The Duty of War
Chapter 16
Winter, 1236-7 - Kyuden Hida
Two days later, Harun was back at Kyuden Hida having tea with his Aunt Momoibura and his cousins. He told her about his trip to the Wall, honestly including his own mixed feelings.
Momoibura smiled reassuringly. “I think that can be expected on your first trip, Harun,” she said. “The Wall is important, but unlike anything else in Rokugan. The longer you are here, the more you will understand.”
“The rooms where the children were kept,” said Harun. “I had no idea it was that bad during the war.”
Momoibura nodded. “That is why we cannot forget,” she said gravely. “And make sure others know.” She looked around at her daughters who nodded in agreement.
“I agree completely,” said Harun.
“Then that is a good start,” said Momoibura approvingly. “Now, tell me all your news, Harun. What do you think of Yosoko-sama? Is anything settled for your marriage?”
“Not yet, but there’s no reason to not think it is not going ahead,” said Harun, wishing his heart didn’t feel heavy when he said the words. “As for Yosoko…well as we are proceeding the traditional way we have hardly spoken and I do not know her at all.” A thought occurred to him. “Perhaps you could answer something for me, do you know about the fan she carries with the teal tassel?”
“I am sure it is just a pretty fan,” said Momoibura, a little too quickly.
“But mother, you know Yoritomo Aramaki gave it to her,” said his cousin Mineko.
Momoibura frowned at her daughter.
“But it’s true!” The girl insisted. “I heard it from Saeki who heard it from Honoka. They are very…Oh!” She finally caught her mother’s meaning and was quiet.
“I didn’t mean to pry,” said Harun, trying to salvage the situation. “You see…I found a similar fan with my mother possessions, perhaps given to her by my father.”
Momoibura smiled and poured more tea. “You must tell me as soon as everything for your wedding is arranged,” she said, gesturing to the kimono on racks around her. “We need to make sure you are properly attired.”
“I will,” Harun promised, picking up his teacup. Her kindness did a little to take away the growing gnawing feeling in Harun’s stomach, not much, but a little.
The Imperial Court began to wane towards a close. The winter had been mild, bringing thoughts of the coming spring.
Kakita Kyoumi had been on the panel of judges that, after much deliberation, had rewarded Ikoma Sayuri the title of Turquoise Champion for her painting. The piece had been a brilliant compromise of the traditional Rokugani style with elements of the bolder, more fluid and recent methods. Hopefully, Sayuri’s tenure as Turquoise Champion would inspire other artisans.
But “compromise” seemed to be a recurring theme, as Kyoumi reflected when she and Kousuda had tea with Empress Iweko Ayameko.
Kyoumi was quite familiar with the Empress, not just through her role as the Voice but before when Kyoumi had been an aide to her predecessor Hida Kozan and had deftly managed to prevent the coup of the former Shogun of the Empire Akodo Kano. The Empress had been seen less in public in her declining years, but this didn’t mean she was not involved with the world. A former Hida, she always favoured pragmatism.
But Kyoumi had come to her today with something that was not only controversial, but that she has deep personal misgivings about. Crown Prince Iweko Kiseki’s marriage to Isanko, Haihime’s daughter and Daigotsu Kanpeki’s granddaughter. A bargain she had made as the cost for not doing so was too high.
So over tea, while seated next to her husband, Kyoumi outlined her plan and her reasons for it, leaving nothing out. The prophecy of the Kitsu, Susumu Ketsueki’s very real threats to the entire Empire and the girl Isanko herself whom Kyoumi hoped would benefit greatly educated by the Crane.
The Empress listened patiently, open but perhaps a little sceptical. When Kyoumi was done, her questions were correct.
“May I ask you this, Kakita-san?” A year ago, the idea of my older son’s marriage was brought up with similar outcomes, this…alliance with the Spider. I let myself be convinced for the Crane to provide alternatives, which they have. Can you tell me what has changed?”
Kyoumi took a careful sip of tea. “The path we travel has not changed, Your Highness, but we see it clearer now and we see the critical juncture we are at. And while the path we must take is not one we thought we would, we must take it or lose everything we have fought for.”
“This appears to be little different to blackmail,” sniffed Ayameko. “And we are giving into it.”
Kyoumi’s face was a cool mask. “That thought has also occurred to me, Your Highness.”
Ayameko considered this, coming to some sort of agreement with herself. “Tell me about the girl. Whom does she favour?”
“Her father, Doji Sorei-san,” said Kyoumi, her voice warming a little. “This is as we had hoped when the Crane first made the match between him and Lady Haihime. He appears to have had most of the raising of her, her spirit is strong, pure and free of taint.”
“She is still quite young, is she not?” Ayameko asked.
Kyoumi nodded. “This is where the Crane hope to influence her character for the better. She will be trained by the Doji, protected, and when she comes of age she will be ready.”
