By Shawn Carman
Edited by Fred Wan
Kyuden Otomo, three months ago
Shiba Danjuro frowned and leaned closer, studying the board before him with the precision of an artisan at work. He scrutinized every possible angle, taking in every possibility. After several minutes, he grimaced and sat back, rubbing his chin. “I think I may have made a mistake a short while ago,” he finally said.
Across the go board, Shiba Naoya chuckled. “That is what I enjoy most about playing you, Danjuro-san,” he said. “You are so eager to criticize yourself. It eliminates the need for me to try and twist your mind with word games while we play. Much more relaxing for me, really.”
Danjuro frowned, then grinned. “Well, it does give me something to do. And besides, my mistakes are the only thing that allows you to win a game now and again.”
“Oh ho!” Naoya laughed. “Bold words from a man who loses to ‘the Sparrow’s Gambit’ strategy every time!”
Danjuro raised an eyebrow. “Oh, is that what you’ve been using? Thank you so much for the name.”
Naoya chuckled again, then shifted to a more comfortable position at the low table. “Have you noticed the Dragon that stares at Ochiai-sama during the court sessions?”
Danjuro glanced at Naoya cautiously, not certain if it was another baiting or some sort of joke. When he decided it was not, he shrugged. “I have not. Who is it?”
“I do not know his name,” Naoya said. “A large man, though not as ridiculous as that tattooed monk with their delegation. He wears his hair long, and his wakizashi is worn in a duelist’s fashion.”
“Ah,” Danjuro said. “Mirumoto Tsuge is his name. He represents the lady of the Tamori.” He paused for a moment. “It is said he has a great hatred for the Phoenix. Something about the death of his family, I have never fully understood how they died.” Leaning in closer, he added, “Do you think Lady Ochiai is in danger?”
“Not particularly,” Naoya said. “I only mentioned it because I have made it a point to look out for her, particularly during this first tumultuous month. She left her yojimbo back in the Isawa provinces, thankfully. He is somewhat… disruptive.”
“I know Masakazu well,” Danjuro said. “Ochiai-sama is obviously wise. However, if you think she may be in danger from a zealot of some sort, then it will fall to us to ensure she is protected.”
“I would not say she is in danger,” Naoya said with a smirk. “It is not violence I see in Tsuge’s eyes.”
“Eh?” Danjuro said. “Oh.” He drew back a bit in surprise. “Well, I suppose stranger things have happened.”
Naoya appeared as though he might have a comment to that effect, but he grew silent as their table was approached by another. A man clad in crimson and black, bearing a new chrysanthemum mon on his shoulder, stopped at the table and bowed sharply. “Good morning to you, honorable Phoenix.”
“Good morning, Norachai-sama,” Naoya said, bowing without rising. “How fares the Protector of the Imperial City today?”
“I am well, thank you,” Norachai said. “I had hoped we might continue our previous discussions, if this is not an inappropriate time.”
“Not at all,” Naoya said with a wan smile. “I regret that I cannot give you any further information than I already have, however. Unless and until I hear from Mirabu-sama, I cannot sanction the loss of two thousand men, even for so noble a purpose as defending the Imperial City. We are simply spread too far after the war and our… internal issues.”
Danjuro studied Naoya carefully. This was not the first time his friend had alluded to some sort of difficulty within the Phoenix provinces, but he would not discuss the matter any further no matter how Danjuro pressed. It been over a year since Danjuro had returned to his homeland, and he wondered what could have happened there. “I cannot offer you anything more satisfying, I am afraid,” he added to the conversation. “At your request I have sent word to Kaneka-sama, but I cannot imagine the Shogun ceding control of the city’s defenses to you in so short a period of time.”
“I respect the Shogun’s defense of the city,” Norachai said. “I would not have asked, but it is the Empress’ will, and I have no choice but to enact it. Please inform your lord that I must insist.”
“Insist as you like,” Danjuro said. “You know as well as I do that it will change very little.”
