Chasing the Wind
Chapter 2
Spring, 1234 - Shiro san Kakita
He made good progress heading north from Tsuma, the winter had been mild so his progress was easy. The constant travelling was new to him, and while seeing new places was good not everything was pleasant. By the end of the second full day of riding he had to seek out a bath house in the village to deal with the saddle sores. Sleeping in inns and occasionally rough was new as well, fortunately the rain held off most of the time.
When he started heading west, through the lands of the Lion Clan, he was a little more cautious. Much of the land here was still under contention, moving back and forward between the forces of the Emerald and Onyx. In some places, Onyx forces still went around unchecked. He stopped in villages, sought out military patrols for the latest news on how to avoid the contested and tainted areas.
Two weeks out from Tsuma he began to see the mountains, rising majestically towards the clouds. As he headed further northwest, the nights became cooler and early mornings had a coating of frost before the sun could manage to melt them.
On arrival in Shiro Tonbo, Harun joined one of the guided parties that took travellers through the Great Climb into the mountains. After a week, a lot of which was spent leading his horse along the narrow mountain paths, they arrived at Shiro Kitsuki. Two days later the continued to the north east to Shiro Mirumoto.
From there, the climb got even worse. Most of the time Harun led his horse, while keeping a look out for bandits and wild animals.
Finally, a week later just in the late afternoon, the road widened and they entered the Two Heaven’s Village. From there, it was but a short climb to Shiro Mirumoto itself. Harun road up the path towards it, showing his chop to the guards and went through the castle gates.
Compared to the decorated Crane lands, Shiro Mirumoto was unadorned to the point of being austere. The garden, the tea house, the tenshukaku itself, no adornment from what they were and nothing more. Yet there was something calming in this, that nothing appeared to be more than it needed to be.
In the austere audience chamber, Harun was received by Mirumoto Tanaka’s karo, the Dragon Clan Champion himself being at the front lines with his troops.AC
The room he was showed to was plain and austere, on the second floor of the tenshukaku with a grand view of the castle grounds from the balcony. He sat out there, enjoying the silence and the mountain air.
What had he hoped to find by coming up here? Some remnant of a past that he wasn’t there for? He had grown up knowing Karasu as his father, Hitomi as his mother. But here his real mother and father, the ones who had given him life, was the only place where they had been together.
My future, my life, it was decided here, thought Harun, perhaps it could have gone another way…
The silence was broken by a servant informing him that the meal would soon be served. Harun washed, changed and went downstairs.
He knew he couldn’t stay in the mountains long, but what there was to know about the past, he hoped he would learn it here.
The mountain air was bracing in the morning, Harun headed out towards the training grounds where he saw some Mirumoto students practicing.
He sat down on one of the benches on the edges, watching them. They practiced katas first, moving together like leaves in the wind. Then, they cleared the courtyard and two of them students faced each other in the centre. They bowed and adopted duelling stances.
It then hit him where he was. This was the duelling ring. This is where it had happened. Here, his mother, Utaku Yamada, had served as the champion of his father, Yasuki Nakura, in a duel to the death against the Onyx Scorpion. And it was here his father had died, forswearing his right to a champion and letting the Scorpion’s sword cut him down.
Saving his mother’s life. Saving him.
Harun had gone over and over it in his mind since he had left Tsume. What Karasu had told him, what he said of why it happened. In his mind, he had thought by coming here he would know more. But there was nothing here.
“Kakita-sama?”
Harun looked around, then he realised the Mirumoto were talking to him. When he looked their way, they bowed.
This is going to take some getting used to, Harun thought to himself. He stood and bowed in return, slightly lower as he was in the lands of their clan and it had not been that long since he had been a student.
“I am Kakita Harun, of the Kakita Duelling Academy,” he said.
The Mirumoto who had spoken stepped forward. “This one is Mirumoto Kojima,” he said. “It has been some time since one of your school has been so far into these mountains.”
“I found the journey long, but rewarding,” said Harun. “But please, I did not mean to disturb your practice.”
“On the contrary, Kakita-sama,” said Kojima. “We were wondering if you help us honour a tradition that has existed long between our schools.”