“You speak with much confidence, Kakita-san,” noted Ayameko.
“I have followed her progress for a number of years, Your Highness, through her father,” said Kyoumi. “Isanko is a bright girl, charming, very easy to like.”
“What of her mother?” Ayameko asked.
“Lady Haihime has never sought power nor the attentions of others,” said Kyoumi. “Her role with her daughter’s future will be minimal and discreet…assuming she survives her duty to kill Yuhimi no Oni.”
“Such a mother, to distance herself from her child so easily,” said Ayameko, almost sadly.
“Lady Haihime is no ordinary woman, Your Highness,” said Kyoumi. “And her daughter is not one either.”
“I must meet this girl for myself,” said Ayameko.
“I can arrange it,” said Kyoumi, bowing.
More tea was poured. The tension in the room seemed to dispel somewhat.
“It is good that you asked to see me today, Kakita-san, as I had been meaning to speak to you,” said Ayameko, looking at them both as an attendant filled their cups. “To speak to both of you.”
Kousuda made a smile and bow at being recognised.
“It concerns your older son, Kakita Masarugi-san,” continued Ayameko. “From what I understand, he and my older son have been quite close, Masarugi-san being an influence of good on the Prince.”
“You are most kind to say so, Your Highness” said Kousuda.
“They both make their gempukku in the spring,” said Ayameko. “Following this, Kiseki will be making a tour of Rokugan, visiting the lands of all the Great Clans. It is my wish that Masarugi-san should accompany him.”
Kousuda and Kyoumi were stunned by this. Their son, Masarugi to be a companion and confident of the future Emperor of Rokugan. A great honour, and a way to completely secure his future and that of their family.
They both bowed. “I thank you, Your Highness,” said Kousuda. “I am sure that Masarugi will be worthy of the trust placed in him and will serve faithfully.”
“Of course, we all wish the best for our children,” said Ayameko, a little warmness in her voice beneath the formality. “May I ask, have you had any more news of your daughter? What happened to her was cruel and tragic and you have served faithfully despite of it.”
“Nothing further, Your Highness,” said Kousuda. “I do hope to leave for Zogeku in the spring to get answers for myself.”
“Please let me know if you have any difficulties,” said Ayameko.
“I will,” promised Kousuda. “And thank you.”
Being back at court was an odd experience for Harun, coming back from the Wall where the threat was visible and pleasant back to court where so much was about pretence and appearance. And he was constantly reminded where he wasn’t welcome, especially in the dojo. He knew the stories that were circulated about him, probably by the Crane.
The Koten ceremony was a welcome relief, it was a full day’s ride northeast from Kyuden Hida. And with several people as well as Harun to be honoured, they made quite a party, banners of the Crab, Dragon and Mantis Clans flying freely. The Crab and Mantis Champions riding as well.
But no Phoenix, Harun noticed, and he didn’t see his father’s banner there either. That hurt.
He rode with Koharu and Katsura Hisato and talked with other things, trying to ignore the pain.
Koten, the Crab Hall of Ancestors, was an austere stone temple nestled between two mountains. Here it was that the heroes of the Crab were honoured, their stories told and kept alive. The fact that the Crab were inviting samurai from other clans to be commemorated there was exceptional.
They arrived at nightfall, making camp outside and rising early the next day to gather inside.
Inside Koten was dark and cold, a chill that seemed to penetrate the skin. Like at the Wall, the walls here were inscribed with names. But there were more, many more that went back many years. There were also statues. Kisada, the Fortune of Persistence standing with his great grandson of the same name and his daughter, Hida O-Ushi that continued his line.
Harun felt decidedly small, what had he done compared to legends such as these? The fact that his name was to be included within these walls?
They are recognising it though, which is more than the Crane would ever do…
Harun sighed.
Nasu came up beside him, grinning proudly. “Impressive, aren’t they?”
Harun nodded. “The one on the left is your grandfather?”
“Yes,” said Nasu, his voice lowering a little. “He was trained by Kisada no Fortune after he returned from Yomi, trained here even. But no one knew even then what the Crab would face…”
Harun nodded again, preferring not to answer.
“They’re getting started,” Nasu said.
Harun went with him where the crowd had formed around one of the inscribed walls. A wall where there was room for more names to be added. In front of it stood Hida Katashi, Champion of the Crab, towering above most people in the room. Beside him was a small, wizened bald monk. Hito, Nasu explained, the Keeper of Lore.
“We have come here to day honour not words, but deeds. The deeds of those who have been seen to be worthy to have their names inscribed in these hallowed halls. Those deeds we will hear of today. Step forward to be honoured…Kakita Harun-Chui.”
All eyes were on Harun as he made his way forward, the crowd parted to make a path to where the Crab Champion stood. Harun bowed low. “I am honoured that you think to deem me worthy to stand amongst these giants.”