Norachai might have frowned, but it was difficult to tell behind his mask. He would doubtless have continued the discussion save that there was a sudden commotion from the entrance to the marvelous indoor garden. There was someone talking loudly near the entrance, and what sounded like gasps. Danjuro stole a glance at Naoya, who nodded and rose. The two men moved toward the entrance, and Danjuro was keenly aware that they did not have their katana with them.
A massive man stooped slightly from age rounded a corner in the pathway as they approached. His hair was a swirl of black, grey and white, and appeared as though he might have come directly from the dojo. The swelling and fresh bruise on his eye said much the same. “We’ve heard word from the capital,” Toritaka Tatsune growled. “The Khan has invaded the Lion lands.”
Danjuro stood dumbfounded. “What?” Something must be wrong. “In the middle of winter? Your joke is in poor taste, sensei.”
“A Crab never jokes about war,” Tatsune sneered. “The Khan has led a massive attack into the Lion lands. They say he wants to reach the capital.”
Norachai turned and left at once. Danjuro stood only a moment longer, feeling a sudden cold sensation in his stomach. “I must go,” he said quietly to Naoya.
Naoya nodded. “Go. I will see to things here.”
The Lion provinces, the present
The Village of the Pious Monk was quiet and relatively remote, removed as it was from all major roads by at least a day’s ride. It had little in the way of military value, but was a productive farming village and was blessed by the Brotherhood of Shinsei with a large temple that housed generous and hard-working monks. It was as serene a location as could be found in the Lion provinces.
It never stood a chance.
The first indication of the Khan’s arrival was a worsening of the winter weather, which had begun to grow milder as the winter season grew short. The sudden freezing winds and driving snow drove everyone into their homes, meaning that there was no one on the streets when the winds suddenly died, and the Khan’s forces arrived.
Moto Chagatai leapt down from his horse easily, his eyes scanning the horizon tirelessly. After nearly ten minutes, he at last seemed satisfied that the Lion army would not materialize from the wilderness and attack. “Report,” he commanded.
A young Shinjo scout bowed sharply from the waist. “Hai, my Khan,” he replied. “This village is called…”
“I do not care what it is called,” the Khan said sharply.
“Of course,” the scout continued. “The population is roughly one thousand. The stores they had set aside for the remainder of the winter should serve the army for a few days, a week at the most if we are frugal.”
“Where are the Lion?”
“Scouting reports indicate they are still converging on our previous location, a day and half to the south,” Saihan answered. “Once they reach it, it will take them several days to determine our current location, given that the weather obscures our trail.”
The Khan nodded. “With our current supplies and anticipated Lion maneuvers, how many more targets must we strike before the final phase of our campaign begins?”
Saihan consulted a scroll briefly. “Seven more targets should be adequate, my Khan. That will provide sufficient supplies for the Khol to…”
“Stop,” Chagatai hissed. “Do not speak of it. I will not be undone by the loose lips of a scout and the keen ears of a loyal farmer.”
“Yes,” Saihan said, bowing low. “Forgive me, my Khan.”
“How many were killed taking the village?”
“We lost no one,” the scout replied at once. “There was a lone magistrate in the village. He would not surrender, of course, and so he was killed. He injured one of the White Guard, but the Baraunghar are treating him. He remains fit for duty.”
“There,” Chagatai pointed. “That house. Clear everything out and set up a table. Have the scout commander bring my maps. We will remain here until morning. I want everything of value taken by then.”
“The villagers?” Saihan asked.
Chagatai thought for a moment. “Leave them one day’s rations. Enough so that they can reach the Lion encampment if they are frugal. And fleet of foot.”
“As you command, Chagatai-sama.”
The Imperial City of Toshi Ranbo, two months ago
Danjuro leapt down from his horse almost before the beast had stopped moving. Its breath came in ragged gasps, and the hot air coming from its sweaty flanks was visible in the frigid winter weather. Danjuro hoped that he had not injured the beast in his desperate ride from Kyuden Otomo, but he had little time to be concerned about such things. He handed the reins over to one of the stable attendants absently and stalked toward the palace, walking so quickly that it was almost a run.
