By Shawn Carman
Editing & Assistance by Fred Wan

The Shinomen Mori, year 1154

The water of the small pond boiled and pitched like the ocean during a terrible storm. Everything around it was still, and yet the water seethed like it was alive. The surface twisted and stretched, then leapt upward. It wound through the air, a serpent of purest water, first one and then another, then a dozen, then a hundred. They wound together into a massive shape, one so great it surely contained more water than the meager pond. Two great orbs of light appeared, spaced widely within the water.

An inarticulate noise of fear escaped Kaneka’s mouth as he realized they were eyes. The young ronin had returned here, to the most remote reaches of the vast Shinomen Mori where he had lived with his mother as a child, in hopes of finding some trace of his father’s identify. Now, he had found only his death.

It is not your time, Akodo Kaneka, a voice said in his mind. It was like the rushing roar of a mighty river, and the ronin placed a hand to his head at the sound. Your destiny is not yet fulfilled.

“What,” he rasped. “What are…” his voice trailed off suddenly, his hand falling away from his head. “Akodo?”

The name that is yours by right, the voice said. The name of your father.

“My father,” Kaneka said softly. “My father was a Lion?”

You father is a great many things. A Lion was but one of them.

Something soared in Kaneka’s chest. “My father is still alive?” he asked. “Does… does he know that I exist?”

He does not. He believed that your mother died. He searched for her, but she concealed herself, so that he would not know of your impending birth.

“Why?” Kaneka implored. “Why would she do that?”

She knew, as I did, that your father’s enemies would have used you against him. She sought to save him from vengeful assassins. The voice seemed to find the idea humorous. She had no notion of the destiny your father would achieve. She had no notion of the true threat you represented.

“Threat?” Kaneka said. “You speak in riddles! Tell me my father’s name, I beg you! Why was I a threat to him?”

Your father's destiny was nothing less than the salvation of mankind. There was a great imbalance, and he helped to restore it. This was his destiny, and the destiny of others like him. Had he known of your existence, he would have forsaken all esel to protect you. And so I hid you away, that the Clan War might unfold as it was meant to.

“Concealed?” Kaneka scowled. “What do you mean, the Clan War? That was decades ago. If you are here to play games, then find another partner.” The ronin rose as if to leave. “I want no part of it.”

Brazen. Bold. There is much of Fire in you as well. The voice seemed pleased. It is your strength that drew me to you. You will have need of it. The mortal realm will have need of it, when your time comes. You alone are strong enough to do that which must be done.

“Who are you?” Kaneka demanded.

I am the Dragon of Water, the voice returned. I am your patron, of sorts. You were born in the years before the Clan War, and when it became apparent that you were a danger to the natural order of things, I removed you. I held you and your mother sleeping in my realm. Time passed in the mortal realm, but you remained an infant. When the danger was well and truly passed, I returned you to this place.

“That… that is insane,” Kaneka whispered. “It makes no sense at all. My mother said nothing!”

I removed her memories, the Dragon replied. She remembered very little. She could not have told you about your father even if she desired to do so. I wished you to be prepared before the time came for your destiny.

Kaneka was silent for several minutes. “You are a monster,” he whispered.

I am not constrained by mortal concepts of kindness or consideration. Make no mistake, my motives are not for one such as you to judge. I have waited the fraction of a moment that it has taken you to age to adulthood and become ready. The voice paused, and there was a hint of pride in its voice. You are now ready, Akodo Kaneka.

“Ready for what?” the ronin asked, intrigued despite himself.

You shall know in time, the Dragon said. Again, the surface of the pond boiled, and something rose from its depths. It gleamed like the stars, the sunlight reflecting off the polished steel.

Kaneka reached out with shaking hands and reverently accepted the blade. “It is magnificent,” he whispered.

It is sufficient, the Dragon said. It is merely an object, but it shall serve as a reflection of its bearer. It shall not endure indefinitely, but by the time you break it in the throne of darkness, you will be ready for a new blade. Now, you may ask me the question I know burns in your heart.

Kaneka licked his lips nervously. “Please,” he whispered. “Tell me my father’s name.”

