Shiro Kento during the month of Horse, Agasha provinces, 1159...
The candles and lanterns of Shiro Kento were winking out one by one. Once vassals of the Shiba, it had simply been easier to transfer the allegiance of the tiny Kento family with their equally tiny holdings of mountainous terrain when the Agasha sought refuge among the Phoenix. Their purpose was to protect those secrets the Shiba should not remember the Isawa ever told them. To protect a clan from itself was a monumental task for a tiny family, one unlikely to be suspected. The Shiba had forgotten. It was unlikely the Agasha knew. Shiro Kento was for the most part forgotten. For Agasha no Kento Kaseiko it was sanctuary.
It was still an institution of discipline and study, even if its curriculum had gone through some evolution under its new masters. The Agasha added new studies to supplement the rigorous mental exercises of the Shiba before them, but the arcane studies of the Agasha were not among them. A strong tradition of mysticism surrounded this place. It was a peaceful place, but it wasn’t really home.
Home no longer existed.
Kaseiko shivered, despite the warmth of the night. Her shoulders were bare. Her kimono was more suited to the style of the Dragon, though they blazed with the colors of the Phoenix in the light of Lady Moon. She wasn’t cold. She was never cold. She burned from within.
For three hundred years the Isawa remembered. The first Kento had been Ishiken, and he passed his power to his sons. Eventually the power separated itself from the lords of the castle. It lived in the land instead. Rare void kami, while not common, were less difficult to commune with here. The Isawa had ensured they would not recover their secrets, the spirit of the family made manifest as one of them. A greater void kami, or perhaps a lesser fortune, the spirit of the Kento family could act of its own accord within the boundaries of Kento lands. She knew because she’d seen him; a boy child in ancient styled kimono of mild orange hues. The spirit had an aura of boundless serenity and curious black eyes.
That’s why they had sent her here. The elements themselves would stop her if she lost control again.
Not that they would tell her so. Kaseiko’s long fingernails traced the intricate latticework of vines that move their way around her right arm. The tattooing had been important to her. It was a focus. The vines represented the energy of the earth. The pattern was complex, interlocking and provided depth by the artist. It had taken a month to complete it. Growth, vitality and patience made manifest. It helped her remember. Someday she’d learn to give them life.
A gust of wind brought the sent of night blossoms and the sound of distant laughter. She slowly rose from a kneeling position. She’d been sitting there since before the sunset. It was her custom to abandon human contact. It was safer for her to be alone, sitting on the broken stone overlooking the castle.
Her right arm was twined with airy clouds; they caught her eye as she rose. The moonlight made them gleam silver, though Lord Sun would have them grey. It had not been a property of the ink her uncle had used to craft them. It was something within her, he had said, that made it change. A humorless smile touched the young women’s lips.
The path back to the castle was lit by the light of the moon. She knew it well enough that there should be no need to reach to the fire kami. She felt a twinge of unhappiness. She was only truly happy when she released her fire. When she had first come here there had been a lot of research. They called her affliction an imbalance of fire. It was a blessing, but it was a curse. Her mastery for her age and lack of training was truly unparalleled. Her rage could sear any obstacle from her path. It wasn’t a matter of discipline. It wasn’t a matter of control. She would give the flames life and…and that was the path of madness. And that is why she was here, because that is precisely what happened.
Pressure and searing pain was her warning. She had to stop. She bowed her head and her eyes closed, soundless mantra forming on her lips. Her back was bare and by the grace of the needle an image of a Phoenix in flight graced that flawless canvas. The flames that had begun to lick the edges of that image would look like nothing more then a lamp light from Shiro Kento. At least they had not truly manifested this time…they stayed just below her bare skin.
She ran a trembling hand through her unbound hair, sending ebony waves spilling over the dimming image. Kaseiko cast a guilty glance toward the castle as she tried to will the lingering heat away. It would always be a battle, one she didn’t think that she could truly win. In the end, there would be only ashes.
The slender young shugenja slowly picked her way down the mountain path toward the castle with only the light of Lady Moon to show her the way.
Twin points of glowing amber peered down the mountain in the direction the Phoenix women had gone. A predator’s smile split the man’s face, dispelling his unearthly and delicate facade. His words were a silken whisper, as soft as watered silk. “Kaseiko, my goddess of fire…”
A sweep of his hand replaced the mask as unnatural agility carried him up steep cliff face. In seconds he was simply gone.
Shiro Kento Agasha provinces, dying hours of New Years Day 1160...
It was raining.
Water was leaking through the tiles of the roof. It was a slow leak, despite the hard rain. It had taken the better part of three hours to fill the bowl placed below it on the floor.
Kaseiko was laying flat on her back, her blankets cast aside despite the still chill air. They were soaked, but not from the leak in the roof. Winter was always reluctant to release its grasp of the land here. The room was chill, but she was flushed from fever. Her ebon hair was matted and it stuck to her sweat-slicked skin.
She couldn’t really remember what she’d been dreaming. Panic still lingered in her chest, making her breathing tumultuous. Her muscles trembled involuntarily, as though she had struggled through some feat of physical exertion.
The young women struggled to keep her eyes opened. She had not attempted to dispel the shadows in the room, she didn’t dare, but it didn’t matter. The danger wasn’t in her room. The shadows in her mind were the source of her present state. When her eyes closed, she could see his silhouette in her minds eye; his amber eyes and white teeth.
She sat up suddenly, grabbed the bowl of collected rainwater and splashed some on her face. This was stupid and she didn’t have time for it. She had to teach classes in the morning. Only children were frightened by nightmares. There were no monsters here; there were just too many guardians.
The shugenja called out an uncomplicated prayer to the kami and steam roiled from her pile of blankets as pulled them up over her body and lay back down. For a long time, she lay with her eyes stubbornly closed, blocking the unease from her mind. She forced herself to study the lingering dream, trying to unlock its meaning.