Harun gave a quiet smile. “You wish to test our terms and our training?”
“Just so,” said Kojima with a nod.
Of the things that would happen when Harun visited Dragon lands, this had not been one he predicted. Still, an offer to test oneself in combat without another bushi was always welcome.
“Then I accept,” said Harun.
Harun grabbed a bokken from the practice rack and joined Kojima in the centre of the practice yard. Kojima stood opposite him a bokken in one hand and a shorter one in the other. Harun tucked his bokken into his obi.
Did my mother practice here? Harun wondered. Father said she was no duellist, though he trained her as best he could. Perhaps that is why she left me with him.
The two young men bowed and then took up positions.
Harun examined Kojima. He was not that much younger than Harun, probably ready for his gempukku before long. There was a brashness to him that was uncharacteristic of the Dragon, which was perhaps why he had approached Harun.
That brashness could be used against him.
Once in the stance of void, Harun reached within himself to connect with the pure, raw power that dwelt within the silence inside him. Letting it fill him, willing it to be the energy that would move his hand to his weapon.
Then, he struck. His hands pulling his bokken from his obi to slice through the air and come down hard on his opponent. Except, it didn’t. It clashes against the two that Kojima was holding, locking them all together.
For a moment, all they could do was stare. A kharmic strike, they were rare enough to be remembered.
“Perhaps,” said one of the other Mirumoto, “the heavens have decided there will be no contest between ourselves.”
“I accept this,” said Harun, pulling his bokken out and bowing. “You have certainly given me a lesson and a memory.”
“As have you to me,” said Kojima, with a bow.
The Mirumoto returned to their dojo after that. Harun stood a while in the courtyard, deep in thought.
“Ho there!”
Harun’s head whipped around at the sound of the voice. Coming towards him was a man a little older than Harun, dressed in Unicorn colours. And Harun didn’t even have to check the mons on his clothing to know he was a Moto, it was in everything about him. His hair was long and hung in wild tangles around his face. His skin was darker than Harun’s, his beard neatly trimmed and curled. He walked not with confidence, but with a swagger that he flaunted in the eyes of all that saw him. His clothing was trimmed with fur and cut in a way that Harun had never seen, he wore leather boots not geta. And on his belt was a curved scimitar, it looked strange to Harun.
He is from my mother’s people, Harun thought, there is something alien but also honest about him.
“I watched you come in yesterday,” said the Moto, stepping uncomfortably close to Harun. “I thought to myself, with a face like that what were you doing wearing blue. Then I saw what happened with those kids, and I had to ask.”
Harun raised his eyebrows. “I have heard of the curiosity of the Unicorn.”
“And I have heard of the stuffiness of the Crane.” He laughed, and held out a hand. “Moto Majid, though I dare say you know part of that already.
Harun reached out his hand to shake Majid’s. “Kakita Harun.”
“Harun?” Majid looked him up and down. “Moto face, Moto name, Kakita colours. I’m seeing there is a story here if you don’t mind telling it.”
“I don’t,” said Harun, smiling. Majid was beginning to warm on him. And how better to know of the Unicorn from a real Moto?
They walked down to the village, swapping stories. Any questions, Majid told him, could wait until after the second drink.
Two Heaven’s Village was small, there were a few shops, a shrine, an inn and a tavern. It was to the tavern that Harun and Majid went. The Five Rings, built into the back of a pottery kiln so the inside was always warm. Harun and Majid took a table by the window and ordered sake.
Majid had travelled widely both in and outside of Rokugan. He shared a few stories with Harun. The pistol duels in Medinaat al-Salaam, the jungles of Zogeku. Harun listened and asked appropriate questions while he drank his sake.
When Harun drained his second cup, Majid smiled expectantly at him. “Well,” he said. “You’ve sat there and heard me run my mouth off and you’re still here. Now it’s your turn, as we bargained.”
Harun smiled quietly. Unicorn-blood or not, he had still be raised a Crane. He liked this Moto but wouldn’t tell this Moto everything, at least not yet.