The Dragon spoke the name of his father.

Kaneka wept with joy.

Kaneka awoke with a start. For a moment, he stared at the ceiling of the crude hut he had once shared with his mother, his mind racing. He reached out suddenly, groping about in the dim lighting until his hand came to rest on the saya of his new blade. The young ronin relaxed then, exhaling shakily as he ran one finger along the length of the blade. For a brief moment, he feared that it had all been a dream. It so easily could have been, after all. Even now that he knew the truth, and he did believe it to be the truth, it was not as if he could tell anyone what he had learned. Who would believe him?

There was a rustling sound from somewhere outside the hut. Kaneka was on his feet in seconds, his new blade in his hand. It felt so perfect that he could have shouted with joy, but instead cocked his head to the side and listened. Had it been such a noise that awoke him in the first place? He had been so distracted with the sword that he wasn’t sure. He sneered in disgust and moved silently to the hut’s doorway.

Kaneka crouched unmoving and listened intently. He was accustomed to the sounds of the forest from his childhood, and after only a moment the normal background noises fell away and he began to picture everything outside the hut as if he were there. The breeze was blowing from the northwest. There was a bird, perhaps two, bathing at the edge of the pond. It was just beginning to creep toward sunset and the locusts were beginning the evening song. Then the sound came again, and he could picture it. Something large was moving through the dry leaves on the hut’s west side. Kaneka darted outside and rushed to face it.

As Kaneka rounded the corner of the hut, he expected to face a predator of some sort. Perhaps a boar, or even a bear. Perhaps, if he were fortunate, it might be a bandit or thief against which to test his mettle, or even a traveler like Kazumasa. Whatever it was, he could not risk the chance that it was dangerous, and thus he rushed to meet it with his blade drawn. When he saw what awaited him, he stopped instantly and began to back peddle furiously, stumbling over his own feet and nearly losing his blade in the process.

Kaneka’s first thought was that the dragon had returned. But this was no dragon, serpentine though it might be. He suddenly and vividly remembered the tales his mother had told him of the monsters that lived within the forest, hideous snake men with fangs and claws that loved to consume children who wandered too far from home. The childlike terror bursting in his chest screamed for escape, but he would not run. He was Akodo Kaneka, and he did not know how to flee. He scrambled to his feet and hefted his blade.

“Greetings,” the thing said. Its speech was halting and clumsy, but intelligible.

Kaneka halted, his blade at the ready. He opened his mouth to speak, but was not certain what to say.

“Can you speak?” the thing asked.

“Yes,” he said dully. “Yes, I can speak.”

“Good,” the thing said. “I did not mean to disturb your strange dance.” It pointed to the dirt where Kaneka had been scrambling away from it. “I felt something I did not understand, and I wished to discover it. I will go if I am disturbing you.”

The creature turned to leave, slithering quickly toward the trees. “Wait,” Kaneka called weakly. “Wait a moment.”

The thing turned back and regarded him curiously, emitting a low hissing sound. “How long is a moment?” it asked.

“I mean… just wait.” He lowered his sword cautiously. “What is it that you sensed?”

“I do not know,” the creature said. “I am Qelsaurth, Naga jakla and student of the Akasha.”

“I am Kaneka,” he replied. “I… I did not understand anything you just said.”

The Naga made another hissing sound, this one louder and longer. Kaneka’s grip tightened on his sword until he realized the creature was laughing at him. He smirked and returned the katana to its saya. “I know what the Naga are,” he said. “My mother told me stories about you as a child, although apparently they were not entirely correct. What is a jakla?”

“Jakla are scholars and artificers,” Qelsaurth said. “We explore the secrets of pearl magic, and many other phenomenon.”

“You are priests, then,” Kaneka said. “Like shugenja.”

“I have heard of your shoo-gen-ja,” Qelsaurth answered. “We are similar, but not priests. We Naga do not pray to the elements as you do, although we can sense and control them.” It gestured to its chest as it spoke. “That is my duty for my people, to speak to the elements and control them. Today, I heard them speak back.” It shook its head as if to clear it. “I had never heard such a thing before. It awoke me from the Great Sleep, and I could not return until I understood what had happened.”

