Chasing the Wind
Chapter 6
Summer, 1234 - Unicorn Lands
Chinua was in war council when they returned, Harun went into his yurt to eat and change. After that Harun did something he had wanted to do for a while but hadn’t the chance to. He sat at the desk and wrote a desk and wrote a letter to Arahime.
It felt a little strange, thinking of her so far away at the Academy. Such a different world from where he was. How much would she understand? Some things would be better explained to her in person.
Dear Arahime-san,
I hope this letter finds you well.
It feels very strange to think of you at the Academy, but it’s also comforting. It’s a world away from where I am and where I have been. I’m with the Unicorn, at the camp of the Khol their main army. And yes, I am sitting writing to you in one of the yurts that your father talks about. And They are better than we thought, more like a house than a tent.
I owe being here to Moto Majid. We met at Shiro Mirumoto and rode together here. He is about as Moto as they come. He finds my “refined” Crane ways quite amusing and calls me Niwa no Moto. He is a true friend though and accepted me instantly.
It is sort of strange, but I am seen as different out here but in a different way than at the Academy. There I was the gaijin, the foreigner, here I am the Crane with all their “unnecessary” pretentions and traditions.
They have found need for me already. I wasn’t in the camp a day when I was in my first duel, which happened a few days later. The situation is a little complicated to explain, but it was about who has control of Kaeru Toshi. You can tell Kenshin-sensei that I won and did not embarrass him or the Academy too much.
The Unicorn plan to take Shiro Moto soon, it should be decided one way or another by the time this letter gets to you. But with the land as barren as it is, and much of it still tainted, it almost seems hollow winning it back. Do you remember what the Crane lands used to look like when we were younger? Before we came to the Academy? It is a little like that, but it goes on and on forever and without all the damage from explosions
Majid says this will hopefully change soon and I hope to see it, see the land recovering, the home that all the Unicorn talk about. There is so much to see here that I haven’t yet, so much that I wish you could see.
And it was a little strange travelling so much at first, but I think I am growing to like it. There's something about seeing new places, not knowing where I will be the next day or what I will see. The feeling of freedom riding across the plains with nothing but the wind and sky. It sort of speaks to a part of me that I didn't know was there.
I know it will be hard to get a letter to me, I hardly know where I will be in the future so it would be hard to get any letters to me. It is enough to know that my words will get to you.
With affection,
Kakita Harun
Harun folded the pages carefully and sealed them with wax, making his chop on the outside with red ink. He then went to find the courier that Majid has said was going to Otosan Uchi. Kyuden Kakita was on the way, the letter would find her.
On his way back, Majid found him.
“It’s time?” Harun asked.
Majid nodded.
They entered Chinua’s tent, the remains of the war council were being cleared away. Chinua congratulated Harun on the duel and asked them to sit. Harun noticed there was a seriousness about his demeanour. The normal tea and jerky were offered, Harun sipped his tea, waiting for Chinua to speak.
Chinua cleared his throat. “I trust you know something of Majid’s errand?”
“He has been discreet,” said Harun. “I only know of it urgency and importance.”
Chinua nodded absently, he was deep in thought. “It is difficult to know where to begin with this, but perhaps I should with your mother Yamada.” He took a long draught of tea. “The night before the duel, we spoke of many things, but there was something she spoke of that I dismissed. “He paused, staring into the distance. “She saw a bigger picture than what was before us, conflict that would not just be won by military victories.” He looked at Harun, giving a sad smile. “If she were here now, I would tell her that she was right. Since she is not, I must make amends other ways. With you Harun-san.”
Harun gave a small nod at the acknowledgment but did not speak.
“What Majid-san is doing, and others with him, is a way to end the taint in Unicorn lands,” Chinua explained. “This will weaken the Onyx, and end the war.”
Harun looked from Chinua to Majid. “This is ambitious,” he said.
Chinua nodded in agreement. “This has been years in the making. Revealed, I believe, by the Divine Iweko, mother of the Emperor.”
Harun looked at Chinua in astonishment. “She…lives?”
Majid nodded. “I was fortunate enough to be in her presence. As were others, including Zetsubou-san.”
“I do not pretend to understand the details of this ritual,” continued Chinua. “But I can tell you of another who is involved that Yamada spoke of that night. Haihime, the daughter of Daigotsu Kanpeki.”
Harun frowned, remembering. “I think I have heard of her, she is friends with my Aunt Kyoumi.”
“She was friends with Yamada as well, your mother taught her to ride,” Chinua said. “I guess she will be wanting to meet you, Harun-san, when she arrives.” He then looked to Majid to continue.
“The participants will be gathering in the winter when Ourt will be held in Shiro Moto, then we will be traveling north to the site that has been prepared,” Majid said. “When the snow falls, we will strive to send the taint from the land. And when the snow melts, when the spring returns, we will hopefully have Heaven’s blessing and the land will be restored.”
“I cannot order you to do this, Harun-san,” said Chinua. “But I imagine you would not refuse if asked.”
“You are correct, my lord,” said Harun with a nod.
“Good,” said Chinua. He took a strip of jerky and put it in his mouth, chewing vigorously and swallowing. “There is something else I wanted to talk to you about. I take you have never seen a battle, let alone been in one?”
Harun nodded in assent.
“Well, if it is agreeable to you, you can ride with Majid,” Chinua said. “Majid, I trust you will show him what to do so he doesn’t make a fool of himself?”
“It shall be done, my Khan,” said Majid with a nod.
“I thank you for such acknowledgement, my lord,” Harun said, inclining his head. “I will try to be worthy of your trust.”
“You have proven yourself, Harun,” said Chinua. “Just keep doing that.”
“The first thing we need to do,” Majid said the next morning, “is to get you properly outfitted.” He led him towards one of the equipment tents.
“I have armour,” Harun protested, “and weapons, and a horse.”
“You do,” Majid agreed. “But your duelling armour is hardly adequate for the battlefield. And your horse, though a fine and noble beast, would simply turn and flee from a battle.”
Harun nodded.
“As for your weapons,” Majid continued, flashing a grin at Harun, “we’ll have to find a way to use your refined Crane ways.”
Majid handed him a set of armour, packed inside a furoskiki bundle. They went back to Harun’s yurt to put it on. Harun changed behind a shoji screen into the garments that went underneath the armour. Purple, it seemed strange to be wearing it, but Harun liked its deep brilliance.
When he emerged, Majid had laid the armour out. Purple again, made of silk, steel and…leather. Harun winced a little at this. Wearing leather, made from the flesh of a dead animal.
“Something wrong?” Majid asked, he was holding the first piece to be put on, the sunate, the leg armour.
Harun shook his head. “Just some of my “refined Crane ways”,” he said.
Majid raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment further. He helped Harun put the armour on. Gloves, arm braces, then the kote. Then the chest plate, the do, lighter than usual. Then the obi, purple, he tied it closely.
Then came the sode, the arm pieces, bigger than usually to protect against arrows.
Thus equipped, Harun took up his daisho. The enamel of the sayas looked purple in the low light of the yurt. Carefully, he equipped it to the obi.
He tied the hachimaki on his head, white with a purple unicorn mon in the centre.
Finally, Majid passed Harun the kabuto. Again, leather and steel, with a long purple plume—horsehair perhaps?—that would hand down his back when he wore it.
And play in the wind when I ride, Harun thought with a smile. He put it on, adjusting it and tying the straps securely under his chin.
Majid gave Harun a strange look. He blinked, then took a step back, looking Harun up and down, still with the same expression on his face.
“What’s wrong?” Harun asked. He already felt a little awkward, having Majid staring at him only made things worse.
“Nothing,’ Majid said unconvincingly.
Harun unsheathed his katana, angling the blade until he could see his reflection. He blinked, staring at it. The armour transformed him. The colour, his face, the beard…he could have passed for a Unicorn for anyone who didn’t know him. And perhaps a few who did.
There was something else too. Harun noticed it when they left the yurt. No one noticed him. He normally got a few stares when he walked around the camp in his Crane blues. But in the purple armour of the Unicorn, he barely passed a glance. He fit in, he looked like he belonged.
This was a new feeling for Harun, and it wasn’t altogether bad.
Out on the steppes, Majid put Harun through his paces. Improving riding, improving his seat so he was both firmer and more movable in the saddle. As this happened, Majid kept a constant look out, checking the horizon constantly.
Harun enjoyed it, even in the bleak landscape he enjoyed the freedom of movement the steppes seemed to encourage. How it seemed to extend forever, from one horizon to the next. If it hadn’t been for the dangers Majid kept talking about, he might have enjoyed it more.
When Majid was satisfied that Harun mastered the basics, Majid added more elements. Showing him how to ride to avoid arrows, how to stop fast, make quick evasive turns. And how to do all this with just the lightest touch of the reins so as not to ruin his horse’s mouth.
“What about using my sword?” Harun asked when they took a break.
“I’ll get to that,” Majid promised. “Right now, I’m trying to keep you out of trouble.”
They kept at it, day after day, in the hot sun and in the rain. Soon it felt normal to be wearing the armour, and he liked more and more how he wasn’t attracting attention. And he did enjoy riding in the open plains everyday, loving the feeling of freedom he had galloping under the open sky.
Sometimes Majid would spot enemy patrols and insisted on going back, sounding his horn to alert other riders.
“You don’t trust me enough in combat yet?” Harun asked after a few weeks.
By now Majid had shown him how to use his sword on horseback. Harun had trained both out on the steps with it and by slashing sacks on poles and ropes in the training yard. Majid had pronounced his efforts “adequate”, but they had done nothing further.
Majid sighed. “You’ll see combat soon enough, Niwa no Moto,” he said. “I assume at the Kakita Academy you’re not allowed to duel your first opponent until you first knew how to hold sword?”
Harun frowned. “You know me better than that, Majid.”
“I do,” Majid said, clapping Harun on the back. “But you do not know me as well or what you will encounter.”
“Then tell me,” Harun said.
That evening in Harun’s yurt, over tea, Majid explained it to him. It wasn’t just about the taint or with Jigoku, it had to do with the Moto family itself. Their origins in the deserts beyond Rokugan and their dark history.
“The Moto has a dark legacy that we all strive to redeem,” Majid said. “There are those who share my name, who share my blood that were betrayed by the gods they worshiped, were tainted, were used by Jigoku. They are the Dark Moto. But in a way, they remained samurai, their bodies were lost to the taint but their minds were not lost to madness. They train like samurai, they have discipline, they use tactics like us. And were more than a match for us in combat.”
“You talk about them as if it’s in the past,” Harun pointed out. “Are they gone?”
“They were,” said Majid. “Until Kanpeki’s hordes came. Then they returned. And Daigoro, their leader, is ruthless.” He paused, looking down into his tea. “We beat them back, but they know us and we know them.” He looked up at Harun. “I tell you this, as you need to know it. Not just because you will face them in battle, but because I know you have Moto blood. This shame is something we all share, to ensure it doesn’t happen again.”
