The Duty of War
Chapter 4
Summer, 1236 - The Kitani River Valley
Kenji took Harun to one of the training yards where the cavalry was. It was big field, with a rope line in spikes all around, where some of the various cavalry units drilled and trained. It was mostly light cavalry, but Harun did see some heavily armoured ones as well. Koharu was at the far end, in the company of several horses and bushi, shouting at them as they drilled. Riding back and forward under her scrutiny.
Koharu looked Harun up and down, hands defiantly on her hips. She was a short woman in her thirties, her hair was cropped short about her ears and she had a scar on her chin. “Kakita Harun?”
Harun nodded.
Koharu frowned at him and frowned at his armour some more. “You look too pretty to be useful,” she declared. “Are you sure you haven’t wandered into the wrong place?”
“I can ride and I can fight,” Harun said. “I also have seen battle, at Shiro Moto.”
She examined him again, less critically this time. “You’ll do.” She then blinked and then stared at him. “Kakita Harun? That armour…dark skin like a Moto…you’re Denko’s son…”
This confused Harun. “Denko? No…I’m…”
“I know who you are,” Koharu barked. She nodded to one of the others around. “Get this prince a mount.”
Harun stood there awkwardly while a horse was brought out. A well-formed gelding, brown in colour, light and bred for speed from probably Unicorn bloodlines.
“I know his paces, lets out you through yours,” said Koharu. “And mind you don’t be rough with him. You are replaceable, a horse not so much.”
“Yes gunso,” Harun said.
If Koharu expected Harun to mount straight away, she did not show any surprise when Harun did not.
Uncle Kousuda would kill me if I messed this up… Harun thought.
He approached the horse gently, slowly, holding his hands out to show the horse he was not a threat. He held out one hand, palm up, fingers angled down so the horse could down so the horse could sniff it. With the other hand, he fished half a piece of bread out of a pocket that was from his rations. Suddenly, the horse was a lot more interested in him. Harun smiled.
“What is his name?” Harun asked.
Koharu’s eyebrow went up. “Hayate,” she answered.
“Hayate,” Harun repeated. He stroked Hayate’s nose, allowing the horse to sniff his arms and shoulders, then ran his hand up the horse’s neck just as Kousuda had taught him as a boy. Then, when he was certain the horse was relaxed, Harun mounted in an easy, practiced motion.
The horse snorted, Harun used the reins to move the horse in a few circles.
“Taking your time?” Koharu asked, a little impatiently.
“Some things cannot be rushed,” answered Harun.
She nodded in agreement. Harun took Hayate through a few more paces before coming to a stop before Koharu.
“Ready,” he said.
“Take it a hundred paces, return and dismount,” Koharu said curtly.
Harun took off, making a brisk pace that wouldn’t tax Hayate too much, aware that the gunso’s eyes and a good number of the platoon’s were on him. He made the turn without slowing down too much, then started back. He could feel himself tense, the dismount was what he was worried about, and if he did it wrong, say caught his foot on the stirrup he could fall flat on his face.
Fortunately, that didn’t happen. Harun fairly slid down off the horse, needing only one hand to balance. The other was on his sword hilt, drawing it as he descended with the blade unsheathed before his feet had touched the ground.
Harun smiled, Koharu didn’t.
“Do it again,” she said.
They did it “again” so many times that Harun lost count. When Koharu was done watching Harun do it by himself, some more from the platoon did it with him. Back and forward, dismount and draw. And it was only when the sun was getting low that she dismissed him.
“You don’t wish to see me use my sword, gunso?” Harun asked her.
“If I wanted to see a flashy display of art, I’d go see a kabuki play,” Koharu said bluntly. “You are more than competent with that, or you wouldn’t be here. What I wanted to see how was how you could get in and out quickly, and I am satisfied you have.”
They then went back to the camp, Harun’s muscles aching from all the riding.
What was that name they called father? Denko? Lightning? I guess someone saw his strike…I could use a bath.
He said the latter to Kenji, asking where that could be gotten. Usually they washed with a bucket of water heated by the fire.
“Well, Tonashi Row has a few,” Kenji said.
Harun’s face was blank at this.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t been,” Kenji said.
“I haven’t,” said Harun.
Kenji laughed. “Lets get that armour off you. You are in for a treat.”
Toshiwara Row was several rows of tents, houses and shacks, situated between where the barracks of two units and only accessible from the main entrance at one ends. No weapons were permitted within other than the jitte that the patrolling yoriki carried. And almost anything from within Rokugan—and beyond, to a small extent—could be found within its confines. Food and drink to augment one’s rations, exotic goods, entertainment, women—and men is one desired—as well as more mundane things such as getting one’s laundry done or getting a letter written and dispatched. And, to Harun’s relief, a bath house.
It was but a small shack with various booths where one changed and bathed. The place could have been cleaner, but the hot water was good, there was a time limit though and Harun would have liked to have stayed longer. But it did do a lot to relieve soreness in his muscles.
Afterwards, Kenji took him down to see other places. Several sake houses, a few stalls set up by traders, a geisha house that had some lurid paintings of girls on a flag outside…and a small tent with a dragon flag outside where they went inside.
“Nawa!” Kenji said as he pulled the tent flap back.
“No noise!” shouted back a voice. “Not until I am done here.”
Harun blinked in the dimlight, inside it was dark and there was the smell of ink and charcoal. He heard a woman’s low moan, then as his eyes adjusted he saw the woman, sitting on the floor with her back bare, her covering her modesty in front with her hands. Behind her was a man, bald and also naked to the waist.
What have I walked into here? Harun wondered. Then he saw the tattoo on the floor next to them. So, he’s a henshi, a tattooist…
They sat down against the far wall while the tattooist finished with the woman. It did not take very long, she was shown the results by angling two mirrors then put her clothes back on and left.
The tattooist then approached them and Harun could see him more clearly. He wore patched pants of a Dragon green and had a Dragon tattoo that coiled around his chest and arms, ending on his face with his own eye the dragon’s eye.
