Honor and Glory
By Shawn Carman and Rich Wulf

It was a naive notion that one could eventually grow accustomed to the smell of poverty. It was always there, hanging thick in the air like a morning fog. The truth was that eventually, with focus and determination, one could force the mind not to acknowledge it. Utagawa glanced around at the squalor throughout the ramshackle sake house. It was, without question, the poorest and filthiest within the entire City of the Rich Frog. This meant, of course, that it served her purpose perfectly.

There were others scattered around the hazy, cluttered room. Spaced among the trash-strewn tables, they seemed to will themselves to recede into the shadows. Some were doubtless concealing some illicit activities, while others likely wished to keep their identities hidden for various reasons real or imagined. Were there others like her, she wondered idly? Those who sought out such places for a higher purpose? Utagawa thought it unlikely.

Sunlight, blinding in the dim interior, flashed throughout the room as the door swung open noisily. A current of tension flickered through the room, perceptible just beneath the surface. The instinct to fight or flee was strong among those gathered, almost palpable. Only a fool would confront dangerous animals in their home.

“By the Fortunes!” a brusque voice came from the doorway. “What is that stench?” A large, slightly portly man strode into the room with a haughty air, a trio of even larger men entering wordlessly behind him. “I thought this was a sake house, but perhaps I was mistaken.” He glanced back at his compatriots with a wide, vacuous grin. “It smells more like a slaughterhouse to me!”

The man's booming laughter was echoed only slightly by the men accompanying him, but he didn't seem to notice. The noise filled the entire structure, and within seconds a rail-thin man with long, greasy hair and disturbingly long fingernails emerged from the backroom. The owner winced at the sight of the newcomers, but pursed his lips in a resigned manner and moved to the counter and reached beneath it, withdrawing a small bundle and placing it within the sleeves of his kimono.

“Mirotai!” bellowed the obnoxious samurai. “How are you? It's been so long!”

“I am well,” the scrawny owner responded faintly with a bow. “And I believe it was a week ago, my lord.”

“Was it?” the man said with feigned shock. “I suppose my eagerness to forget how foul your house is makes it seem longer.” He smiled again, this time cruelly.

“Of course, my lord. I apologize if I have offended.”

“Offended? The word is not strong enough,” the man said disgustedly. He held out his hand expectedly. Mirotai reluctantly held out the bundle he had retrieved. It was snatched rudely away. “Your taxes have been meager of late, Mirotai.”

“Yes, my lord, I know, but business has been poor. I was told to pay a percentage of all my earnings…”

“Don't bore me with details,” the man snarled. “I want something impressive to return to my commander. Make it happen.”

The small man paled visibly. “As you wish, my lord.”

The large man turned and surveyed the room triumphantly. He passed over Utagawa, then came back to her with an inquisitive look. He smiled broadly in recognition, then strode boldly over. “Utagawa!” he said with false cheer. “I'm surprised to see you again!”

“Kaeru Juro,” she said quietly with a brief nod.

Juro frowned. “Only the Lion may call me Kaeru now,” he corrected with pride. “My family their vassals now, and I am Ikoma Juro.”

“Congratulations,” she said flatly. “The Lion must be very proud.”

His brow furrowed in concentration, unable as he was to determine any hidden meaning her words might contain. She smiled inwardly at the notion, wondering idly if he would injure himself in the process. “If I'm not mistaken,” he finally continued, “you nearly killed someone the last time you were in town.”

Utagawa sipped idly at her tea. The small woman's movements were disturbingly graceful and controlled, given her ragged, disheveled appearance. “The innkeeper decided to increase the fee, and offered to compromise when I was unable to pay his new price.” She sat the cup down and looked up at Juro fearlessly. “I merely defended myself.”

“Six months later and the man cannot get out of bed,” Juro said. “You're quite defensive, I think.”

“I do not suffer insults to my honor,” she replied, looking up at him evenly.

Juro snorted. “Bold words from a ronin.”

“Our purpose what we make it,” Utagawa offered. “I recall you without Lion colors not so long ago. Are you a different man now?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Those days are over, and you would do well to remember it.”