Harun nodded, considering this. “These Dark Moto…they hold Shiro Moto?”
Majid nodded. “They are why we have failed to take it so far. You haven’t seen it yet, as it is a bit better now, but every step we have made towards it has been hard fought. We draw them out, we winnow their numbers, until…”He clasped his hands together, resting his chin on them. “Until the day we strike.”
“When is it?” Harun asked.
“Soon,” said Majid. “Not too soon, the Khan knows when. He swore that that the Unicorn would hold court this winter in Shiro Moto.”
“And so we will,” said Harun, smiling at him.
Majid smiled back. “And so we will.”
A few days later, Harun was walking around the camp. Majid had to cut their training short that morning, saying he had duties to perform. So, Harun explored the Khol camp, still wearing his riding armour. He enjoyed the anonymity it gave him, it was like being invisible.
He was walking past a training yard where he could see some Utaku shiotome wee training. He had seen them riding around the camp, but they weren’t willing to talk to him or even look his way. But this only intrigued him further.
They rode through a series of obstacles. Attacking weighted sacks swinging from ropes, stuffed sacks tied to stakes. Not unlike what Majid put him through, but the pace and stakes were far more intense. He noticed the speed and tenacity they showed against the obstacles, their strength, discipline and the control they had over the massive horses.
The Utaku battle maidens were reputed to be the best cavalry force in Rokugan. From what Harun could see here, this was no mere boast but the simple truth.
And my mother was one of them, Harun thought.
Just as another horse went by, one of the stakes fell victim to a particularly powerful blow and snapped with a loud crack. A few of the horses startled, they were quickly calmed. But the one nearest to Harun did more than that. It reared up, turning and thrashing on its hind legs, its deadly hooves coming straight towards him.
Harun reacted instantly, his duellist reflexes kicking in. He lunged out of the way, rolling onto the ground as the hooves came down barely a finger span away from his face.
As he lay there, him and the rider locked eyes for a moment. And in that moment he really saw her. Beautiful, her eyes wide with concern, the long braids of her black hair tossing around as she brought the horse under control.
And she saw him. Saw the fear in his eyes as the horse’s hooves struck the ground, saw the hand that instinctively went to his katana at the first sign of danger.
Harun kept rolling, dislodging clouds of dust and dirt, trying to get clear of the horse as the shiotome calmed it. The hooves came down just where he had been lying a moment before. Finally, the horse was calmed and everyone could breathe again.
The disturbance attracted quite a bit of attention. A few people crowded around, someone helped Harun to his feet and asked him if he was hurt.
“What’s all this?” Harun heard Majid’s voice through the crowd, the Moto made his way through and clapped Harun on the back. “I leave you for one afternoon, and you almost get yourself killed. Niwa no Moto!” He burst out in hilarious laughter, a few joining in even though they didn’t know the joke.
“It’s nothing,” Harun, trying to brush it off along with the dust.
Majid led him through the crowd, still talking fast. Harun looked back at the Utaku woman. She was being spoken to by what looked to be a superior, looking down and an expression of shame on her face. Harun wanted to interfere, go over and say that it was all just an accident, but he didn’t think that would be right.
He nodded to Majid as they walked off. He was barely listening, still thinking about the girl.
That evening, Harun was sitting reading a Unicorn history scroll that Majid had loaned him when the servant said that a young Utaku woman wished to see him. Harun had a vague idea who it could be. He told the servant to let her in and to make tea.
Harun rode and went to the tent door to greet her. The young woman entered. It was the shiotome Harun had seen earlier that day.
She wore a plain purple kimono with a white obi. Her hair was in many braids all over her head, the braids themselves braided further to pull her hair off her face. She had a calm face, a quiet face, her brown eyes showing no more emotion than they needed to.
The Utaku looked up at him, opened her mouth the speak then stared in astonishment at the blue garments of the Crane he was wearing.
“Oh dear!” she said, bowing very low. “I must express my most humble apologies that I put you in danger, Crane-sama.” She looked down, her eyes on Harun’s feet. “That you are also a guest of Lord Chinua makes my error even more of a dishonour.”
“Please, Utaku-san,” said Harun reassuringly. “Your actions saved my life. It is due to your skill as a horsewoman that you were able to bring your steed under control.”
She shook her head, still not moving. “Crane-sama, it is a shame on myself as an Utaku and as a daughter of Shinjo that my failure to control my horse even put you in danger. Please, accept my apologies and this humble gift so that I might atone for this fault.”
She straightened and presented him with a small box in both hands.
“I accept your apology,” Harun said, bowing gratefully. “But I cannot accept such a gift, even if is freely given. I am not worthy of such esteem.”
He gave a small smile, hoping that she recognised the game he was playing.
She smiled, understanding the game. “I disagree, Crane-sama,” she said. “Such a gift is far from worthy of one esteemed as yourself.”
“You flatter me, Utaku-san,” said Harun. “I know the Unicorn trade with many lands, what you give is no doubt rare and beautiful and should not be given away lightly to one such as myself.”
“Perhaps something rare and beautiful to go with the rare beauties of the Crane?” she asked.
Is she teasing me? Harun wondered. It was hard to tell, so he took it at face value.
“Then I accept,” said Harun, taking the box and bowing. “I am Kakita Harun, son of Kakita Karasu. I bid you welcome, Utaku-san.”
The Utaku returned his bow. “This one is Utaku Kogome, Kakita-sama, daughter of Utaku Kouma.”
“I am honoured to meet you, Utaku-san,” said Harun. “I have heard much of the shiotome and I am pleased to finally meet one.”
“You flatter me, Kakita-sama,” said Asuna.
“Not at all,” said Harun. “It is but the simple truth.” He gestured to the table where the servant was setting the tea. “Will you join me, Utaku-san?”
Asuna shook her head. “I don’t want to disturb you any further, Kakita-sama.”
“Please, stay,” Harun said earnestly. “I don’t know that many people in camp yet. And I do want to thank you properly for your gift.”
She sat down. Asuna seemed a bit stiff and formal, as if social setting such as this were unfamiliar to her.
Harun served tea, forgoing many of the usual elegant flourishes he was taught at the Academy. He thought they might intimidate her further.
He then lifted the box. It was small, about the size of the palm of his hand, decorated with intricate. Inside was a square of purple silk, wrapped around a small object. The silk had the scent of spices and exotic perfumes, giving a hint of lands far away. Harun unwrapped the silk, revealed the small figure of a horse at gallop. Its lines were cut finely in white wood, smooth and delicate like ivory.
“This is exquisite,” Harun said, “I thank you.” He held the small horse in his hands then set it on the table in front of him. He looked up at Asuna, she was examining him curiously. “You can speak freely, Utaku-san.”
She looked down, as if embarrassed. “You must forgive me, Kakita-sama,” she said. “I had heard there was a Crane in the camp, but I pictured someone more…”
“Traditional?” Harun suggested.
Asuna nodded. “I am a little curious about you, Kakita-sama,” she confessed.
“Please, call me Harun,” he said. “As for my ‘non-traditional’ appearance, that can be explained. My mother was a Unicorn, an Utaku. I also understand that her father, my grandfather, was a Moto and she named me for him.” He took a sip of tea. “And my Crane ways, well, I was one of the many fosterlings of my father.”
“Your father, Kakita Karasu, the Emerald Champion?”
Harun nodded.
“What was it like growing up with that?” Asuna asked.
“We had the full run of the castle, Shiro Yogasha, there were that many of us that my parents found from all around the Empire.” He smiled at a memory. “I used to go into my father’s war room, rearrange the figures on his maps, sometimes during his meetings.”
Asuna smiled at this.
“Apparently, I once accidentally discovered a brilliant strategy,” Harun said, with dead pan seriousness.
Asuna stared at him incredulously, was he being serious? Harun let out a snort, his face collapsing in laughter. Asuna put up a hand to stifle her own laughter.
“I saw that!” Harun said, pointing triumphantly. “I saw that, Utaku-san! You’re not as aloof as you appear to be.”
“I thought Crane were like that,” Asuna teased.
“You noticed, I’m not a typical Crane, Utaku-san,” Harun countered.
“Call me Asuna, Harun,” she said, smiling at him.
She was very beautiful when she smiled, her eyes dark and filled with openness and honesty. She reminded him a little of Arahime, but there was something there that Arahime didn’t have. A calmness, a quietness, not unlike what in himself. It gave her poise, a quiet confidence, and the more she warmed to him the more he saw of her true nature.
They talked some more, Harun telling her about growing up in the Kakita Academy; Asuna telling him about riding with the Khol. Harun found she was easy to talk to, easier even than Majid. She was close in age to him, and despite their differences they managed to find common ground. The hope the land would be restored, the hope for peace, that the war that had started before they were born would be over in their lifetimes.
When Asuna had drained her second cup of tea, she said she could stay no longer.
“But I did enjoy your company,” she said. “And I would like to extend to you the same hospitality.”
Harun raised a sceptical eyebrow at this. “Would I be welcome in your camp? I have heard how the Utaku regard men.”
Asuna laughed again. “You are not an Utaku man,” she explained. “So, it will not be as bad.” She got to her feet, made a bow. “We are in tighter quarters, but you said you wanted to learn of our ways.”
“I do, and I will,” Harun promised, bowing in return. “And thank you for the gift, and the pleasure of your company.”
He thought about her for a long time after she had left, holding the small horse in his hands. He had wanted to meet with the Utaku, but he hadn’t expected this. Not at all.
Asuna was in his thoughts when he rode with Majid the next day. He did his best not to seem distracted, and if Majid noticed he said nothing. When the sun was high in the sky, Majid suggest a change in course further north.
“You said you wanted to see combat,” Majid said.
“You think I’m ready?” Harun asked.
“I’d want more time, but we don’t have it,” Majid said. “But the Khan plans to move in days. To take back Shiro Moto.” He glanced at Harun. “It’s time you were blooded, Niwa no Moto.”
Further north they met up with a shiotome patrol. Their Chui, Utaku Takara, seemed to know Majid and agreed to his suggestion they accompany them.
They fell into the middle of the kaisha and continued. Harun felt a little thrill, to be riding with the Utaku battle maidens was a privilege.
They continued north, keeping up a brisk pace, constantly on the lookout. Then they saw them, the Dark Moto, not much more than shapes in the distance in the plains. They picked up the pace, horns were sounded. Not just to alert the rest of the kaisha, but to let the enemy know they were coming.
Harun felt his heart beat fast. This wasn’t really a battle, not yet, but it was far from the orderly duels of the Kakita. This was war.
“Stay with me, Harun,” Majid urged, his tone devoid of its usual levity.