“There’s an easy enough explanation,” said Harun light-heartedly. “But it’s not as half as interesting as one of your stories.”
Majid grinned and gestured for Harun to continue.
“I’m one of a number of fosterlings brought up with the Kakita name in the household of the Emerald Champion,” said Harun. “After my gempukku, which was less than a month ago, the man I knew as my father told me of my true heritage. My true father from the Crab clan, a Yasuki; my true mother, a Unicorn, an Utaku.” He looked around the room thoughtfully. “So, I’ve come here to learn what I can about them. It was here, at Shiro Mirumoto, where they met and they were married. And then,” he added thoughtfully, “my plan is to go on to the lands of the Unicorn, to see what I can of them.”
Majid regarded Harun with some amusement. “So, this is your wandering year, then? I didn’t think people still did that.”
Harun shrugged. “Traditions,” he said. “I know I’ll serve my clan in time, and be better for it.”
“Or with the Emerald Legions,” Majid suggested. “I suppose being the son of the Emerald Champion has its benefits.”
“You would think so,” said Harun. “But there’s that many of us that what we get is what we earn for ourselves.” He took a sip of sake. “I’ve been in one castle or another all my life, there’s a lot I don’t know.”
Majid laughed at this, taking a few moments to recover. “I’m sorry, I just don’t think I’ve seen a Crane speak like that before,” he said, wiping his eyes. “Perhaps there’s more of the Ki-Rin in you than just looks.” He took a sip of sake. “You said your mother was an Utaku? I am surprised she found someone outside the clan so compliant to give up his name. I suppose you have heard stories of the Shiotome?”
Harun nodded.
“Beautiful,” said Majid with a sigh. “And unstoppable. And not just in battle. Just don’t try getting too near one though. I did once and I had four of them holding me while the fifth beat me up.”
Harun laughed. “Would you say you deserved it?”
“I deserved something,” said Majid. “But not that.”
Outside, the day had turned warm as the sun was reaching its highest. Harun and Majid walked down the main street to the village.
“Listen,” said Majid. “I’m not sure where exactly you will be heading, but wherever it is why not join me? I will be heading home in a few days, I can show you some things and a good time besides. Assuming you are interested in the pleasure of my company, that is.”
Harun considered this. He hadn’t exactly plans after he left the mountains, but then again he wasn’t sure what he was getting into either. He also knew the further west he went, the more dangerous it would get. Closer to Onyx forces and the tainted lands.
“I’ll be glad to,” said Harun. “If you don’t mind someone as green as myself along.” Harun held out his hand, Majid shook it cementing their agreement.
“Green, like a wild plant in an ordered garden,” said Majid with a laugh. “I think that’s what I’ll call you, Niwa no Moto, the Garden Moto.”
“Perhaps I will branch out,” Harun teased.
“You might,” Majid agreed.
They then said their farewells, promising to meet in the castle after the gates closed, and Harun was by himself again.
Harun’s head was spinning, still a bit dizzy from the Moto’s company. Or was it the sake? Still, there were some days to look forward to once he had left the mountains.
He came to the steps that lead up to the shrine and stopped. It was the only shrine in the village, so this must be where his parents had married.
Harun climbed the steps up and went inside. The large statue of Hotei stood quietly watching those who came in. There were a few people in attendance as well as some monks. Harun sat down in seiza, letting the silence and peace wash over him like a wave.
What had it been like on that day? Karasu had been scant on the details. They were in love, he had said to Harun, and had chosen each other. Yet the very next day, it all began to end.
They didn’t know it then, thought Harun, but even here they had such little time left together.
He sat there for a little while longer. Enjoying the silence. Not thinking, not feeling.
In the early twilight, Harun practiced in the training grounds. With his katana in his hands, he made quick cuts as he moved through his katas. The sword felt good in his hands, the movements familiar. In his mind, he was back at the Academy, Arahime close by as they practiced together.
He went faster, his sword light in his hands, and when he did this Arahime wouldn’t try to match him and go faster. And then he would go faster still. And it would go on like this until one of them admitted defeat or, as on one memorable occasion, Harun’s weapon had slipped from his hands and clattered across the courtyard.