Her uncle had told her to take heed of dreams. They were powerful things. Spirits spoke through dreams. Sometimes they told you the future. This thing was dangerous, but it did nothing. Perhaps this dream was just another metaphor for herself. There was no one else who could harm her here. She’d had them in the past before…bad times.
Eventually exhaustion claimed her.
He was smiling again, she could see his teeth. They were too sharp. Even the hungry pinpoints that were his amber eyes were smiling.
Panic evaporated in a surge of fury. Nothing would hunt her, she would not allow it. She reached for the kami, but they were already waiting for her command to sear the world. Even dreaming, their eagerness gave her pause. Something was wrong.
His smile grew wider. His fingers curled once, and then again.
This wasn’t an attack. It was an invitation.
According to the gossip of the house servants, a messanger from the house of the Shosuro had arrived in the morning bearing a letter for the lord of the Kento. The letter declared Shosuro Kanmaru’s intent to obtain Kaseiko as his wife. The letter claimed he had seen her in a dream, and that he would not be denied her. As proof of his claim and his sincerity he had sent two gifts.
The first had been a scroll, but none seemed to know what it contained. There had been a great deal of activity in the suite of sensei, but not even rumors leaked from that sanctuary. Whatever it had been, it opened the door. A reply had been sent before the sun set the day the messenger had arrived.
The second was a mask, a feathered mask, dyed carefully to resemble the classical interpretation of the feathers of a Phoenix. The edges of the feathers had been tinged black. Thin gold wire created the framework of the delicate mask. It was visible around the eyes.
It had been brought to her when she woke at dusk. She’d missed the entire event. Classes had been cancelled due to the arrival of a new guest during a time when the guests of winter should just be departing. Her personal servants, accustomed to her periods of illness, had looked in upon her several times during the day, and each time they had opted not to disturb her.
The old women who normally dressed Kaseiko and tended to her needs had compressed the events of the day into an excited barrage of communication when her mistress awoke. Kaseiko quietly commented on the leaking roof, completely derailing the excited old servant before leaving her room.
She bathed. She dressed. She went to the kitchen and ate rice.
She ignored the gazes of her kinsman. She ignored their questions. She didn't have any answers they would want to hear.
When she returned to her room her sleeping silks were changed, her futon was dry and new juban had been left for her to sleep in. There was no trace, but she was certain the roof had been adjusted.
The mask was still there where her servants had left it. The craftsmanship was exquisite. It begged to be touched and admired.
She ignored it.
A group of samurai had wintered at Shiro Kento; pilgrims that had intended to leave for the Shrine of the Kirin in the spring. A Dragon, a Crane, a Phoenix and a Crab comprised their group. She supposed they were her friends; they had accepted her completely and never asked any difficult questions. In the very least, they were men of honor.
When they had asked her to come with them she had declined. Things had changed.
The eastern sky was still pale pink when she requested and was granted leave by her sensei and lord. She had no explanation for her request, but it wasn't the first time she'd requested leave without explanation. It was one of the advantages of being unwell.
Her sensei studied her carefully, but he said nothing, advising the lord of the Kento to grant her leave. This was, after all, a stressful time.
She followed the road north on a borrowed horse. They would have almost two days of travel ahead of her, but they were on foot. If she was swift, she might catch up with them before sunset.
She kicked the horse into a gallop.
Shiro Kento, Agasha provinces, 1160...
The shugenja had spent only two weeks with the samurai pilgrims before returning to her sanctuary, but she did learn something she felt was extremely important. Bushi get up far, far too early in the morning.
The Kakita was the embodiment of patience and propriety. He wasn't as pretty as she'd envisioned the Crane as a whole, but his honor was unquestioned and his grace unparallel by anything she'd seen to date. He had rebuffed her advances politely enough. Though he was distant and passionless, he seemed to have the final say in things. Most often his cousin, an Agasha Shugenja with possibly the largest straw hat she’d ever seen, seemed to speak his will. The dynamic between them was unusually close, something that the resident Hida never failed to crack jokes about. Never within earshot of course.
The Hida had made Kaseiko uncomfortable. He was large and uncouth, but these things were to be expected from the Crab. This Crab, though, was a coward. He sulked when he was insulted. He resented the Crane's command, even when they were simply suggestion. He would insult the others, but only out of their earshot. He looked at her with scarcely concealed covetous. She had never been overly modest, it simply wasn't part of her nature, but she found herself to be extremely self conscious when she was briefly left alone in his presence. She carefully avoided being alone with him from that point forward.
The last of them, the Mirumoto swordsman, was a truly care-free man. He laughed and made jokes, ignoring the impotent rage of the Hida and the indignity of the crane. He often quoted the Tao, and offered simple wisdom, and then broke into complex poetic metaphor about nothing of import. He was even trying to teach the Crab the art of Iai, much to the Crane’s amusement. As interesting as he was, he couldn't hold a serious, coherent conversation to save his life. He was quite possibly the most infuriating man Kaseiko had ever met.
The camaraderie and conflict among them provided her the perfect environment to study her thoughts and reactions. She spent a lot of time discussing the workings of the kami with Agasha Sanzo, the Kakita’s cousin. He seemed fairly interested in her, for her knowledge more so then her womanly attributes. It was very refreshing. They discussed the nature of dreams and prophecy. She managed to convince herself her dreams were just slightly prophetic but twisted like so many of her other gifts.
She parted from the pilgrims after a few days spent at the Shrine of the Kirin. She was determined not to ruin an opportunity to strengthen her lord’s house. There were no coincidences, but it wouldn’t be the first time she’d over reacted to something her mind had created. She’d never even met this man, but if he claimed he had seen her in a vision it validated his presence in her dreams. She was twisting them; it was the only proper explanation.
It was a proper explanation but it didn’t stop the nightmares.