The kaisha split into two long columns, Harun went behind Majid on the left column. Harun was grateful for all the riding training he had done with Majid as he managed to keep abreast with the Utaku battle maiden on his right. They rode along the ridge of a hill, on their left the ground sloped down.
Harun took a good look off to the left, he could see the enemy below them. They were getting closer, he could start to see them in more detail. Horrible twisted, tainted riders on skeletal horses. They rode fast and eager to intercept them.
Harun turned back, looking up the column of Utaku. I wonder what they have planned? he thought.
A moment later he had his answer. At a signal from the Chui, the columns split; the right column proceeding down the hill with the left column continuing along the ridge, hiding the split from the enemy.
Harun continued the pace as the column on his right fell away. And when the last one was below the ridge, the column started to turn left and proceed down the hill. The column became a charging wall of cavalry, galloping down the hill.
And completely silent, Harun noticed.
They drew their swords, readied their lances. The Dark Moto were fast approaching, firing arrows at them. Harun ducked down hind his horse’s head, hearing a few whizzing past his ears. He heard a few shouts and screams when shiotome got hit.
Majid was right beside him, the line of Dark Moto were getting closer. Their hideous skeletal forms, closer and closer. Harun steeled himself for the clash, his katana ready. A calmness came over him, not unlike the moment before the strike in an iaijutsu duel.
Another hail of arrows, and then the two sides met. There was a loud clash of steel, a piercing shriek of injured horses. Harun swung his sword, slashing at the enemy and using the sode on his arms to fend off blows. There was no precision, no finesse, just cutting though the enemy and urging his horse forward, through their lines. He cut off the arm of one, then the head, always moving, pushing ahead until he could make it through… Until he could make it through…
He kept fighting, urging his horse forward with his knees and his feet. He felt something scratch past his cheek, but he ignored it. Majid was next to him, attacking fiercely with his scimitar.
Harun slashed his katana forward, knocking back a Dark Moto and finally breaking through the lines. He kept riding, spurring his horse to regroup with the others as they prepared for another charge.
It was then that the other column of shiotome attacked. Right from the flank of the Dark Moto, Harun didn’t know this at the time but they had come around the hill to approach the enemy from another direction.
The Dark Moto were caught between two fronts, but they were not about to give up without another fight. Waves of arrows were fired as the Utaku charged. One arrow found a gap in Harun’s armour, sinking into his side. He groaned, leaning if his horse from the pain of it. But he fought through the pain, gripping his katana tightly.
The Moto then raised lances and charge, shouting a horrible battle cry as they made their final stand. One hand on their reins, Harun quickly moved his horse to dodge their blows, but they seemed to be everywhere. The arrow in his side was like a brand of fire, he could feel himself bleed under the armour, soaking his clothing.
Two shiotome pushed ahead of him, engaging the Dark Moto and forcing Harun back. Harun smiled weakly, letting them go, glad it was almost glad it was almost at the end and the fight was getting further away from him.
Harun could see Majid with them, one Moto man amongst all the Utaku women. He laughed, his head felt a bit fuzzy. Sort of like when the Emperor’s son Kiseki had knocked him in the head with a training sword back at the Academy.
A shiotome approached him. Was it Asuna? She was beautiful, whoever she was. Her eyes wide with concern as she stood over him. Over him? Wasn’t he on his horse? Why was she such a long way up. He was lying on something hard and his head hurt a lot. Majid was there next to him, holding his hand and telling him not to worry.
Why is there anything to worry about? Harun thought, his head was swimming. They all looked blurry, surely everything was fine…
My head hurts, was Harun’s first thought. He opened his eyes, he was in a tent of some sort but didn’t know where.
Where am I? Harun thought. He tried to sit up, but a spell of dizziness forced him to lie down again. He looked around, there was a shoji screen one side of him and the tent wall on the other. There was a blanket around his knees and he could see other people lying down not far from him. So, it was an infirmary of some sort, that made sense.
He looked down and saw the bandage that wrapped around his torso to under his shoulders. There was an ache in his side whenever he moved. Then he remembered. He had been shot by one of the Dark Moto’s arrows. After that it was a bit foggy. He had fallen, perhaps? Fallen from his horse? He cringed with embarrassment, anticipating how Majid was going to chide him.
He turned his head, carefully, there was a carafe of water and a cup on a small table just next to him. He couldn’t reach it without pain.
“Need help, Kakita-sama?” A bald monk in a dusty coloured robe was speaking to him.
“Yes, thank you,” said Harun, nodding to the water.
The monk set the tray he was carrying down and helped Harun into a sitting position. Then poured some water into the cup and passed it to him. Harun took a few sips of water, his head began to clear. The monk seemed surprisingly strong, perhaps he had been a bushi in his former life. He looked about fifty. Harun noticed the mon on his robe, showing the order he served.
“Hikahime,” Harun said, the name was familiar to him but he couldn’t place it.
“Yes, Kakita-sama, that is the Minor Fortune this one serves,” said the monk. “She is the patron of ashigaru, as well as anyone who is in need.”
The monk gently helped him lie down. “Can you tell me your name?”
“This one is Gimu, Kakita-sama,” he said, bowing low. “Is there any service this one can do for you?”
“No, thank you, Gimu-san,” Harun said.
The monk bowed again and disappeared out of sight. Harun laid awake, staring at the tent ceiling. It was the first conflict with the Unicorn, and he had embarrassed himself. So much for fitting in, he may look like one of them but that didn’t make him one of them.
So why am I doing this? He thought. Why did I think it would be so easy?
“Ah, you’re awake!” Majid sat down next to him, offering a smile. “You had us worried for a moment there, Niwa no Moto.”
Harun looked up at him but didn’t answer.
Majid looked concerned. “What’s wrong? That tap on the head do something more?”
“No, Majid, it’s just…” Harun sighed. “I fell from my horse, didn’t? I embarrassed myself in front of everyone.”
“That’s all?” Majid asked. “You fell because you were wounded, Harun. Up until then you were doing fine.”
“You’re just saying that to help me feel better,” Harun said.
“Why would I? It’s the truth,” Majid said. “You fell from your horse, so what? I’ve done that. Just get back on and keep going.”
“So…they don’t think less of me?” Harun asked.
“Well, they do,” said Majid, with a grin, “but only because you’re a man, and we can’t do anything about that.”
They laughed, Harun’s sides ached from the effort.
“Majid,” Harun said when the laughter had subsided. “Were you helping me back there at all? I felt a…calmness around me, like when I assume the stance of Void before a duel.”
“And how could I do that when I was fighting right beside you?” Majid asked suspiciously.
“You’re an ishi, aren’t you?” Harun asked. “I’ve never seen one before, but then you aren’t as shugenja often are.”
Majid smiled. “You’re correct. What gave me away?”
“Nothing, Zetsubou told me,” Harun said. “But that was you back there, wasn’t it? You helped me.”
Majid nodded. “You’re not the only one I helped, but yes.”
“I guess I owe my life to you then,” Harun said.
“Majid dismissed this. “Let’s not go into that now. Besides, even with what I can do I can’t make you into a better rider. I can’t make you something you are not.” He stood up. “You still need rest, you hit your head pretty hard when you fell. I’ll be around tomorrow to get you.”
Harun watched him go, but there were still things he wanted to ask. Particularly about the story he had heard in Zetsubou’s house, about Majid’s sensei.
The next morning Harun was given the all clear, Majid wasn’t about yet so Harun went back to his yurt. No doubt the Moto would find him later. Waiting for him at the yurt was Utaku Asuna. She smiled at him, Harun smiled back if a little reluctantly. By now, she would know about what had happened. But wasn’t she there? Harun’s memory about it still wasn’t clear.
“You have probably heard how embarrassed myself yesterday,” said Harun.
“I did,” she said. “I also heard that up until then, you didn’t do too badly.”
Harun looked at her sceptically. “Not you too, you’re just being nice.”
Asuna stared back at him. “You’re alive, aren’t you? That’s something.”
“I was hoping to do more than that,” Harun said.
Asuna laughed, as if she was humouring a child. “Don’t we all? Focus on staying alive, Harun, people like you are needed.”
“People like me?”
Asuna didn’t get a chance to answer as several riders came into the camp. They wore the colours of different clans, the Crane, the Lion, the Dragon…Harun wondered who this could be until a standard bearer rode up with a battle flag that bore a simple motto: “For the Empire.”
Harun knew who it would be, and sure enough riding her mighty white steed, the Shogun of the Empire Utaku Chikara arrived. Harun had heard of her, court gossip sometimes found its way to the Kakita Academy and of course his father Karasu had mentioned her a few times. She had been appointed by the Emperor after the sudden death in battle to the previous Shogun, Akodo Kano. Harun recalled that his father had always had suspicions about Kano, but Harun couldn’t recall from where he had heard this.
Chikara was more than capable though, in the three years since she had assumed office, the Onyx in central Rokugan had been pushed back, in some places to the borders of what used to be Scorpion lands. She was not just known for her victories, but how she the forces of the different clans for maximum effectiveness. The most well-known of these was the Legion known as Chikara’s Sword, consisting of Matsu bushi infantry with Utaku battle maiden cavalry.
She dismounted her horse and removed her helmet. She looked to be in her mid-thirties and was rather short once she was off her horse. She had a scar upon her left cheek, below her eye and wore her hair in a single long black braid down her back. She looked almost like a girl.
Harun was content to stay and watch her from where he was, but Asuna nudged him forward.
She’s going to introduce me? Harun thought as he went with her. He watched as Shogun Chikara and Asuna greeted each other, first formally with the appropriate bows, then embracing each other as kin.
“Oba-san, let me introduce Kakita-Harun,” Asuna said. “Son of Kakita Karasu, recent Topaz Champion, and currently a guest of Lord Chinua while he learns the way of his kin, the Utaku.”
Harun made a low and sweeping bow in the fashion of the Crane. “I am honoured to meet you, Utaku-no-kimi,” he said. “I have heard much about your victories against the Onyx.”
Chikara took in this greeting with a satisfied nod. “I believe I know your father, Kakita-san.”
Harun nodded in acknowledgment. “I have heard him speak of you, always in terms of praise.”
Chikara smiled. “We should find time to speak later, Kakita-san. Perhaps you and Asuna-chan can see me after we take the Shiro.”
“I look forward to that, my lady,” he said, making another bow as the Shogun and her retinue left and went into Chinua’s tent.
“What was that about?” Asuna asked.
“What do you mean?”
“That…that formality,” Asuna said. “It was like you were a different person. It was like you were…”
“Being a Crane?” Harun suggested. “It’s like having a script, it comes in at the right moments.” They walked back to Harun’s yurt together and stood by the fire outside. “Your aunt is the Shogun?”
Asuna nodded. “My mother’s sister. Though she has been like a mother to me since I was young.”
“I thought you would be with her,” Harun said.