Katashi indicated that Harun rise and stand beside him. “Your story, Kakita-Chui, will be repeated down the ages for those who wish to hear it.”
The monk began to speak, his voice taking on a ritualistic cadence as he repeated the story of Harun’s life. He knew everything, beginning even before Harun was born with his birth father Nakura’s sacrifice. Harun’s adoption, his training at the Kakita Academy, the Topaz Championship, the battle of Shiro Moto, entering the Imperial Legions, Shimekiri….
It was complete, and accurate, but all wrong. The details were accurate, but Harun knew that it not like had been like the Crab were making them to be.
They’re making me out to be some hero...that’s not me.
But he had to be silent, to stand and wait for the finish. He scanned the crowd, trying to spot people he knew. Nasu, Hisato, Koharu, Momoibura, Moshi Janisha standing close to the Mantis Champion…and at the back of the crowd Harun saw his father Karasu.
His heart leapt with joy. Father…he came!
Did this mean Harun was forgiven? No, that was impossible, but surely his coming meant something.
When Harun’s story was done, his name was solemnly inscribed on the wall. Harun watched it rather hollowly, somehow it meant even less now. He was quickly congratulated by well-wishers, excusing himself as he made his way through the crowd in search of his father. When he wasn’t to be found, Harun quickly went outside just in time to see Karasu mounting his horse.
“Father!”
Karasu stopped, turned to look as Harun went up to him.
“You…you came,” Harun said, breathless. “Thank you.”
Karasu’s face was a closed mask. “I came because this meant something to you, Harun, not to approve of what you have done.”
“I know father,” said Harun, feeling like he was a little boy again. “But this…it means nothing compared to a word from you.”
Karasu frowned. “Well, you know how to get that.”
He rode off, Harun's heart was heavy as he watched his father ride away. Would this gulf between them ever be healed?
There was a festive air in the camp that night, especially from the Mantis and the Crab that seemed to wish to outdo each other in drinking. Harun was invited to be a part of it, but felt a little separate, as if he wasn’t enjoying himself. All he had in his mind was the image of his father Karasu, riding away.
Yoritomo Sano, whose name had gone up on the wall after Harun’s, did his best to make Harun feel welcome and Harun was already familiar with most of the Mantis delegation. All but one of them were friendly towards Harun, and the he caught the name of the one who wasn’t: Yoritomo Aramaki.
Aramaki…he gave Yosoko that fan… Harun remembered, no wonder he doesn’t want to talk to me…
When Harun was sure he wouldn’t be missed, he left. Intending to turn in when Janisha saw him. She walked up to him.
“This is different to when I last saw you at Shiro Moto, Harun,” she said after they exchanged greetings.
“Yes, well a lot has happened in a year, Moshi-sama,” said Harun.
“Indeed,” said Janisha said with a nod. “Walk with me a little, with you?”
They left the raucous drinking party, heading behind the row of tents to where it was quiet.
“You distinguished yourself at Toshi Rambo, quite markedly,” said Janisha. “It is all you hoped?”
“No,” said Harun. “If I could just have killed Shimekiri without…everything else, I would have.” He sighed. “Everyone is just taking it the wrong way. The Crane see me as a disgrace…the Crab welcome me as a hero…”
“And what is it you see yourself as?” Janisha asked.
“I don’t know,” Harun answered. “I thought I did, now I am not so sure.”
“You cannot always control the consequences of your actions Harun,” said Janisha. “Perhaps it is better that way.” A small smile appeared on her face. “Do you know the story of how I became Mantis Champion?”
“No, but I have been curious,” said Harun.
“Years ago, at the court at Shiro Mirumoto, I was attempting to heal the rift between the Mantis from Rokugan and Zogeku,” she said. “There were two factions, and I managed to get the leaders to sit down together. Yoritomo Ichido from Rokugan, and Warlord Arashi from Zogeku. While this was going on, there was a contest where people competed to become the next Mantis Champion, the right to wield Yoritomo’s Kama…your Uncle Kousuda was one of the ones who competed.”
“Uncle Kousuda?” Harun looked at her.
“He was there right up until your mother Yamada forbade him to continue,” said Janisha. “So I got the two sides together, and that was when Ichido won the contest…and then he passed the kama to me.” She smiled again. “And there I was Mantis Champion, with Yoritomo’s Kama, something I had never had the ambition to have or thought I had the right to.”
“Perhaps that was why it was right for you to have it,” suggested Harun. “From what I know, you did great things for the Mantis.”
“Thank you,” said Janisha.
Someone called Janisha’s name, they both turned to see the Mantis Champion, Yoritomo Ogura. Beside him was a boy of about fourteen,
“My husband and my son Jiyu,” said Janisha, her veneer of formality slipped a little.
Harun nodded. “I should go,” he said.