Kaneka frowned, then nodded slowly. “There was an… entity here. Earlier today, I mean. It was very powerful.” His frown deepened. “It is the spirit that all spirits of water serve. Does that make any sense?”

Qelsaurth turned its head to the side and peered at him strangely. “No,” it admitted. “If such an entity existed, why would it come here?”

“Because of me,” Kaneka said. “It came for me.”

The creature’s eyes widened. “Did you confront this entity? How did you survive?”

“No,” Kaneka explained. “It wasn’t like that. It came to… to teach me. To tell me things about myself.”

The jakla twitched excitedly. “What did it teach you, Student-of-Water?”

“I don’t know yet,” Kaneka said. “I am trying to understand.”

The Naga drew itself up and reclined on its coils. “I would hear your tale, if I could, Student-of-Water. Perhaps I could help you.”

Kaneka looked blankly at the coiled Naga. Before this morning, this would easily have been the strangest thing that had ever happened to him. Now, however, he thought that his life would have to take an odd turn indeed for him to be surprised at even the most bizarre events. “I think I would like that,” he said.

Ryoko Owari Toshi, one year later
Kaneka stared idly at the almost completely full bottle and wondered, not for the first time, if perhaps he spent too much of his life hiding away in dingy sake houses across the Empire. Good things occasionally happened in such locations. He had met Etsushi and Uchito in one, for instance, but as often as not it led only to misery and possibly violence. Perhaps the time had come for him to find some more responsible means of passing the time.

The door opened briefly, allowing a moment of brilliant sunshine to pierce the hazy gloom of the sake house’s interior. Kaneka risked a glance over his shoulder and cursed. Two Scorpion had just entered and taken a table near the door. That would not be so unusual in a city like Ryoko Owari, of course, save that they were the same two Scorpion that seemed to have been following him for the past two days. He had seen them at the inn where he was staying, the dojo where his scant pennies had purchased some valuable training time, even the marketplace where he had purchased an obi to replace his threadbare one. To say that they were making him a bit paranoid was a gross understatement. He had awakened three times the previous night, certain each time that an assassin was mere inches from his throat.

Kaneka wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his kimono and considered his options. They were right next to the door, and there was no chance he could get away from them that way. Perhaps if he darted through the kitchen, he might be able to get out the back and disappear before they caught up with him. He would have to leave the city at once, of course, but luckily he was carrying virtually everything he owned with him. There was nothing at the inn he could not afford to lose.

A stranger in a drab kimono sat down suddenly across from him. Kaneka had been so caught up in his thoughts that he had not seen him approach. “Hello, old friend!” the man said warmly. “I did not know that you were in the city! Good to see you!”

Kaneka’s eyes narrowed. “I do not know you,” he growled in a low voice.

“No, of course you don’t,” the man said in an equally low voice, the smile still on his face. “But now fewer people are staring at you. It seemed for a moment that you were about to explode into violence. It is no wonder the Scorpion are making such a show of following you.”

Kaneka glanced left and right. He steadied his nerves by taking a long draught of sake. “Who are you?”

The stranger removed his jingasa, which Kaneka noticed was adorned with tassels much like those worn by duelists to represent their defeated foes, although he noted that the stranger was not carrying a katana. “I am Naoharu,” he said. “I make arrangements for people.”

“Arrangements? Of what kind?”

“Oh, all kinds,” Naoharu said with a wink. “Mostly, however, I arrange for matters of a sensitive nature to be resolved quickly and quietly. You might say it is my comfortable niche in an otherwise uncomfortable Empire.”

Kaneka frowned. “What do you know about the Scorpion?” he asked as he offered the bottle to Naoharu.

The stranger held up his hand and smiled. “Oh no, my young friend. I never drink anything unless I open the seal myself, and I never drink anything when I’m in Ryoko Owari. It’s simply too dangerous.” He withdrew a small bottle from his kimono as Kaneka stared blankly at the bottle in his hand. “What I know about the Scorpion is that they are making quite a show of following you,” Naoharu continued after a short drink. “Which means that they are either trying to frighten you into doing something foolish, or perhaps they are trying to draw out others that might be working with you on whatever it is you’re doing that has concerned them.”