“Ah, Kenji,” said the tattooist. “I assume you have come for some more shading? I hope you haven’t ruined the work I have done with that recklessness I keep hearing about.”
“It is still intact, Nawa,” laughed Kenji. “But I have brought you someone new. Just out of training and wanting to make his mark. Harun, this is Mirumoto Nawa.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Mirumoto-san,” Harun said, taking a bow from the seated position.
“Bah, your Crane manners are hardly needed in this tent,” said Nawa, spitting into a bucket. “But there’s so much green in you, I’d wonder you weren’t from my clan.”
“I’m not green,” Harun insisted. “I was at Shiro Moto.”
“Not bad, not bad,” Nawa nodded. “But from the look of you, you look as if you arrived there by palanquin and watched from a distance.”
Kenji laughed and Harun joined in.
“You came here to watch or be marked?” Nawa asked.
“I didn’t know I was coming here,” said Harun.
“Well, if you make up your mind, look at the scroll on the wall,” said Nawa. He nodded to Kenji. “You there, you know what to do.”
Kenji stripped off his shirt and sat still on the floor, Nawa picked up his tools and set to work. Harun went and had a look at scroll, he wasn’t sure if he wanted a tattoo. Most of what was there were animals, the totems for the Great Clans but there were also some samurai with swords swinging and shapely geisha. But when he saw the horse and the Crane, so well-drawn and alive looking, he knew he had to get both of those.
Both parts of me, together…
Kenji finished, carefully putting his shirt back on.
“You made up your mind?” Nawa asked.
“Yes,” Harun said. “The crane and the horse, can you do them close together? On my left shoulder blade?”
It took a bit of time with the sketching with ink on Harun’s shoulder and the mirror, but Nawa would not begin until Harun was completely satisfied with it.
“It will be on your body for the rest of this life,” he told Harun. “You need to get it right or not at all.”
When the sketch was complete, Nawa dipped the steel point of the needle in the ink.
“This will hurt,” Nawa says. “But no more than a dozen or so nicks with a sword will do. Keep still, you don’t want me drawing ragged.”
“I am ready,” Harun said, bracing himself.
It did hurt, much more than Harun thought it would or care to admit, almost as bad as the wound he had suffered in Unicorn lands. But it did look good, Nawa had shown him the finished outline in the mirror before they had left, but not before a stern warning not to “ruin his work” and to return once the skin healed.
Kenji suggested they go to the sake house, it would help numb the pain and he figured some of their unit should be there right now.
Calling it a “sake house” was rather exaggerating. It was a grass shingled roof where one sat on the floor and used boxes as small tables. Harun was a bit hesitant to go in, but Kenji assured him it was good sake.
They were noticed the moment they entered the place, at least Kenji was. A group waved them over and then made room for them to sit down.
“Harun, I don’t think you know everyone, so I’ll go around,” he said, pointing to people as he addressed them. “Shinjo Sayaka, Isawa Kanbei, Yoritomo Osu, Tsubaru, Daidoji Akemi…” The names blended after a while, but Harun did try to remember them.
The first round came and Harun felt more relaxed. They asked him questions, traded stories and told Harun about themselves. Shinjo Sayaka, almost the mother of the group, had been there the longest, joining when Moto Taigo was still in charge. Isawa Kanbei was an exile from the Phoenix Clan, quite polite but more willing to talk once sake loosened her tongue. Yortiomo Osu had joined the legion three years previously, quite jovial, but Kenji told Harun later that his entire close family had been wiped out when the Mantis islands fell. Tsubaru, a pleasant-faced ronin who was just as boisterous as Osu. And Daidoji Akemi who was—despite her repeated denials—the best sniper in the unit.
“A sniper?” Harun asked. “Do you use a bow or a crossbow?”
“Neither,” Akemi told Harun. “I use a Tanegashima, with gaijin pepper.”
Harun was a little shocked at this. He knew the Legion and yes, even his own clan, used weapons like this. But he didn’t like them, there was something…dirty.
But somehow those felt less important, at least right now.
When they left the sake house, Harun could feel his feet wavering a little. As if they did not know how to get in contact with the ground very well. Kenji took one look at him and suggested they head back to the barracks. Harun stumbled, brushing against someone as he passed.
“Hey watch it,” they snarled.
“So sorry,” said Harun, his words slurring a little.
“Hey…Yonezu,” said another. ”Is that that Crane you said killed your father.”
“That whelp?” Yonezu laughed. “It was his mother.”
This stopped Harun in his tracks. “What?”
“You heard me,” Yonezu spat. “Those letters you had, your mother was Utaku Yamada. She killed my father, her and the Black Hand she is with. You’re the son of a traitor.”
Harun heard voices behind him calling his name, but he didn’t pay them attention. And all he saw was red… He could hear people shouting at him, pulling him away…
“Harun! Harun!” Kenji shouted, slapping his face.
Harun brushed something off his face, blood. Then looked around. What had happened? Then he saw Yonezu, his face was bloody as well.
“What happened?” Harun asked, allowing them to help him to his feet. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“No shit,” said Kenji. “Lets get you out of here.”
Harun allowed himself to be led. Did I just make an enemy?
Why does everything hurt? Was Harun’s first conscious thought. Then it all came flooding back. Nawa…the tattoo…the sake house…Yonezu… He said my mother was a traitor… He burned with shame at what had happened. He had lost his head, and drinking wasn’t an excuse.
“Harun, roll call,” called out a voice.
“Hai!” With a sheer force of will, Harun pulled himself into a sitting position. Somehow, he managed to get his clothes on and stagger out.
They assembled in columns on the parade ground between the two wings off the barracks, the gunso calling names and each hohei calling out “Hai” when his or her name was called. The Chui of Togawa Unit, Shiba Dankaro, stood on the platform outside his tent. A solid-built man of about thirty, he wore hakama and juban or a rather muddy orange. His second in command, Shiba Jiyuna, stood beside him.
