had been fleeing from an attacker and needed a place to hide. She was sweet and modest and kind and intelligent and beautiful. The farmer could not bear to tell her no, and invited her to stay with him.

Was it any surprise that the farmer fell in love with such a creature? As soon as she entered his life, he found his world transformed. His poor hut, he found cleaned and spotless every day. His meager meals, cooked to perfection, each portion of rice used to best benefit so the meals went farther than they ever had before. She started a vegetable garden for him, and took care of him in all ways. And each day he went to town, and regretted that he could not bring back more for her, for certainly she deserved it. He begged to marry her, and she accepted.

"One day, he complained about this at his evening meal. Complained that he did not have enough to provide for her as he thought that she should be provided for. She had never complained, had never once asked for more, but could see his grief. " She sighed. "Very well," she told the farmer. "Build me a little hut next to the house. Make sure it has no windows, and make certain the walls are thick. And build for me a loom. I will weave for you, and you can sell the fabric I weave. That will bring you wealth and status, as you desire.

"The farmer, of course, did as he was bid, building hut and loom for his beautiful wife. When it was finished, after they had finished their morning meal, she stood outside the hut and told him, "I will do this thing for you. But there is one condition, my husband. You must never, ever watch what it is I am doing here. You must never watch me as I weave. Do you understand"

"Well, of course the farmer claimed he understood, just overjoyed at the thought of wondering what his wife could accomplish. And so she went into the hut, and he went off to work the fields. And at the end of the day, when he returned home, she emerged from the hut and laid out for him a bolt of the finest silk he had ever seen, pure snowy white, with beautiful patterns woven into the essence of the fabric itself. The man was overjoyed. And she smiled to see his joy."

"When he went to town to sell it, half the townsfolk were buzzing about the quality and beauty of the fabric. The village magistrate was very impressed indeed, and he received an excellent price. He immediately bought a lovely hair ornament for his wife, and other things to make their house more impressive, and hurried home to her."

"The farmer's wife accepted the gifts graciously, though they seemed to give her no pleasure. Still, it pleased him well enough, until the money ran out. And then he said, "You should go make more cloth. If you make more, I can buy many more splendid things and treat you as well as you deserve."

"She granted his request. He went off in the field. When he returned, she did not emerge, and he ate his evening meal alone. The next day, he went to the fields again. This time, when he returned, he found her there, with twice as much of the beautiful fabric as before, waiting for him. He was overjoyed, and praised her, and hurried to town the next day to sell it."

"By then, the reputation of the first bolt had grown. There was a rich lord who wished to buy. The man was eager and all was going well. He bought more gifts for his wife, a beautiful kimono for her, new linens for their bed. Everything. Their house grew more resplendent."

And so it continued. Every few days, the farmer would realize that the money had run out, and would turn to his wife. She would go into her hut for a day or two, and emerge with more cloth he would sell. He dressed her in gold and jewels and the finest kimono. He hired a servant for her to tend their house and a gardener for their garden and a cook for their kitchen. She looked as beautiful and as fine a lady as he felt she should be, had everything he felt she deserved.

"And she did as he bid, uncomplaining. But he noticed, despite the makeup and the kimonos, each day she seemed to grow more weary and more pale. When he asked, she said that it was nothing...but...he began to grow curious."

"The farmer grew more and more curious. What were these secrets she kept from him? Who was she anyway? What foe had pursued her? How did she create the beautiful white silk she wove? The questions burned like fire in his heart at night, even when in the day he would ask her to go and create more silk for him to sell."

"Finally, he could not bear it any longer. "

"He left his wife as usual for the day, with instructions to weave for him more silk. But, instead of going to the field, he stole back to the house and waited. He watched his wife enter the little hut he had prepared, and still he waited until he could hear the clicking of the loom. And then he stole, very quietly, up to the hut, lay his head on the ground, and peered through the crack under the door."

"Within, the man saw the great white crane that he had rescued so long before. With her long, elegant bill, she tore the feathers from her own breast, her own wings of perfect snowy white, and fed them into the loom, weaving them on the loom to make the fabric he had so desired. She had given him everything he had asked, even down to the very essence of herself, though it was destroying her to do so."