But without Arahime there, the urge to compete wasn’t as strong and Harun stopped and sheathed his sword sooner than he would have done otherwise. Then he turned and saw he had an audience.
“I thought you weren’t capable of being quiet,” Harun said to Majid. The Moto had been sitting there, watching Harun, without making a sound.
“All the better to catch you in the act,” said Majid. “There is something I have been wondering though.” He stood, walking towards Harun. “You Kakita make like performers on this stage you have made for yourselves.” He spread his hands wide to gesture around them. “But war is made for warriors, not for players. How do you fare in a real battle? Stripped of all your rules and niceties?”
“Perhaps that is where you come in, Moto-san,” Harun suggested. “If I am an artist, as you say, is it not better than one such as yourself should fight for peace?”
Majid shook his head, grinning. “Don’t think you know me, garden boy,” he said. “You’ve barely stepped out of your cage.”
“Well, if you are in a mind to teach, I am in a mind to learn,” said Harun, making a bow.
They got practice swords from the rack the faced each other in the middle of the training yard. Harun stared Majid down, not sure what to expect.
“First touch?” Majid asked.
Harun nodded. He adopted the stance of water, ready for anything.
Gripping his bokken, he attacked, going for the legs. Majid easily deflected it, his bokken the coming up for Harun’s chest. But Harun was ready, knocking Majid’s bokken back and landing a blow on the wrists.
“Ouch.” Majid dropped his bokken. “Rapping me on the knuckles? I thought you were the one who had been to school?” He bent down and picked up the bokken.
“Perhaps that means I am better at it,” said Harun.
They took up positions again. Again, Harun was the first to attack. And again, Majid knocked it back. But this time, Majid’s weapon broke through Harun’s defence and hit his shoulder.
Harun grimaced but didn’t make a sound. He took up his position again opposite Majid for the final round. The two bowed. Then, without a word, they attacked, almost at the same time, but Harun got in first. Majid quickly side-stepped Harun’s attack, bringing his bokken from high down above Harun’s. But the Kakita was ready for him, blocking and then coming back attacking low. Majid jumped, attacking Harun across the shoulders but his blow went wide. This left Majid’s chest wide open for Harun to just tap him lightly with the point of his bokken.
“I believe the point is mine,” Harun said.
“Indeed it is,” Majid, bowing in concession of his defeat.
“Your style, it’s not one I have seen before,” said Harun. “Not that I have seen many. Or one of those.” He nodded to the scimitar on Majid’s obi.
Majid grinned. “You’re not going to tell me how uncivilised I am?”
“I am sure you know that already,” replied Harun.
The evening was closing in, they headed inside the tenshukaku where dinner was being served. A servant said that Lord Mirumoto’s karo prayed they would excuse him as he was meditating in his rooms.
The food was simple fare. Pickled vegetables, tofu and a little rice. There was also a dish of what Harun took to be what the Dragon called “mountain tuna”. It was cooked in a mysterious way, brown and so tender it almost fell off Harun’s chopsticks. But what was most unusual about was its flavour. It was particularly strong smelling, and had a slightly bitter taste that wasn’t altogether unpleasant.
Majid liked it, once he knew what it was it quickly disappeared.
“Tell me, Moto-san,” said Harun when the tea was brought around. “Are the stories that I have heard about the Unicorn true? That they drink the milk and blood of their horses?”
Majid smiled and mockingly waved a finger at Harun in a fake accusatory manner. “If I already didn’t know things about you…” He shook his head. “Milk, yes. Blood, no. You’ve probably also heard the one about how we tear the flesh of animals and eat them raw?”
Harun nodded. “I figured even that was too unbelievable,” said Harun.
“You’d be wrong then. It’s true.” Majid’s face was the picture of seriousness. Then he laughed at Harun’s incredulous reaction. “I think you’ll do fine out there, Niwa no Moto. As Unicorn, we may seem off-putting by our appearances, but we are perhaps the most welcoming. Especially with those with whom we share blood.”
Harun smiled, it was a good start.