“I am not doing anything!” Kaneka insisted. “I don’t know why they are following me!”

“Surely you must have a secret or two?” Naoharu said with a gleam in his eye. Seeing Kaneka’s surly look, he nodded. “You know what they call the Scorpion. ‘The Clan of Secrets.’ If there is something you do not wish them to know, chances are they know it. Is there anyone else, anyone at all, who knows your secret?”

“A few,” Kaneka admitted quietly. It was ludicrous to assume that the Scorpion could have gained access to Qelsaurth, but could they have a contact in Shoan’s orphanage? Would someone there have spoken to them? He did not know.

“A few,” Naoharu repeated. “Therein lies the source of your problem, my young friend. You trusted someone. That is almost always a mistake.”

“Almost always?” Kaneka asked.

“Well… exceptions are possible,” Naoharu admitted. “The question is, what will you do now that the Scorpion know whatever it is you do not wish them to know? Are you in danger?”

Kaneka thought for a moment. “Possibly,” he admitted. “They may think I am a danger to… to someone important. If so, they might very will kill me. Assuming they know at all, which I do not think is a safe assumption.”

“Think that all you like,” Naoharu advised. “The important thing is to assume the worse. Then, at least, you will always be prepared.”

Kaneka risked a glance at the Scorpion by the door. “What would you do?”

Naoharu considered the question. “What I would do is a bit complex for someone such as yourself. No offense intended.” He gave Kaneka a scrutinizing once-over, then nodded. “Given what little I know about you, I am going to venture a guess that intrigue is not a game you win often, if you even know how to play. With that in mind, your best bet might be to stop the game altogether.”

“And how would I do that?”

“Approach the Scorpion,” Naoharu said. “Ask to speak to their commander. They will laugh, of course, but they will eventually take you. When you meet their commander, act disgusted and insist that you meant their real lord, not some puppet.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Kaneka asked.

“Yes,” Naoharu admitted. “The important thing is that if he does not kill you, you will know that you have gained some measure of control. Then they will, presumably, take your still-living presence to their lord, and you can begin by telling him the secret you believe they already know. By doing so, you demonstrate that you are not afraid to reveal it, and that robs them of whatever hold they have over you.”

“What will happen then?”

Naoharu smiled. “That depends on you, my friend.”

“Kaneka,” he said. “My name is Kaneka.”

“Then that depends on you, Kaneka,” Naoharu said, taking another drink.

Kaneka stared at the older man intently. “Aren’t you curious?”

“Not really,” Naoharu said. “What secret could you have that could be of interest to me?”

“You might be surprised,” Kaneka muttered. He finished the last of his drink and then rose and strode across the sake house to speak to the Scorpion near the door.

Rikako walked through the halls of the former barracks, ignoring the stares that many levied against her. Some stared at her because, she was told by many, she was beautiful. Others because she was clearly a ronin, and the sight of a ronin walking about in an Imperial barracks was unusual, to say the least. Even if those barracks had been converted to serve as the Shogun’s forces’ headquarters in the Imperial City.

As she approached the chamber she sought, two guards stepped forward to bar her way. One was a Phoenix, the other a Lion. “The Shogun’s advisors are meeting within,” the Lion said. “They may not be disturbed.”

Rikako said nothing, but continued walking. Just as the two guards levied their weapons against her, she whispered something under her breath, and disappeared in a puff of flame, reappearing on the other side of the door. There, she found three men standing over a table of scrolls, all regarding her curiously. One she recognized at once as Shiba Danjuro, the Shogun’s lieutenant. The others were a Scorpion and an old monk. “You see,” the Scorpion said irritably. “This is exactly the sort of thing I was talking about before. This location is not secure. We should relocate into the Palace.”

The door swung open behind Rikako and the Lion guard darted forward, his katana held high for a killing blow. Danjuro crossed the room in an instant, blocking the lethal strike with his blade. “Stand down,” he ordered the guards. “Your vigilance is commendable, but this woman is an ally.”