“I wanted to,” said Asuna. “But she told me that she would rather see me with the clan, she would not accept me breaking my wakizashi.” She looked at the group of horses they had rode in upon. “She is one of the reasons we will take Shiro Moto back.”
“Indeed,” agreed the voice of Majid.
Harun looked around to see the Moto had appeared just behind him and Asuna.
“When they told me you had already left, I didn’t expect you to be with such company,” said Majid, smiling at Asuna. “Harun, aren’t you going to introduce me to the lady?”
Harun did so, stiffer than he would have liked. Asuna then made her excuses and left them, but not before giving a smile Harun’s way.
Majid saw that smile, he gave Harun a look. A sly grin, a cocked eyebrow. Harun knew what it meant.
“No, no, no,” Harun said, shaking his head firmly.
“I didn’t say anything!” Majid protested.
“You didn’t need to!” Harun walked into the tent, Majid followed him.
“Harun, I don’t blame you,” said Majid. “She’s pretty, she’s well-connected, I’m sure the two of you would make a fine..”
“Just stop!” Harun shouted, his voice raucous with anger, his eyes livid with rage. “I gave my word, I would never do anything like this! I would never betray my family!”
Majid looked solemn. “You may say that, Harun, but we both know the blood of the Ki-Rin runs through you. That’s a fact.”
Majid left him then. Harun paced the floor of the yurt, thinking on it for hours. Majid couldn’t be right, he couldn’t be.
In the coming days, Harun learned more about his role in the coming battle. He was still riding with Majid of course, in a supporting role defending shugenja and keeping them from harm from the Onyx hordes.
He rode out a few times, at first the gunso Shinjo Takahiro was sceptical of Harun’s inclusion in the Hojo Platoon. But when he saw how Harun acquitted himself with the platoon, how he followed orders without question, Takahiro accepted the help.
Then it came to the eve of the battle itself. Armour was repaired, swords sharped, horses were reshod. Harun went to the Hojo Platoon briefing with Shinjo Takahiro. Before his dismissed them, he reminded them to rest and not celebrate too much.
As Harun made his way through the camp with Majid, he saw what that “celebration” meant. He heard music, the trill of flutes and biwas, the high-pitched drones of horns.
The Unicorn gathered around campfires, laughing, talking, passing around cups of white liquid. Kumis, made from fermented mare’s milk, Harun had heard about it but hadn’t seen it around the camp until now.
Majid nodded to one of the fires. “Care to join in?”
“Later,” Harun promised. “There is something I need to do first.”
Majid looked at Harun with concern. They still hadn’t spoken about their argument the other day, but it still stood unspoken between them. “Are you worried about tomorrow?”
“Yes…no…perhaps,” Harun said, he was a little worried, but he was also thinking about Asuna. If there was any truth in what Majid had said.
Majid put a reassuring hand on Harun’s shoulder. “You’ll do better than I thought you would, Niwa no Moto,” he said. “But make sure you find me when you are done.”
“I will,” Harun promised.
He went back to his yurt, sitting on one of the cushions, going over in his mind what would happen tomorrow. He wasn’t afraid, but the waiting wasn’t a pleasant feeling.
Is this how father feels before battles? Harun asked. As a bushi, as a samurai he knew he was supposed to be ready to die, but the definite possibility of it front of him was new.
I need to stop thinking, Harun told himself. Like before a duel, I need to be focused.
He calmed down after that, but he didn’t get up to leave. He needed to do something first. He sat down at the desk and wrote a letter to Arahime. If they lost the battle tomorrow, if he died, then he didn’t know how it would get to her. But he needed to write it.
Arahime-san,
I write this to you tonight as more than anything I wish you were here. To see your face, to hear your voice, to have you tell me that I am just being silly about all this and there is nothing to worry about.
Tomorrow the Unicorn plan to take Shiro Moto, and I ride with them. Everyone is confident of success, but the fact that it is uncertain puts in question any plans I have beyond that. About my future, and the future I want to have with you.
I…
And then words failed him. He knew if he was going to be honest with Arahime, it was now or never. But any words he formed in his mind seemed wooden, lifeless and not even approaching what he wanted to say.
And how could he be honest with Arahime if he was constantly thinking of Asuna. It didn’t feel right.
He got up, left the letter, left the tent. He found Majid, joined in the festivities. He even tried the kumis and found he rather liked it.
The next morning, when he went out to the battle, the letter was still unfinished. He would get to it later, he told himself, but now there was only the moment.
The sun was strong, the summer day was warm and bright. Harun rode with the Hojo Platoon, unremarkable in his Unicorn armour amongst the other hohei.
Majid rode beside him in his shugenja regalia, which Harun hadn’t seen him in before. Then Moto wore a white kimono and haori, adorned with the mon of the Moto in black as well as symbols of the element of Void. His face was painted too, stark white with black around his eyes, on his lips and in streaks on his cheeks.
“We ride to war,” Majid said when Harun saw him. “We prepare our bodies for death.”
Somewhere, Harun knew, amongst all the house and banners, was Lord Chinua. It was from his will and battle acumen that would determine the outcome, filtered down the ranks to all the soldiers to see who would win the day. Their will, and the Shoguns, but Harun didn’t know who she was.
There was a great shout that went up through the ranks. Harun shouted with them, glad to be a part of it.
I’ll try and remember this day the best I can, Harun thought, so I can tell Arahime about this day.
Far in the distance, Harun could see the walls of Shiro Moto, the outlines of its bulging onion-like towers. He also saw the hordes of Onyx that surrounded it. There was another shout, an inhuman shout, and the clash of steel.
The battle was joined.
Harun was excited, it was hard to not get carried away with the energy of it all. He could see it affected the others, at how they grinned at each other, eager for their part to begin.
They then got the signal from the tessen bearers and they were on the move. They were riding alongside a company of medium cavalry. They drew swords, a line of armed bushi protecting the shugenja on both sides. Harun thought for a moment they must be going faster, but had not time to think more on it. The enemy was on them. A pack of bakemono were on them, brandishing their weapons and shrieking.
They cut through them easily, the bakemono disappearing under their blades and their hooves, and kept on moving. Harun quickly wiped his sword of blood as they went, then they charged a column of Dark Moto cavalry. But he was ready for the impact this time. He cut his way through, sword slashing and blocking at once, arrows whizzing past his head.
But unlike last time, this time there was something different. Bursts of fire from the shugenja spells, and the horses didn’t spook as most did when there was fire.
Majid was next to him, cutting through the Dark Moto with his scimitar. Shouting the curses that he only reserved for them. Harun just had to keep his head, staying in his position in the column and following orders.
Were things ever like you thought they would be? Harun had grown up in the shadow of the Onyx War his whole life, but not even knowing what it really was.
They used to play ‘war’ too, not just at the academy but before. At home at Shiro Yogasha, and at the villa where by the sea where the used to go some summers with Kyoumi and Kousuda. They had built forts in the sand, decorated them with shells and defended the walls with driftwood swords. Leaping out of the ford with Arahime at his side to fight an invisible Oni Lord.
But there was none of that here. No heroism here. Just war. And to Harun it was far from heroic, only necessary.
And it was confusing, horsemen and soldiers everywhere, Onyx infantry and cavalry attacking. All he could do was keep calm and trust that those giving the orders knew what they were doing.
Not far away from where he was, he could see the Moto White Guard charge a massive Oni Lord with their lances, running through hum before charging past and turning to charge again.
Somewhere else on the battlefield Harun heard loud cracks like thunder, he turned to see plumes of smoke rising, Onyx being cut to pieces in an explosion of fire and blood.
Daidoji, Harun realised. He had heard of their gaijin pepper weapons, but this was the first time he had seen them. They were probably with the Shogun.
Harun kept his position by Majid, attacking anything that came near the Moto when he was casting. But then, as we cut down yet another bakemono, the swirl of battle separated them. Harun tried to fend it off but the bakemono’s spear cut through the barding of his horse, skewering it.
Down went Harun’s horse and down went Harun, the horse shrieking and kicking as it collapsed. Harun quickly rolled to get clear of it, scraping his face against the ground and losing his helmet as he did.
He came up upon one knee, his sword out, just as the bakemono came on him, screaming in his face. Harun sunk his katana in its chest right up to the tsuba. Blood flowed down the tsuba and down his arm. When it was dead, Harun kicked the body away with his foot and drew his sword out. He quickly retrieved his helmet and looked around, katana ready. On the ground he was vulnerable, he couldn’t go back to the Hojo so he had to find somewhere else to be. He had to survive, until the Unicorn banner flew above Shiro Moto once more. Survive, until could get back to Arahime.
Him being by himself made him a target. Several straggling Onyx went right by him, Harun backed away, attacking as he went. He had to move, keep moving, find a unit to be with. He attacked an enemy behind him and then in front of him, their weapon cutting through his armour on his arm before Harun finally killed him.
Enemies were closing in on him, he backed away and they kept coming. And just as they started to charge at him, Majid rode up on his white horse and charged them down, shouting gleefully. He then came back for Harun who climbed up behind Majid on the horse.
“Majid, you saved my life,” Harun panted.
“Don’t thank me yet, Niwa no Moto,” Majid said. “We still have a battle to win.”
Majid urged his horse faster, galloping past enemies at a blur. It was all Harun could do to hang on.
The walls of Shiro Moto were closer, he could see fighting beneath them and…up on the walls as well? Had the gates been breached? Something was thrown from the walls. A body? Harun hoped it was an Onyx.
Harun looked ahead, just in time to see that Majid was about to charge a line of Dark Moto cavalry. Harun quickly put his head down and held on tighter. They collided with a splintering crash, but they came through the other side.
The rest of the battle was a blur to Harun, all he could do was hold on and keep his seat on the horse behind Majid. Then Majid nudged him, telling him to look up.
High up on the ramparts of Shiro Moto, he could see the purple banner of the Unicorn flying free in the wind.
Majid grinned at him. “Victory.”
“Your first battle wasn’t all you expected then, Harun-san?” Kenshin asked.
Harun shook his head. “I suppose you will tell me then, sensei, that nothing ever is.”
“I could,” said Kenshin, “but I don’t think I need to.”
Harun smiled as he poured himself another cup of tea.
“I imagine that there would be some people who wanted to speak to you about the taking of Shiro Moto,” Kenshin said.
“Yes,” said Harun, “and some people have asked me, they’re usually disappointed when I tell them the truth.”
“And what is that?” Kenshin asked.
“That it wasn’t heroic at all,” Harun answered. “And that it was so confusing that I didn’t know what going on, even when we won.”
Kenshin smiled at him. “And you think that the best stories don’t have a little embellishment.” He poured himself some more tea. “I guess from here is when you were at Shiro Moto for the winter.”