"Surprised....shocked...maybe horrified...the farmer made a sound. The Crane turned and saw him then, and emerged, battered and bruised, from the hut. She gave him one, long, last, sad look...and flew away. Never to be seen again."

[Hida Tetsuko]

I remember thie truth story, it reminded me of ones in The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfyss. Have you read that?

The Crane story...there may be something of the pelican myth in there, pelicans were said to tear their breasts to feed their young.

Love them all.

[Shinwa]

I haven't read that, but I was going for an old style. The Crane story is a real Japanese folk tale, though i have heard the pelican myth too. Here is one from Day 0 Kyoumi told just for Karasu. It is a true story from Kyoumi's past though. She just turned it into a tale.

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"Once, before the Day of Thunder, before the end of the golden age, before the changing of many things that once were," she begins, "There was a famous sensei, a mighty Kenshinzen. He was a hard teacher, but fair, and never cruel. He had many gifted students. Among the most gifted of the whole clan were ranked among his students."

"This man had a particularly gifted student. He was naturally talented in every way. He trained constantly. Many other masters murmured about what a credit he would one day become to the ranks of the Kenshinzen. But the sensei had detected a flaw, just one."

"The student was brash. Impatient. Eager to claim the glory that he was so certain awaited him. To teach the student, to tame him to humility and discipline, the sensei was careful to restrain his attention, not offer this student any more or any less than any of his other students, no matter how weak and untalented they were. The student, however, believed he deserved more, and chafed at how the sensei ignored him."

"The student began to go to ever greater lengths to win the attention of the sensei. He started duels, killed, as a chance to demonstrate his skills. Some of the other masters were impressed. But his master wasn't. Eventually the other masters granted him the opportunity to test to join the Kenshinzen. The student tested. And succeeded in defeating his opponent. But his technique, and his manner of behavior before the test, demonstrated that he lacked the honor required to be Kenshinzen. His attempt to join was denied."

"Skill was not enough. It never had been."

"The student was furious at being denied. His loss haunted him. His spirit demanded vengence. And so, when the opportunity arose, he struck down the young son of his sensei while training him with the boken...not a fatal blow, but an injury so severe that it meant that the boy would never be able to follow in his father's footsteps. "

"The broken child devastated his father, and in his grief and driven by the taunting of his student and his student's allies, he made a major breech of etiquette, he swore that his child would be Kenshinzen. Something that, all knew, could never be. The master was shamed....or would have been. It was then his daughter, a young dancer by training, also only a child, stepped forward and claimed that she would stand for her brother and father in this, and she would take up the dance of the sword."

"The deed was considered so honorable, so well said, that the student was humiliated again, and roundly mocked for trying to put his noble sensei to shame."

"One day, sensei and student stood among the very last of the Kakita Bushi fighting the False Hoturi at Kuden Doji. The student, burning with his lust for the position of Kenshinzen and fury, cut down his sensei from behind and joined the False Hoturi."

"The honor of the Kenshinzen drove him. The honor of the Kenshinzen destroyed him. The honor of the Kenshinzen created him. The honor of the Kenshinzen kept him from destroying them from within. The honor of the Kenshinzen is why they have honor still."

[Hida Tetsuko]

Another short story, this one from Touch the Sky.