She resumed her duties without fanfare, teaching children the basics of calligraphy. She spent a great quantity of time meditating in solitude. Over the spring and early summer months she received correspondences from Agasha Sanzo, telling her tales of his misfortunes. He claimed that someday he would be made the Fortune of Misfortune. The thought of it made her smile; he really had no idea.
The idea of being someone’s wife was slowly growing more acceptable. Kaseiko was not a materialistic woman, but her suitor was obviously a man of great wealth. Fine silken kimonos in the exotic style she favored, sandals that not only matched but were so finely made a Doji woman might feel a twinge of jealousy, and butterfly hairpins of gold and amber all arrived over the course of several months. She received these gifts even after the lord of the Kento had given her suitor leave to pursue the matter in higher courts. She accepted them and wore them, but she still couldn’t bring herself to touch the mask.
Many commented, both in and out of ear shot, that Kaseiko seemed like a completely different person. Rarely was she seen without a smile adding curve to her crimson lips. Few could argue that the ebon flames dyed upon the kimono that her unseen suitor had sent her did not match her personality. Enigmatic and exotic; many in the court had tried to woo Kaseiko and much heartbroken poetry was written in lamentation of her inevitable loss to the Scorpion clan. Agasha no Kento Kaseiko blossomed that summer.
She remembered very little of it.
She often settled to rest on one place, and came back to awareness in a completely different location, with no idea what she was doing or why she was there. She often found herself dressed differently. Sometimes minutes vanished, sometimes hours. People spoke gleefully of events she had participated in, but could not recall.
She had displayed excellent defensive skill with a naginata during a friendly competition in the late spring, and was later commended by more then one of the house guards. She had no skill with a naginata.
Early one summer evening she moved her lord’s court with a complex haiku. She could not write poetry, she'd never learned more then the basic rules.
Her sensei commended her for her progress; certainly he had thought she would never gain any measure of mastery over water. Her shock at this compliment was fortunate, if it had not been so thorough this new manifestation of her illness would have been forced into public view.
No matter how hard she tried, Kaseiko could not speak with the water kami.
‘step aside, we could be happy’
Ashes fell like snow in the room as Kaseiko closed the screen behind her, lightly dusting the table that had, for many months, borne a feathered mask.
Shiro Kento, Agasha provinces, late month of the Goat 1160...
When the pilgrims returned to Shiro Kento and asked to see Agasha no Kento Kaseiko, she was both surprised and pleased. Of course, Agasha Sanzo had sent letters. When she heard they’d returned she thought perhaps he wanted to show her his brand new magistrate badge in person. He had made what she could only assume was his best effort to woo her, despite her betrothal. A magistrate badge would certainly have upped his odds with her daimyo. At least it would have under normal circumstances. She dismissed her classes early and hurried to where they were waiting in the gardens.
Her happiness didn’t last long. There was an odd tension among them, and was it quickly made clear that Sanzo wished to discuss something serious. He had taken off his ridiculous hat.
Apparently he believed Kaseiko had summoned them; that she had reached through Yume-do to seek their aid. He said what they experienced wasn’t natural. The hallways they’d traversed were twisted parodies of life at Shiro Kento and at the heart of the warped and broken castle she had been chained and held captive by a laughing shadow. When the Kakita had made to cut the chains the dream had released them. They had traveled back as quickly as they were able.
Agasha Sanzo produced a small, jade talisman and held it out toward her. The others watched her carefully. This was obviously not a gift.
Kaseiko tapped her folded fan on her outer thigh and studied the other Agasha. He blushed and glanced down at the intensity of her gaze, but he didn’t withdraw his hand. There was obviously more to the story.
She glanced toward the Crab. He was openly grinning the grin of an over acted Scorpion villain who has just discovered the filthy secret of an otherwise pristine character. She spread her fan, waving the sudden heat from her face. She felt dirty. Some questions were better left unasked.
She took the jade.
She wore the jade talisman, if only to keep them at ease. Jade is said to work wonders against the powers of Jigoku. It did nothing to ease her nightmares.
Eventually she told the Agasha and the Kakita about her dreams. She must have because they wanted to discuss them further. They spent a lot of time looking uncomfortable. It must have been an interesting discussion. She wished she would have been there for it.
The Lion would throw her out of their courts, though certainly the Crane Diplomats would invite her in for tea to discuss the matter. Her style of dress bordered on scandalous. She would, occasionally, stray quite far into other people’s personal space. People very infrequently objected.
The blood of Shiba lived in the veins of the people of Shiro Kento and the Shiba are fundamentally plain people. She was an exotic and wild rose in a field of common and proper daisies. It was something she had always exulted in; being lovely but untouchable. She was accustomed to the admiration of men and the jealousy of women. It amused her because she was distant and uninterested in such things and it benefited her because it often opened doorways. Kaseiko was accustomed to having her way.
She slipped away from her friends a few days after they’d returned. She’d been able to gather they had another Crane with them, but they seemed reluctant to introduce her. Most likely, she had mused darkly, because they thought she was going to turn into a monstrous oni at any moment.
She’d figured out quickly that this other Crane wasn’t in the castle. Shiro Kento was small and gossip prone. If there were two dashing Crane duelists in the castle, someone certainly would have noticed. The other Crane had to be staying in the village, and that’s precisely where she went.
It was getting dark by the time she arrived in the village, it was an hour’s ride, but there weren’t very many places to look for a Crane bushi in such an unsophisticated place. After eliminating the small dojo that served the equally small barracks and the shrine to seven fortunes Kaseiko made her way toward the surprisingly large teahouse.
Shiro Kento itself had no teahouse. If a samurai wish to relax and be entertained he would seek out this place. Kaseiko had been here a few times, but such pursuits held very little interest for the afflicted shugenja. When one has difficulty controlling one’s passions while sober, it’s fairly obvious one shouldn’t drink. This is especially so when your passion happens to be the element of fire.
She stepped inside the teahouse fully expecting to be graced with a dozen admiring gazes, but was given only a few courtesy glances. The patrons were far too quiet. Someone unseen plucked the strings of a samisen. She looked over the room in confusion, seeking the source of the tension in the air.