“Harun,” Janisha said, stopping him as he walked away. Her voice more serious. “This may be the last time I see you, I wish you well in your life.”
“Thank you, Moshi-sama,” said Harun, bowing and then leaving.
But before he was out of sight, he turned to see Janisha embrace her son.
It could have been anywhere. The cabin of a ship on the high seas…in the restored Toshi no Gohei…or in Zogeku, with its wild beauty beside the river.
But it was in this tent, among the others that were encamped in the shadow of Koten, that Janisha sat with her family for what would be the last time. They all knew, even Jiyu, and though this hung over them like a shadow they tried to make the best of it. Tried to make this last time be a good memory.
But it was difficult.
Janisha looked at Jiyu, her only son and the only thing that could not be taken away from her. Her duties to Shahai as the Oracle of blood had demanded much of her, had even had forced her to be parted from him to serve at Haihime’s side. But Jiyu was her legacy, her hope for the future and for the Mantis Clan. One day he would win the right to wield Yortomo’s Kama, just as she had and just as his father Ogura had done.
Jiyu strongly favoured his father, which was understandable as Ogura had had most of the raising him. Daring, already quite skilled in combat. He would make his gempukku in a year or two. Janisha wished she would be around to see it.
Jiyu knew what was going on, had accepted it as best he could. But that didn’t mean he liked it. He sat there sullenly, silently, until he could no more.
“It’s not fair!” He shouted, glaring at his mother accusingly. “All my life you were always away and I hardly saw you, and now you are back you are going away…to die.” His glare was like fire. “Don’t you care? Don’t you care what happens to us? To the Mantis?”
“Jiyu!” warned Ogura. “Don’t you dare speak to your mother like that!”
“Why not? I meant everything I said!” Jiyu argued. “And it’s not as if I will get another chance to!”
Ogura glared back at his son.
“No, Jiyu, you are right,” said Janisha, her voice rising a little with anger. “It isn’t fair at all on you. You didn’t ask for this, you didn’t ask to be born into this.”
“I was hoping you returning to Rokugan meant it was all going to be over,” said Jiyu. “That we could be a family…somehow.”
“And you have every right to want that, my son,” said Janisha. “And you will have it, one day when I have done what I need to do to make it happen.”
“Why does it have to be you, mother?” Jiyu asked. “Can’t it be someone else?”
“You say I should ask another to accept this burden to spare myself?” Janisha asked. “You will be a samurai soon, Jiyu, and you know that this is wrong.”
Jiyu shook his head, throwing off her touch and storming out of the tent.
“Jiyu! Get back here and apologise!” Ogura demanded. “Jiyu!”
“Let him go for now,” said Janisha with a sigh.
They talked for a while over the remains of the meal Jiyu had abandoned. Sharing experiences, memories. The test of skill that Ogura had won in order to marry Janisha. Rebuilding the Mantis Isles after the disasters and deaths that had plagued them. They were happy years even, short years but still happy. It was when Jiyu had been born, it was when they all stood together to craft a future for the Mantis.
And then she had had to leave, called away by her obligations as Shahai’s oracle.
“You have passed it on, the Oracle?” Ogura asked.
Janisha nodded. “Soshi Kenshio is her name,” she said. “I am not sure where she is now, but the power was fading. Everything is waning.”
“What about Teru?” asked Ogura.
Teru had been a Shosuro infiltrator that had been with Janisha virtually unnoticed for many years. Ready to kill her if she displayed any hint of the Shadowlands taint.
“Teru is with her,” said Janisha. “He was sworn to the Oracle, not to me.”
Ogura nodded. “So, I suppose this is it then?”
“Just about,” said Janisha, her voice pained.
They both turned as someone came into the tent. It was Jiyu, red-faced and embarrassed. And limping a little “Mother, I wish to say sorry for my words earlier.” He bowed.
Janisha went up to him. “You come up with all of that on your own?”
“Some,” admitted Jiyu with a shrug. “Some of it was Sano, he said he’d thump me again if I disrespected you.”
Janisha put her hands on her son’s shoulders. He’s going to be as tall as his father one day, she thought with a little pain. “My son, there’s nothing wrong with what you feel. One day you’ll understand why it was me who had to act.” She looked down at him. “The future still needs people to make it happen.”
Janisha stayed up into the night, writing the letter to her son that he would read when he came of age. So much to tell him, to explain, words she wanted him to carry and remember. But it seemed as if words were not enough to convey how she felt.
She carefully sealed the letter, Ogura would hold it in trust until then.
She then laid down a blank piece of paper, much larger. She stared at its emptiness, her brush hovering over its surface. Once, years ago, at the Imperial Court she had given a set of paintings to the Emperor. Three of what would be a set of five. The fourth one she had done later and sent it on as promised, a painting of the Valley of the Centipede, home of the Moshi family. The final one she knew would be painted when she left Rokugan.
She put her brush to paper and started it. It was time.
