The southern reaches of the Dragon Heart Plains were rocky and shallow-soiled, with areas of extremely treacherous footing and sparse water supplies. It was not as ill-omened as the northern reaches, where the ruins of the Chuda lay, but usually they were almost as deserted. Usually, but not now. The Dragon forces retreating from Kosaten Shiro had camped here, stopping to get the supplies they so desperately needed from Nanashi Mura before completing their march back to Shiro Mirumoto. The Crane forces pursuing them had camped some distance off, the first, swift-moving units waiting impatiently for the reinforcements needed to engage the Dragon. The generals of the two armies studied their maps and planned. Scouts ceaselessly patrolled the land between them and sometimes skirmished with each other. The remainder of the men just waited, preparing for the coming battle in whatever way seemed best to them. And so it was that Daidoji Yaichiro found himself with time to paint.

Not far from the Crane camp there was a low hillock, too short to make a good lookout point but with an attractive view nonetheless. Yaichiro knelt on its crest, facing north, the blank paper before him weighed down by small pebbles. Nearby were a few more paintings, also weighed down. Yaichiro ignored the wind that was trying to tease his long, white hair out of its tie and instead studied the land before him, absorbing every fold and rise that shaped its surface, every bush and rock that gave it texture. When he thought he could learn no more from looking at it he picked up his paint brush, swirled it against the prepared ink stone, and started to paint. He worked rapidly but without haste, and soon the land appeared on the paper before him. He was almost finished when a voice issued from the bushes behind him.

"Very pretty, little painter. But what would you do if I were to leap out of the bushes and attack you?"

Yaichiro paused for only a moment. "I'd stab you in the eye with my paintbrush," he said calmly. "And then curse at you for ruining my painting. Greetings to you, Gempachi."

Daidoji Gempachi laughed and walked out to stand at the crown of the hill, looking out. He was of average height but heavily muscled, and his hair was a short black stubble. "You were always the one with a fast answer."

"And a good thing, too. Imagine how much trouble we would have been in otherwise that night at the Cherry Blossom Festival."

"Not necessarily," Gempachi said. "The geisha at the Golden Pheasant might have put in a word for us. We certainly spent enough money on them."

"I don't think it's wise to rely on something like that. What if the other man spent more?"

"That night? I don't think that was possible." Gempachi spread his hands, dismissing the topic. "But I came here to thank you, not argue with you."

"Thank me?" Yaichiro said. He looked up at his friend with an expression of mild curiosity fixed on his face. "What would you need to thank me for?"

"Nicely done," Gempachi said. "One would never know from looking at you that when I arrived in camp this morning I was informed that I was being promoted to the rank of gunso and placed under the command of Chui Daidoji Yaichiro."

"Oh, that," Yaichiro said, smiling slightly. "I merely recommended a reliable man who has recently returned from training with the Crab for a post he was well-qualified to fill. One does not deserve thanks for doing one's duty."

Gempachi laughed. "Your duty seems to involve getting a long-sought promotion for an old friend."

"A coincidence, though a welcome one. But I spoke with Doji Masaru-sama himself, and he agreed fully with my recommendation."

There was a moment of silence. "Doji Masaru," Gempachi said, giving the first word a slight emphasis. "Has he ever been to Kosaten Shiro?"

Yaichiro paused in his painting, confused slightly by the question. "And who hasn't? Hadn't," he corrected himself. "Why do you ask?"

Gempachi sat down next to his friend and lowered his voice. "When I was coming back from the Crab lands, my path took me to the area of Kosaten Shiro. There I was contacted by a magistrate of our family who was investigating the matter of Doji Ran's seppuku. He had questions about the Shadowlands that he hoped I could answer."

"Ran was charged with dereliction of duty during the attack," Yaichiro objected, his voice equally quiet. He continued to paint. "What do the Shadowlands have to do with that?"

"The thing that calls itself Daigotsu Rekai was being held at Kosaten Shiro," Gempachi said, his voice a whisper. "Ran's true crime was allowing it to escape."

An ugly black streak painted itself across the paper as Yaichiro stared in shock at his friend. "That's not possible!"

"I didn't want to believe it either, but I knew this man was not only honorable but trustworthy. He had heard the story from one of Ran's soldiers, who had confided in him before the soldier's seppuku. And as a magistrate he wanted to know how our family's great shame came to be jailed in one of our castles, without Lord Kikaze's knowledge."

Yaichiro looked away, unable to keep his face under control. All the pain and grief he had felt at first hearing of Daidoji Rekai's fall came flooding back to him, overlaid by the greasy, bitter taste of betrayal. "The Doji did this," he said. "The Doji did this."

"A Doji did this--Doji Ran," Gempachi corrected. "But Ran was not highly placed enough to do this herself, and we don't know who was behind her. Whoever that is chose Kosaten Shiro--and the Doji don't lack for castles of their own."

"It was not a Daidoji," Yaichiro said.

Gempachi shrugged. "If it is, the Heavens have mercy on him. Kikaze will not."

Silence fell between the two men. Yaichiro looked at the ruin of his painting, put it to the side to dry and began to collect up his supplies.

"I don't know why you bother with that," Gempachi said, glad to start a new topic. “I know of no other Daidoji who indulges in such things. You should have been born a Kakita.”

