Penance, Part Three
By Rich Wulf

Hiruma Todori felt more exhausted than he had ever felt in his entire life, and this was no small feat. As a Hiruma, he was used to running through the barren wastes of the Shadowlands without sleep or food for days at a time. A scout quickly learned to deal with exhaustion, to place it aside until it could be properly disposed of, but here in the mountains it was difficult. His lungs ached. His head swam with every movement as he trudged forward through the swirling snow. No wonder the Dragons saw visions. There was not enough air to breathe up here. He was beginning to see things himself, black dots swirling before his eyes as sleep threatened to claim him.

It did not help much that there seemed to be no road through these accursed mountains. The Tonbo had pointed him in this direction and said no more. How did the Dragon find their way to their own lord's castle?

One of the black dots before Todori's eyes expanded into something larger, barreling down the path toward him. Todori realized with a start that the Blade of Penance was in his hand - this was not one of his visions. The katana sliced the air just as a large black bear lumbered toward him. The beast roared in pain as the weapon left a trail of red across its shoulder and swiped at Todori. The scout nimbly rolled backward, deflecting the blow off his sode. Even with Kaiu steel protecting his shoulder, Todori felt the blow jolt his bones, sending pain throughout his body. He looked up as the animal appraised him, dark eyes gleaming. The creature was desperate with hunger, larger, stronger, possibly faster. Todori had faced enemies such as this before – there was only one chance.

“I am not your prey, beast,” Todori snarled. “You are mine!” He held his katana with both hands, blade high, and released a defiant scream that echoed across the Great Climb.

The bear stopped, gave Todori a long, steady look, and lumbered away seeking easier prey.

Todori caught his breath in gasps, half surprised and half relieved that his gambit had worked. He looked down at the Blade of Penance – Kokujin's accursed sword. As the rush of adrenalin faded, dark spots swam before his eyes again. Sleep waited to claim him.

“No, old fool,” he whispered out loud to himself, sheathing the blade. “That's not sleep, that's death you see. Keep moving.” He looked up again, searching in vain for any sign of a path.

The terrain shifted in front of him, and Todori glanced up in surprise to see one of the stones turn to face him. It was no stone, but a man, seated cross-legged in meditation. His thickly muscled back and shaven head were covered in a light coating of snow, and painted with a dense pattern of tattoos. He wore only simple brown hakama, ignoring the bitter cold. The monk looked up at Todori with a placid expression. Seated motionless as he was, oblivious to the elements, Todori had failed to notice his presence, even during combat. He attributed the lapse to exhaustion but felt no less foolish for it.

“I am Todori, lord of the Hiruma,” Todori said raggedly, eager to introduce himself to the first human he had seen in days.

“Outstanding,” the tattooed man replied.

“I am on urgent business,” Todori continued. “I have papers allowing me passage to the High House of Light.” Todori drew the folded scroll from behind his chest plate, marked with the seals of Hida Kuon and Mirumoto Kei.

The Dragon looked at the folded papers with fascination, but made no move to take them from Todori. He looked up at the scout with an intent, amused expression.

“Do you know how to find the High House of Light?” Todori pressed.

The Dragon nodded, and stared back blankly.

“How do I find the High House of Light?” Todori asked in a slow, even voice.

“I do not know,” the Dragon replied. “I know how I find the High House of Light, but it may be different for you. It may not wish you to find it. Perhaps it is hiding until you are ready.”

“A castle cannot hide, Dragon,” Todori said, his voice growing terse. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“You called yourself one, just a while ago,” the Dragon replied. “Should I not take you at your word?”

Todori folded his thick arms across his chest and glared down at the Dragon for a long time. The monk looked back, his innocent expression never changing.

“I know this game, Dragon,” Todori said. “I have heard the legends. This is some form of test. You seek to try my honor, my determination, my patience.” He leaned closer to the Dragon, their eyes level. “Look at me, as the bear did. Am I a man you wish to test?”

The Dragon raised one eyebrow. “Is this where you say that I will be your prey and then scream?”

“Yes,” Todori said.

The Dragon chuckled. “Then, like the bear, I shall cease to bar your path,” he said. He turned and pointed through the swirling snow behind him. “The High House is that way, or at least it was this morning.”

Todori looked in that direction, the same direction he had been fruitlessly studying before. He opened his mouth to complain, but no words came. This time, he thought he could see a rough pass through the mountains. Even the snow seemed to fall more gently in that direction.

“Arigato,” Todori said, bowing sincerely to the monk.

The Dragon only nodded and closed his eyes.

Todori continued down the path, and as he went the blizzard faded away. Though the snow was gone, the wind was relentless, and chilled Todori even through the thick clothing he wore beneath his armor. Swirling mists crawled across the path, dancing away over the rocks. Todori realized that they were not mists at all, but clouds, so high he was above the earth. He risked a glance at the sky, wondering if he might catch a vision of Tengoku. The early evening sky shimmered with more stars than Todori had ever seen in his life. He felt unbalanced at the sight, his knees nearly giving way as if he would fall into the heavens.