Chapter 2
Spring, 1234 - Shiro san Kakita
He made good progress heading north from Tsuma, the winter had been mild so his progress was easy. The constant travelling was new to him, and while seeing new places was good not everything was pleasant. By the end of the second full day of riding he had to seek out a bath house in the village to deal with the saddle sores. Sleeping in inns and occasionally rough was new as well, fortunately the rain held off most of the time.
When he started heading west, through the lands of the Lion Clan, he was a little more cautious. Much of the land here was still under contention, moving back and forward between the forces of the Emerald and Onyx. In some places, Onyx forces still went around unchecked. He stopped in villages, sought out military patrols for the latest news on how to avoid the contested and tainted areas.
Two weeks out from Tsuma he began to see the mountains, rising majestically towards the clouds. As he headed further northwest, the nights became cooler and early mornings had a coating of frost before the sun could manage to melt them.
On arrival in Shiro Tonbo, Harun joined one of the guided parties that took travellers through the Great Climb into the mountains. After a week, a lot of which was spent leading his horse along the narrow mountain paths, they arrived at Shiro Kitsuki. Two days later the continued to the north east to Shiro Mirumoto.
From there, the climb got even worse. Most of the time Harun led his horse, while keeping a look out for bandits and wild animals.
Finally, a week later just in the late afternoon, the road widened and they entered the Two Heaven’s Village. From there, it was but a short climb to Shiro Mirumoto itself. Harun road up the path towards it, showing his chop to the guards and went through the castle gates.
Compared to the decorated Crane lands, Shiro Mirumoto was unadorned to the point of being austere. The garden, the tea house, the tenshukaku itself, no adornment from what they were and nothing more. Yet there was something calming in this, that nothing appeared to be more than it needed to be.
In the austere audience chamber, Harun was received by Mirumoto Tanaka’s karo, the Dragon Clan Champion himself being at the front lines with his troops.AC
The room he was showed to was plain and austere, on the second floor of the tenshukaku with a grand view of the castle grounds from the balcony. He sat out there, enjoying the silence and the mountain air.
What had he hoped to find by coming up here? Some remnant of a past that he wasn’t there for? He had grown up knowing Karasu as his father, Hitomi as his mother. But here his real mother and father, the ones who had given him life, was the only place where they had been together.
My future, my life, it was decided here, thought Harun, perhaps it could have gone another way…
The silence was broken by a servant informing him that the meal would soon be served. Harun washed, changed and went downstairs.
He knew he couldn’t stay in the mountains long, but what there was to know about the past, he hoped he would learn it here.
The mountain air was bracing in the morning, Harun headed out towards the training grounds where he saw some Mirumoto students practicing.
He sat down on one of the benches on the edges, watching them. They practiced katas first, moving together like leaves in the wind. Then, they cleared the courtyard and two of them students faced each other in the centre. They bowed and adopted duelling stances.
It then hit him where he was. This was the duelling ring. This is where it had happened. Here, his mother, Utaku Yamada, had served as the champion of his father, Yasuki Nakura, in a duel to the death against the Onyx Scorpion. And it was here his father had died, forswearing his right to a champion and letting the Scorpion’s sword cut him down.
Saving his mother’s life. Saving him.
Harun had gone over and over it in his mind since he had left Tsume. What Karasu had told him, what he said of why it happened. In his mind, he had thought by coming here he would know more. But there was nothing here.
“Kakita-sama?”
Harun looked around, then he realised the Mirumoto were talking to him. When he looked their way, they bowed.
This is going to take some getting used to, Harun thought to himself. He stood and bowed in return, slightly lower as he was in the lands of their clan and it had not been that long since he had been a student.
“I am Kakita Harun, of the Kakita Duelling Academy,” he said.
The Mirumoto who had spoken stepped forward. “This one is Mirumoto Kojima,” he said. “It has been some time since one of your school has been so far into these mountains.”
“I found the journey long, but rewarding,” said Harun. “But please, I did not mean to disturb your practice.”
“On the contrary, Kakita-sama,” said Kojima. “We were wondering if you help us honour a tradition that has existed long between our schools.”