Chapter 16
Winter, 1236-7 - Kyuden Hida
Two days later, Harun was back at Kyuden Hida having tea with his Aunt Momoibura and his cousins. He told her about his trip to the Wall, honestly including his own mixed feelings.
Momoibura smiled reassuringly. “I think that can be expected on your first trip, Harun,” she said. “The Wall is important, but unlike anything else in Rokugan. The longer you are here, the more you will understand.”
“The rooms where the children were kept,” said Harun. “I had no idea it was that bad during the war.”
Momoibura nodded. “That is why we cannot forget,” she said gravely. “And make sure others know.” She looked around at her daughters who nodded in agreement.
“I agree completely,” said Harun.
“Then that is a good start,” said Momoibura approvingly. “Now, tell me all your news, Harun. What do you think of Yosoko-sama? Is anything settled for your marriage?”
“Not yet, but there’s no reason to not think it is not going ahead,” said Harun, wishing his heart didn’t feel heavy when he said the words. “As for Yosoko…well as we are proceeding the traditional way we have hardly spoken and I do not know her at all.” A thought occurred to him. “Perhaps you could answer something for me, do you know about the fan she carries with the teal tassel?”
“I am sure it is just a pretty fan,” said Momoibura, a little too quickly.
“But mother, you know Yoritomo Aramaki gave it to her,” said his cousin Mineko.
Momoibura frowned at her daughter.
“But it’s true!” The girl insisted. “I heard it from Saeki who heard it from Honoka. They are very…Oh!” She finally caught her mother’s meaning and was quiet.
“I didn’t mean to pry,” said Harun, trying to salvage the situation. “You see…I found a similar fan with my mother possessions, perhaps given to her by my father.”
Momoibura smiled and poured more tea. “You must tell me as soon as everything for your wedding is arranged,” she said, gesturing to the kimono on racks around her. “We need to make sure you are properly attired.”
“I will,” Harun promised, picking up his teacup. Her kindness did a little to take away the growing gnawing feeling in Harun’s stomach, not much, but a little.
The Imperial Court began to wane towards a close. The winter had been mild, bringing thoughts of the coming spring.
Kakita Kyoumi had been on the panel of judges that, after much deliberation, had rewarded Ikoma Sayuri the title of Turquoise Champion for her painting. The piece had been a brilliant compromise of the traditional Rokugani style with elements of the bolder, more fluid and recent methods. Hopefully, Sayuri’s tenure as Turquoise Champion would inspire other artisans.
But “compromise” seemed to be a recurring theme, as Kyoumi reflected when she and Kousuda had tea with Empress Iweko Ayameko.
Kyoumi was quite familiar with the Empress, not just through her role as the Voice but before when Kyoumi had been an aide to her predecessor Hida Kozan and had deftly managed to prevent the coup of the former Shogun of the Empire Akodo Kano. The Empress had been seen less in public in her declining years, but this didn’t mean she was not involved with the world. A former Hida, she always favoured pragmatism.
But Kyoumi had come to her today with something that was not only controversial, but that she has deep personal misgivings about. Crown Prince Iweko Kiseki’s marriage to Isanko, Haihime’s daughter and Daigotsu Kanpeki’s granddaughter. A bargain she had made as the cost for not doing so was too high.
So over tea, while seated next to her husband, Kyoumi outlined her plan and her reasons for it, leaving nothing out. The prophecy of the Kitsu, Susumu Ketsueki’s very real threats to the entire Empire and the girl Isanko herself whom Kyoumi hoped would benefit greatly educated by the Crane.
The Empress listened patiently, open but perhaps a little sceptical. When Kyoumi was done, her questions were correct.
“May I ask you this, Kakita-san?” A year ago, the idea of my older son’s marriage was brought up with similar outcomes, this…alliance with the Spider. I let myself be convinced for the Crane to provide alternatives, which they have. Can you tell me what has changed?”
Kyoumi took a careful sip of tea. “The path we travel has not changed, Your Highness, but we see it clearer now and we see the critical juncture we are at. And while the path we must take is not one we thought we would, we must take it or lose everything we have fought for.”
“This appears to be little different to blackmail,” sniffed Ayameko. “And we are giving into it.”
Kyoumi’s face was a cool mask. “That thought has also occurred to me, Your Highness.”
Ayameko considered this, coming to some sort of agreement with herself. “Tell me about the girl. Whom does she favour?”
“Her father, Doji Sorei-san,” said Kyoumi, her voice warming a little. “This is as we had hoped when the Crane first made the match between him and Lady Haihime. He appears to have had most of the raising of her, her spirit is strong, pure and free of taint.”
“She is still quite young, is she not?” Ayameko asked.
Kyoumi nodded. “This is where the Crane hope to influence her character for the better. She will be trained by the Doji, protected, and when she comes of age she will be ready.”