When the gunsos were finished roll call, Dankaro stepped forward.
“Togawa Unit, you stand before me and I am proud of all of you,” he said. “To lead you into battle, to fight beside you and if it came to it, to die beside you. And I know you will all do the same, we serve the Emperor and his Champion with Pride, we fight as one.” He paused, looking over all of them. “Which is why when one of you shames this unit by their actions, they shame all of you.”
Harun felt butterflies in his stomach. He was eight years old again, about to be called into Kakita Kenshin-sensei’s study.
“Kakita Harun and Yonezu,” said Dankaro. “Step forward.”
Harun moved forward, walking between the columns of soldiers. He could feel all eye on him as he mounted the platform. Hs knew what was coming, but that didn’t deter him from bowing as appropriate.
Whereas Harun felt appropriately penitent, Yonezu showed no such traces. He stood beside Harun defiantly, sulkily. This just made Harun despise him more.
“Both of you stand accused of conduct unbefitting a member of the Emerald Legion,” said Dankaro. “Do you have anything to say?”
Harun shook his head.
“Actually, I object to this,” said Yonezu in a rather saucy voice.
Dumbfounded, all eyes went to Yonezu.
“You object?” Dankaro asked incredulously.
“I do,” continued Yonezu. “It was that one that threw the first punch. I was defending myself. It is him you should be punishing, not me.”
Harun stared at him, aghast at his audacity. “I was defending the honour of my family that you insulted!”
“Then defend it with steel!” snarled Yonezu. “Not with fists like the Moto gaijin you really are.”
Harun would have been on him had Dankaro not pulled him back.
“I will not have disputes in Togawa Unit,” declared Dankaro. “You will settle this like samurai, the first blood. The loser will be reassigned. Is this acceptable?”
Harun and Yonezu nodded. Harun thought he saw Yonezu smile.
“You will be given ten strokes and confined to barracks for five days,” said Dankaro. “At the end of this, it will be settled.”
He then nodded to Jiyuna who came forward holding a bamboo switch.
Harun took off his shirt and bowed. He didn’t flinch.
The switch did without breaking the skin, just like the beatings he had had at the Kakita Dojo. Discipline, not punishment. It still hurt, but Harun did his best to not show that it got to him.
He used the time in barracks to train, of which he had been slipping a little recently. Fortunately, it did not take long until he was back at a satisfactory level.
Yonezu trained as well. The ronin’s style was just as quick, though far less cleaner. Still, Harun wondered if he had studied at a dojo.
The day of the duel came and it was the subject of some interest to the unit. Many of the soldiers, samurai and peasant, made a ring around where the duelling circle was to be set up talking excitedly. Not everyone took an interest, Koharu the gunso of Kyoujin Platoon thought it an utter waste of time but couldn’t do anything about it.
Harun wore his Crane blue Hhkama with the matching kataginu, the mons of the Kakita Academy and the Kakita Dojo on each side of his chest. He tamed his kinky hair into a topknot, looking every bit proper as he should.
Yonezu wore the standard everyday garments one could get in supplies. Serviceable and brown, but not fancy. But to this he added an obi of faded red, and another cloth of the same hue on the lower half of his face. Yonezu’s hair was long and black, cascading down his back and floating over his face with the wind.
Shiba Jiyuna stepped forward, she carried a fan. Behind her, Shiba Dankaro watched silently.
Jiyuna raised the fan and called for silence. “This will settle the dispute between you,” she says. “The victor will remain, the loser transferred. Let fate fall as it will.”
Yonezu and Harun bowed, taking up positions.
Taking a deep breath, Harun immersed himself in the void. All was clear, all was calm. He looked at Yonezu and saw his weaknesses.
Jiyuna brought her fan down.
A flurry of movement, a rasp of steel, and a gasp of surprise from those who had sharp enough eyes to see what had happened. Harun and Yonezu stood eye to eye, each having the other’s sword on their neck.
There was complete silence as everyone held their breath. Jiyuna stood frozen for a moment, then quickly consulted with Dankaro.
“Fate has decided,” she declared. “Both will remain.”
Harun and Yonezu bowed then the crowd began to disperse noisily. Harun stood still a moment, watching the Chui go back into his tent with Jiyuna.
Utaku Kenji came up with Yoritomo Osu. Both were grinning like idiots.
“Well, I don’t know how you did it, but you managed to solve this the perfect way,” says Kenji.
“Perfection in all ways,” said Harun loftily. The he laughed.
“Come on,” said Osu, nudging them both. “I need a drink.”
Some weeks later, Kakita Karasu sat at his war table. After what was a rough start, the reports about Harun had improved. He had now seen combat with his platoon in engaging Onyx stragglers that raided the borders of the Lion Clan lands. He had fought bravely beside his comrades. And, perhaps most importantly, he had returned.
But all of this was but a mere rehearsal for the main game that would be played at Toshi Ranbo. A game that seemed to have almost too many players by the way all the Great Clans were promising troops and materials with a hope of sharing in the glory and spoils.
But it was still too early for that. A hit at the former imperial capital had to firm and decisive with no rom for failure. Toshi Ranbo had to truly be an island, cut off completely from any support from the Onyx yet. And it wasn’t, not yet but it would be soon.
As the meeting drew to a close, someone entered the tent. At first Karasu thought it was just Akodo Ryoichi returning with more water for the kettle. But it wasn’t. It was Karasu’s wife Kakita Hitomi. She was dressed in plain and comfortable travel clothes wet from the rain.
Karasu smiled. This was not the first time she had surprised him as such, nor would it likely be the last.
“Mina-sam,” he said to his officer. “I think that is everything, thank you.”
They left quickly, bowing to Hitomi as they did.
“You never cease to surprise me, my wife,” said Karasu, crossing the room and clasping her hand gently.
Hitomi smiled quietly. There was and had always been a significant difference in the affection they felt for each other. However, years of marriage had formed a middle ground between this. A bond of friendship, one with established boundaries as well as frequent absences from each other.