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Once there was a great and powerful Lord of the Mountains. He was wise and learned in the ways of sages and bushido, he was also knowledgeable in battle and his strength of arm defended his people from harm.
So devoted in his service was he, that he took no wife, but he did have a daughter. The child of his heart, she lived with her mother at the foot of the mountains in a humble house.
The Lord of the Mountains did visit his daughter, in secret as he did not yet wish for his subjects to know of her. When he came, she would sit by him and he would tell her stories of the mountains. Of the bald wise men that knew many things. Of the bright swordsmen who wielded a sword in each hand. And of the fire spirits that dwelt in the heart of the mountains.
And each time he came, his daughter asked him if she could come to live with him in his castle in the mountains. But he would always answer the same.
“When the wind blows in from the south, when the dragons return with tales of the land of sun, then you shall dwell in my castle and all shall know that you are my daughter.”
Then a great war came to the land, the Lord of the Mountains had much to occupy him with protecting his people from the great threats that came for them. Great armies marches of the living and of the dead, the crops rotted in their fields, the fish died in the rivers, and famine and ruin gripped the land. The Lord of the Mountains rarely visited his daughter, and then he stopped coming at all.
His daughter was sad, but she kept hope that her father would one day return and to keep the promise that he had made to her. But her mother knew that the great war had made the lands not safe. And so she told her daughter that they would leave the lands, heading south where the sun was warm and the danger was far away.
Weeks passed, the Lord of the Mountains was still occupied with the affairs of his lands. But he had not forgotten his daughter. One day in spring, he descended the mountains to visit after a long absence. But he found the house empty, his daughter and her mother long since gone. He knew he had failed to keep his promise to his daughter, it was too late to keep it.
He returned to the mountains, more weeks passed and though he sent people to search there was no sign of his daughter or their mother.
He went to the wise bald men and asked where he might find his daughter. They came to him and said, “You will not find her, yet she will find you but she will have a new name.”
He then went to the swordsmen and asked them where he might find his daughter. They came to him and said, “You will not find her, yet she will find you and she will have given her hand and heart to another man.”
He then went to the high mountains where the fire spirits dwelled and asked his daughter. They came to him and said, “You will not find her, yet she will find you and come to live in your castle but it will no longer be yours.”
Many years past, the Lord of the Mountains ruled wisely and justly. The great war continued and when he felt he could no longer lead his people as he knew they needed to be, he chose a younger man among his subjects and retired to the ranks of the bald wise men.
More years passed, he aged until it came one day he lay dying.
“I have done great wrong,” he said. “My daughter is gone to me. She has forgotten me, and I do not blame her.”
Yet as he laid there, breathing his last. A face appeared before him. His daughter, now a woman grown.
“Daughter,” he said. “You have come to me at my last, as the light fades from my eyes.”
“I have, father,” she said. “I have not forgotten, and I knew you would not forget me.”
“When I am gone, you must go from this place to the man who is now Lord of the Mountains,” he said. “I have told him of you, he will keep the promise I made to you. You shall live at my castle and all shall know that you are mine.”

[Hida Tetsuko]

This story was going to be in To Touch the Sky but I could not find room for it. I hope you enjoy it. It is called The Star Child.