Kaseiko didn’t quite follow what happened next. There was a flourish of motion from a duelist dressed in an icy blue. A Kento guardsman crashed through a table, a long purple welt already growing on the side of his face. The table’s patrons scattered with cries of dismay. Sake bottles, most of them empty, scattered everywhere.
The room seemed to explode. Some laughed at the misfortune of the fallen man. Others moved so they could better study the duelist in blue while advising their more drunken companions against avenging their fallen comrade. Still others called to servers for drinks and food. In the midst of the chaos stood a Kakita women; a pocket of serenity.
Kaseiko’s breath caught in her throat. She had been wrong. She was a daisy. This Crane was a rose. She felt an unfamiliar wash of warmth, not unlike the force of flames. She was walking toward the Crane before she actually made the decision to do so.
The Crane’s movements were measured and perfect. Her hair was dyed white and left to fall freely. Her hands where slender and hard but un-calloused. Her skin was flawless. Her wide, deep eyes were a beguiling shade of blue; just the color of the summer’s evening sky. She was, without a doubt, the loveliest thing Kaseiko had ever seen.
The Kakita set her broken fan down beside her empty tea cup with a mild pained look. In that moment, Kaseiko would have given anything to alleviate the Kakita’s pained expression. Kaseiko’s shadow fell over the Kakita women. The Crane women looked up in annoyance.
Kaseiko thought her heart would break. She had to say something.
“Why did you strike that man?” There, that wasn’t so bad.
“I told him if he touched me, I would kill him.” The Crane’s voice was like music, soft and melodic yet it carried an edge of command. This was not a samurai-ko accustomed to being defied.
Kaseiko felt the surge of warmth turn into a proper blush, but she was already here, and there was no polite means of escape. At least not yet. She looked toward the fallen soldier just to look away from the Crane women. “But this man is not dead.”
The Crane made a sound in her throat, short and contemptuous. “He didn’t touch me.”
Kaseiko blinked in confusion.
The Crane straitened, her haori making her shoulders look broader then they truly were. Pride was evident in her quiet tone. “I am Kakita Tsuko, daughter of Matsu Suki, granddaughter of Matsu Nanami. No one touches me.”
Several nearby conversations stopped then began with renewed vigor. Kaseiko was quiet, trying to discern the implications. At the very least she could file the names away and discover the meaning later.
Obviously she took too long.
“What is your name, Agasha-san.” It wasn’t a question.
“Agasha no Kento Kaseiko, wielder of the force of flames”
Tsuko frowned. “Mirumoto-sama spoke highly of you. You’re the reason we’re here.” The Crane women gestured, bringing a servant women to her side. “Bring a second cup and a pot of tea.”
Her blue eyes fixed on Kaseiko. “Sit.”
Kaseiko sat.
Chapter Five: Unexpected Complications
Shiro Kento, Agasha provinces, late month of the Goat 1160...
Agasha no Kento Kaseiko wasn’t sure what she had in mind when she invited the Kakita Tsuko back to Shiro Kento, but this was definitely not it.
“Get up.” Tsuko’s demanding voice. The Crane didn’t even sound winded.
Kaseiko struggled to get back on her feet. The Crane was gentle enough, her touch was like velvet. It was the violence inherent to everything that followed that would assuredly leave her black and blue.
Kaseiko rolled unto her back and looked out through the windows, trying to gauge the time. Her best guess put the time somewhere during the hour of Togashi. The Kento bushi wouldn’t return to the dojo until Ryoshun. She didn’t think she’d make it that long.
“Can you not get up?” Tsuko’s voice again. Neither concern not compassion graced it, although a hue of curiosity and something else, perhaps amusement, had crept into her voice. Footsteps approached her. Kaseiko looked up at the moon. She was certain Lady Moon was laughing at her.
“Agasha-san?” Tsuko’s foot steps were almost to her, “Tell me you’re not done already, we’ve just begun…” Kaseiko eyes flickered toward the Kakita, who was very carefully not grinning. The Crane reached her hand out, leaning slightly toward the prone shugenja. Her blue eyes danced with laughter. Kami, she was magnificent.
With a sudden surge of motion, Agasha no Kento Kaseiko swept the Crane’s legs out from under her, and immediately regretted it. The weight of the much large women drove the air from her lungs. She felt the edges of her world going black.
This was definitely not the variety of physical exertion Kaseiko had in mind when the Tsuko suggested it as a cure for her sleeplessness.
Still, Tsuko could be quite insightful when she wasn’t breaking someone with a fan or an umbrella or a set of chop sticks. It was like looking in a mirror in many ways. The Crane wore tranquility like a kimono of finest silk. Her stillness could be like a mountain pool, and she was nearly as cold. When she spoke, she said little, often offering philosophy instead of opinions. Like Kaseiko, Tsuko was hiding something.
It took Kaseiko nearly a half a week to get Tsuko talking about the particulars of her life and when she did it had a great deal more to do with the amount of Sake they had consumed then any of the shugenja’s charms. Sake was a risk but she had not lost time in Tsuko’s presence, nor had she been afflicted by nightmares since their nightly jujitsu training had commenced. If worse came to worse and she did lose control Kaseiko was confident Tsuko could take her down before she did any serious damage.
Tsuko, it seemed, owed her life to the Mirumoto. After an incident in a teahouse somewhere on the border of dragon lands, Tsuko had joined their pilgrimage. An old enemy had appeared to face her and she had slain him but not before being struck by a poisoned blade. The Mirumoto gave her a mizugusuri elixir to drive the poison from her body despite a prophecy that he would die without it. Though she had been unconscious at the time it was administered, she did not take the debt lightly. She had no gift great enough to repay it, so she offered herself. For a year and a day she would be the Mirumoto’s yojimbo.