The Phoenix commander stormed through the corridors with clear purpose, nodding to those that bowed before him without truly thinking about it. In a matter of moments, he arrived at the suite of chambers that the Shogun had claimed for himself. They were quite modest, all things considered, little more than servants’ quarters to be honest, but the Shogun had always insisted that they were more than adequate for his needs. Danjuro rapped sharply on the wooden frame of the screen. There was a brief pause, and then someone within simply said “Enter.”
Danjuro slid the screen back and stepped in. “Forgive my intrusion, lord Kaneka, but word has just reached the Imperial Court that…” his voice trailed off as he looked around the chambers and realized what he was witnessing.
Kaneka, Shogun of Rokugan, was in the process of placing several items of heavy clothing in a large sack that sat atop his small writing desk. As Danjuro watched, the great warrior regarded a dagger and a furred hat carefully, then put the hat aside and placed the dagger within the bag. “Danjuro,” he said unceremoniously. “I expected you to be at court all week.”
“I am,” the Phoenix answered. “I was.” He frowned, trying to determine what it was he was seeing. “I only rode here because news had reached us of…”
“Of Moto Chagatai’s assault on the Lion lands, yes,” Kaneka said. “I have heard the same reports, and most likely more than that as well.” He regarded Danjuro curiously for a moment. “I am somewhat surprised it reached Kyuden Otomo so quickly, however.”
“There are many important people in attendance, people who like to know what is happening in the Empire,” Danjuro answered. “My lord, what are you doing?”
“Packing my travel bag,” he answered flatly. “Why do you ask?”
Realization dawned over Danjuro. His features were pale as he stood, unmoving. He said nothing for a long time, only watching. Finally, as if he could bear it no longer, he asked a single question. “Have I ever asked you for anything, in all the years that I have served you?”
Kaneka looked up from where he was inspecting a thick traveling cloak. He regarded his rikugunshokan briefly, then resumed his inspection. “I do not believe so,” he finally said. “You are too loyal a vassal, too honorable a man, and too good a friend to ask anything for yourself.”
“Then understand the importance of what I must ask you now,” Danjuro said. “Do not do this. Will you not send me in your place?”
“No,” Kaneka said at once. “That would never work. You know that. He would kill you.”
“He will kill you,” Danjuro said.
“He will doubtless try,” Kaneka said. “In doing so, he will give me all the leave I need to end his nightmarish campaign once and for all.”
Danjuro was quiet for another short while. “Why?” he finally asked.
Kaneka regarded the younger man curiously again. “Are you asking your lord to justify his actions?” he asked quietly.
“I am asking you why you are risking everything you have built,” Danjuro said. “All the good you have accomplished, everything that you have managed to build… this could destroy it all. For what purpose? Why must you do this?”
“I nust,” Kaneka answered. “Years ago, before my brother took the throne, I had my first Shogunate. It was a different time, and I was a different man. Weaker, in many ways, stronger in a few.” He looked at Danjuro carefully. “In those days, Moto Chagatai stood where you stand now. He was my general, the man I trusted to lead my troops into battle when I could not. That I once chose him when now I have chosen you should attest to the state of my character in that time.”
“You could not have known the depth of his ambition,” Danjuro protested.
Kaneka shook his head. “He was ambitious, make no mistake, but he was not the sort of man to launch this manner of insane quest for power. Even then I would not have readily allied with such a man.”
Danjuro frowned. “What could have changed him, then?”
“Me,” Kaneka answered. “My ambition was without bound in those days. I was a foolish, impetuous conqueror, little more than the barbarian many accuse Chagatai of being now.” He drew a heavy breath. “Now I must wonder, is it my influence that transformed the man I once called friend into such a dangerous madman?”
“You accept too great a burden,” Danjuro insisted.
“Perhaps,” Kaneka admitted. “But how can I know for certain? I cannot, and so I must confront him. I must attempt to deal with this insanity, whether as my duty as Shogun, or as the man ultimately responsible for it.”
The Phoenix officer shook his head slowly. “You are a selfish fool.”