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Long ago, before the Children of Lady Sun and Lord Moon fell to earth, there was once a widow. She was poor but also kind, clever and industrious. She kept sheep and spun and wove the wool into warm blankets. She made and painted parasols which she sold to fashionable ladies. And she gathered leaves and herbs to make soothing, healing tea.
But she was deeply unhappy. She longed for a child to call her own, and now her husband was dead it looked like she never would.
One night, she sat by the lake near her house and wept many melancholy tears as she often did. Then a great light appeared, a star fell from the sky and came upon to the surface of the lake. Out of the light came a man, bright and cold and proud. His eyes were as deep as the night sky, yet they were kind. He was the Great Lord of the Sky, that lived in the Palace of the Heavens and sat upon a throne of diamond.
“Woman, I have looked down upon you many nights,” said the Great Lord of the Sky. “My heart is full of pity for you, I will give you what you desire, a child of your own. Yet I must have something in return.”
“Whatever it is, I will do it,” said the woman. “For you would have granted me the wish of my heart.”
“You shall bear and borne your child, they shall be yours,” said the Lord of the Sky. “But the one night, on a night very much like this, I shall return to you. And that child shall come with me and have a place in the sky beside me.”
The woman hesitated. “I have given you my word,” she said. “I accept.”
“Then take my hand,” said he.
The woman held out her hand, the man took it. A light passed from him and into her.
“Nine months from now, when Lord Moon is at his fullest, you shall have your child in your arms,” he said.
Then with a flash of light, he returned to the sky.
And so it happened as he foretold. Her belly swelled with the new life within. Nine months passed and she gave birth to a son. His skin was soft and pale, his hair as white as snow, yet his eyes as dark as the evening sky.
He was a clever boy, learned to walk and talk before many other children usually did, carrying the leaves and herbs for his mother’s teas. A helpful boy, who held the parasols while his mother painted them. And a loving boy, who would wrap them both in the warm blanket when they sat together when the day’s work was done.
But he was also a quiet boy, he would often sit beside the lake and look up at the sky as if it held answers for him that he did not know.
Then one evening, when her boy was almost a man, a star fell from the sky upon the surface of the lake. There stood the cold, proud man, the Great Lord of the Sky.
“I have come for my son,” he said.
The boy looked at his mother. “Must I go?”
Holding back tears, his mother nodded.
The boy walked out onto the lake and took his father’s hand. With a great flash of light the two ascended to the sky.
His mother was left alone, she wept. But he heart was full of mother’s love. She declared to herself that she must see her son again, she must find him. So she set out to find those who might help her.
She took with her one of her parasols, a teapot and a warm blanket and began to walk the land.
She came to the vast desert, very hot and dry where the light of Lady Sun shone bright but also harshly on those people who lived there.
“I am looking for my son, how can I speak to Lady Sun?” she asked the people.
“Help us!” cried the people. “Lady Sun has many gifts, but we do need shelter from her light.”
“I can help,” said the woman, giving her parasol to the people.
Lady Sun saw how kind the woman was to them and came down from heaven to speak with her with her.
“Please, Lady Sun, how might I find my son?” the woman asked.
“I cannot help you,” said Lady Sun. “But you might seek out my husband, he is the Lord of Night and stands beside the stars and might know these things.”
“I will,” promised the woman.
The woman continued to walk the land. She came to the endless plains, cold with the wind bowing on the people who lived there.
“I am looking for my son, how can I speak to Lord Moon?” she asked the people.
“Help us!” cried the people. “Lord Moon has many gifts, but the coldness he brings has us shivering.”
“I can help,” said the woman, giving the people her wool blanket.
Lord Moon saw how kind she was to the people and came down to speak with her.
“Please, Lord Moon, how I find my son?” the woman asked.
“I cannot help you,” said Lord Moon. “But you might seek out the Great Dragon, he dwells in the mountains and flies in the skies and might know these things.”
“I will,” promised the woman.
So the woman continued to walk the land. She came to the high mountains, damp and with the mist rolling down and making the people ill as it was seldom the Dragon came down with his fire to warm them.
“I am looking for my son, how can I speak to the Great Dragon?” she asked the people.
“Help us!” cried the people. “The Great Dragon has many gifts, but rarely gives us his fire.”
“I can help,” said the woman, giving them her teapot and showing them how to light a fire and make tea.
The Great Dragon saw how kind she was to the people and came down to speak to her.
“Please, Great Dragon, how I find my son?” the woman asked.
“Alas, I cannot help,” answered the Great Dragon. “But when I next fly through the sky, I will let you ride upon my back so that your son might find you.”
So that evening, when Lord Moon rose and the stars emerged from the darkness, she sat upon the back of the Great Dragon. She saw many stars, many faces, the brothers and sisters of her son. But she did not see him. Her mother’s heart was filled with grief and she called out his name.
“Hikaru!” For her was her light and joy and he was gone from her life.
“Mother!” Her son appeared, appearing beside her.
“My son!” she cried. “I have found you at last!”
“Come with me,” he said.
Her son held out her hand and she took it, going with him to the Great House of the Heavens where the star children dwelled, all as pale and beautiful as her son was. Here his father, the great Lord of the Sky sat upon his diamond throne. He knelt before the throne.
“Father,” he said. “My mother has returned to me, might she dwell her in the sky beside us all.”
But the Great Lord of the Sky shook his head. “That I cannot permit,” he said. “But I see your pain, I see your grief, I see your loving mother’s heart. I will permit you to return to her.”
The woman bowed low. “I thank you.”
“But he must return to me each evening,” said the Great Lord of the Sky. “By day he shall be yours, descending when the light of Lady Sun first touches the land. But when the sun sets, he must ascend to the night sky and stand beside me and all my other children.”
“I accept,” said the woman.
And so it came to be. She had her son her son in her arms, her heart and her home once more, for as long as Lady Sun shone her light upon the world. And she was happy.

[Shinwa]

That was a lovely story. I enjoyed it very much.

[Hida Tetsuko]

This is very much a Lion clan story.