The Mirumoto had, in fact, very nearly died of a virulent curse in a dead village shortly there after. Only Agasha Sanzo’s brilliance and his cousin’s resolve unraveled the riddle that freed the enraged spirits holding the curse together. Tusko had been unable to do more then make the Mirumoto comfortable, something that she still clearly found frustrating.
She had remained in the village outside Shiro Kento because she had not wished to offend the Lord Kento by implying he could not defend his guests. The others had agreed. She assumed eventually she would have been invited to join them; Kaseiko had interjected before Tsuko’s theory was tested.
When her friends left, Tsuko would leave with them. Her friends would leave soon; they’d spoken to her already. They had duties to tend to in Crane lands, they carried something rare and it needed to reach its destination swiftly. They had already delayed as much as they could and it had been exclusively for her sake.
Kaseiko was devastated.
Long nails tattooed rhythmically over a small, black-lacquered wooden box. Narrowed amber eyes peered at the images the scrying bowl brought him. He detested interference.
His voice was a silken whisper, “Prehaps a more direct approach. Make ready for travel, you leave at dawn.”
A shadow broke away from the stone wall, bowed and retreated from view.
Shiro Kento, Agasha provinces, 1st day of the month of the Rooster, 1160... The approach of a black lacquered palanquin with silver trim was heralded only perhaps thirty minutes before its arrival at Shiro Kento. It was carried by four darkly attired men and bore the mon of Shosuro prominently on both sides. A small army of well dressed servants and finely bred horses followed in it's wake, loaded down with a variety ranging from the mundane to the exotic. There were no guards.
Shosuro Kanmaru stepped from his palanquin and into the courtyard of Shiro Kento during the hour of the serpent on the first day of the month of the Rooster. On one hip he wore two swords, the mark of a warrior. On the other were the scrolls of a priest. His pale skin made him seem to glow in the light of Lord Sun though he barely cast a shadow so slender and willowy was his frame. The inky blackness of his plain-cut kimono only made for a dramatic contrast. His steel mask glinted in the sun; a wire frame holding thin black silk over his eyes. It obscured them from casual view. When he spoke his voice was soft; barely a whisper. The air kami gave it power, carrying his words far and wide through the holdings of Kento.
"I am Shosuro Kanmaru and I have come for my Goddess of Fire."
The ladies of the court were quite taken with handsome and exotic Kanmaru. They followed him about the garden, listening to him speak in his whispery voice. He told tales of battles long passed and personal triumphs. He composed haiku to the beauty of butterflies, flowers and the lovely Kaseiko, whom he had never seen.
Despites his pleas and queries, Kaseiko would not see him. Of course the ladies of the court turned on Kaseiko with the speed of jealousy. How rude she was. How undeserving and shameful. Kaseiko was mostly indifferent to their opinions. What did they know? They could still sleep.
Agasha no Kento Kaseiko’s nightmares returned but they had changed.
To say that Agasha Sanzo was not pleased would be a woeful understatement. He and Shosuro Kanmaru minced words not once, but twice. Sanzo could not abandon Kaseiko when he felt she needed protection most. Neither would he shirk his duty as a magistrate. He pleaded with the Mirumoto to leave Tsuko behind. Tsuko was an accomplished duelist, Sanzo argued, and besides she wasn’t on their writ of travel. Tsuko would delay them in their duty.
And so it was the Mirumoto pledged to protect Kaseiko and then transferred that duty to Kakita Tsuko. Tsuko accepted the duty stoically. She vowed to serve out her debt as he saw fit and if he wished her to watch over Kaseiko, so be it.
In truth no one was particularly displeased by this turn of events, except possibly Shosuro Kanmaru.
Kaseiko sat in the inner gardens, waiting for him to arrive. It was a private place, but not beyond his reach. Her nerves were frayed. His voice reached her no matter where she sought solace even if his words did not. She made the decision to see him. She didn’t send word. She didn’t have to.
A pot of tea sat upon a stone in the sun. Two cups sat upon a simple wooden tray. Beside them sat the mask he had sent her. After burning her note to herself she had snatched it up and cast it into the stream almost a month ago. She thought to be rid of all of this by being rid of it. Somehow she was not surprised when she woke this morning and it was back in its place.
He seemed to grow from the shadows. In silence, he knelt beside Kaseiko. He reached for the teapot, his slender fingers curling about the handle. His long nails made the porcelain sing. He poured tea in both cups and offered one to Kaseiko. When she accepted, his fingers lingered brushing hers like butterfly wings.
She felt herself blush even as she shivered. His smell was sweet and encompassing like a rose garden in full bloom, but there was another smell beneath it. She couldn’t identify it. It was intoxicating.
Her venom evaporated in his presence. Nothing mattered save that he was here. Everything she wanted to know fled from her mind. She felt him remove the cup from her hands. His fingertips traced the line of her jaw as he tilted her head up to look at him. She could see his amber eyes through the thin black mesh of his mask. They were smiling.
“Finally,” his voice whispered, “My goddess…”
Kaseiko closed her eyes.
His lips were soft against hers; a gentle, feather-light pressure.
“You should wear your mask, my love,” he purred, “it will set you free.”
And then he was gone. She opened her eyes, dazed. Kakita Tsuko stood perhaps two sword’s lengths away. Her expression said nothing.
Kaseiko lowered her eyes and blushed with shame. His taste lingered on her lips, but it wasn’t really him. This was just a taste; a shade of what she could have.
“Tell me everything you’ve been hiding.” Tsuko’s voice was stern as she knelt beside Kaseiko.
Tsuko stiffened when Kaseiko embraced her, but didn’t push the shugenja away. She buried her burning face in Tsuko’s white hair. The shadows grew long as Kaseiko told her guardian everything.
"You cannot do this." Tsuko's voice was strained and her posture rigid.
"I must."
Kaseiko continued moving through her room, laying out a variety of items on her futon. If she was going to be traveling through the winter she refused to be unprepared. Blankets and heavy kimono would make things less complex, especially since she was going cross country. It would be a tad difficult to get the proper traveling papers at this point.