“Of course,” Utagawa said with a small smile.

The man scowled. “I will return tomorrow,” he said menacingly. “If you are still here, I will escort you to the magistrate so that you might explain how you were defending yourself during your last visit.”

“As you wish… Ikoma-sama,” Utagawa said demurely.

The man's eyes' narrowed, but he stood and turned to leave without saying anything further. Utagawa watched him go, then returned to her tea. It was much more enjoyable in the silence following his departure.

It was perhaps an hour before sunrise when shouts awakened Utagawa in the tiny rooms above the sake house. She rose at once, taking her blade from its stand and moving back from the door to provide ample room to strike should she need to. She looked up at the sliding door. The metal rods still leaned against the sliding door where she had placed them, ready to topple and awaken her if any disturbed her in her sleep. Still, her shoulders relaxed only slightly.. There was another shout from down the hall, and the sound of metal sharply striking wood. The shouting was urgent, but did not carry the frantic edge that indicated violence. At least not yet.

The door swung open suddenly, causing a clatter of metal. Utagawa's grip on her blade tensed. She stood between the door and the window, ready to take either way depending upon what confronted her. “You!” Ikoma Juro shouted, bursting into the room. “Bring your blade and come now!”

“Begone,” she said softly. “No man commands me.”

Juro's slightly panicked look was replaced with a flash of anger. He glanced briefly to her hand where it rested on the saya of her blade, then back to her eyes. Indecision flickered in his eyes.

The confrontation came to a rapid halt as another samurai came into view through the doorway. This man bore the Akodo mon, and where Juro was filled with bluster and fear this man radiated confidence and quiet, controlled rage. “You,” he said, nodding in her direction. “You are ronin?”

“I am.”

“The city governor has commanded all samurai to aid in defending the city,” the Akodo returned. “You will accompany us.”

“No,” she repeated. “I will not be ordered by any man.”

“Very well,” the samurai replied. “Then you will be escorted to city's edge and forbidden from returning.”

“If you wish,” she said, inclining her head slightly.

“Then the army that prepares to attack this city will assume you are a scout or a spy and execute you,” the Akodo continued. “And there will be one less blade to defend the innocent men, women, and children of this village. Let the fact that you denied your life's one chance at heroism and honor echo through your worthless soul as it is dragged screaming into Gaki-do upon your death.” The man began to turn away, exiting the room.

“Invasion?” Utagawa asked. “What is happening?”

“Bring your blade,” the man finished, looking over his shoulder. “Join us. You will find out very soon.”

She nodded, tucking the blade into her obi and stepping quickly past Juro into the hallway. The former Kaeru was obviously angered, but she cared little. Three others she recognized from the sake house were present as well, looking bleary but alert. At least one of them was clearly suffering from the previous night's excesses.

“Kaeru-san,” the Lion said firmly, “you will take me to the other inns you mentioned. You four,” he gestured to the assembled wave men, “will proceed to the city's center. You will be given further orders there.” He paused for a moment and regarded the quartet of ronin. “Your assistance is greatly appreciated.” With that, he turned and headed for the stairs.

Juro moved to follow, but stopped short and seized Utagawa by the shoulder. “You had best watch your back, woman,” he hissed. “No one disrespects me.”

Utagawa grabbed his wrist and twisted it painfully with one smooth motion, the serene look in her eyes never fading.

“Do not touch me,” she said softly.

“Juro!” shouted the Akodo from the stairs. For the second time, the former Kaeru retreated, his eyes full of malice. He glanced back at Utagawa one last time, as she released him. He disappeared, massaging his injured hand.

The trip through the city was quick and enlightening. Torches and fires illuminated virtually the entire city despite that the sun still hid behind the horizon. Everywhere, people were hurrying about. There were Lion samurai all throughout the street, far in excess of what Utagawa would have believed was present within the city only a few hours ago. Peasants, too, were scrambling here and there, most carrying supplies and many barely concealing their panic. The city center was strangely empty once they arrived, and Utagawa assumed that the activity was moving toward the edge where the supposed invasion would take place.