Yet they were together on many things, their devotion in their service to Rokugan and parenting their adopted children.
“Please, get your wet things off, I’ll make some tea,” said Karasu. He found the full teapot where Ryoichi had left it by the tent door. “Are you staying long this time? You never do, but I always ask.”
“I will need to leave in the morning,” said Hitomi. She removed her clothing to dry by the porcelain heater and borrowed one of Karasu’s yukatas. She sat down at the table, her hair hung long and loose about her shoulders, damp with rain. “I will see Harun before I go. How is he?”
“Doing well, at least now,” said Karasu. He put the water on to boil and started clearing the table. Hitomi started to help but he prevented it. “No, you sit there,” he said gently. “You have had a long journey.”
“Harun has been having problems?” Hitomi asked.
“Managed to get himself into a fight and a duel in the first two days out of training,” said Karasu. “But you know Harun, he handled it.” Karasu started to make the tea and passed Hitomi her cup.
“I had hoped to see him when he came home, but I was delayed,” said Hitomi taking her cup. “Has he changed at all from his time in Unicorn lands?”
Karasu searched through a chest and brought out some dried plums for them to share “Not exactly,” said Karasu. “He has become more like himself, you could say.” He paused a moment, looking down into his cup. “There was a time last year when I thought he wouldn’t come back.”
“You put too little faith in yourself,” said Hitomi. “Of course Harun would come back. He has always wanted to be like you, that’s why he is here now.”
Karasu blushed a little and drank his tea.
Hitomi drank her tea and put down her cup. “I came tonight because I have news for you,” said Hitomi. “I have some word from Toshi Ranbo.”
“You do?” Karasu said with surprise. He had given up asking where Hitomi got her intelligence and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. But word from Toshi Ranbo was welcome, as all they had were from records or the observation of their own scouts.
Hitomi nodded. “I have a few things, we can talk about them later,” she said, pouring more tea for both of them. “But there is something I must tell you now. In command of the defence of the city is Daigotsu Shimekiri.”
Karasu felt cold to his very bones. Shimekiri, the Fallen Crane, the Black Kakita. So notorious that many thought he wasn’t real, just a tale to frighten children. Yet every child that passed through the Kakita Academy knew of him.
He had once been a promising duellist of the Kakita but his arrogance and cruelty had had him barred from ever becoming a Kenshinzen—the best duellists in the Crane Clan. He had joined the Spider Clan, embraced the Taint of Jigiku and taken his revenge on the Kakita family. Including Kyoumi’s parents.
“Of course he’s not dead,” Karasu said, his voice cold with anger. “He can’t be killed, and he’s been around for enough lifetimes to surpass the skill of any Kenshinzen.”
“He will die in that city, Karasu,” said Hitomi. “He needs to.”
“I’ll make sure of it,” said Karasu. “Even if I have to do it myself.”
Hitomi nodded and said nothing, for now.
Later, Hitomi slept in his bed and Karasu laid out cushions for himself. But he couldn’t sleep. He practiced with a bokken. He was a blur as he did strikes, guards, katas. Faster, and faster still. He had once hoped to be a Kenshinzen himself, to walk out with the Crane army in the bright winged raiment. But fate had decided something very different for him.
But still, to kill Shimekiri, to purge this blight from the Crane Clan had a certain satisfaction about it.
He went into another kata, Standing on the Heavens, he was ready.
Harun saw Hitomi the next morning when he was on the way back from drills. The sun was coming up, drying the dew as it sparkled in the summer light. It all the makings of a hot day. They passed the Shiro where the Taisa’s and Emerald Champion’s tent were and Harun saw her there. He stopped.
“I’ll catch up later,” Harun said, going over to her.
Hitomi watched as he approached. “Harun,” she said.
“Mother,” he said, bowing and smiling. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“I just came in last night, but had to see you before I leave,” she said. She looked him up and down. “I can see the change in you already, the last year was good for you.”
“Is it that obvious?” Harun asked, a little worried. “I have been told that I brought the Moto in me back from the Unicorn lands.”
“It was always there, Harun, you just became more confident with yourself,” she said.
As they walked around the camp, he told her about the year he had spent travelling. Visiting the Dragon, the Lion and of course the Unicorn. Shiro Moto, Majid, City of the Rich Frog, the ritual with Zetsubou…Hitomi listened to it all patiently, and it there was something missing in his narrative she didn’t comment.
When Harun finished, Hitomi was thoughtful.
“So through all this, all the people you have talked to that knew your mother Yamada, I want to ask you this: why do you think she chose to leave you in our care?” Hitomi asked,
Harun felt a lump forming in his throat. “She…she wanted me to have a family, I guess. Like she had had.”
“Yes, bit that’s not all,” said Hitomi. “There is something else, why she went to this terrible duty with Shiba Michio and the Black Hand. Do you know what this is?”
Thinking back to the talk he had with Zetsubou the night before he died, Harun nodded. “It was so no one else had to do it.”
Hitomi nodded. “What you were taught at the dojo, Harun, was very clear cut in how we should act in accordance with traditions and bushido,” she said. “But you know now that the world doesn’t always work like that.”
“It doesn’t,” Harun said. “But that doesn’t mean we should not live these virtues.”
Hitomi laughed slightly. “You sound like your father, though he has learned and I hope you will too that there are necessary things that happen to win a war.”
They came to one of the training yards where there were Daidoji at a firearms range. They fired at paper targets held on poles, each one painted with a snarling oni’s face. They fired their weapons and reloaded, the latter taking what seemed to Harun a lot of time for just one shot.
Harun watched Daidoji Akemi there, standing a decent distance from the target and firing her taneshagima. It hit the oni face in the eye.
Hitomi nodded in approval.
Three days after Hitomi left, Karasu watched much of the First Legion head out again, and Harun with them. Harun went with a light heart and a smile, leaving Karasu’s heart heavy.