“You speak with much confidence, Kakita-san,” noted Ayameko.
“I have followed her progress for a number of years, Your Highness, through her father,” said Kyoumi. “Isanko is a bright girl, charming, very easy to like.”
“What of her mother?” Ayameko asked.
“Lady Haihime has never sought power nor the attentions of others,” said Kyoumi. “Her role with her daughter’s future will be minimal and discreet…assuming she survives her duty to kill Yuhimi no Oni.”
“Such a mother, to distance herself from her child so easily,” said Ayameko, almost sadly.
“Lady Haihime is no ordinary woman, Your Highness,” said Kyoumi. “And her daughter is not one either.”
“I must meet this girl for myself,” said Ayameko.
“I can arrange it,” said Kyoumi, bowing.
More tea was poured. The tension in the room seemed to dispel somewhat.
“It is good that you asked to see me today, Kakita-san, as I had been meaning to speak to you,” said Ayameko, looking at them both as an attendant filled their cups. “To speak to both of you.”
Kousuda made a smile and bow at being recognised.
“It concerns your older son, Kakita Masarugi-san,” continued Ayameko. “From what I understand, he and my older son have been quite close, Masarugi-san being an influence of good on the Prince.”
“You are most kind to say so, Your Highness” said Kousuda.
“They both make their gempukku in the spring,” said Ayameko. “Following this, Kiseki will be making a tour of Rokugan, visiting the lands of all the Great Clans. It is my wish that Masarugi-san should accompany him.”
Kousuda and Kyoumi were stunned by this. Their son, Masarugi to be a companion and confident of the future Emperor of Rokugan. A great honour, and a way to completely secure his future and that of their family.
They both bowed. “I thank you, Your Highness,” said Kousuda. “I am sure that Masarugi will be worthy of the trust placed in him and will serve faithfully.”
“Of course, we all wish the best for our children,” said Ayameko, a little warmness in her voice beneath the formality. “May I ask, have you had any more news of your daughter? What happened to her was cruel and tragic and you have served faithfully despite of it.”
“Nothing further, Your Highness,” said Kousuda. “I do hope to leave for Zogeku in the spring to get answers for myself.”
“Please let me know if you have any difficulties,” said Ayameko.
“I will,” promised Kousuda. “And thank you.”
Being back at court was an odd experience for Harun, coming back from the Wall where the threat was visible and pleasant back to court where so much was about pretence and appearance. And he was constantly reminded where he wasn’t welcome, especially in the dojo. He knew the stories that were circulated about him, probably by the Crane.
The Koten ceremony was a welcome relief, it was a full day’s ride northeast from Kyuden Hida. And with several people as well as Harun to be honoured, they made quite a party, banners of the Crab, Dragon and Mantis Clans flying freely. The Crab and Mantis Champions riding as well.
But no Phoenix, Harun noticed, and he didn’t see his father’s banner there either. That hurt.
He rode with Koharu and Katsura Hisato and talked with other things, trying to ignore the pain.
Koten, the Crab Hall of Ancestors, was an austere stone temple nestled between two mountains. Here it was that the heroes of the Crab were honoured, their stories told and kept alive. The fact that the Crab were inviting samurai from other clans to be commemorated there was exceptional.
They arrived at nightfall, making camp outside and rising early the next day to gather inside.
Inside Koten was dark and cold, a chill that seemed to penetrate the skin. Like at the Wall, the walls here were inscribed with names. But there were more, many more that went back many years. There were also statues. Kisada, the Fortune of Persistence standing with his great grandson of the same name and his daughter, Hida O-Ushi that continued his line.
Harun felt decidedly small, what had he done compared to legends such as these? The fact that his name was to be included within these walls?
They are recognising it though, which is more than the Crane would ever do…
Harun sighed.
Nasu came up beside him, grinning proudly. “Impressive, aren’t they?”
Harun nodded. “The one on the left is your grandfather?”
“Yes,” said Nasu, his voice lowering a little. “He was trained by Kisada no Fortune after he returned from Yomi, trained here even. But no one knew even then what the Crab would face…”
Harun nodded again, preferring not to answer.
“They’re getting started,” Nasu said.
Harun went with him where the crowd had formed around one of the inscribed walls. A wall where there was room for more names to be added. In front of it stood Hida Katashi, Champion of the Crab, towering above most people in the room. Beside him was a small, wizened bald monk. Hito, Nasu explained, the Keeper of Lore.
“We have come here to day honour not words, but deeds. The deeds of those who have been seen to be worthy to have their names inscribed in these hallowed halls. Those deeds we will hear of today. Step forward to be honoured…Kakita Harun-Chui.”
All eyes were on Harun as he made his way forward, the crowd parted to make a path to where the Crab Champion stood. Harun bowed low. “I am honoured that you think to deem me worthy to stand amongst these giants.”