“It is,” Harun said, taking a sip of tea and resuming his story. “Much of the Khol went north, to pacify the area, some stayed at the Shiro. To get it ready for the winter, to celebrate what had been won and mourn what had been lost…”
Chapter 6
Summer, 1234 - Unicorn Lands
Chinua was in war council when they returned, Harun went into his yurt to eat and change. After that Harun did something he had wanted to do for a while but hadn’t the chance to. He sat at the desk and wrote a desk and wrote a letter to Arahime.
It felt a little strange, thinking of her so far away at the Academy. Such a different world from where he was. How much would she understand? Some things would be better explained to her in person.
Dear Arahime-san,
I hope this letter finds you well.
It feels very strange to think of you at the Academy, but it’s also comforting. It’s a world away from where I am and where I have been. I’m with the Unicorn, at the camp of the Khol their main army. And yes, I am sitting writing to you in one of the yurts that your father talks about. And They are better than we thought, more like a house than a tent.
I owe being here to Moto Majid. We met at Shiro Mirumoto and rode together here. He is about as Moto as they come. He finds my “refined” Crane ways quite amusing and calls me Niwa no Moto. He is a true friend though and accepted me instantly.
It is sort of strange, but I am seen as different out here but in a different way than at the Academy. There I was the gaijin, the foreigner, here I am the Crane with all their “unnecessary” pretentions and traditions.
They have found need for me already. I wasn’t in the camp a day when I was in my first duel, which happened a few days later. The situation is a little complicated to explain, but it was about who has control of Kaeru Toshi. You can tell Kenshin-sensei that I won and did not embarrass him or the Academy too much.
The Unicorn plan to take Shiro Moto soon, it should be decided one way or another by the time this letter gets to you. But with the land as barren as it is, and much of it still tainted, it almost seems hollow winning it back. Do you remember what the Crane lands used to look like when we were younger? Before we came to the Academy? It is a little like that, but it goes on and on forever and without all the damage from explosions
Majid says this will hopefully change soon and I hope to see it, see the land recovering, the home that all the Unicorn talk about. There is so much to see here that I haven’t yet, so much that I wish you could see.
And it was a little strange travelling so much at first, but I think I am growing to like it. There's something about seeing new places, not knowing where I will be the next day or what I will see. The feeling of freedom riding across the plains with nothing but the wind and sky. It sort of speaks to a part of me that I didn't know was there.
I know it will be hard to get a letter to me, I hardly know where I will be in the future so it would be hard to get any letters to me. It is enough to know that my words will get to you.
With affection,
Kakita Harun
Harun folded the pages carefully and sealed them with wax, making his chop on the outside with red ink. He then went to find the courier that Majid has said was going to Otosan Uchi. Kyuden Kakita was on the way, the letter would find her.
On his way back, Majid found him.
“It’s time?” Harun asked.
Majid nodded.
They entered Chinua’s tent, the remains of the war council were being cleared away. Chinua congratulated Harun on the duel and asked them to sit. Harun noticed there was a seriousness about his demeanour. The normal tea and jerky were offered, Harun sipped his tea, waiting for Chinua to speak.
Chinua cleared his throat. “I trust you know something of Majid’s errand?”
“He has been discreet,” said Harun. “I only know of it urgency and importance.”
Chinua nodded absently, he was deep in thought. “It is difficult to know where to begin with this, but perhaps I should with your mother Yamada.” He took a long draught of tea. “The night before the duel, we spoke of many things, but there was something she spoke of that I dismissed. “He paused, staring into the distance. “She saw a bigger picture than what was before us, conflict that would not just be won by military victories.” He looked at Harun, giving a sad smile. “If she were here now, I would tell her that she was right. Since she is not, I must make amends other ways. With you Harun-san.”
Harun gave a small nod at the acknowledgment but did not speak.
“What Majid-san is doing, and others with him, is a way to end the taint in Unicorn lands,” Chinua explained. “This will weaken the Onyx, and end the war.”
Harun looked from Chinua to Majid. “This is ambitious,” he said.
Chinua nodded in agreement. “This has been years in the making. Revealed, I believe, by the Divine Iweko, mother of the Emperor.”
Harun looked at Chinua in astonishment. “She…lives?”
Majid nodded. “I was fortunate enough to be in her presence. As were others, including Zetsubou-san.”
“I do not pretend to understand the details of this ritual,” continued Chinua. “But I can tell you of another who is involved that Yamada spoke of that night. Haihime, the daughter of Daigotsu Kanpeki.”
Harun frowned, remembering. “I think I have heard of her, she is friends with my Aunt Kyoumi.”
“She was friends with Yamada as well, your mother taught her to ride,” Chinua said. “I guess she will be wanting to meet you, Harun-san, when she arrives.” He then looked to Majid to continue.
“The participants will be gathering in the winter when Ourt will be held in Shiro Moto, then we will be traveling north to the site that has been prepared,” Majid said. “When the snow falls, we will strive to send the taint from the land. And when the snow melts, when the spring returns, we will hopefully have Heaven’s blessing and the land will be restored.”
“I cannot order you to do this, Harun-san,” said Chinua. “But I imagine you would not refuse if asked.”
“You are correct, my lord,” said Harun with a nod.
“Good,” said Chinua. He took a strip of jerky and put it in his mouth, chewing vigorously and swallowing. “There is something else I wanted to talk to you about. I take you have never seen a battle, let alone been in one?”
Harun nodded in assent.
“Well, if it is agreeable to you, you can ride with Majid,” Chinua said. “Majid, I trust you will show him what to do so he doesn’t make a fool of himself?”
“It shall be done, my Khan,” said Majid with a nod.
“I thank you for such acknowledgement, my lord,” Harun said, inclining his head. “I will try to be worthy of your trust.”
“You have proven yourself, Harun,” said Chinua. “Just keep doing that.”
“The first thing we need to do,” Majid said the next morning, “is to get you properly outfitted.” He led him towards one of the equipment tents.
“I have armour,” Harun protested, “and weapons, and a horse.”
“You do,” Majid agreed. “But your duelling armour is hardly adequate for the battlefield. And your horse, though a fine and noble beast, would simply turn and flee from a battle.”
Harun nodded.
“As for your weapons,” Majid continued, flashing a grin at Harun, “we’ll have to find a way to use your refined Crane ways.”
Majid handed him a set of armour, packed inside a furoskiki bundle. They went back to Harun’s yurt to put it on. Harun changed behind a shoji screen into the garments that went underneath the armour. Purple, it seemed strange to be wearing it, but Harun liked its deep brilliance.
When he emerged, Majid had laid the armour out. Purple again, made of silk, steel and…leather. Harun winced a little at this. Wearing leather, made from the flesh of a dead animal.
“Something wrong?” Majid asked, he was holding the first piece to be put on, the sunate, the leg armour.
Harun shook his head. “Just some of my “refined Crane ways”,” he said.
Majid raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment further. He helped Harun put the armour on. Gloves, arm braces, then the kote. Then the chest plate, the do, lighter than usual. Then the obi, purple, he tied it closely.
Then came the sode, the arm pieces, bigger than usually to protect against arrows.
Thus equipped, Harun took up his daisho. The enamel of the sayas looked purple in the low light of the yurt. Carefully, he equipped it to the obi.
He tied the hachimaki on his head, white with a purple unicorn mon in the centre.
Finally, Majid passed Harun the kabuto. Again, leather and steel, with a long purple plume—horsehair perhaps?—that would hand down his back when he wore it.
And play in the wind when I ride, Harun thought with a smile. He put it on, adjusting it and tying the straps securely under his chin.
Majid gave Harun a strange look. He blinked, then took a step back, looking Harun up and down, still with the same expression on his face.
“What’s wrong?” Harun asked. He already felt a little awkward, having Majid staring at him only made things worse.
“Nothing,’ Majid said unconvincingly.
Harun unsheathed his katana, angling the blade until he could see his reflection. He blinked, staring at it. The armour transformed him. The colour, his face, the beard…he could have passed for a Unicorn for anyone who didn’t know him. And perhaps a few who did.
There was something else too. Harun noticed it when they left the yurt. No one noticed him. He normally got a few stares when he walked around the camp in his Crane blues. But in the purple armour of the Unicorn, he barely passed a glance. He fit in, he looked like he belonged.
This was a new feeling for Harun, and it wasn’t altogether bad.
Out on the steppes, Majid put Harun through his paces. Improving riding, improving his seat so he was both firmer and more movable in the saddle. As this happened, Majid kept a constant look out, checking the horizon constantly.
Harun enjoyed it, even in the bleak landscape he enjoyed the freedom of movement the steppes seemed to encourage. How it seemed to extend forever, from one horizon to the next. If it hadn’t been for the dangers Majid kept talking about, he might have enjoyed it more.
When Majid was satisfied that Harun mastered the basics, Majid added more elements. Showing him how to ride to avoid arrows, how to stop fast, make quick evasive turns. And how to do all this with just the lightest touch of the reins so as not to ruin his horse’s mouth.
“What about using my sword?” Harun asked when they took a break.
“I’ll get to that,” Majid promised. “Right now, I’m trying to keep you out of trouble.”
They kept at it, day after day, in the hot sun and in the rain. Soon it felt normal to be wearing the armour, and he liked more and more how he wasn’t attracting attention. And he did enjoy riding in the open plains everyday, loving the feeling of freedom he had galloping under the open sky.
Sometimes Majid would spot enemy patrols and insisted on going back, sounding his horn to alert other riders.
“You don’t trust me enough in combat yet?” Harun asked after a few weeks.
By now Majid had shown him how to use his sword on horseback. Harun had trained both out on the steps with it and by slashing sacks on poles and ropes in the training yard. Majid had pronounced his efforts “adequate”, but they had done nothing further.
Majid sighed. “You’ll see combat soon enough, Niwa no Moto,” he said. “I assume at the Kakita Academy you’re not allowed to duel your first opponent until you first knew how to hold sword?”
Harun frowned. “You know me better than that, Majid.”
“I do,” Majid said, clapping Harun on the back. “But you do not know me as well or what you will encounter.”
“Then tell me,” Harun said.
That evening in Harun’s yurt, over tea, Majid explained it to him. It wasn’t just about the taint or with Jigoku, it had to do with the Moto family itself. Their origins in the deserts beyond Rokugan and their dark history.
“The Moto has a dark legacy that we all strive to redeem,” Majid said. “There are those who share my name, who share my blood that were betrayed by the gods they worshiped, were tainted, were used by Jigoku. They are the Dark Moto. But in a way, they remained samurai, their bodies were lost to the taint but their minds were not lost to madness. They train like samurai, they have discipline, they use tactics like us. And were more than a match for us in combat.”
“You talk about them as if it’s in the past,” Harun pointed out. “Are they gone?”
“They were,” said Majid. “Until Kanpeki’s hordes came. Then they returned. And Daigoro, their leader, is ruthless.” He paused, looking down into his tea. “We beat them back, but they know us and we know them.” He looked up at Harun. “I tell you this, as you need to know it. Not just because you will face them in battle, but because I know you have Moto blood. This shame is something we all share, to ensure it doesn’t happen again.”