Chapter 4
Summer, 1236 - The Kitani River Valley
Kenji took Harun to one of the training yards where the cavalry was. It was big field, with a rope line in spikes all around, where some of the various cavalry units drilled and trained. It was mostly light cavalry, but Harun did see some heavily armoured ones as well. Koharu was at the far end, in the company of several horses and bushi, shouting at them as they drilled. Riding back and forward under her scrutiny.
Koharu looked Harun up and down, hands defiantly on her hips. She was a short woman in her thirties, her hair was cropped short about her ears and she had a scar on her chin. “Kakita Harun?”
Harun nodded.
Koharu frowned at him and frowned at his armour some more. “You look too pretty to be useful,” she declared. “Are you sure you haven’t wandered into the wrong place?”
“I can ride and I can fight,” Harun said. “I also have seen battle, at Shiro Moto.”
She examined him again, less critically this time. “You’ll do.” She then blinked and then stared at him. “Kakita Harun? That armour…dark skin like a Moto…you’re Denko’s son…”
This confused Harun. “Denko? No…I’m…”
“I know who you are,” Koharu barked. She nodded to one of the others around. “Get this prince a mount.”
Harun stood there awkwardly while a horse was brought out. A well-formed gelding, brown in colour, light and bred for speed from probably Unicorn bloodlines.
“I know his paces, lets out you through yours,” said Koharu. “And mind you don’t be rough with him. You are replaceable, a horse not so much.”
“Yes gunso,” Harun said.
If Koharu expected Harun to mount straight away, she did not show any surprise when Harun did not.
Uncle Kousuda would kill me if I messed this up… Harun thought.
He approached the horse gently, slowly, holding his hands out to show the horse he was not a threat. He held out one hand, palm up, fingers angled down so the horse could down so the horse could sniff it. With the other hand, he fished half a piece of bread out of a pocket that was from his rations. Suddenly, the horse was a lot more interested in him. Harun smiled.
“What is his name?” Harun asked.
Koharu’s eyebrow went up. “Hayate,” she answered.
“Hayate,” Harun repeated. He stroked Hayate’s nose, allowing the horse to sniff his arms and shoulders, then ran his hand up the horse’s neck just as Kousuda had taught him as a boy. Then, when he was certain the horse was relaxed, Harun mounted in an easy, practiced motion.
The horse snorted, Harun used the reins to move the horse in a few circles.
“Taking your time?” Koharu asked, a little impatiently.
“Some things cannot be rushed,” answered Harun.
She nodded in agreement. Harun took Hayate through a few more paces before coming to a stop before Koharu.
“Ready,” he said.
“Take it a hundred paces, return and dismount,” Koharu said curtly.
Harun took off, making a brisk pace that wouldn’t tax Hayate too much, aware that the gunso’s eyes and a good number of the platoon’s were on him. He made the turn without slowing down too much, then started back. He could feel himself tense, the dismount was what he was worried about, and if he did it wrong, say caught his foot on the stirrup he could fall flat on his face.
Fortunately, that didn’t happen. Harun fairly slid down off the horse, needing only one hand to balance. The other was on his sword hilt, drawing it as he descended with the blade unsheathed before his feet had touched the ground.
Harun smiled, Koharu didn’t.
“Do it again,” she said.
They did it “again” so many times that Harun lost count. When Koharu was done watching Harun do it by himself, some more from the platoon did it with him. Back and forward, dismount and draw. And it was only when the sun was getting low that she dismissed him.
“You don’t wish to see me use my sword, gunso?” Harun asked her.
“If I wanted to see a flashy display of art, I’d go see a kabuki play,” Koharu said bluntly. “You are more than competent with that, or you wouldn’t be here. What I wanted to see how was how you could get in and out quickly, and I am satisfied you have.”
They then went back to the camp, Harun’s muscles aching from all the riding.
What was that name they called father? Denko? Lightning? I guess someone saw his strike…I could use a bath.
He said the latter to Kenji, asking where that could be gotten. Usually they washed with a bucket of water heated by the fire.
“Well, Tonashi Row has a few,” Kenji said.
Harun’s face was blank at this.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t been,” Kenji said.
“I haven’t,” said Harun.
Kenji laughed. “Lets get that armour off you. You are in for a treat.”
Toshiwara Row was several rows of tents, houses and shacks, situated between where the barracks of two units and only accessible from the main entrance at one ends. No weapons were permitted within other than the jitte that the patrolling yoriki carried. And almost anything from within Rokugan—and beyond, to a small extent—could be found within its confines. Food and drink to augment one’s rations, exotic goods, entertainment, women—and men is one desired—as well as more mundane things such as getting one’s laundry done or getting a letter written and dispatched. And, to Harun’s relief, a bath house.
It was but a small shack with various booths where one changed and bathed. The place could have been cleaner, but the hot water was good, there was a time limit though and Harun would have liked to have stayed longer. But it did do a lot to relieve soreness in his muscles.
Afterwards, Kenji took him down to see other places. Several sake houses, a few stalls set up by traders, a geisha house that had some lurid paintings of girls on a flag outside…and a small tent with a dragon flag outside where they went inside.
“Nawa!” Kenji said as he pulled the tent flap back.
“No noise!” shouted back a voice. “Not until I am done here.”
Harun blinked in the dimlight, inside it was dark and there was the smell of ink and charcoal. He heard a woman’s low moan, then as his eyes adjusted he saw the woman, sitting on the floor with her back bare, her covering her modesty in front with her hands. Behind her was a man, bald and also naked to the waist.
What have I walked into here? Harun wondered. Then he saw the tattoo on the floor next to them. So, he’s a henshi, a tattooist…
They sat down against the far wall while the tattooist finished with the woman. It did not take very long, she was shown the results by angling two mirrors then put her clothes back on and left.
The tattooist then approached them and Harun could see him more clearly. He wore patched pants of a Dragon green and had a Dragon tattoo that coiled around his chest and arms, ending on his face with his own eye the dragon’s eye.