Harun gave a quiet smile. “You wish to test our terms and our training?”
“Just so,” said Kojima with a nod.
Of the things that would happen when Harun visited Dragon lands, this had not been one he predicted. Still, an offer to test oneself in combat without another bushi was always welcome.
“Then I accept,” said Harun.
Harun grabbed a bokken from the practice rack and joined Kojima in the centre of the practice yard. Kojima stood opposite him a bokken in one hand and a shorter one in the other. Harun tucked his bokken into his obi.
Did my mother practice here? Harun wondered. Father said she was no duellist, though he trained her as best he could. Perhaps that is why she left me with him.
The two young men bowed and then took up positions.
Harun examined Kojima. He was not that much younger than Harun, probably ready for his gempukku before long. There was a brashness to him that was uncharacteristic of the Dragon, which was perhaps why he had approached Harun.
That brashness could be used against him.
Once in the stance of void, Harun reached within himself to connect with the pure, raw power that dwelt within the silence inside him. Letting it fill him, willing it to be the energy that would move his hand to his weapon.
Then, he struck. His hands pulling his bokken from his obi to slice through the air and come down hard on his opponent. Except, it didn’t. It clashes against the two that Kojima was holding, locking them all together.
For a moment, all they could do was stare. A kharmic strike, they were rare enough to be remembered.
“Perhaps,” said one of the other Mirumoto, “the heavens have decided there will be no contest between ourselves.”
“I accept this,” said Harun, pulling his bokken out and bowing. “You have certainly given me a lesson and a memory.”
“As have you to me,” said Kojima, with a bow.
The Mirumoto returned to their dojo after that. Harun stood a while in the courtyard, deep in thought.
“Ho there!”
Harun’s head whipped around at the sound of the voice. Coming towards him was a man a little older than Harun, dressed in Unicorn colours. And Harun didn’t even have to check the mons on his clothing to know he was a Moto, it was in everything about him. His hair was long and hung in wild tangles around his face. His skin was darker than Harun’s, his beard neatly trimmed and curled. He walked not with confidence, but with a swagger that he flaunted in the eyes of all that saw him. His clothing was trimmed with fur and cut in a way that Harun had never seen, he wore leather boots not geta. And on his belt was a curved scimitar, it looked strange to Harun.
He is from my mother’s people, Harun thought, there is something alien but also honest about him.
“I watched you come in yesterday,” said the Moto, stepping uncomfortably close to Harun. “I thought to myself, with a face like that what were you doing wearing blue. Then I saw what happened with those kids, and I had to ask.”
Harun raised his eyebrows. “I have heard of the curiosity of the Unicorn.”
“And I have heard of the stuffiness of the Crane.” He laughed, and held out a hand. “Moto Majid, though I dare say you know part of that already.
Harun reached out his hand to shake Majid’s. “Kakita Harun.”
“Harun?” Majid looked him up and down. “Moto face, Moto name, Kakita colours. I’m seeing there is a story here if you don’t mind telling it.”
“I don’t,” said Harun, smiling. Majid was beginning to warm on him. And how better to know of the Unicorn from a real Moto?
They walked down to the village, swapping stories. Any questions, Majid told him, could wait until after the second drink.
Two Heaven’s Village was small, there were a few shops, a shrine, an inn and a tavern. It was to the tavern that Harun and Majid went. The Five Rings, built into the back of a pottery kiln so the inside was always warm. Harun and Majid took a table by the window and ordered sake.
Majid had travelled widely both in and outside of Rokugan. He shared a few stories with Harun. The pistol duels in Medinaat al-Salaam, the jungles of Zogeku. Harun listened and asked appropriate questions while he drank his sake.
When Harun drained his second cup, Majid smiled expectantly at him. “Well,” he said. “You’ve sat there and heard me run my mouth off and you’re still here. Now it’s your turn, as we bargained.”
Harun smiled quietly. Unicorn-blood or not, he had still be raised a Crane. He liked this Moto but wouldn’t tell this Moto everything, at least not yet.