Harun nodded, considering this. “These Dark Moto…they hold Shiro Moto?”
Majid nodded. “They are why we have failed to take it so far. You haven’t seen it yet, as it is a bit better now, but every step we have made towards it has been hard fought. We draw them out, we winnow their numbers, until…”He clasped his hands together, resting his chin on them. “Until the day we strike.”
“When is it?” Harun asked.
“Soon,” said Majid. “Not too soon, the Khan knows when. He swore that that the Unicorn would hold court this winter in Shiro Moto.”
“And so we will,” said Harun, smiling at him.
Majid smiled back. “And so we will.”
A few days later, Harun was walking around the camp. Majid had to cut their training short that morning, saying he had duties to perform. So, Harun explored the Khol camp, still wearing his riding armour. He enjoyed the anonymity it gave him, it was like being invisible.
He was walking past a training yard where he could see some Utaku shiotome wee training. He had seen them riding around the camp, but they weren’t willing to talk to him or even look his way. But this only intrigued him further.
They rode through a series of obstacles. Attacking weighted sacks swinging from ropes, stuffed sacks tied to stakes. Not unlike what Majid put him through, but the pace and stakes were far more intense. He noticed the speed and tenacity they showed against the obstacles, their strength, discipline and the control they had over the massive horses.
The Utaku battle maidens were reputed to be the best cavalry force in Rokugan. From what Harun could see here, this was no mere boast but the simple truth.
And my mother was one of them, Harun thought.
Just as another horse went by, one of the stakes fell victim to a particularly powerful blow and snapped with a loud crack. A few of the horses startled, they were quickly calmed. But the one nearest to Harun did more than that. It reared up, turning and thrashing on its hind legs, its deadly hooves coming straight towards him.
Harun reacted instantly, his duellist reflexes kicking in. He lunged out of the way, rolling onto the ground as the hooves came down barely a finger span away from his face.
As he lay there, him and the rider locked eyes for a moment. And in that moment he really saw her. Beautiful, her eyes wide with concern, the long braids of her black hair tossing around as she brought the horse under control.
And she saw him. Saw the fear in his eyes as the horse’s hooves struck the ground, saw the hand that instinctively went to his katana at the first sign of danger.
Harun kept rolling, dislodging clouds of dust and dirt, trying to get clear of the horse as the shiotome calmed it. The hooves came down just where he had been lying a moment before. Finally, the horse was calmed and everyone could breathe again.
The disturbance attracted quite a bit of attention. A few people crowded around, someone helped Harun to his feet and asked him if he was hurt.
“What’s all this?” Harun heard Majid’s voice through the crowd, the Moto made his way through and clapped Harun on the back. “I leave you for one afternoon, and you almost get yourself killed. Niwa no Moto!” He burst out in hilarious laughter, a few joining in even though they didn’t know the joke.
“It’s nothing,” Harun, trying to brush it off along with the dust.
Majid led him through the crowd, still talking fast. Harun looked back at the Utaku woman. She was being spoken to by what looked to be a superior, looking down and an expression of shame on her face. Harun wanted to interfere, go over and say that it was all just an accident, but he didn’t think that would be right.
He nodded to Majid as they walked off. He was barely listening, still thinking about the girl.
That evening, Harun was sitting reading a Unicorn history scroll that Majid had loaned him when the servant said that a young Utaku woman wished to see him. Harun had a vague idea who it could be. He told the servant to let her in and to make tea.
Harun rode and went to the tent door to greet her. The young woman entered. It was the shiotome Harun had seen earlier that day.
She wore a plain purple kimono with a white obi. Her hair was in many braids all over her head, the braids themselves braided further to pull her hair off her face. She had a calm face, a quiet face, her brown eyes showing no more emotion than they needed to.
The Utaku looked up at him, opened her mouth the speak then stared in astonishment at the blue garments of the Crane he was wearing.
“Oh dear!” she said, bowing very low. “I must express my most humble apologies that I put you in danger, Crane-sama.” She looked down, her eyes on Harun’s feet. “That you are also a guest of Lord Chinua makes my error even more of a dishonour.”
“Please, Utaku-san,” said Harun reassuringly. “Your actions saved my life. It is due to your skill as a horsewoman that you were able to bring your steed under control.”
She shook her head, still not moving. “Crane-sama, it is a shame on myself as an Utaku and as a daughter of Shinjo that my failure to control my horse even put you in danger. Please, accept my apologies and this humble gift so that I might atone for this fault.”
She straightened and presented him with a small box in both hands.
“I accept your apology,” Harun said, bowing gratefully. “But I cannot accept such a gift, even if is freely given. I am not worthy of such esteem.”
He gave a small smile, hoping that she recognised the game he was playing.
She smiled, understanding the game. “I disagree, Crane-sama,” she said. “Such a gift is far from worthy of one esteemed as yourself.”
“You flatter me, Utaku-san,” said Harun. “I know the Unicorn trade with many lands, what you give is no doubt rare and beautiful and should not be given away lightly to one such as myself.”
“Perhaps something rare and beautiful to go with the rare beauties of the Crane?” she asked.
Is she teasing me? Harun wondered. It was hard to tell, so he took it at face value.
“Then I accept,” said Harun, taking the box and bowing. “I am Kakita Harun, son of Kakita Karasu. I bid you welcome, Utaku-san.”
The Utaku returned his bow. “This one is Utaku Kogome, Kakita-sama, daughter of Utaku Kouma.”
“I am honoured to meet you, Utaku-san,” said Harun. “I have heard much of the shiotome and I am pleased to finally meet one.”
“You flatter me, Kakita-sama,” said Asuna.
“Not at all,” said Harun. “It is but the simple truth.” He gestured to the table where the servant was setting the tea. “Will you join me, Utaku-san?”
Asuna shook her head. “I don’t want to disturb you any further, Kakita-sama.”
“Please, stay,” Harun said earnestly. “I don’t know that many people in camp yet. And I do want to thank you properly for your gift.”
She sat down. Asuna seemed a bit stiff and formal, as if social setting such as this were unfamiliar to her.
Harun served tea, forgoing many of the usual elegant flourishes he was taught at the Academy. He thought they might intimidate her further.
He then lifted the box. It was small, about the size of the palm of his hand, decorated with intricate. Inside was a square of purple silk, wrapped around a small object. The silk had the scent of spices and exotic perfumes, giving a hint of lands far away. Harun unwrapped the silk, revealed the small figure of a horse at gallop. Its lines were cut finely in white wood, smooth and delicate like ivory.
“This is exquisite,” Harun said, “I thank you.” He held the small horse in his hands then set it on the table in front of him. He looked up at Asuna, she was examining him curiously. “You can speak freely, Utaku-san.”
She looked down, as if embarrassed. “You must forgive me, Kakita-sama,” she said. “I had heard there was a Crane in the camp, but I pictured someone more…”
“Traditional?” Harun suggested.
Asuna nodded. “I am a little curious about you, Kakita-sama,” she confessed.
“Please, call me Harun,” he said. “As for my ‘non-traditional’ appearance, that can be explained. My mother was a Unicorn, an Utaku. I also understand that her father, my grandfather, was a Moto and she named me for him.” He took a sip of tea. “And my Crane ways, well, I was one of the many fosterlings of my father.”
“Your father, Kakita Karasu, the Emerald Champion?”
Harun nodded.
“What was it like growing up with that?” Asuna asked.
“We had the full run of the castle, Shiro Yogasha, there were that many of us that my parents found from all around the Empire.” He smiled at a memory. “I used to go into my father’s war room, rearrange the figures on his maps, sometimes during his meetings.”
Asuna smiled at this.
“Apparently, I once accidentally discovered a brilliant strategy,” Harun said, with dead pan seriousness.
Asuna stared at him incredulously, was he being serious? Harun let out a snort, his face collapsing in laughter. Asuna put up a hand to stifle her own laughter.
“I saw that!” Harun said, pointing triumphantly. “I saw that, Utaku-san! You’re not as aloof as you appear to be.”
“I thought Crane were like that,” Asuna teased.
“You noticed, I’m not a typical Crane, Utaku-san,” Harun countered.
“Call me Asuna, Harun,” she said, smiling at him.
She was very beautiful when she smiled, her eyes dark and filled with openness and honesty. She reminded him a little of Arahime, but there was something there that Arahime didn’t have. A calmness, a quietness, not unlike what in himself. It gave her poise, a quiet confidence, and the more she warmed to him the more he saw of her true nature.
They talked some more, Harun telling her about growing up in the Kakita Academy; Asuna telling him about riding with the Khol. Harun found she was easy to talk to, easier even than Majid. She was close in age to him, and despite their differences they managed to find common ground. The hope the land would be restored, the hope for peace, that the war that had started before they were born would be over in their lifetimes.
When Asuna had drained her second cup of tea, she said she could stay no longer.
“But I did enjoy your company,” she said. “And I would like to extend to you the same hospitality.”
Harun raised a sceptical eyebrow at this. “Would I be welcome in your camp? I have heard how the Utaku regard men.”
Asuna laughed again. “You are not an Utaku man,” she explained. “So, it will not be as bad.” She got to her feet, made a bow. “We are in tighter quarters, but you said you wanted to learn of our ways.”
“I do, and I will,” Harun promised, bowing in return. “And thank you for the gift, and the pleasure of your company.”
He thought about her for a long time after she had left, holding the small horse in his hands. He had wanted to meet with the Utaku, but he hadn’t expected this. Not at all.
Asuna was in his thoughts when he rode with Majid the next day. He did his best not to seem distracted, and if Majid noticed he said nothing. When the sun was high in the sky, Majid suggest a change in course further north.
“You said you wanted to see combat,” Majid said.
“You think I’m ready?” Harun asked.
“I’d want more time, but we don’t have it,” Majid said. “But the Khan plans to move in days. To take back Shiro Moto.” He glanced at Harun. “It’s time you were blooded, Niwa no Moto.”
Further north they met up with a shiotome patrol. Their Chui, Utaku Takara, seemed to know Majid and agreed to his suggestion they accompany them.
They fell into the middle of the kaisha and continued. Harun felt a little thrill, to be riding with the Utaku battle maidens was a privilege.
They continued north, keeping up a brisk pace, constantly on the lookout. Then they saw them, the Dark Moto, not much more than shapes in the distance in the plains. They picked up the pace, horns were sounded. Not just to alert the rest of the kaisha, but to let the enemy know they were coming.
Harun felt his heart beat fast. This wasn’t really a battle, not yet, but it was far from the orderly duels of the Kakita. This was war.
“Stay with me, Harun,” Majid urged, his tone devoid of its usual levity.