“Ah, Kenji,” said the tattooist. “I assume you have come for some more shading? I hope you haven’t ruined the work I have done with that recklessness I keep hearing about.”
“It is still intact, Nawa,” laughed Kenji. “But I have brought you someone new. Just out of training and wanting to make his mark. Harun, this is Mirumoto Nawa.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Mirumoto-san,” Harun said, taking a bow from the seated position.
“Bah, your Crane manners are hardly needed in this tent,” said Nawa, spitting into a bucket. “But there’s so much green in you, I’d wonder you weren’t from my clan.”
“I’m not green,” Harun insisted. “I was at Shiro Moto.”
“Not bad, not bad,” Nawa nodded. “But from the look of you, you look as if you arrived there by palanquin and watched from a distance.”
Kenji laughed and Harun joined in.
“You came here to watch or be marked?” Nawa asked.
“I didn’t know I was coming here,” said Harun.
“Well, if you make up your mind, look at the scroll on the wall,” said Nawa. He nodded to Kenji. “You there, you know what to do.”
Kenji stripped off his shirt and sat still on the floor, Nawa picked up his tools and set to work. Harun went and had a look at scroll, he wasn’t sure if he wanted a tattoo. Most of what was there were animals, the totems for the Great Clans but there were also some samurai with swords swinging and shapely geisha. But when he saw the horse and the Crane, so well-drawn and alive looking, he knew he had to get both of those.
Both parts of me, together…
Kenji finished, carefully putting his shirt back on.
“You made up your mind?” Nawa asked.
“Yes,” Harun said. “The crane and the horse, can you do them close together? On my left shoulder blade?”
It took a bit of time with the sketching with ink on Harun’s shoulder and the mirror, but Nawa would not begin until Harun was completely satisfied with it.
“It will be on your body for the rest of this life,” he told Harun. “You need to get it right or not at all.”
When the sketch was complete, Nawa dipped the steel point of the needle in the ink.
“This will hurt,” Nawa says. “But no more than a dozen or so nicks with a sword will do. Keep still, you don’t want me drawing ragged.”
“I am ready,” Harun said, bracing himself.
It did hurt, much more than Harun thought it would or care to admit, almost as bad as the wound he had suffered in Unicorn lands. But it did look good, Nawa had shown him the finished outline in the mirror before they had left, but not before a stern warning not to “ruin his work” and to return once the skin healed.
Kenji suggested they go to the sake house, it would help numb the pain and he figured some of their unit should be there right now.
Calling it a “sake house” was rather exaggerating. It was a grass shingled roof where one sat on the floor and used boxes as small tables. Harun was a bit hesitant to go in, but Kenji assured him it was good sake.
They were noticed the moment they entered the place, at least Kenji was. A group waved them over and then made room for them to sit down.
“Harun, I don’t think you know everyone, so I’ll go around,” he said, pointing to people as he addressed them. “Shinjo Sayaka, Isawa Kanbei, Yoritomo Osu, Tsubaru, Daidoji Akemi…” The names blended after a while, but Harun did try to remember them.
The first round came and Harun felt more relaxed. They asked him questions, traded stories and told Harun about themselves. Shinjo Sayaka, almost the mother of the group, had been there the longest, joining when Moto Taigo was still in charge. Isawa Kanbei was an exile from the Phoenix Clan, quite polite but more willing to talk once sake loosened her tongue. Yortiomo Osu had joined the legion three years previously, quite jovial, but Kenji told Harun later that his entire close family had been wiped out when the Mantis islands fell. Tsubaru, a pleasant-faced ronin who was just as boisterous as Osu. And Daidoji Akemi who was—despite her repeated denials—the best sniper in the unit.
“A sniper?” Harun asked. “Do you use a bow or a crossbow?”
“Neither,” Akemi told Harun. “I use a Tanegashima, with gaijin pepper.”
Harun was a little shocked at this. He knew the Legion and yes, even his own clan, used weapons like this. But he didn’t like them, there was something…dirty.
But somehow those felt less important, at least right now.
When they left the sake house, Harun could feel his feet wavering a little. As if they did not know how to get in contact with the ground very well. Kenji took one look at him and suggested they head back to the barracks. Harun stumbled, brushing against someone as he passed.
“Hey watch it,” they snarled.
“So sorry,” said Harun, his words slurring a little.
“Hey…Yonezu,” said another. ”Is that that Crane you said killed your father.”
“That whelp?” Yonezu laughed. “It was his mother.”
This stopped Harun in his tracks. “What?”
“You heard me,” Yonezu spat. “Those letters you had, your mother was Utaku Yamada. She killed my father, her and the Black Hand she is with. You’re the son of a traitor.”
Harun heard voices behind him calling his name, but he didn’t pay them attention. And all he saw was red… He could hear people shouting at him, pulling him away…
“Harun! Harun!” Kenji shouted, slapping his face.
Harun brushed something off his face, blood. Then looked around. What had happened? Then he saw Yonezu, his face was bloody as well.
“What happened?” Harun asked, allowing them to help him to his feet. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“No shit,” said Kenji. “Lets get you out of here.”
Harun allowed himself to be led. Did I just make an enemy?
Why does everything hurt? Was Harun’s first conscious thought. Then it all came flooding back. Nawa…the tattoo…the sake house…Yonezu… He said my mother was a traitor… He burned with shame at what had happened. He had lost his head, and drinking wasn’t an excuse.
“Harun, roll call,” called out a voice.
“Hai!” With a sheer force of will, Harun pulled himself into a sitting position. Somehow, he managed to get his clothes on and stagger out.
They assembled in columns on the parade ground between the two wings off the barracks, the gunso calling names and each hohei calling out “Hai” when his or her name was called. The Chui of Togawa Unit, Shiba Dankaro, stood on the platform outside his tent. A solid-built man of about thirty, he wore hakama and juban or a rather muddy orange. His second in command, Shiba Jiyuna, stood beside him.