“There’s an easy enough explanation,” said Harun light-heartedly. “But it’s not as half as interesting as one of your stories.”
Majid grinned and gestured for Harun to continue.
“I’m one of a number of fosterlings brought up with the Kakita name in the household of the Emerald Champion,” said Harun. “After my gempukku, which was less than a month ago, the man I knew as my father told me of my true heritage. My true father from the Crab clan, a Yasuki; my true mother, a Unicorn, an Utaku.” He looked around the room thoughtfully. “So, I’ve come here to learn what I can about them. It was here, at Shiro Mirumoto, where they met and they were married. And then,” he added thoughtfully, “my plan is to go on to the lands of the Unicorn, to see what I can of them.”
Majid regarded Harun with some amusement. “So, this is your wandering year, then? I didn’t think people still did that.”
Harun shrugged. “Traditions,” he said. “I know I’ll serve my clan in time, and be better for it.”
“Or with the Emerald Legions,” Majid suggested. “I suppose being the son of the Emerald Champion has its benefits.”
“You would think so,” said Harun. “But there’s that many of us that what we get is what we earn for ourselves.” He took a sip of sake. “I’ve been in one castle or another all my life, there’s a lot I don’t know.”
Majid laughed at this, taking a few moments to recover. “I’m sorry, I just don’t think I’ve seen a Crane speak like that before,” he said, wiping his eyes. “Perhaps there’s more of the Ki-Rin in you than just looks.” He took a sip of sake. “You said your mother was an Utaku? I am surprised she found someone outside the clan so compliant to give up his name. I suppose you have heard stories of the Shiotome?”
Harun nodded.
“Beautiful,” said Majid with a sigh. “And unstoppable. And not just in battle. Just don’t try getting too near one though. I did once and I had four of them holding me while the fifth beat me up.”
Harun laughed. “Would you say you deserved it?”
“I deserved something,” said Majid. “But not that.”
Outside, the day had turned warm as the sun was reaching its highest. Harun and Majid walked down the main street to the village.
“Listen,” said Majid. “I’m not sure where exactly you will be heading, but wherever it is why not join me? I will be heading home in a few days, I can show you some things and a good time besides. Assuming you are interested in the pleasure of my company, that is.”
Harun considered this. He hadn’t exactly plans after he left the mountains, but then again he wasn’t sure what he was getting into either. He also knew the further west he went, the more dangerous it would get. Closer to Onyx forces and the tainted lands.
“I’ll be glad to,” said Harun. “If you don’t mind someone as green as myself along.” Harun held out his hand, Majid shook it cementing their agreement.
“Green, like a wild plant in an ordered garden,” said Majid with a laugh. “I think that’s what I’ll call you, Niwa no Moto, the Garden Moto.”
“Perhaps I will branch out,” Harun teased.
“You might,” Majid agreed.
They then said their farewells, promising to meet in the castle after the gates closed, and Harun was by himself again.
Harun’s head was spinning, still a bit dizzy from the Moto’s company. Or was it the sake? Still, there were some days to look forward to once he had left the mountains.
He came to the steps that lead up to the shrine and stopped. It was the only shrine in the village, so this must be where his parents had married.
Harun climbed the steps up and went inside. The large statue of Hotei stood quietly watching those who came in. There were a few people in attendance as well as some monks. Harun sat down in seiza, letting the silence and peace wash over him like a wave.
What had it been like on that day? Karasu had been scant on the details. They were in love, he had said to Harun, and had chosen each other. Yet the very next day, it all began to end.
They didn’t know it then, thought Harun, but even here they had such little time left together.
He sat there for a little while longer. Enjoying the silence. Not thinking, not feeling.
In the early twilight, Harun practiced in the training grounds. With his katana in his hands, he made quick cuts as he moved through his katas. The sword felt good in his hands, the movements familiar. In his mind, he was back at the Academy, Arahime close by as they practiced together.
He went faster, his sword light in his hands, and when he did this Arahime wouldn’t try to match him and go faster. And then he would go faster still. And it would go on like this until one of them admitted defeat or, as on one memorable occasion, Harun’s weapon had slipped from his hands and clattered across the courtyard.