Nearly two dozen samurai, many ronin, were assembled in the city center. There was tension in the air, and not just about the possibility of fighting an unknown foe. Utagawa knew the mindset of those within the city well enough that they feared the Lion perhaps more than any other clan. Honor and violence were not traits that meshed will in samurai in the mind of most wave men.

Utagawa took a quick look around those assembled. The City of the Rich Frog was a major trade city on the edge of Lion lands near the Unicorn provinces, yet there was not a single Unicorn present. Therefore, she reasoned, it must be the Unicorn who were attacking. At the very least, the Unicorn knew that the attack was imminent and had removed all their representatives from the city. It was also possible that the Lion had been made to think that the attackers were Unicorn, of course, and thus had taken all the Unicorn within the city into custody. This would limit the Lion's assets and cause them to anticipate a particular type of attack. A plot worthy of the Scorpion, to be sure. Utagawa continued to analyze the possibilities in the back of her mind even as she analyzed the strategic strengths and weaknesses of the city.

The city governor appeared near the north end of the courtyard, his armor tightly laced and worn in the traditional Lion manner. He moved through the crowd to the center, his two yojimbo following close behind. He scanned the crowd with a scrutinizing gaze, then nodded with a look of resignation. “There is a vast force of cavalry massing to the west,” he said. “The Khan's forces will assault the city within the hour. It will be fully three hours before reinforcements to the troops stationed here arrive. Every blade is needed, including yours.” He glanced from one ronin to another. “You will bolster the city guard at the southern gate. We anticipate a flanking attack there, if the Unicorn's tactics hold true. You will be essential in defending our city. May the Fortunes watch over and protect you.”

Utagawa frowned. Three hours? Even with the short distance between the city and the nearest Lion fortification, it would take much longer to mobilize a force of any real size and power. Three hours was not long enough for any significant Lion reinforcements to arrive.

Unless they had already been mobilized.

It seemed like a matter of moments before the ronin were assembled on the wall near the city's southern gate. There were perhaps an equal number of Lion samurai atop the wall nearest the gate, with several times that number scattered about the city inside the gate and in the wall as it extended to the east and west.

The first attack came soon after the ronin arrived. The fighting could be heard even from the distant northernmost gate. The Unicorn forces were so great in number that she could see them even around the western wall. Fire had broken out in the fighting, although it was difficult to tell how bad the damage was now that the sun was creeping above the horizon.

The flanking attack came shortly after the first rays of sunlight illuminated the battlefield. What seemed like thousands of cavalry appeared in an instant and moved in to attack. Archery fire dominated the earliest portion of the fighting, but the vast numbers of Unicorn quickly overran the gate, and the battle began in earnest within moments of beginning.

A pair of Unicorn samurai bore down on Utagawa, who had been forced from the wall by heavy archer fire. They charged her, their mounts wide-eyed and flush with the heat of battle. Utagawa took a deep breath and focused. Everything else fell away. There were only the two horsemen, bearing down on her. All else was a blur of motion, easily ignored. They moved in slow motion, their every movement and action telegraphed and anticipated. It was only when they were upon her that she moved.

To those watching, there was little sense in what happened. One moment, Utagawa was standing unafraid as she faced certain death. Then, faster than the eye could follow, she drew her blade and stepped forward, turning her body to fit neatly in the space between the two horses. One clean upward strike followed by a lightning fast flick of the blade above and behind her head… and then there was nothing.

Utagawa casually flicked the blood from her blade as two Unicorn samurai fell in four parts from their horses behind her. The streets fell silent for a long moment as the samurai and peasants all around her ceased their commotion and stared at her quietly.

Someone shouted her name. Utagawa turned from the fighting to see a small group of Lion charging into battle from farther within the city. Among them was Juro, his eyes huge with a combination of fear and excitement. This was probably the most fighting the fat bandit had ever seen, and he doubtless attributed his survival to his great prowess rather than any luck or twist of fate.

The proud soldiers of the Lion charged past her into the fighting, their battle cries shrill and defiant. Juro hung back, looking around for others to command into the fight in his place. “The Khan has lost!” he shouted hoarsely to Utagawa with a manic look. “Our reinforcements will be here within the hour!”