The Honour of the Name

There was once a great and powerful samurai lord, the High Marshall of the Maned Legions. He married and his wife gave him three children, an older son, a second son and a daughter. Shortly after the birth of his daughter, his wife passed from this life and into the Realm of Blessed Ancestors. The High Marshall was saddened by the loss of his wife, but when he held his infant daughter in his arms he had not the heart to blame her for it.
The three children grew and matured, carefully schooled in the ways of the sword, the ways of bushido and the ways of war. His sons performance was adequate, but in his daughter the High Marshall knew his blood ran true. Talented with sword, dedicated to her studies and exceptional in strategy and tactics. His second son acknowledged his sister’s skills, but his oldest son was jealous of his sister and thought his father unfairly favoured her.
The High Marshall fully intended for his daughter to be his heir, passing of his two sons for her to lead the Maned Legions. Yet before he could make his will, the High Marshall fell gravely ill. He was confined to his bed, his daughter never left his side but he was too weak to speak.
Then the High Marshall died and the Maned Legions mourned his loss.
The older son succeeded his father as High Marshall, receiving oaths of fealty from all bushi. He decreed that his younger brother would be his hatamoto, steward of the castle and advisor in all things.
“And what is to become of me?” asked his sister.
“You will be shortly married,” said her oldest brother. “I declare that you will give up the sword and the ways of war. Your duty will now be to keep house for your husband and bear children that will bring honour and glory to our father’s line.”
“And I declare I will do no such thing,” said his sister. “I will not give up my sword, if you wish to have it from me you must take it.” She drew it, baring the blade before all. No one moved to take it, for none could best her.
“Then I declare that your sword will no longer serve the Mane Legions,” said her oldest brother. “You will be a nameless ronin, subject to the waves and the rain. You shall leave these lands forthwith and never return.”
“Hear this, my brother,” said his sister, pointing her sword towards where he sat. “I sweat to you on our father’s line that I will return. And that you shall be at my swordpoint and beg for mercy.”
Then she strode from the hall and left the lands of her birth.
She travelled for many days and nights until the lands of her birth were far behind her and she entered the lands of the Champion of the Golden Horde, who ruled all these lands from the mountains to the sea. She came to a small castle and was tested by the Commander there. He praised her skill with the sword, her knowledge of bushido and her mastery of tactics and offered her a posting at the castle which she accepted.
“And what is your name?” the Commander asked.
“I am called Nanashi,” she answered.
The Commander accepted this, he had accepted wave men before and as long as he was satisfied with what he saw he questioned them no further.
By the end of summer, Nanashi had earned the admiration of her fellow bushi. She was first in the fight, always in the thick of it but also never hesitated to risk her life to help them in difficulty or danger. Yet none could best her in a duel, not even the Commander.
When the year was out, the Commander promoted her to gunso which was welcomed by all in her squad.
The next summer, the Champion of the Golden Horde was to have a great tournament at his court, the Castle of Loyalty. The commander declared that Nanashi was to be one of the bushi that represented them.
Many bushi from all over the land gathered for the tournament, their superiors gathering in the stands by the Champion’s side to watch them. One of these Nanashi noticed was her oldest brother, sitting by the Champion’s right hand. Not wishing to be recognised, she kept her helmet on and her face behind her mempo.
The tournament began, Nanashi faced many bushi in duels and soon emerged as the firm favourite. She even duelled her second brother, he bowed at his defeat but he did not recognise her.
Finally, it came to the final round and Nanashi faced her opponent, bowing to the Champion before beginning.
The Champion sat in the stands beside the duelling ring. He had watched her closely throughout the tournament, wondering who thus mysterious bushi was that never showed her face. The Champion was a young man, new to his role. He was also unmarried, with his handsomeness and charm making him the target of many matchmakers bringing young ladies before him. The Champion refused them all.
Nanashi won the duel, making her bow to the Champion.
“Your duel was well fought,” said the Champion, acknowledging her bow. “But I have a request to make of you. Will you face me in a duel and test my blade against yours?”
“It shall be as you wish, Champion,” she said.
They duelled, round and round the ring. It became clear that in the Champion that Nanashi had met her match, each attack she made was deflected by the Champion, each weakness or hesitation taken advantage of. After the longest time, the Champion prevailed, having Nanashi at his mercy. Nanashi conceded, bowing low.
“You have won the day, Champion,” she said. “I was never bested before, until now.”