When the gunsos were finished roll call, Dankaro stepped forward.
“Togawa Unit, you stand before me and I am proud of all of you,” he said. “To lead you into battle, to fight beside you and if it came to it, to die beside you. And I know you will all do the same, we serve the Emperor and his Champion with Pride, we fight as one.” He paused, looking over all of them. “Which is why when one of you shames this unit by their actions, they shame all of you.”
Harun felt butterflies in his stomach. He was eight years old again, about to be called into Kakita Kenshin-sensei’s study.
“Kakita Harun and Yonezu,” said Dankaro. “Step forward.”
Harun moved forward, walking between the columns of soldiers. He could feel all eye on him as he mounted the platform. Hs knew what was coming, but that didn’t deter him from bowing as appropriate.
Whereas Harun felt appropriately penitent, Yonezu showed no such traces. He stood beside Harun defiantly, sulkily. This just made Harun despise him more.
“Both of you stand accused of conduct unbefitting a member of the Emerald Legion,” said Dankaro. “Do you have anything to say?”
Harun shook his head.
“Actually, I object to this,” said Yonezu in a rather saucy voice.
Dumbfounded, all eyes went to Yonezu.
“You object?” Dankaro asked incredulously.
“I do,” continued Yonezu. “It was that one that threw the first punch. I was defending myself. It is him you should be punishing, not me.”
Harun stared at him, aghast at his audacity. “I was defending the honour of my family that you insulted!”
“Then defend it with steel!” snarled Yonezu. “Not with fists like the Moto gaijin you really are.”
Harun would have been on him had Dankaro not pulled him back.
“I will not have disputes in Togawa Unit,” declared Dankaro. “You will settle this like samurai, the first blood. The loser will be reassigned. Is this acceptable?”
Harun and Yonezu nodded. Harun thought he saw Yonezu smile.
“You will be given ten strokes and confined to barracks for five days,” said Dankaro. “At the end of this, it will be settled.”
He then nodded to Jiyuna who came forward holding a bamboo switch.
Harun took off his shirt and bowed. He didn’t flinch.
The switch did without breaking the skin, just like the beatings he had had at the Kakita Dojo. Discipline, not punishment. It still hurt, but Harun did his best to not show that it got to him.
He used the time in barracks to train, of which he had been slipping a little recently. Fortunately, it did not take long until he was back at a satisfactory level.
Yonezu trained as well. The ronin’s style was just as quick, though far less cleaner. Still, Harun wondered if he had studied at a dojo.
The day of the duel came and it was the subject of some interest to the unit. Many of the soldiers, samurai and peasant, made a ring around where the duelling circle was to be set up talking excitedly. Not everyone took an interest, Koharu the gunso of Kyoujin Platoon thought it an utter waste of time but couldn’t do anything about it.
Harun wore his Crane blue Hhkama with the matching kataginu, the mons of the Kakita Academy and the Kakita Dojo on each side of his chest. He tamed his kinky hair into a topknot, looking every bit proper as he should.
Yonezu wore the standard everyday garments one could get in supplies. Serviceable and brown, but not fancy. But to this he added an obi of faded red, and another cloth of the same hue on the lower half of his face. Yonezu’s hair was long and black, cascading down his back and floating over his face with the wind.
Shiba Jiyuna stepped forward, she carried a fan. Behind her, Shiba Dankaro watched silently.
Jiyuna raised the fan and called for silence. “This will settle the dispute between you,” she says. “The victor will remain, the loser transferred. Let fate fall as it will.”
Yonezu and Harun bowed, taking up positions.
Taking a deep breath, Harun immersed himself in the void. All was clear, all was calm. He looked at Yonezu and saw his weaknesses.
Jiyuna brought her fan down.
A flurry of movement, a rasp of steel, and a gasp of surprise from those who had sharp enough eyes to see what had happened. Harun and Yonezu stood eye to eye, each having the other’s sword on their neck.
There was complete silence as everyone held their breath. Jiyuna stood frozen for a moment, then quickly consulted with Dankaro.
“Fate has decided,” she declared. “Both will remain.”
Harun and Yonezu bowed then the crowd began to disperse noisily. Harun stood still a moment, watching the Chui go back into his tent with Jiyuna.
Utaku Kenji came up with Yoritomo Osu. Both were grinning like idiots.
“Well, I don’t know how you did it, but you managed to solve this the perfect way,” says Kenji.
“Perfection in all ways,” said Harun loftily. The he laughed.
“Come on,” said Osu, nudging them both. “I need a drink.”
Some weeks later, Kakita Karasu sat at his war table. After what was a rough start, the reports about Harun had improved. He had now seen combat with his platoon in engaging Onyx stragglers that raided the borders of the Lion Clan lands. He had fought bravely beside his comrades. And, perhaps most importantly, he had returned.
But all of this was but a mere rehearsal for the main game that would be played at Toshi Ranbo. A game that seemed to have almost too many players by the way all the Great Clans were promising troops and materials with a hope of sharing in the glory and spoils.
But it was still too early for that. A hit at the former imperial capital had to firm and decisive with no rom for failure. Toshi Ranbo had to truly be an island, cut off completely from any support from the Onyx yet. And it wasn’t, not yet but it would be soon.
As the meeting drew to a close, someone entered the tent. At first Karasu thought it was just Akodo Ryoichi returning with more water for the kettle. But it wasn’t. It was Karasu’s wife Kakita Hitomi. She was dressed in plain and comfortable travel clothes wet from the rain.
Karasu smiled. This was not the first time she had surprised him as such, nor would it likely be the last.
“Mina-sam,” he said to his officer. “I think that is everything, thank you.”
They left quickly, bowing to Hitomi as they did.
“You never cease to surprise me, my wife,” said Karasu, crossing the room and clasping her hand gently.
Hitomi smiled quietly. There was and had always been a significant difference in the affection they felt for each other. However, years of marriage had formed a middle ground between this. A bond of friendship, one with established boundaries as well as frequent absences from each other.