Tsuko had not moved, "It is what he wants."
"I know." Kaseiko heard the shoji open behind her and footsteps retreating. She turned toward the door to find it still closed, instead the screen between their rooms had been moved aside. Tsuko was packing.
Agasha no Kento Kaseiko stood in stunned silence watching her friend gather her meager belongings. Tsuko was used to traveling light and was clearly not equipped for a winter journey.
"What are you doing?" Kaseiko's voice was soft.
Tsuko turned to face the shugenja, "I am going with you."
Lion territory, late month of the Rooster, 1160...
They had left at dawn on the 6th day of Rooster but Agasha no Kento Kaseiko had no idea what the Isawa would call this night. On a troubled road, days bleed together. If it were not for Kakita Tsuko she would have been slain barely a week into their journey. By avoiding the roads and going on foot they had managed to avoid Lion patrols, but in doing so they exposed themselves to others dodging Lion patrols. Half a dozen bandits had fallen to Tsuko’s shining blade before Kaseiko could even react, but the Crane did not escape unscathed. Several days later Tsuko’s wounds were reopened when they were assaulted by a strange, child-shaped fire creature. They drove the creature off, but not before its flames seared them both.
Kaseiko had spent many nights trying to understand what had driven the creature away. She had not used her magic, she had no magic to fight a creature she couldn't burn, and Tsuko’s blade had not harmed it. It had been poised to strike her down but had then fled when Tsuko called out her name and fearlessly struck at the creature again. Kaseiko was having trouble ignoring the timing as chance.
Kaseiko sighed and opened her eyes. Beside her Tsuko lay still, her breathing even. It had been unseasonably cold that evening and it had taken little coaxing to get the Crane women to remain beside her. It took less coaxing every day.
Kaseiko reached with trembling hands to stroke the sleeping women’s white, silken hair. She longed for Tsuko’s touch, but it would take time to win the Crane’s troubled heart.
Tsuko rolled to face Kaseiko, sleepily responding to her caress. The duelist slid her arm protectively around the young shugenja, drawing her nearer. Kaseiko couldn’t help but smile as she laid her head against Tsuko’s chest. Her troubles seemed less troubling when her guardian was near.
Still, it was the ghost of Kanmaru’s kiss that haunted Kaseiko as she closed her eyes.
To take a lover in the middle of this battle had seemed no more unnatural than watching a faceless enemy shred the lines, or doing battle against the men and women that yesterday stood with you. She had broken her vows, but it was meaningless. There was no honor here. There was no scandal. All that mattered was living the life you had left and dieing well. He had saved her, and he was beautiful even in the wretched darkness and foul air. He was beautiful despite it. He was probably the only thing saving her soul.
She moved to rise, but her movements were measured. Her wounds might never really heal, even treated as quickly as they were there was no guarantee against infection. A hiss of pain escaped her and she immediately felt her lover’s hands upon her, his blue eyes fraught with concern.
“Kaen-chan?”
His words were always so soft. He was even more monastic then she. He was braver to heed the call to this war then she. Illusion could misdirect a human foe, but their foes were hardly human. At least she could sear her enemies to ashes.
“I am well enough; do not waste your energy worrying for me.” Her words struck him, he flinched and she immediately felt guilty. She softened them with a kiss to take away his pain. He smiled and rose himself to help her to her feet.
She shook her head as she evaluated those around her. This was not a winning front; there were too many spaces in the lines. The colors of all the clans, great and small, stood together. Samurai waited in small groups speaking in subdued voices. Many were injured. Many would not survive this day.
As she rose, Tsuko’s hair remained weighted and hung limply in the morning air. Curious, she reached out to brush Kaseiko’s hair aside.
The young shugenja’s face was wet, glistening with tears. Her expression was so sad it cut Tsuko to her very soul. She knelt beside the sleeping Phoenix.
“Kaseiko?”
Kaseiko opened her eyes to find Tsuko gazing down at her with open concern. Tsuko, who feared nothing, looked as though she might weep. Pain pierced Kaseiko’s heart. What could she have done to make the beautiful Crane woman so sad?
“You’re bleeding.” The duelist’s voice was tight and measured.
A fine sheen of blood welled from Kaseiko’s back, she couldn’t see it but she could feel it when she moved. She used the blankets, already ruined, to wipe it away and it did not return. She cast them away.
Tsuko remained unmoving at her side.
Lord Sun was high in the sky. The shugenja frowned, “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“Were you sleeping?” Frustraition leaked into Tsuko’s voice. “Your eyes were opened. I’m…I do not understand what is happening to you but I...where were you? What did you see? Your lips moved but there were no words.”
“I was dreaming.” Kaseiko laid her head in the Crane woman’s lap, it had just been a strange nightmare and it was swiftly fading. It wouldn’t be the first time her inherent attunement to the elements had forced her body to respond to her dreams, nor her first waking-sleep state. It was a vision, but she couldn’t grasp it to find its meaning.
“What were you dreaming?” Tsuko’s hand moved to stroke Kaseiko’s hair, and Kaseiko felt her heart sing with joy, sending the nightmare further from her grasp.
Live and I will return to you.
“I don’t remember,” even as Kaseiko spoke she felt the hairs on her arms rise up in fear. A chill broke down her spine. “Just an echo of a memory that is not mine. Perhaps the land is unquiet here.” Reluctantly she rose from Tsuko’s comforting touch. “We should move away before I am trapped by another spirit. We'll speak of it another time.”
“Hai” Tsuko moved immediately to gather the remnants of the camp, leaving the blood-stained blankets behind. Within minutes they were moving once more, but Kaseiko kept her silence. She could not shake the final memory.
I will wait for you the wind had told Kaenko, but Kaenko had not survived.
Chapter Eight: Matters of Convenience
Unicorn territory, early month of the Dog, 1160...