As that thought passed through his mind, the tired Crab scout looked down and saw the High House of Light. The castle was unlike any he had ever seen. Smaller than Kyuden Hida, it still somehow dominated the surrounding mountains. The roofs were tiled with shining gold and sculptures of coiled dragons soared around narrow towers. Though obviously made by mortal hands, it seemed natural, eternal, a part of the mountains. Todori could not push aside the feeling that the castle was watching him.

He cast his eyes to the ground, feeling distinctly like an unwelcome outsider, and marched on. He heard a metallic groan as the doors of the castle ground open. A small woman walked out to meet him, black hair flowing upon the relentless mountain wind. Like the other monk, she wore little clothing, only a thin, short robe that left her body scandalously bare. Her skin was also painted in a complex pattern of tattoos, images of vines, roots, and leaves. A braid of holly leaves, studded with bright red berries, kept her wild hair from her eyes, somehow not coming free in the fierce wind. She looked up at Todori with a bright, unashamed smile.

“Welcome to the High House of Light, Hiruma-sama,” she said. “I am Hoshi Oki. Lord Satsu has sent me to welcome you.”

Todori carefully averted his gaze. As a Crab raised in Unicorn lands none would call him prudish, but he felt embarrassed to look upon a woman garbed in such a manner, and so obviously at peace with herself while dressed so. “So I have passed the Dragon Champion's test?” he asked.

“Test?” she replied. She tried to step into his field of view, confused by his embarrassment. “You were never tested.”

“What about my journey here?” Todori asked, scowling at her. “What of the bear? What of the mad monk?”

“Jusai was not sent to test you,” Oki replied. “You were sent to test him.”

“What?” Todori replied, eyes wide with shock.

Oki pursed her lips thoughtfully, looking past Todori, down the path he had traveled. “He did poorly, I think. He might have helped you more. He is a Togashi, and that is their curse. They do not act soon enough. Unlike the Hitomi, whose curse is to act too swiftly.”

“And you are a Hoshi,” Todori said. “So what is your curse?”

She looked at him with a mischievous smirk. “That we must put up with the Togashi and the Hitomi,” she answered. “Now follow me. I will take you to Lord Satsu.”

“Arigato, Oki-san,” Todori said, looking about in wonder as he stepped through the gates. “Your home is most impressive.

“It is a pity more of your clan do not visit us,” she said as she led him through the halls. “I think even Lord Kuon could find serenity in our gardens.”

Todori chuckled to himself. “Doubtful,” he said. “Lord Kuon is not fond of gardens.”

Before…

Hiruma Todori moved the ink brush across the paper with several swift movements. The sound of heavy footfalls approached from behind and he flipped the brush between his fingers idly. A slow grin spread across the scout's features as he recognized the sound. He felt the hovering presence of a large figure behind him, peering over his shoulder at the painting.

“Go ahead,” he said. Looking into the well of ink he could see the reflection of his old friend's lined face, his wild mane of hair and shaggy brows. “Say it.”

“All right,” came the gruff reply. “What is it?”

Todori carefully set down his brush. “A willow tree,” he said, studying the black smudge he had left upon the paper.

“Doesn't look like one,” his visitor answered.

“It's not meant to,” Todori answered, studying the painting. “Lady Haruko says that it is not important to reproduce the tree, for such would be a shallow act. It is more important to capture the motion of the tree, the energy it represents, to paint with the spontaneity, confidence, and sureness that the Fortunes surely drew upon when they created the tree itself.”

“Oh,” the man said. “Looks like your Fortune tripped and spilled ink on himself.”

Todori nodded. “Lady Haruko says that with practice, my talent will grow.”

“Oh,” the man said again. There was a longer pause this time. “This Haruko must be very pretty for you to put up with that.”

“I intend to ask her to marry me,” Todori said, laughing as he rose and turned to face his old friend. “You would have known if you returned my letters more often. It has been too long, Masagaro-sama.”

“Sama?” Masagaro replied, sneering. “It's me, Garo. What have these Unicorn been teaching you? Writing letters, painting, and now ‘sama,' is it?”

Todori laughed. “I have spent too much time with the Shinjo,” he said. “My manners have become appallingly good.”

Masagaro chuckled along with Todori, but the joy was forced, and quickly faded. Todori could see that his old friend's eyes, grim even in the brightest circumstances, were now clouded with a heavy shadow.

“What has happened?” he asked.

“Sensei Hoshiro is dead,” Todori replied. “First Strike Dojo stands without a master sensei. The senior students were slain as well – there is none among them suited to the task. So I have come here, to Far Runner Dojo, to seek a replacement.”