"I like to paint, and these may be useful to the general," Yaichiro said. "And it helps me see clearly. There is no reason tactical maps cannot be pleasing to the eye as well."

"Still, your paintings will come to nothing when we lose our luggage train. You remember what happened at Momozono Mura, don't you?"

"They will come to nothing?" Yaichiro repeated. "We shall see when the battle comes. But would you say that to a cherry tree in bloom?"

Gempachi quirked an eyebrow and smiled.

"We sigh for cherry
blossoms but leave them alone
women are better, " he said.

Gempachi stood beside his friend, watching the battle with different eyes. There was nothing to fear here but steel wielded by men, and the Wall had shown him that this was nothing to fear at all. So far as the chaos allowed he followed the path of individual warriors, trying to glean insights on how a Mirumoto fought, and how best to kill one.

"The signal," Yaichiro said. He indicated a mounted officer flicking out orders to the units around him. "We move out now." He drew a deep breath. "Honor to our clan!" he shouted.

"Death to our enemies!" roared back Gempachi and the rest of his command.

The land was dotted with boulders large and small. Yaichiro sprawled among them, too exhausted to care about the steady rain falling. He had no idea of how long he had fought; the hours had flowed together in a medley of fear, mud and rage. His yari was gone, and he couldn't remember how he lost it. He hoped he had left it in a Mirumoto, and not lying on the ground somewhere. His water bottle was also gone, and his throat ached from dryness. He tilted back his head, opened his mouth and drank from the sky.

After a few minutes Yaichiro sat up slightly. The rain had done nothing more than wet his mouth, but that would have to do for now. About a quarter of his command was still with him, the rest were lost to death or chaos. The Dragon had finally succeeded in pushing back the Crane line, and in the resulting disorder he had lost his sense of where he was. As he studied his surroundings Yaichiro realized with surprise that this was the area he had painted while speaking to Gempachi. He smiled slightly to himself and was about to call out for his friend when a motion caught his eye. He froze and looked more carefully. On the far side of the field a group of Mirumoto samurai were cautiously making their way towards a ravine. Yaichiro traced the path of the ravine in his memory and realized that it would take the Mirumoto around the battle and back behind the Crane lines, near their command post. His mind grew cold at the thought and he knew what must be done.

"Gunso! Carefully!" he called quietly.

Gempachi crawled around a boulder and stopped an arm's length away. At some point he had lost his kabuto and taken a shallow wound to his head. It was bandaged and had stopped bleeding, but the pain was relentless. "Chui?" he said faintly.

"There is a group of Dragon samurai trying to attack our command post."

"So? What are we going to do about it?"

Yaichiro's mind was perfectly clear and calm. "We are going to die."

"Oh," Gempachi said. "Well, if that's all....I'll gather up the men." He crawled off.

Yaichiro turned his attention back to the land, and by the time the remains of his unit had assembled he had picked out the point he wanted to engage the Mirumoto at. As the last Dragon samurai disappeared into the ravine the Cranes stood up and set off at a run.

The hillock had been cleared of bodies, and the rains had washed away the blood. Yaichiro was again sitting on its crest, looking north. The warmth of the sun eased the pain of the sword-wound on his left arm, but did nothing for the pain in his heart.

"Are you ever going to stop frowning?" Gempachi asked. He was half-lying against a nearby boulder, eyes slitted against the sunshine. The gash on his head was neatly sewn up and was healing into a prominent scar.

"Are you ever going to stop grinning like an idiot?" Yaichiro said.

Gempachi sat up, attention caught by the bitterness in his friend's voice. "Why shouldn't I smile? I am alive. My best friend is alive. My commanding officer has been recognized for his heroism in battle, and some of that glory has settled on me. What is the problem?"

"We lost the battle," Yaichiro said. "The Dragon are retreating, not from us, but from them." He jerked his head towards the encampment to the west, where banners with the mons of the Lion clan flew. "We should have died in that ravine--had they sent down a second wave of men they could have cleared us out and gone on to the command post. But they had seen the first of the Lion units coming, and withdrew instead."

"So?" Gempachi said, shrugging. "When a farmer is bothered by mice, he gets a cat and forgets about it."

"And that's it? That the Mirumoto fear the Lion's strength and not ours doesn’t bother you?"

"They say that Mirumoto samurai spend part of each day meditating. This winter when the children of the Lion are eating Crane rice and the children of the Dragon are eating rocks they can meditate on strength."

Yaichiro blinked a little, his frown turning thoughtful. "I've never thought of rice as strength. It seems...improper, somehow."

"Go live on the Wall for awhile," Gempachi said. "Crab commanders don’t lie awake at nights worrying about the strength of their samurai, they worry about the strength of their supply chain. The Dragon should have given more thought to theirs before starting a war with us."

"You've changed," Yaichiro said. He was smiling now. "You've come back from the Crab enlightened."

"Enlightened," Gempachi said with a laugh. "That's my purse after a night in the willow world."

"Now that the Dragon have gone, Nanashi Mura is open to us," Yaichiro said thoughtfully. "I've heard that there is a geisha house there that the Shogun himself used to visit."

"Really?"

Yaichiro nodded and stood up. "And if it was good enough for him, it's probably good enough for us. "Let's go see if our new glory will get us travel papers for the village."