The kaisha split into two long columns, Harun went behind Majid on the left column. Harun was grateful for all the riding training he had done with Majid as he managed to keep abreast with the Utaku battle maiden on his right. They rode along the ridge of a hill, on their left the ground sloped down.
Harun took a good look off to the left, he could see the enemy below them. They were getting closer, he could start to see them in more detail. Horrible twisted, tainted riders on skeletal horses. They rode fast and eager to intercept them.
Harun turned back, looking up the column of Utaku. I wonder what they have planned? he thought.
A moment later he had his answer. At a signal from the Chui, the columns split; the right column proceeding down the hill with the left column continuing along the ridge, hiding the split from the enemy.
Harun continued the pace as the column on his right fell away. And when the last one was below the ridge, the column started to turn left and proceed down the hill. The column became a charging wall of cavalry, galloping down the hill.
And completely silent, Harun noticed.
They drew their swords, readied their lances. The Dark Moto were fast approaching, firing arrows at them. Harun ducked down hind his horse’s head, hearing a few whizzing past his ears. He heard a few shouts and screams when shiotome got hit.
Majid was right beside him, the line of Dark Moto were getting closer. Their hideous skeletal forms, closer and closer. Harun steeled himself for the clash, his katana ready. A calmness came over him, not unlike the moment before the strike in an iaijutsu duel.
Another hail of arrows, and then the two sides met. There was a loud clash of steel, a piercing shriek of injured horses. Harun swung his sword, slashing at the enemy and using the sode on his arms to fend off blows. There was no precision, no finesse, just cutting though the enemy and urging his horse forward, through their lines. He cut off the arm of one, then the head, always moving, pushing ahead until he could make it through… Until he could make it through…
He kept fighting, urging his horse forward with his knees and his feet. He felt something scratch past his cheek, but he ignored it. Majid was next to him, attacking fiercely with his scimitar.
Harun slashed his katana forward, knocking back a Dark Moto and finally breaking through the lines. He kept riding, spurring his horse to regroup with the others as they prepared for another charge.
It was then that the other column of shiotome attacked. Right from the flank of the Dark Moto, Harun didn’t know this at the time but they had come around the hill to approach the enemy from another direction.
The Dark Moto were caught between two fronts, but they were not about to give up without another fight. Waves of arrows were fired as the Utaku charged. One arrow found a gap in Harun’s armour, sinking into his side. He groaned, leaning if his horse from the pain of it. But he fought through the pain, gripping his katana tightly.
The Moto then raised lances and charge, shouting a horrible battle cry as they made their final stand. One hand on their reins, Harun quickly moved his horse to dodge their blows, but they seemed to be everywhere. The arrow in his side was like a brand of fire, he could feel himself bleed under the armour, soaking his clothing.
Two shiotome pushed ahead of him, engaging the Dark Moto and forcing Harun back. Harun smiled weakly, letting them go, glad it was almost glad it was almost at the end and the fight was getting further away from him.
Harun could see Majid with them, one Moto man amongst all the Utaku women. He laughed, his head felt a bit fuzzy. Sort of like when the Emperor’s son Kiseki had knocked him in the head with a training sword back at the Academy.
A shiotome approached him. Was it Asuna? She was beautiful, whoever she was. Her eyes wide with concern as she stood over him. Over him? Wasn’t he on his horse? Why was she such a long way up. He was lying on something hard and his head hurt a lot. Majid was there next to him, holding his hand and telling him not to worry.
Why is there anything to worry about? Harun thought, his head was swimming. They all looked blurry, surely everything was fine…
My head hurts, was Harun’s first thought. He opened his eyes, he was in a tent of some sort but didn’t know where.
Where am I? Harun thought. He tried to sit up, but a spell of dizziness forced him to lie down again. He looked around, there was a shoji screen one side of him and the tent wall on the other. There was a blanket around his knees and he could see other people lying down not far from him. So, it was an infirmary of some sort, that made sense.
He looked down and saw the bandage that wrapped around his torso to under his shoulders. There was an ache in his side whenever he moved. Then he remembered. He had been shot by one of the Dark Moto’s arrows. After that it was a bit foggy. He had fallen, perhaps? Fallen from his horse? He cringed with embarrassment, anticipating how Majid was going to chide him.
He turned his head, carefully, there was a carafe of water and a cup on a small table just next to him. He couldn’t reach it without pain.
“Need help, Kakita-sama?” A bald monk in a dusty coloured robe was speaking to him.
“Yes, thank you,” said Harun, nodding to the water.
The monk set the tray he was carrying down and helped Harun into a sitting position. Then poured some water into the cup and passed it to him. Harun took a few sips of water, his head began to clear. The monk seemed surprisingly strong, perhaps he had been a bushi in his former life. He looked about fifty. Harun noticed the mon on his robe, showing the order he served.
“Hikahime,” Harun said, the name was familiar to him but he couldn’t place it.
“Yes, Kakita-sama, that is the Minor Fortune this one serves,” said the monk. “She is the patron of ashigaru, as well as anyone who is in need.”
The monk gently helped him lie down. “Can you tell me your name?”
“This one is Gimu, Kakita-sama,” he said, bowing low. “Is there any service this one can do for you?”
“No, thank you, Gimu-san,” Harun said.
The monk bowed again and disappeared out of sight. Harun laid awake, staring at the tent ceiling. It was the first conflict with the Unicorn, and he had embarrassed himself. So much for fitting in, he may look like one of them but that didn’t make him one of them.
So why am I doing this? He thought. Why did I think it would be so easy?
“Ah, you’re awake!” Majid sat down next to him, offering a smile. “You had us worried for a moment there, Niwa no Moto.”
Harun looked up at him but didn’t answer.
Majid looked concerned. “What’s wrong? That tap on the head do something more?”
“No, Majid, it’s just…” Harun sighed. “I fell from my horse, didn’t? I embarrassed myself in front of everyone.”
“That’s all?” Majid asked. “You fell because you were wounded, Harun. Up until then you were doing fine.”
“You’re just saying that to help me feel better,” Harun said.
“Why would I? It’s the truth,” Majid said. “You fell from your horse, so what? I’ve done that. Just get back on and keep going.”
“So…they don’t think less of me?” Harun asked.
“Well, they do,” said Majid, with a grin, “but only because you’re a man, and we can’t do anything about that.”
They laughed, Harun’s sides ached from the effort.
“Majid,” Harun said when the laughter had subsided. “Were you helping me back there at all? I felt a…calmness around me, like when I assume the stance of Void before a duel.”
“And how could I do that when I was fighting right beside you?” Majid asked suspiciously.
“You’re an ishi, aren’t you?” Harun asked. “I’ve never seen one before, but then you aren’t as shugenja often are.”
Majid smiled. “You’re correct. What gave me away?”
“Nothing, Zetsubou told me,” Harun said. “But that was you back there, wasn’t it? You helped me.”
Majid nodded. “You’re not the only one I helped, but yes.”
“I guess I owe my life to you then,” Harun said.
“Majid dismissed this. “Let’s not go into that now. Besides, even with what I can do I can’t make you into a better rider. I can’t make you something you are not.” He stood up. “You still need rest, you hit your head pretty hard when you fell. I’ll be around tomorrow to get you.”
Harun watched him go, but there were still things he wanted to ask. Particularly about the story he had heard in Zetsubou’s house, about Majid’s sensei.
The next morning Harun was given the all clear, Majid wasn’t about yet so Harun went back to his yurt. No doubt the Moto would find him later. Waiting for him at the yurt was Utaku Asuna. She smiled at him, Harun smiled back if a little reluctantly. By now, she would know about what had happened. But wasn’t she there? Harun’s memory about it still wasn’t clear.
“You have probably heard how embarrassed myself yesterday,” said Harun.
“I did,” she said. “I also heard that up until then, you didn’t do too badly.”
Harun looked at her sceptically. “Not you too, you’re just being nice.”
Asuna stared back at him. “You’re alive, aren’t you? That’s something.”
“I was hoping to do more than that,” Harun said.
Asuna laughed, as if she was humouring a child. “Don’t we all? Focus on staying alive, Harun, people like you are needed.”
“People like me?”
Asuna didn’t get a chance to answer as several riders came into the camp. They wore the colours of different clans, the Crane, the Lion, the Dragon…Harun wondered who this could be until a standard bearer rode up with a battle flag that bore a simple motto: “For the Empire.”
Harun knew who it would be, and sure enough riding her mighty white steed, the Shogun of the Empire Utaku Chikara arrived. Harun had heard of her, court gossip sometimes found its way to the Kakita Academy and of course his father Karasu had mentioned her a few times. She had been appointed by the Emperor after the sudden death in battle to the previous Shogun, Akodo Kano. Harun recalled that his father had always had suspicions about Kano, but Harun couldn’t recall from where he had heard this.
Chikara was more than capable though, in the three years since she had assumed office, the Onyx in central Rokugan had been pushed back, in some places to the borders of what used to be Scorpion lands. She was not just known for her victories, but how she the forces of the different clans for maximum effectiveness. The most well-known of these was the Legion known as Chikara’s Sword, consisting of Matsu bushi infantry with Utaku battle maiden cavalry.
She dismounted her horse and removed her helmet. She looked to be in her mid-thirties and was rather short once she was off her horse. She had a scar upon her left cheek, below her eye and wore her hair in a single long black braid down her back. She looked almost like a girl.
Harun was content to stay and watch her from where he was, but Asuna nudged him forward.
She’s going to introduce me? Harun thought as he went with her. He watched as Shogun Chikara and Asuna greeted each other, first formally with the appropriate bows, then embracing each other as kin.
“Oba-san, let me introduce Kakita-Harun,” Asuna said. “Son of Kakita Karasu, recent Topaz Champion, and currently a guest of Lord Chinua while he learns the way of his kin, the Utaku.”
Harun made a low and sweeping bow in the fashion of the Crane. “I am honoured to meet you, Utaku-no-kimi,” he said. “I have heard much about your victories against the Onyx.”
Chikara took in this greeting with a satisfied nod. “I believe I know your father, Kakita-san.”
Harun nodded in acknowledgment. “I have heard him speak of you, always in terms of praise.”
Chikara smiled. “We should find time to speak later, Kakita-san. Perhaps you and Asuna-chan can see me after we take the Shiro.”
“I look forward to that, my lady,” he said, making another bow as the Shogun and her retinue left and went into Chinua’s tent.
“What was that about?” Asuna asked.
“What do you mean?”
“That…that formality,” Asuna said. “It was like you were a different person. It was like you were…”
“Being a Crane?” Harun suggested. “It’s like having a script, it comes in at the right moments.” They walked back to Harun’s yurt together and stood by the fire outside. “Your aunt is the Shogun?”
Asuna nodded. “My mother’s sister. Though she has been like a mother to me since I was young.”
“I thought you would be with her,” Harun said.