“”Might I make another request of you,” said the Champion. “Remove your helmet, show me your face and tell me your true name.”
Nanashi knew she could not refuse, removing her helmet and showing her face.
In the stands, her oldest brother stood up and shouted. “That is my sister! She left my house as a nameless ronin when she refused my orders.”
The Champion turned to Nanashi. “Is this true?”
“I am as he says,” Nanashi answered.
Disappointed, the Champion almost turned from her. Then he spoke again. “What did he order of you?”
“He ordered me to give up my sword and the ways of war,” Nanashi answered.
The Champion laughed. “What bushi would fight for one who would squander their talents?” He raised his voice for all to hear. “I declare this, from this day on you shall serve me directly. For I am not one to spurn a strong sword given in honour.”
Nanashi bowed low. “MY sword is yours to command, Champion.”
There was a great celebration last night, many bushi sought to know Nanashi. She did not see her brother among the revellers, he had left shortly after the tournament.
Nanashi served the Champion faithfully, putting her talents at his disposal, seeking not glory for herself but only in his name. The Champion admired her, it gave him joy to see her return at the head of the Golden Horde.
And it was then he realised that he loved her. And the thought he could not leave his mind. Weeks passed, he was unable to speak to anyone of it and found it difficult to eat or sleep. Every day he woke, he promised it would say something of it to her, and the sun would set without him doing so. Nanashi showed no sign of any feelings towards him, kept doing her duty diligently from one day to the next.
One morning, as the Champion and Nanashi practiced in the castle dojo as they often did, a messenger arrived.
“Champion, the High Marshall of the Maned Legions has struck his banners against you,” said the messenger. “He marches this way with other lords in rebellion.”
“Is it my brother?” Nanashi asked.
The messenger nodded. The Champion motioned for him to leave.
Nanashi knelt before the Champion, bowing her head and placing a hand on her sword. “Send me, Champion!” she pleaded. “Let me be your strong right arm! Let me be your sword to slay your enemies! Let me redeem the name of my father in the home that my brother has taken from me!”
The Champion’s heart swelled with his love of her. He would send her, she would prevail but he knew he must now speak of what was in his heart.
“It shall be so,” decreed the Champion. “You will lead the Golden Horde, your sword will be my will. But first…there is something I must say to you.”
He motioned for her to rise and stand.
“Champion?” Nanashi’s voice was low and soft.
“I must confess my true feelings for you,” said the Champion. “I ardently love and admire you, and I wish for you to be my wife and lead the Golden Horde at my side.”
Nanashi looked at him for the longest moment. “It took you this long to speak?”
The Champion gasped. “You…you knew?”
Nanashi nodded. “I have loved you ever since that first day I entered your service, when you bested me in the duel,” she said. “But I did not think it right to speak of it. I buried my feelings as best I could, but since you have spoken I could not stay silent.”
The Champion took her in his arms and kissed her. “My heart wants to sing with happiness,” he said. “Let us be married at once!”
“Please, let it be on my return,” said Nanashi. “Let me claim the land of my father. Let this battle be my dowry.”
The Champion granted, for he could deny her nothing.
Nanashi led the Golden Horde back to the land of her birth. She knew the land better than anyone, and this helped her to prevail against the other rebellious armies. Then she got to the castle itself, where she had lived. She ordered her troops to accept the surrender of any bush that gave it.
“These men fought for my father,” she said. “They are men of honour who are not to blame for my brother’s treachery.”
Quite a few bushi surrendered to her, soon she was in the great hall where she had last spoken to her brother on that fateful day she had left the castle. The banner of the Golden Horde now flew free above the castle. Her brother was brought before her, two bushi holding him and throwing him on his knees to where she stood.
Nanashi pointed her sword at her brother as he prostrated before her. “Brother, I said once that we would be here, did I not?”
“You did,” said her brother. “And by our father’s name, I beg you to show mercy to myself and my family.”
Nanashi looked down at her brother for a long time, then sheathed her sword. “I will give you the same mercy that you gave me,” she said. “I grant you your life, but know that it is my gift. I grant your family their lives, but know their memory shall be of your disgrace. But you will go from this place, without your name, and shall not return. Now go!”
Her oldest brother left. She called her second brother forward, he pledged his sword and his life to her and to the Champion of the Golden Horde. She made him her hatamoto and steward of the castle until she should return.
She then returned to Loyalty Castle with the Golden Horde, the Champion meeting her at the gates. The two were soon married, with much revelry and rejoicing by all who attended. They had many sons and daughters, all grew up to give honour and glory to the family name.