“Within the hour this city will be controlled by the Unicorn,” she whispered to him. “Your lords' planning failed.”

“What?” he demanded.

“The Lion armies are too close. They would only be so close if they expected the attack. Yet they did not fortify the city. The Lion wanted this. They could have bolstered the city and dissuaded the Unicorn from attacking altogether, but they wanted battle more. And they have let innocents die to achieve it.”

“You stupid witch,” Juro hissed. “I have had my fill of you!” He grabbed her by the shoulder and wrenched her roughly, holding her at arm's length while he drew back his blade to run her through.

There was the crisp sound of steel leaving a saya, then a rush of air. Juro's fingers and much of his hand fell to the ground, twitching. “I warned you,” Utagawa said, her voice even and clear.

Juro's eyes grew even wider and he screamed in a ragged, high-pitched voice. He held his bloodied stump close to him and lashed out blindly with his sword. Utagawa easily side-stepped the clumsy strikes. Then Juro suddenly topped, an arrow suddenly sprouting from his left eye. The former Kaeru fell to the ground, unmoving.

Utagawa spun to the right. There was a Shinjo officer lowering his bow from atop his grand white steed. He glanced down at Juro's body and severed hand, then back at her. Utagawa's calm expression did not change. She raised her sword in salute and prepared to face the Unicorn.

“Interesting,” he said. He nodded to the horseman beside her. He drew a long strap of leather from his belt, loaded a stone into it, and began whirling it above his head. Utagawa charged forward with a fierce battle cry, but before she moved three steps something struck her skull and all was darkness.

“Good evening.”

The voice was thick and heavy. The words fell like stones on her head. Utagawa rose cautiously, but even her careful movements caused pain to blossom deep inside her skull. “How long?”

“All day and half the evening. It's well past evening meal.” The Shinjo officer smiled slightly. “How are you feeling?”

Utagawa glanced around the small tent. “This is no prisoner's tent.”

“You aren't a prisoner,” the officer answered. “At least, not yet. I convinced my commander that a ronin attacking the Lion inside the city might be an ally.” He raised his eyebrows. “Was I wrong?”

“I have no love for the Lion,” she said calmly. “But nor do I owe allegiance to the Unicorn.” She scanned the room. “Return my daisho to me.”

“Your swords are well cared for, and will be returned to you,” the officer offered. “I give you my word.” He looked at her curiously. “The Khan respects power and skill, as do those who serve him. Someone like you could find a place among us, if you truly wished to do so. We do not share the Lion's contempt for those who serve no master, if they show promise.”

“I have no need of a clan, nor family, nor lord,” she said. Seeing his confusion, she added. “For me, there is but one ideal worthy of my allegiance. Perfection.”

“Perfection?” he asked. “With the blade?”

“In all things,” she answered. “But the blade must come first.”

“Why?”

“Where is my daisho?” she repeated.

“If you truly wish to go, I will return it to you, but you must not return to Kaeru Toshi.”

“Fair enough,” Utagawa said. “I would not stay longer in this cursed place. I hope the Lion and the Unicorn find great honor and glory in this war,” she said wryly.

The samurai frowned. “You do not understand. Kaeru Toshi was Unicorn territory before the Lion chose to annex it. The Khan only wishes that it be returned.”

“The Khan only wishes for bloodshed,” she replied. “If he did not find it here, he would find it elsewhere, and the Lion would be willing to oblige him. I have had my fill of both of you.”

“You are a strange woman,” the officer said with a frown. He rose from his seat. “You seek to master the blade, yet you shy from battle?”

Utagawa sighed. “Return my blades, and I shall leave.”

“Very well,” the Unicorn replied with a confused frown. He gestured to one of his guards, who returned shortly with the exquisite paired blades. “I am not familiar with the craftsmanship on these swords,” the Unicorn said. “They are unlike any I have seen.”

“Or will ever see again,” Utagawa replied. She accepted her swords and looked at the Unicorn for a long moment. He tensed slightly, as did his guards, wondering what might follow now that the mysterious ronin had been returned her weapons.

There was no anger in Utagawa's eyes, no scorn, no violence - only disappointment.

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