Katashi indicated that Harun rise and stand beside him. “Your story, Kakita-Chui, will be repeated down the ages for those who wish to hear it.”
The monk began to speak, his voice taking on a ritualistic cadence as he repeated the story of Harun’s life. He knew everything, beginning even before Harun was born with his birth father Nakura’s sacrifice. Harun’s adoption, his training at the Kakita Academy, the Topaz Championship, the battle of Shiro Moto, entering the Imperial Legions, Shimekiri….
It was complete, and accurate, but all wrong. The details were accurate, but Harun knew that it not like had been like the Crab were making them to be.
They’re making me out to be some hero...that’s not me.
But he had to be silent, to stand and wait for the finish. He scanned the crowd, trying to spot people he knew. Nasu, Hisato, Koharu, Momoibura, Moshi Janisha standing close to the Mantis Champion…and at the back of the crowd Harun saw his father Karasu.
His heart leapt with joy. Father…he came!
Did this mean Harun was forgiven? No, that was impossible, but surely his coming meant something.
When Harun’s story was done, his name was solemnly inscribed on the wall. Harun watched it rather hollowly, somehow it meant even less now. He was quickly congratulated by well-wishers, excusing himself as he made his way through the crowd in search of his father. When he wasn’t to be found, Harun quickly went outside just in time to see Karasu mounting his horse.
“Father!”
Karasu stopped, turned to look as Harun went up to him.
“You…you came,” Harun said, breathless. “Thank you.”
Karasu’s face was a closed mask. “I came because this meant something to you, Harun, not to approve of what you have done.”
“I know father,” said Harun, feeling like he was a little boy again. “But this…it means nothing compared to a word from you.”
Karasu frowned. “Well, you know how to get that.”
He rode off, Harun's heart was heavy as he watched his father ride away. Would this gulf between them ever be healed?
There was a festive air in the camp that night, especially from the Mantis and the Crab that seemed to wish to outdo each other in drinking. Harun was invited to be a part of it, but felt a little separate, as if he wasn’t enjoying himself. All he had in his mind was the image of his father Karasu, riding away.
Yoritomo Sano, whose name had gone up on the wall after Harun’s, did his best to make Harun feel welcome and Harun was already familiar with most of the Mantis delegation. All but one of them were friendly towards Harun, and the he caught the name of the one who wasn’t: Yoritomo Aramaki.
Aramaki…he gave Yosoko that fan… Harun remembered, no wonder he doesn’t want to talk to me…
When Harun was sure he wouldn’t be missed, he left. Intending to turn in when Janisha saw him. She walked up to him.
“This is different to when I last saw you at Shiro Moto, Harun,” she said after they exchanged greetings.
“Yes, well a lot has happened in a year, Moshi-sama,” said Harun.
“Indeed,” said Janisha said with a nod. “Walk with me a little, with you?”
They left the raucous drinking party, heading behind the row of tents to where it was quiet.
“You distinguished yourself at Toshi Rambo, quite markedly,” said Janisha. “It is all you hoped?”
“No,” said Harun. “If I could just have killed Shimekiri without…everything else, I would have.” He sighed. “Everyone is just taking it the wrong way. The Crane see me as a disgrace…the Crab welcome me as a hero…”
“And what is it you see yourself as?” Janisha asked.
“I don’t know,” Harun answered. “I thought I did, now I am not so sure.”
“You cannot always control the consequences of your actions Harun,” said Janisha. “Perhaps it is better that way.” A small smile appeared on her face. “Do you know the story of how I became Mantis Champion?”
“No, but I have been curious,” said Harun.
“Years ago, at the court at Shiro Mirumoto, I was attempting to heal the rift between the Mantis from Rokugan and Zogeku,” she said. “There were two factions, and I managed to get the leaders to sit down together. Yoritomo Ichido from Rokugan, and Warlord Arashi from Zogeku. While this was going on, there was a contest where people competed to become the next Mantis Champion, the right to wield Yoritomo’s Kama…your Uncle Kousuda was one of the ones who competed.”
“Uncle Kousuda?” Harun looked at her.
“He was there right up until your mother Yamada forbade him to continue,” said Janisha. “So I got the two sides together, and that was when Ichido won the contest…and then he passed the kama to me.” She smiled again. “And there I was Mantis Champion, with Yoritomo’s Kama, something I had never had the ambition to have or thought I had the right to.”
“Perhaps that was why it was right for you to have it,” suggested Harun. “From what I know, you did great things for the Mantis.”
“Thank you,” said Janisha.
Someone called Janisha’s name, they both turned to see the Mantis Champion, Yoritomo Ogura. Beside him was a boy of about fourteen,
“My husband and my son Jiyu,” said Janisha, her veneer of formality slipped a little.
Harun nodded. “I should go,” he said.
“Harun,” Janisha said, stopping him as he walked away. Her voice more serious. “This may be the last time I see you, I wish you well in your life.”