But without Arahime there, the urge to compete wasn’t as strong and Harun stopped and sheathed his sword sooner than he would have done otherwise. Then he turned and saw he had an audience.
“I thought you weren’t capable of being quiet,” Harun said to Majid. The Moto had been sitting there, watching Harun, without making a sound.
“All the better to catch you in the act,” said Majid. “There is something I have been wondering though.” He stood, walking towards Harun. “You Kakita make like performers on this stage you have made for yourselves.” He spread his hands wide to gesture around them. “But war is made for warriors, not for players. How do you fare in a real battle? Stripped of all your rules and niceties?”
“Perhaps that is where you come in, Moto-san,” Harun suggested. “If I am an artist, as you say, is it not better than one such as yourself should fight for peace?”
Majid shook his head, grinning. “Don’t think you know me, garden boy,” he said. “You’ve barely stepped out of your cage.”
“Well, if you are in a mind to teach, I am in a mind to learn,” said Harun, making a bow.
They got practice swords from the rack the faced each other in the middle of the training yard. Harun stared Majid down, not sure what to expect.
“First touch?” Majid asked.
Harun nodded. He adopted the stance of water, ready for anything.
Gripping his bokken, he attacked, going for the legs. Majid easily deflected it, his bokken the coming up for Harun’s chest. But Harun was ready, knocking Majid’s bokken back and landing a blow on the wrists.
“Ouch.” Majid dropped his bokken. “Rapping me on the knuckles? I thought you were the one who had been to school?” He bent down and picked up the bokken.
“Perhaps that means I am better at it,” said Harun.
They took up positions again. Again, Harun was the first to attack. And again, Majid knocked it back. But this time, Majid’s weapon broke through Harun’s defence and hit his shoulder.
Harun grimaced but didn’t make a sound. He took up his position again opposite Majid for the final round. The two bowed. Then, without a word, they attacked, almost at the same time, but Harun got in first. Majid quickly side-stepped Harun’s attack, bringing his bokken from high down above Harun’s. But the Kakita was ready for him, blocking and then coming back attacking low. Majid jumped, attacking Harun across the shoulders but his blow went wide. This left Majid’s chest wide open for Harun to just tap him lightly with the point of his bokken.
“I believe the point is mine,” Harun said.
“Indeed it is,” Majid, bowing in concession of his defeat.
“Your style, it’s not one I have seen before,” said Harun. “Not that I have seen many. Or one of those.” He nodded to the scimitar on Majid’s obi.
Majid grinned. “You’re not going to tell me how uncivilised I am?”
“I am sure you know that already,” replied Harun.
The evening was closing in, they headed inside the tenshukaku where dinner was being served. A servant said that Lord Mirumoto’s karo prayed they would excuse him as he was meditating in his rooms.
The food was simple fare. Pickled vegetables, tofu and a little rice. There was also a dish of what Harun took to be what the Dragon called “mountain tuna”. It was cooked in a mysterious way, brown and so tender it almost fell off Harun’s chopsticks. But what was most unusual about was its flavour. It was particularly strong smelling, and had a slightly bitter taste that wasn’t altogether unpleasant.
Majid liked it, once he knew what it was it quickly disappeared.
“Tell me, Moto-san,” said Harun when the tea was brought around. “Are the stories that I have heard about the Unicorn true? That they drink the milk and blood of their horses?”
Majid smiled and mockingly waved a finger at Harun in a fake accusatory manner. “If I already didn’t know things about you…” He shook his head. “Milk, yes. Blood, no. You’ve probably also heard the one about how we tear the flesh of animals and eat them raw?”
Harun nodded. “I figured even that was too unbelievable,” said Harun.
“You’d be wrong then. It’s true.” Majid’s face was the picture of seriousness. Then he laughed at Harun’s incredulous reaction. “I think you’ll do fine out there, Niwa no Moto. As Unicorn, we may seem off-putting by our appearances, but we are perhaps the most welcoming. Especially with those with whom we share blood.”
Harun smiled, it was a good start.