Todori scratched the back of his neck with one hand as the bleak news set in. He had known Hoshiro, respected him greatly. His death was a loss for all the Crab. “There are many promising students,” Todori admitted. “Master Juichi should be able to name one to replace Hoshiro.”

“He already has,” Masagaro replied.

“Excellent,” Todori replied. “Then I am glad that you were able to…” Todori trailed off as he noticed the strange gravity in Masagaro's expression. “Me?” he said, his voice shaking slightly. “Why me? Of all people? I have not set foot in the Shadowlands since I was a child!”

“Since the day I led you there, you mean,” Masagaro said. “Since they day we snuck past the Wall.”

Todori said nothing. That day Todori, Masagaro, and three others had wandered into the Shadowlands. Two had not returned, including Todori's own sister. He was ten at the time. She was eight.

“Juichi says that you are the best, Todori,” he said.

“It has been too long,” Todori said weakly. He looked at Masagaro frankly. “I am afraid.”

Masagaro stared steadily back at Todori. “Good,” he said.

“My fear will make me useless to you,” Todori pressed.

Masagaro was unconvinced. “Can you run as fast as you did on our hunt through the Shinomen five years ago?”

“Faster,” Todori replied honestly.

“Can you still track as well as you did then?” Masagaro asked.

“Better,” Todori answered.

“I see you still wear the tower,” Masagaro said, gesturing at the family mon on Todori's left sleeve. “The shoulder closest to your heart.”

Todori paced quietly before his lord then finally turned to face him, head still bowed. “I am a Hiruma,” he said. “I was born to run. I thought, perhaps, that I could outrun my fate. I see now that cannot be. A Hiruma's battle never ends. There is no answer but duty. I will return with you to Shiro Hiruma, and become the master of First Strike Dojo.”

Masagaro only nodded.

Todori's eyes moved toward the painting, the inky mess that was supposed to be a willow tree. His gaze hardened.

“Will you bring her?” Masagaro asked quietly.

Todori stared at the painting for a long moment then turned his back upon it.

“How soon can we leave, Masagaro-sama?” he asked.

Todori opened his eyes, drifting back out of meditation. His vision was still blurry, his head fuzzy from the sharp scent of the Dragon incense and the cloying smell of the strange herbs that filled the garden. The Dragon Champion knelt cross-legged before him, watching him with a patient expression. Todori was taken aback at how small the Dragon Champion was, but then everyone seemed small since leaving Crab lands. Despite his stature, Togashi Satsu radiated an unquestionable presence, power and serenity. The Hiruma family, as a rule, had little use for monks and philosophers, but the old scout could not help but be awed by the wisdom he saw reflected in the Dragon's golden eyes.

“I do not see why this is necessary,” Todori said.

“What did you see, Todori-san?” Satsu asked.

“I saw the past,” Todori said with a sigh. “I saw the day I returned to my life as a Crab.”

“Oh?” Satsu asked. Though the reply was simple, the tone implied that he knew there was more.

“I saw the day I left her behind,” Todori said, his voice thick. “Haruko.”

Satsu nodded. “You regret leaving her?”

“She was a daughter of the Unicorn,” he said with a rueful smile. “Her spirit was free and beautiful. She could not survive in the grey walls of Hiruma Shiro. I would not have put her there.”

“So you were forced to choose between love and duty?” Satsu asked.

“No,” Todori said gravely. “There is no choice.”

“A difficult life, to be a Crab,” Satsu said.

“No less so, I think, to be a Dragon,” Todori answered. “Surely you know what has happened to your general.”

“Kei understands the way of the Dragon,” Satsu said, his tone slightly reserved. “She knows that sometimes success does not lie in victory,” his eyes met Todori's “or even in survival. The future is all that matters.”

“Even if she must fight a hopeless battle on two fronts, against two superior forces?”

“Her duty is not to succeed,” Satsu said. “Only to make the war too costly for here opponents to pursue. I would not worry for Kei, She is a brilliant warrior, and she has the mountains at her back. Even the Lion know they fare poorly against the Dragon when we withdraw into our own domain, and the Unicorn would be reluctant to fight us on such terrain.” Satsu tilted his head slightly. “But we are here to talk about your burden, Todori-san. Not Kei's.” He looked down at the sword that lay on the floor between them, saya lacquered in indigoes and blues.

“What more is there to say?” he asked. “There is the sword. Let's find a Mirumoto to throw it into a volcano. Isn't that what the Dragon do?”

Satsu nodded. “With dangerous nemuranai, yes,” he replied. “The Mirumoto find them and the Tamori reduce them to their component spirits. If the spirits are willing, we then importune their aid in protecting our mountains.”

“Fine,” Todori said. “Call a Mirumoto. Let's get rid of it.”