“Of course, commander,” the guard said, although his words did nothing to alleviate the hateful glare he levied at Rikako. He and his companion disappeared back through the doorway as quickly as they had appeared.

“An ally?” the monk said. “Who is this?”

“Rikako,” Danjuro answered. “She was the Shogun’s advisor during his years in the Phoenix lands. I thought she was still overseeing his holdings there.”

“Kaneka sought out a ronin shugenja as an advisor after joining the Phoenix?” the Scorpion said incredulously. “That makes no sense whatsoever.”

The monk chuckled. “He wanted an objective opinion, Higatsuku. Surely you of all people understand the value in that. Personally, I never understand half the things those priests say.”

The Shosuro frowned. “Perhaps, Heigai, but it seems odd to say the least. I would think the Isawa would be greatly insulted that Kaneka had an independent counsel to help him understand their works.”

“They did not know,” Danjuro said flatly. “Kaneka did not wish to insult them, merely to understand them. Why are you here, Rikako? Has something happened?”

“Yes,” she answered, holding forth a scroll. “I received this two days ago. It is from Kaneka.”

The three men looked at one another uneasily as Danjuro took the scroll. “He is not here, Rikako. He is… indisposed.”

“I know where he is,” she said curtly. “Please read the scroll.”

Rikako,

I deeply regret that so long has passed since we last spoke, but the knowledge that you have protected my interests in the Phoenix provinces has been a great comfort to me these past years during my time on the Great Kaiu Wall and during the so-called Blood Hunt. Now, I must ask more of you.

For reasons that I cannot divulge, I have left my forces behind and set out into the Empire. I am searching for something, although honestly I cannot say what. I will know if I find it. What I know for certain, however, is what I have seen during my time in the Empire. It has been decades since I walked alone on the back roads. I had forgotten so much. I had forgotten how the common man is not privy to the inner workings of the Empire. They see me as usurper. They believe I seek power for myself, when all I desire is to see it protected from those who would abuse it, and to see it used for the good of all Rokugan. And yet this very thing will be beyond me if I cannot convince others of my intentions.

There are few that I trust in this world, Rikako. You are one. Danjuro and my advisors are among the few others. You and I have spoken at length about some of those who serve me, men and women of exceptional talent who are without family or clan. This has made them useful to me in the past, although I have struggled not to use them as pawns, for that is the folly of my brother.

Gather my counselors, Rikako. You alone know who they all are, and you alone will they trust. Take this to Danjuro. Tell him that it is my wish for a proclamation to go out to the clans, and that any who support my protection of the Imperial City will receive, as my personal favor to them, the fealty of one of my advisors. These are men and woman of exceptional character and ability, like yourself, and I know that you will each serve my allies well. I need allies now more than ever, although I will beg no man for aid. Those clans that accept my offer, I will know are my allies.

Those that refuse, I will know stand against me.

I hope so long a time does not pass again before we speak.

Your friend from Shoan-sama’s temple

Danjuro handed the scroll to Heigai and looked at Rikako for several moments. “This thing he asks,” he said in a low voice, “are you prepared to do it?”

“Without hesitation,” she answered.

“You know, then, that should you be fostered to clan, your loyalty can never fully be to the Shogun again.” Danjuro frowned. “It is a great burden you accept.”

“It is mine to bear,” she said.

Danjuro nodded. “You have gathered these others he speaks of? Those like Kazumasa?”

“I have,” she answered. “They all stand ready to serve the Shogun, albeit not always for the most honorable of reasons.”

“Good,” grunted Higatsuku as he read the scroll. “They, at least, we can anticipate. Altruism is a bit more difficult.”

“I will prepare the proclamation,” Danjuro said. “Rikako, will you accompany me in court to announce it? There will be questions, and you will be better equipped to answer them than I.”

“Of course,” she answered. “I will be delighted to inform the court of this gift the shogun has offered.”

Danjuro smiled weakly. “Let us hope they are as eager to accept it as you are to offer it.”