Firelight
By Rob Vaux
The broken man lay by the firelight, watching the shadows dance on the wall. A great sword lay by his side, one which his twisted arm could no longer lift. A suit of armor sat near the entrance, one which his shattered frame could no longer carry. He looked at them both with scar-dimmed eyes, the fire revealing the anger and bitterness in their depths. A sound at the mouth of the cave broke his contemplation. His head turned slowly, his breath hissing with effort.
"Yakamo?" The question was devoid of apprehension.
"It is me, father," Hida Yakamo spoke as he approached the fire and knelt beside the old man. His armor was polished and gleaming, whole where the old man's was broken. The metallic claw at the end of his hand creaked slightly as he flexed it back and forth.
"What of our forces in the Imperial city?" the old man asked, leaning forward.
"Scattered, but largely intact. Some sort of skirmish has broken out between the Lion defenders, which has allowed us to begin regrouping in some sort of peace."
"Your sister?"
"O-Ushi is holding the army together, but I hesitate to leave her in command for long. With the Hirumas pushing for blood, we may lose everything in a suicidal assault on the palace."
The old man's eye's squeezed shut as some imagined pain creased his forehead.
"And what of the palace, Yakamo? What of that... creature that attacked me?"
Yakamo's face broke into a cruel grin.
"I'm sorry, father, I made no arrangements to enter and ask. There are kinsmen, however, who are not so discerning as I. They have entered Otosan Uchi and sworn eternal fealty to the Emperor."
"Who?"
"Amoro... Yori... a few others. They claim to be the voice of the clan now that you and I have been killed."
The old man sighed, shifting his bulk back towards the fire. He sat there silently, lost in thought. Yakamo shifted uncomfortably where he knelt. Finally, after several minutes, he spoke again.
"Yokuni was here."
The old man shifted, the surprise apparent on his face.
"When?"
"While you slept. He brought us something..."
Yakamo unwrapped the object, which had been hidden behind the old man's armor. At first glance, it appeared to be a gauntlet, forged from a dull green metal. As Yakamo brought it out into the firelight, it began to glow softly, illuminating the frozen fingers like candles.
"The Jade Hand!" The old man whispered.
"'You must cast off old fetters to forge new ones,' Yokuni told me. At least, I believe that is what he told me."
The claw creaked slightly as he brought it up to the light, comparing the two appendages like a merchant pricing wares.
"This claw... the 'gift' that Yori gave to me. It was from the oni, wasn't it?"
The old man nodded solemnly.
"The creature which bears your name required a link to you. We gave it your hand, and in return..." he gestured at the samurai's limb.
"I can sense the oni sometimes," Yakamo replied. "Where it is, what it is doing. It whispers things in my dreams, things I can never quite recall when I awake. It unsettles me, father."
In a flash, the samurai grabbed his metallic limb and gave it a mighty pull. The steel screamed like a wounded animal as it wrenched free, and Yakamo threw it to the cave floor with obvious disgust. The claw flopped and twitched like a thing alive. At the wrist stump, where metal met flesh, a strange black tentacle writhed back and forth, sand sticking to its clammy sides. The appendage continued to thrash for several more minutes, its motions becoming slower and more jerky before finally coming to a stop.
Yakamo drew himself to his full height, and placed the Jade Hand in the spot the claw had once occupied. With a brilliant flash, it connected to his severed forearm, stone tendrils fusing with muscles and veins. The hand glowed more brightly, and as the old man watched, Yakamo seemed to fill with strength and power. The Hand moved as fluidly as flesh, its digits forever unfrozen by contact with the samurai. Yakamo flexed its fingers and turned to the old man.
"I am ready to atone for our family's sins."
"Excellent," the old man replied. "Find Toturi. Offer him a truce in exchange for our assistance in the battle, and tell him that we must set our differences aside. Have your sister contact the Unicorn and see if any of them will join us. The time for divisiveness is over."
Yakamo nodded. "I will send for a regiment to bring you to our field headquarters, father."
"Do not concern yourself. I am not going with you."
The samurai started.
"You are right, Yakamo," the old man continued. "Our Clan has committed sins that demand correcting. When you leave, I will prepare the ritual and undergo seppuku in penance."
"Here? Alone?"
"It is proper that I do so. As daimyo, the Crab's shame rests on my shoulders. My blood will erase that shame and restore honor to our forces."
Yakamo's eyes narrowed as he stared at the old man. "If I lived as long as the stars themselves," he said at last, "I never thought I would see my father succumb to such cowardice."
The old man hissed through broken teeth. "You dare to accuse me..."
"I dare to accuse you of turning your back on our failings! We left that thing there, sitting on the Throne. Our actions helped place it there! Did I mention that Yori was seen within the palace gates? Did I mention that Amoro - your nephew, father - leads a legion of the Emperor's troops even as the flesh rots from his bones? That thrice-damned oni you have given my name has publicly proclaimed the Crab's support for the Emperor, that our army in the field is comprised of traitors. Our Clan swims in this evil, an evil we ourselves released. And now you would abandon us to fulfill your own selfish honor."
The old man was becoming angry. "Bushido demands that I atone for my mistake!"
"To the Shadowlands with bushido! Bushido is a puzzle box that the creature on the throne has twisted to its own ends! The Lion champion has already fallen to it. I cannot allow you to do the same. Commit seppuku here, now, in this dank little hole, and you give it victory, father!"
The old man's face cracked open, his voice no more than a whisper.
"But the cost! Sukune..."
"Sukune was a sacrifice on the altar of our vanity! His death means nothing if we do not learn from it! Don't throw yourself on the pyre as you threw him."
Yakamo fell silent, glaring at his father from across the fire.
"You are the daimyo of the Crab Clan, the Great Bear, the Defender of the Empire! You plotted a thousand different ways to seize the city. Every possible outcome, every conceivable turn, every hill and knoll on that battlefield, you understand like the back of your hand. There is no one in all of Rokugan who knows the plains of Otosan Uchi as well as you." He leaned in close, the Jade Hand clenching into a fist.
"Whatever this creature is, it cannot face us in open battle - not if you are with us. You have been strong enough to lead us to the threshold of victory. Are you strong enough to lead us further? Can you look your dishonor in the face, and shoulder this greatest burden?"
The old man stared at his son with unblinking eyes, burning a hole in the air around him. Finally, he nodded.
"Hai. For the Clan and the Empire, I will... live with my shame."
"Good. Then the time for talking has ended."
Yakamo rose and hoisted his tetsubo over his shoulder. The Jade Hand gleamed with a brightness all its own, the firelight dimming from its very presence.
"We have made a terrible mistake. The time has come to correct it."