Kaneka stopped instantly, freezing in his tracks. He turned his head slowly so that he was staring directly at Danjuro. “What did you say?” he asked in a low, quiet voice.
“You heard what I said,” Danjuro answered. “It pained me greatly to say it. To show such disrespect to you… I lament that more than that my words will end my life. But it makes them no less true, and I cannot depend upon anyone save myself to speak them to you.”
“How dare you?” Kaneka demanded. “How dare you speak to me so?”
“You are the greatest man I have ever known,” Danjuro said. “I would follow you into the next world without hesitation, if need be. I know the truth, the truth that so many cannot accept: you are the strength of the Empire, more so than any other living soul. And yet you are about to throw it all away. For nothing.”
“Nothing?” Kaneka shouted. “If I can stop Chagatai, if I can convince him of his folly or if need be, kill him, how many lives will I have saved? How much good can be accomplished?”
“You will die if you go to that camp,” Danjuro said. “If the Khan does not kill you, his wrathful subjects will. There is no outcome that does not end in your death, and then all that you have built will be destroyed. All of the good you have accomplished will be undone. And why? Because of your guilt. Because of your regret.”
“Regret,” Kaneka said with a bitter laugh. “One of the three great sins! Are you going to tell me that you have no regrets, Danjuro?”
“I regret much,” Danjuro said. “I regret that I could not save Katsuhiro. I regret that I never had the chance to feel the silken softness of Maru’s hair. But I have never allowed my regrets to affect my duty. If I had done so, I would have been unworthy of the trust you have shown me. And if you do this, you will prove that I and all those like me have been mistaken to place our faith in you.”
Kaneka said nothing for a moment. “This is unlike you, Danjuro. I have never heard you speak so.”
“I have never had reason to,” Danjuro said. “If you wish to go, I will protest no further. I will gladly perform the three cuts to atone for my dishonorable outburst, but I could never have faced my ancestors without speaking those words.”
The Shogun paused for a moment. “That…” he cleared his throat. “That will not be necessary. When do you return to the court?”
“As soon as possible. Within two hours if I am to keep the sunlight.”
Kaneka nodded. “Prepare a complete listing of all units and their training at the city’s defense points,” he commanded. “I will need to review them.”
Danjuro nodded. “I will order the documents drawn up at once, but it will take some time for them to be completed in detail. Two days, perhaps.”
“Very well,” Kaneka said, setting his bag aside. “I will be here when they are ready.”
The Shogun’s camp near the Yasuki Provinces, 11 years ago
The setting sun promised some relief from the humid, dust-clogged air. Kaneka waved his hand absently to clear some of the dust and insects from his view. The cavalry training grounds, such as they were, tended to attract a great deal of insects, and the constant movement of so many horses had long ago crushed any vegetation to powder, and stirred up every stray piece of dust and dirt into the hot summer air. He glanced to his right, at the man who sat atop his horse surveying the grounds with him. “Are your men ready?” he asked.
“They are,” Chagatai answered. “We will leave at first light for Ryoko Owari.”
“My brother chose poorly when he selected that cesspool for his stronghold,” Kaneka said with a smirk. “It has a history of being invaded. It is never held for long, but then we do not need to hold it.”
“No,” Chagatai answered with a grin. “No, we do not.”
“This will be the first battle of many,” Kaneka said after a moment’s consideration. “The first in our great campaign.”
“It begins today, but it will end with you upon the throne,” Chagatai said. “My forces are yours until that day. I will ride at your right hand until you are Emperor.”
“Fate granted me two brothers I never knew,” Kaneka said. “One is a fool, and the other a madman. I have always forged my own fate, and shall continue to do so.” He looked at Chagatai carefully. “We were brothers in another life. We shall be brothers in this one.”
“Brothers until death,” Chagatai said, holding out his hand in the traditional Moto manner.
“Yes,” Kaneka agreed, grasping the other warrior’s forearm.
“Brothers,” Kaneka said, standing alone on the balcony that overlooked the city.
Chagatai stabbed a dagger into the mark on the map that indicated Toshi Ranbo. “Until death.”