In Lion territory if you did not closely follow the road then Lion samurai didn’t trouble you. This was not the case in Unicorn territory. Shinjo scouts had bright eyes, and no movement went missed by them. Or perhaps powder blue and fiery red were simply bad colors to be wearing when moving through brown grass brought low by it’s own dead weight. In either case, Agasha no Kento Kaseiko and her Kakita yojimbo, Tsuko, had quickly found themselves on their way to becoming honored guests of a Shinjo lord named Yobai.
Tsuko hadn’t moved from the window since they had been escorted into the sitting chamber to wait for the lord to attend to their case. It had been nearly an hour; still she stood rigidly, her brilliant blue haori pulling her shoulders wide. Her formal kimono looked perfect and pressed, despite more then a month being pack away for travel. Her hair was the color of freshly fallen snow again, she’d taken the time to bleach it while bathing, and it was bound loosely at the neck with a white ribbon. Even without her katana, Tsuko stood as a swordsman. The fine, print-less silk that wrapped the Crane did not detract from her appearance; like a rose in a plain vase there was nothing to detract the eye from her beauty. Watching Tsuko’s icy perfection brought tears of desire to Kaseiko’s eyes. The shugenja turned away, better to stare into the fire and share its warmth than long for the heart of winter.
Kaseiko sighed. At least there was a fire to share warmth with. This could have been much worse. It could have been one of those awful rolling tents of animal skins she’d heard about. That would have sent Tsuko into fits for certain. The young Phoenix couldn't help but smile at the idea.
When the shoji screen slid opened, Kaseiko was startled. She hadn’t heard anyone approach. Her eyes moved over Tsuko briefly while traveling to the door. The Crane woman hadn’t moved.
A young man of obvious Unicorn descent stood strolled through the open doorway. His silks were fine, but they had wear marks. He smiled shyly at the watching Phoenix and then nodded. His bow-legged gait carried him toward the back of the sitting room where a map-littered desk stood. He began shuffling casually through the documents.
“So, who are you people?” The young man’s voice was very soft and somber, matching his unweathered face in character.
Kaseiko heard Tsuko turn around quickly and winced inwardly.
“I am Kakita Tsuko, daughter of Matsu Suki, granddaughter of Matsu Nanami and this is Agasha Kaseiko, wielder of the Force of Flames.”
“Oh” said the Unicorn man, who appeared to have found the document he was looking for and was studying it thoughtfully. He hadn’t even looked up at the Crane while she had been speaking. Kaseiko could feel the air calming behind her. She fervently prayed to every fortune she could think of that the lord would arrive before Tsuko lost her temper.
The crackle of the fireplace and the rustling of documents were the only sounds in the room for several moments and then the man rose and moved back toward the open doorway. He paused at the thresh-hold and turned back, facing the Phoenix. He ran his finger across his chin speculatively. “What’d you say you were doing here again?”
“We’re traveling to…” Tsuko coughed softly and Kaseiko paused then began again “We’re waiting to speak to the lord here.”
The Unicorn’s face broke into a crooked grin, “You’re the two samurai that the patrol found on the plains?”
“Yes we are. And who might you be, Honorable Shinjo?” Tsuko’s voice was measured and even. As she spoke the Crane took several steps away from the window toward Kaseiko.
“Oh, I’m sorry, that’s awfully rude of me. I’m Shinjo Yobai. Welcome to my castle. I’ll have dinner brought in here for you ladies and I’ll be right up to eat with you. We can take care of all this unpleasantness real quick and get you on your way.”
Lord Yobai stepped out and closed the screen behind him.
Tsuko stood perfectly unmoving, color slowly staining her cheeks a lovely rose hue. It shattered her icy countenance. She looked at Kaseiko, then at the door, then back again.
Kaseiko burst into gales of laughter.
Tsuko was doing her very best to ignore the man’s table habits. She hadn’t been able to make herself touch what the Unicorn had served her as food. Kaseiko was a bit worried for the duelist. She hadn’t spoken since the lord revealed himself. The shugenja continued meticulously picking the vegetables and rice away from the meat on her plate with her chop sticks.
“So will you do it, Kakita-san? I readily admit I’m not a swordsman, and the damnable Lion knows it. As a daimyo, I can’t afford to play these games. It’s just a bad bit of luck that father died when he did.” The young lord briefly bowed his head then continued. “I need you as much as you need me. Stand in, and I’ll get you through the pass. I don’t care what you do in Scorpion lands.”
Tsuko pushed her plate away and broke her silence, “Forgive me, Sama, but I will not champion a cause I am not party to simply because it is convenient to do so.” The Crane woman knee-stepped sidewise and bowed her head before the Shinjo, who watched her for several moments.
“Then I shall tell you my tale.”
She sat beneath the darkened boughs of a leafless tree watching servants moving back and forth through the inner gardens on various tasks. The lord’s voice was strong enough to drift to her, but not strong enough for her to hear the words. She felt safer knowing Tsuko was nearby.
There didn’t seem to be that many samurai in the manor, at least not many moving about and of those few she did see half of them clearly did not belong to this house. A handful of Scorpion, a Dragon and Lion moved upon the walkways. The Dragon, a bushi by the looks of him, had nodded to her as he passed by on his way to somewhere else, the rest she saw from afar. The young lord must have some sort of importance if foreign diplomats were here so close to the season of winter court.
She closed her eyes, drawing in the crisp air. The smell of unfallen snow hung heavy on the winds. They needed to get through the pass quickly, but Tsuko would never agree to an unjust battle. Kaseiko was certain she could find another way. They had to.
“A winter blossom, how rare.”
Kaseiko’s eyes sprang opened to see the Lion from earlier approaching. He walked with the air of a man who had far more confidence than practical experience. He looked at her with covetous eyes and a feline grin.