“Thank you, Moshi-sama,” said Harun, bowing and then leaving.
But before he was out of sight, he turned to see Janisha embrace her son.
It could have been anywhere. The cabin of a ship on the high seas…in the restored Toshi no Gohei…or in Zogeku, with its wild beauty beside the river.
But it was in this tent, among the others that were encamped in the shadow of Koten, that Janisha sat with her family for what would be the last time. They all knew, even Jiyu, and though this hung over them like a shadow they tried to make the best of it. Tried to make this last time be a good memory.
But it was difficult.
Janisha looked at Jiyu, her only son and the only thing that could not be taken away from her. Her duties to Shahai as the Oracle of blood had demanded much of her, had even had forced her to be parted from him to serve at Haihime’s side. But Jiyu was her legacy, her hope for the future and for the Mantis Clan. One day he would win the right to wield Yortomo’s Kama, just as she had and just as his father Ogura had done.
Jiyu strongly favoured his father, which was understandable as Ogura had had most of the raising him. Daring, already quite skilled in combat. He would make his gempukku in a year or two. Janisha wished she would be around to see it.
Jiyu knew what was going on, had accepted it as best he could. But that didn’t mean he liked it. He sat there sullenly, silently, until he could no more.
“It’s not fair!” He shouted, glaring at his mother accusingly. “All my life you were always away and I hardly saw you, and now you are back you are going away…to die.” His glare was like fire. “Don’t you care? Don’t you care what happens to us? To the Mantis?”
“Jiyu!” warned Ogura. “Don’t you dare speak to your mother like that!”
“Why not? I meant everything I said!” Jiyu argued. “And it’s not as if I will get another chance to!”
Ogura glared back at his son.
“No, Jiyu, you are right,” said Janisha, her voice rising a little with anger. “It isn’t fair at all on you. You didn’t ask for this, you didn’t ask to be born into this.”
“I was hoping you returning to Rokugan meant it was all going to be over,” said Jiyu. “That we could be a family…somehow.”
“And you have every right to want that, my son,” said Janisha. “And you will have it, one day when I have done what I need to do to make it happen.”
“Why does it have to be you, mother?” Jiyu asked. “Can’t it be someone else?”
“You say I should ask another to accept this burden to spare myself?” Janisha asked. “You will be a samurai soon, Jiyu, and you know that this is wrong.”
Jiyu shook his head, throwing off her touch and storming out of the tent.
“Jiyu! Get back here and apologise!” Ogura demanded. “Jiyu!”
“Let him go for now,” said Janisha with a sigh.
They talked for a while over the remains of the meal Jiyu had abandoned. Sharing experiences, memories. The test of skill that Ogura had won in order to marry Janisha. Rebuilding the Mantis Isles after the disasters and deaths that had plagued them. They were happy years even, short years but still happy. It was when Jiyu had been born, it was when they all stood together to craft a future for the Mantis.
And then she had had to leave, called away by her obligations as Shahai’s oracle.
“You have passed it on, the Oracle?” Ogura asked.
Janisha nodded. “Soshi Kenshio is her name,” she said. “I am not sure where she is now, but the power was fading. Everything is waning.”
“What about Teru?” asked Ogura.
Teru had been a Shosuro infiltrator that had been with Janisha virtually unnoticed for many years. Ready to kill her if she displayed any hint of the Shadowlands taint.
“Teru is with her,” said Janisha. “He was sworn to the Oracle, not to me.”
Ogura nodded. “So, I suppose this is it then?”
“Just about,” said Janisha, her voice pained.
They both turned as someone came into the tent. It was Jiyu, red-faced and embarrassed. And limping a little “Mother, I wish to say sorry for my words earlier.” He bowed.
Janisha went up to him. “You come up with all of that on your own?”
“Some,” admitted Jiyu with a shrug. “Some of it was Sano, he said he’d thump me again if I disrespected you.”
Janisha put her hands on her son’s shoulders. He’s going to be as tall as his father one day, she thought with a little pain. “My son, there’s nothing wrong with what you feel. One day you’ll understand why it was me who had to act.” She looked down at him. “The future still needs people to make it happen.”
Janisha stayed up into the night, writing the letter to her son that he would read when he came of age. So much to tell him, to explain, words she wanted him to carry and remember. But it seemed as if words were not enough to convey how she felt.
She carefully sealed the letter, Ogura would hold it in trust until then.
She then laid down a blank piece of paper, much larger. She stared at its emptiness, her brush hovering over its surface. Once, years ago, at the Imperial Court she had given a set of paintings to the Emperor. Three of what would be a set of five. The fourth one she had done later and sent it on as promised, a painting of the Valley of the Centipede, home of the Moshi family. The final one she knew would be painted when she left Rokugan.
She put her brush to paper and started it. It was time.