“Has this sword acted to save you?” Sasu asked.

“Frequently,” Todori said, remembering the bear.

“Then it is too late,” Satsu answered. “I know of these Shameswords. Kokujin forged ten, intended to be given to the heroes of Rokugan. This sword is bonded to you now. We cannot destroy one and save the other. The curse would draw you into Tamori's Furnace along with it, I fear.”

“So I am cursed forever?” Todori asked.

“Perhaps,” Satsu answered.

“Perhaps?” Todori asked, losing his temper slightly. “Can you give me a better answer? I thought you could see the future, Satsu-sama.”

“What do you think, Todori-san?” Satsu asked. “What do you think I see in your future?” His eyes shone a depthless gold. Looking into them, Todori was suddenly filled with a fear he could not explain.

“I think there are questions better left unasked,” he said.

Satsu only looked at Todori silently.

“Why did Kokujin give this blade to me?” Todori asked, changing the subject. “Was there any reason at all or just more of his madness?”

“Iuchiban rules the Shadowlands now,” Satsu said, “and Kokujin stands against him. Likely he expects you to use the blade against his enemy.”

“How could Kokujin be sure I would not turn his sword against him?” Todori asked. A metallic hiss resounded as Penance drew itself an inch from its saya of its own accord. The kanji on its blade gleamed red.

Satsu looked down at the sword cautiously. “I would advise against that. Attacking Kokujin with a weapon he created would have disastrous effects. However, it is a powerful weapon. Perhaps it may be of use in defending Shiro Hiruma?”

“I will not use this sword again,” Todori said in a low voice. “It is a thing of dark magic. My clan swore to never make that compromise, and I will not break that promise. There must be a way to break the curse.”

“Madman Kokujin may be, but he thinks like a Dragon,” Satsu answered. “He will not pose a riddle that has no solution, though it may have an impossible solution.”

“What is the difference?” Todori asked.

“In extraordinary circumstances, the impossible becomes likely,” Satsu said. “The sword is named the Sword of Penance. What sins have you to amend? What do you see in your dreams?”

“That duty forced me to leave Haruko behind. That so many under my command have died. That Masagaro died and I could do nothing, because of my duty.”

Satsu gave Todori a steady look. “Is that what you truly regret?” he asked. “Your duty?”

Todori stared at the glowing kanji, a steady scowl creasing his features.

“No,” he said. “I regret that my cowardice led me to hide in the Unicorn lands for so long. I regret that I allowed myself to think that I could have any life but that of a warrior. I regret that I spent so many idle years when I could have fought the Shadowlands, and I wonder if that is why so many of my friends have died – because I found my courage too late in life.” He stood up. “I will not let myself be drawn away from my purpose again, not even by this curse. To Jigoku with your sword, Kokujin. Let it follow me if it can.” He looked at the Dragon Champion and bowed deeply. “Arigato, Satsu-sama.”

“Carry the Fortunes, Todori-san.”

With that, Hiruma Todori turned and walked out of the High House of Light.

A slow, pleased smile spread across Togashi Satsu's face.

“Did you see that?” asked a curious voice. A massive tattooed man appeared from the shadows behind his Champion, looking down at the Blade of Penance. “Did you know it would be that easy?”

“Yes,” Satsu said, “but if I had told him the answer, it would not have been that easy.”

Vedau grinned.

“Send for Kenzo, please,” Satsu said. “I suspect he will be interested in destroying this blade.”

“Kenzo is not here, Satsu-sama,” he replied. “He, Mareshi, and the others now march with General Toku. They hunt a band of Bloodspeakers through the Phoenix mountains.”

Satsu looked at Hitomi Vedau, his expression confused. “Toku?” he replied. “How did I not know? How could such a thing…” Satsu's voice became a whisper as he realized the truth. There were some aspects of the future that the Lord of the Dragon could not see, but over the months he had come to recognize the signs from the absence of vision, like identifying an unseen figure from its shadow.

“Iuchiban,” Satsu said in a low voice.

Vedau's eyes widened. Fiery patterns swirled over his arms as his tattoos moved like things alive, granting the enforcer the strength he would need for battle. “The Bloodspeaker?” he asked eagerly.

“Iuchiban is coming,” he said. “Kenzo and the others will face him… that is why I cannot see their fate. Vedau, they will need help as quickly as possible.”

“How will I find them in the wilderness?” Vedau asked.

“Perhaps you cannot,” Satsu said thoughtfully. “But if you hurry, the finest tracker in all the Shadowlands is still within the High House of Light.”

Vedau's expression was not quite a smile, but there were teeth and excitement involved. “I will not fail you, Lord Satsu.”

“Carry the Fortunes, Vedau,” Satsu said. “I will summon the others.”

Hitomi Vedau bowed gravely and vanished into the shadows.

BACK