Yet they were together on many things, their devotion in their service to Rokugan and parenting their adopted children.
“Please, get your wet things off, I’ll make some tea,” said Karasu. He found the full teapot where Ryoichi had left it by the tent door. “Are you staying long this time? You never do, but I always ask.”
“I will need to leave in the morning,” said Hitomi. She removed her clothing to dry by the porcelain heater and borrowed one of Karasu’s yukatas. She sat down at the table, her hair hung long and loose about her shoulders, damp with rain. “I will see Harun before I go. How is he?”
“Doing well, at least now,” said Karasu. He put the water on to boil and started clearing the table. Hitomi started to help but he prevented it. “No, you sit there,” he said gently. “You have had a long journey.”
“Harun has been having problems?” Hitomi asked.
“Managed to get himself into a fight and a duel in the first two days out of training,” said Karasu. “But you know Harun, he handled it.” Karasu started to make the tea and passed Hitomi her cup.
“I had hoped to see him when he came home, but I was delayed,” said Hitomi taking her cup. “Has he changed at all from his time in Unicorn lands?”
Karasu searched through a chest and brought out some dried plums for them to share “Not exactly,” said Karasu. “He has become more like himself, you could say.” He paused a moment, looking down into his cup. “There was a time last year when I thought he wouldn’t come back.”
“You put too little faith in yourself,” said Hitomi. “Of course Harun would come back. He has always wanted to be like you, that’s why he is here now.”
Karasu blushed a little and drank his tea.
Hitomi drank her tea and put down her cup. “I came tonight because I have news for you,” said Hitomi. “I have some word from Toshi Ranbo.”
“You do?” Karasu said with surprise. He had given up asking where Hitomi got her intelligence and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. But word from Toshi Ranbo was welcome, as all they had were from records or the observation of their own scouts.
Hitomi nodded. “I have a few things, we can talk about them later,” she said, pouring more tea for both of them. “But there is something I must tell you now. In command of the defence of the city is Daigotsu Shimekiri.”
Karasu felt cold to his very bones. Shimekiri, the Fallen Crane, the Black Kakita. So notorious that many thought he wasn’t real, just a tale to frighten children. Yet every child that passed through the Kakita Academy knew of him.
He had once been a promising duellist of the Kakita but his arrogance and cruelty had had him barred from ever becoming a Kenshinzen—the best duellists in the Crane Clan. He had joined the Spider Clan, embraced the Taint of Jigiku and taken his revenge on the Kakita family. Including Kyoumi’s parents.
“Of course he’s not dead,” Karasu said, his voice cold with anger. “He can’t be killed, and he’s been around for enough lifetimes to surpass the skill of any Kenshinzen.”
“He will die in that city, Karasu,” said Hitomi. “He needs to.”
“I’ll make sure of it,” said Karasu. “Even if I have to do it myself.”
Hitomi nodded and said nothing, for now.
Later, Hitomi slept in his bed and Karasu laid out cushions for himself. But he couldn’t sleep. He practiced with a bokken. He was a blur as he did strikes, guards, katas. Faster, and faster still. He had once hoped to be a Kenshinzen himself, to walk out with the Crane army in the bright winged raiment. But fate had decided something very different for him.
But still, to kill Shimekiri, to purge this blight from the Crane Clan had a certain satisfaction about it.
He went into another kata, Standing on the Heavens, he was ready.
Harun saw Hitomi the next morning when he was on the way back from drills. The sun was coming up, drying the dew as it sparkled in the summer light. It all the makings of a hot day. They passed the Shiro where the Taisa’s and Emerald Champion’s tent were and Harun saw her there. He stopped.
“I’ll catch up later,” Harun said, going over to her.
Hitomi watched as he approached. “Harun,” she said.
“Mother,” he said, bowing and smiling. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“I just came in last night, but had to see you before I leave,” she said. She looked him up and down. “I can see the change in you already, the last year was good for you.”
“Is it that obvious?” Harun asked, a little worried. “I have been told that I brought the Moto in me back from the Unicorn lands.”
“It was always there, Harun, you just became more confident with yourself,” she said.
As they walked around the camp, he told her about the year he had spent travelling. Visiting the Dragon, the Lion and of course the Unicorn. Shiro Moto, Majid, City of the Rich Frog, the ritual with Zetsubou…Hitomi listened to it all patiently, and it there was something missing in his narrative she didn’t comment.
When Harun finished, Hitomi was thoughtful.
“So through all this, all the people you have talked to that knew your mother Yamada, I want to ask you this: why do you think she chose to leave you in our care?” Hitomi asked,
Harun felt a lump forming in his throat. “She…she wanted me to have a family, I guess. Like she had had.”
“Yes, bit that’s not all,” said Hitomi. “There is something else, why she went to this terrible duty with Shiba Michio and the Black Hand. Do you know what this is?”
Thinking back to the talk he had with Zetsubou the night before he died, Harun nodded. “It was so no one else had to do it.”
Hitomi nodded. “What you were taught at the dojo, Harun, was very clear cut in how we should act in accordance with traditions and bushido,” she said. “But you know now that the world doesn’t always work like that.”
“It doesn’t,” Harun said. “But that doesn’t mean we should not live these virtues.”
Hitomi laughed slightly. “You sound like your father, though he has learned and I hope you will too that there are necessary things that happen to win a war.”
They came to one of the training yards where there were Daidoji at a firearms range. They fired at paper targets held on poles, each one painted with a snarling oni’s face. They fired their weapons and reloaded, the latter taking what seemed to Harun a lot of time for just one shot.
Harun watched Daidoji Akemi there, standing a decent distance from the target and firing her taneshagima. It hit the oni face in the eye.
Hitomi nodded in approval.
Three days after Hitomi left, Karasu watched much of the First Legion head out again, and Harun with them. Harun went with a light heart and a smile, leaving Karasu’s heart heavy.