“I wanted to,” said Asuna. “But she told me that she would rather see me with the clan, she would not accept me breaking my wakizashi.” She looked at the group of horses they had rode in upon. “She is one of the reasons we will take Shiro Moto back.”
“Indeed,” agreed the voice of Majid.
Harun looked around to see the Moto had appeared just behind him and Asuna.
“When they told me you had already left, I didn’t expect you to be with such company,” said Majid, smiling at Asuna. “Harun, aren’t you going to introduce me to the lady?”
Harun did so, stiffer than he would have liked. Asuna then made her excuses and left them, but not before giving a smile Harun’s way.
Majid saw that smile, he gave Harun a look. A sly grin, a cocked eyebrow. Harun knew what it meant.
“No, no, no,” Harun said, shaking his head firmly.
“I didn’t say anything!” Majid protested.
“You didn’t need to!” Harun walked into the tent, Majid followed him.
“Harun, I don’t blame you,” said Majid. “She’s pretty, she’s well-connected, I’m sure the two of you would make a fine..”
“Just stop!” Harun shouted, his voice raucous with anger, his eyes livid with rage. “I gave my word, I would never do anything like this! I would never betray my family!”
Majid looked solemn. “You may say that, Harun, but we both know the blood of the Ki-Rin runs through you. That’s a fact.”
Majid left him then. Harun paced the floor of the yurt, thinking on it for hours. Majid couldn’t be right, he couldn’t be.
In the coming days, Harun learned more about his role in the coming battle. He was still riding with Majid of course, in a supporting role defending shugenja and keeping them from harm from the Onyx hordes.
He rode out a few times, at first the gunso Shinjo Takahiro was sceptical of Harun’s inclusion in the Hojo Platoon. But when he saw how Harun acquitted himself with the platoon, how he followed orders without question, Takahiro accepted the help.
Then it came to the eve of the battle itself. Armour was repaired, swords sharped, horses were reshod. Harun went to the Hojo Platoon briefing with Shinjo Takahiro. Before his dismissed them, he reminded them to rest and not celebrate too much.
As Harun made his way through the camp with Majid, he saw what that “celebration” meant. He heard music, the trill of flutes and biwas, the high-pitched drones of horns.
The Unicorn gathered around campfires, laughing, talking, passing around cups of white liquid. Kumis, made from fermented mare’s milk, Harun had heard about it but hadn’t seen it around the camp until now.
Majid nodded to one of the fires. “Care to join in?”
“Later,” Harun promised. “There is something I need to do first.”
Majid looked at Harun with concern. They still hadn’t spoken about their argument the other day, but it still stood unspoken between them. “Are you worried about tomorrow?”
“Yes…no…perhaps,” Harun said, he was a little worried, but he was also thinking about Asuna. If there was any truth in what Majid had said.
Majid put a reassuring hand on Harun’s shoulder. “You’ll do better than I thought you would, Niwa no Moto,” he said. “But make sure you find me when you are done.”
“I will,” Harun promised.
He went back to his yurt, sitting on one of the cushions, going over in his mind what would happen tomorrow. He wasn’t afraid, but the waiting wasn’t a pleasant feeling.
Is this how father feels before battles? Harun asked. As a bushi, as a samurai he knew he was supposed to be ready to die, but the definite possibility of it front of him was new.
I need to stop thinking, Harun told himself. Like before a duel, I need to be focused.
He calmed down after that, but he didn’t get up to leave. He needed to do something first. He sat down at the desk and wrote a letter to Arahime. If they lost the battle tomorrow, if he died, then he didn’t know how it would get to her. But he needed to write it.
Arahime-san,
I write this to you tonight as more than anything I wish you were here. To see your face, to hear your voice, to have you tell me that I am just being silly about all this and there is nothing to worry about.
Tomorrow the Unicorn plan to take Shiro Moto, and I ride with them. Everyone is confident of success, but the fact that it is uncertain puts in question any plans I have beyond that. About my future, and the future I want to have with you.
I…
And then words failed him. He knew if he was going to be honest with Arahime, it was now or never. But any words he formed in his mind seemed wooden, lifeless and not even approaching what he wanted to say.
And how could he be honest with Arahime if he was constantly thinking of Asuna. It didn’t feel right.
He got up, left the letter, left the tent. He found Majid, joined in the festivities. He even tried the kumis and found he rather liked it.
The next morning, when he went out to the battle, the letter was still unfinished. He would get to it later, he told himself, but now there was only the moment.
The sun was strong, the summer day was warm and bright. Harun rode with the Hojo Platoon, unremarkable in his Unicorn armour amongst the other hohei.
Majid rode beside him in his shugenja regalia, which Harun hadn’t seen him in before. Then Moto wore a white kimono and haori, adorned with the mon of the Moto in black as well as symbols of the element of Void. His face was painted too, stark white with black around his eyes, on his lips and in streaks on his cheeks.
“We ride to war,” Majid said when Harun saw him. “We prepare our bodies for death.”
Somewhere, Harun knew, amongst all the house and banners, was Lord Chinua. It was from his will and battle acumen that would determine the outcome, filtered down the ranks to all the soldiers to see who would win the day. Their will, and the Shoguns, but Harun didn’t know who she was.
There was a great shout that went up through the ranks. Harun shouted with them, glad to be a part of it.
I’ll try and remember this day the best I can, Harun thought, so I can tell Arahime about this day.
Far in the distance, Harun could see the walls of Shiro Moto, the outlines of its bulging onion-like towers. He also saw the hordes of Onyx that surrounded it. There was another shout, an inhuman shout, and the clash of steel.
The battle was joined.
Harun was excited, it was hard to not get carried away with the energy of it all. He could see it affected the others, at how they grinned at each other, eager for their part to begin.
They then got the signal from the tessen bearers and they were on the move. They were riding alongside a company of medium cavalry. They drew swords, a line of armed bushi protecting the shugenja on both sides. Harun thought for a moment they must be going faster, but had not time to think more on it. The enemy was on them. A pack of bakemono were on them, brandishing their weapons and shrieking.
They cut through them easily, the bakemono disappearing under their blades and their hooves, and kept on moving. Harun quickly wiped his sword of blood as they went, then they charged a column of Dark Moto cavalry. But he was ready for the impact this time. He cut his way through, sword slashing and blocking at once, arrows whizzing past his head.
But unlike last time, this time there was something different. Bursts of fire from the shugenja spells, and the horses didn’t spook as most did when there was fire.
Majid was next to him, cutting through the Dark Moto with his scimitar. Shouting the curses that he only reserved for them. Harun just had to keep his head, staying in his position in the column and following orders.
Were things ever like you thought they would be? Harun had grown up in the shadow of the Onyx War his whole life, but not even knowing what it really was.
They used to play ‘war’ too, not just at the academy but before. At home at Shiro Yogasha, and at the villa where by the sea where the used to go some summers with Kyoumi and Kousuda. They had built forts in the sand, decorated them with shells and defended the walls with driftwood swords. Leaping out of the ford with Arahime at his side to fight an invisible Oni Lord.
But there was none of that here. No heroism here. Just war. And to Harun it was far from heroic, only necessary.
And it was confusing, horsemen and soldiers everywhere, Onyx infantry and cavalry attacking. All he could do was keep calm and trust that those giving the orders knew what they were doing.
Not far away from where he was, he could see the Moto White Guard charge a massive Oni Lord with their lances, running through hum before charging past and turning to charge again.
Somewhere else on the battlefield Harun heard loud cracks like thunder, he turned to see plumes of smoke rising, Onyx being cut to pieces in an explosion of fire and blood.
Daidoji, Harun realised. He had heard of their gaijin pepper weapons, but this was the first time he had seen them. They were probably with the Shogun.
Harun kept his position by Majid, attacking anything that came near the Moto when he was casting. But then, as we cut down yet another bakemono, the swirl of battle separated them. Harun tried to fend it off but the bakemono’s spear cut through the barding of his horse, skewering it.
Down went Harun’s horse and down went Harun, the horse shrieking and kicking as it collapsed. Harun quickly rolled to get clear of it, scraping his face against the ground and losing his helmet as he did.
He came up upon one knee, his sword out, just as the bakemono came on him, screaming in his face. Harun sunk his katana in its chest right up to the tsuba. Blood flowed down the tsuba and down his arm. When it was dead, Harun kicked the body away with his foot and drew his sword out. He quickly retrieved his helmet and looked around, katana ready. On the ground he was vulnerable, he couldn’t go back to the Hojo so he had to find somewhere else to be. He had to survive, until the Unicorn banner flew above Shiro Moto once more. Survive, until could get back to Arahime.
Him being by himself made him a target. Several straggling Onyx went right by him, Harun backed away, attacking as he went. He had to move, keep moving, find a unit to be with. He attacked an enemy behind him and then in front of him, their weapon cutting through his armour on his arm before Harun finally killed him.
Enemies were closing in on him, he backed away and they kept coming. And just as they started to charge at him, Majid rode up on his white horse and charged them down, shouting gleefully. He then came back for Harun who climbed up behind Majid on the horse.
“Majid, you saved my life,” Harun panted.
“Don’t thank me yet, Niwa no Moto,” Majid said. “We still have a battle to win.”
Majid urged his horse faster, galloping past enemies at a blur. It was all Harun could do to hang on.
The walls of Shiro Moto were closer, he could see fighting beneath them and…up on the walls as well? Had the gates been breached? Something was thrown from the walls. A body? Harun hoped it was an Onyx.
Harun looked ahead, just in time to see that Majid was about to charge a line of Dark Moto cavalry. Harun quickly put his head down and held on tighter. They collided with a splintering crash, but they came through the other side.
The rest of the battle was a blur to Harun, all he could do was hold on and keep his seat on the horse behind Majid. Then Majid nudged him, telling him to look up.
High up on the ramparts of Shiro Moto, he could see the purple banner of the Unicorn flying free in the wind.
Majid grinned at him. “Victory.”
“Your first battle wasn’t all you expected then, Harun-san?” Kenshin asked.
Harun shook his head. “I suppose you will tell me then, sensei, that nothing ever is.”
“I could,” said Kenshin, “but I don’t think I need to.”
Harun smiled as he poured himself another cup of tea.
“I imagine that there would be some people who wanted to speak to you about the taking of Shiro Moto,” Kenshin said.
“Yes,” said Harun, “and some people have asked me, they’re usually disappointed when I tell them the truth.”
“And what is that?” Kenshin asked.
“That it wasn’t heroic at all,” Harun answered. “And that it was so confusing that I didn’t know what going on, even when we won.”
Kenshin smiled at him. “And you think that the best stories don’t have a little embellishment.” He poured himself some more tea. “I guess from here is when you were at Shiro Moto for the winter.”
“It is,” Harun said, taking a sip of tea and resuming his story. “Much of the Khol went north, to pacify the area, some stayed at the Shiro. To get it ready for the winter, to celebrate what had been won and mourn what had been lost…”