“Aren’t you cold, little blossom? I have a fire and warm tea waiting for me in my room, I’d be happy to share it with you.” He continued to approach, albeit more slowly. “I hope you aren’t going to be wasted on Shinjo Yobai, he wouldn’t know what to do with a wife. These Unicorn are overly fond of their horses.” The lion stopped, chuckling. Kaseiko said nothing, merely staring at the arrogant lion. In truth she was trying to decide if he was drunk.
“Fear not, fair blossom, for I am here to kill Yobai. None of his men will champion him, so his death is assured and if you are indeed his betrothed, perhaps I will claim you for my own. I could treat you as a wife should be treated.” The lion bowed, still smiling and looked at her expectantly. Kaseiko wondered just how she was supposed to respond to that.
Light footsteps on the stone drew the lion’s attention before Kaseiko could respond. Kaseiko glanced behind her to see Tsuko approaching. Her demeanor was serene once more but her eyes were alive; the calm before the storm. The approaching duelist studied the Lion as a predator might study it’s pray, seeking weakness.
“A second winter blossom? How fortuitous! I think I can accommodate you both.” The Lion bowed to the approaching Crane who nodded only slightly in return.
Tsuko stopped beside Kaseiko, half turning to her. Her voice was carefully neutral. “Are you unharmed, Kaseiko-san?”
A shadow passed over the lion’s face. “Do you not see me? How could she come to harm while I am here?” The man stood up strait, squaring his shoulders toward the Crane woman.
Kaseiko watched as Tsuko stilled. The corner of the duelist’s mouth twitched.
“I am unharmed, Tsuko-chan, but it is a little chilly out here, has lord Yobai offered us rooms?”
“Oh, I see, you ladies are together. What a waste. I have told this one,” her gestured carelessly toward Kaseiko, “I will cut Yobai down. Perhaps you should leave here before his protection fades.” The lion had become a different man; violence had crept into his voice. His fists clenched. Kaseiko was startled enough to retreat behind the unmoving Crane woman.
Tsuko’s voice was very mild, and soft. “I came to see if Yobai-sama’s words were true, and they cannot be denied as truth now. Make peace with your ancestors, Ikoma Hitoare. I will send you to their judgment tomorrow.”
“You? You presume to battle me? The lord cannot even find one of his own number to champion, he chooses a crane woman?” The lion’s voice became progressively louder. Here and there people materialized on the walkways, deep in conversation that did not involve the garden confrontation. “Tell me your name so I know where to send your broken daisho, Crane.”
Tsuko’s voice lowered further still. Kaseiko noticed that many of the bystanders not listening shifted so better to hear. “I am Kakita Tsuko, daughter of Matsu Suki, granddaughter of Matsu Nanami, defender of Agasha Kaseiko wielder of flames, champion of Shinjo Yobai in a duel forced on him by a foolish and petulant lion who chooses to remember only part of the past.” She turned her back on the Lion, gently guiding Kaseiko back toward the lord’s sitting room.
Kaseiko looked up at Tsuko questioningly as they moved away from the furious lion. “Tsuko, are you certain you wish to do this?”
“Hai, Kaseiko-chan, my mother’s fury assures me that man does not deserve his name, but it is my father’s blood that sees I will take it from him at dawn. This is far more then a matter of convenience.” Then almost as an after thought, “I will avenge you of his words, you deserve better than the bawdy longings of an honorless man.”
Kaseiko only nodded, watching Tsuko from the corner of her eye. The Phoenix couldn’t help but smile.
A slender wisp of a man dressed in shades of ebony stood perfectly still in a vibrant garden. Roses blossomed in well tended rows around him despite the lateness of the year.
In a still garden pond he watched the image of a Lion fall to the blade of a Crane.
It was only as it should be.
Soon she would be at his side, his and if she wished to keep this Crane woman…
The slender man touched overly long, sharp nails to his chest.
He tried not to harvest the Crane, but he could make an exception for his Goddess of Fire.
Scorpion territory, early month of the Boar, 1160...
The journey through the pass had been uneventful. For a young lord with only a manor house and few samurai at his command, Shinjo Yobai must have held a great deal of authority. Agasha no Kento Kaseiko had asked Kakita Tsuko how such a thing could be and she had smiled and shook her head. If Tsuko had the answer, she was not sharing it.
Tsuko kept them near the road and made no attempt to conceal their journey as they had in other lands. It was for the best, as winter was upon them and snow was on the ground. For half a week they traveled through Scorpion lands and saw nothing more dangerous then the occasional peasant in the fields. Tsuko nodded to each peasant, and they nodded in return.
On the evening of the third day Kaseiko finally asked, “Tsuko-chan, why do you nod to the peasants? And why do we stay near the road? Is it because there are no patrols? I haven’t seen any.”
Tsuko looked up from the fire she’d been trying to get started and regarded her friend with no small amount of amusement, “What peasants?”
Kaseiko frowned, “The peasants in the fields, Tsuko-chan”
“Peasants do not tend to fields in the winter, Kaseiko, and they do not return the pleasantries of samurai. We stay near the road because if they did not want us in their land we would already have disappeared.”
Despite the warmth of the fire and the weight of rice in her belly Kaseiko did not sleep nearly so well in Scorpion territory after that night, not that she was known to sleep particularly well anyway.
But she didn’t need an escort to find him. The wind pulled her south and west. That is where she would find him.
Tsuko did not believe Kanmaru was Scorpion. The Scorpion did not favor ostentation, she asserted. That might be the role he chose for himself, but it wasn’t the one he was born in. It was a matter Kaseiko would address when she reached him. She allowed herself to acknowledge that she was grateful for Agasha Sanzo’s paranoia. At least she had jade.
Drip
The sound resonated through her mind like a Lion war drum. She sighed thinking vaguely that it must be raining. She thought they'd fixed her roof. Kaseiko shivered. It was damp; she'd definitely have to chide her servants about their shoddy repair. She reached for her blankets and every muscle in her body screamed in protest.
Drip
She struggled to open her eyes; the thick copper tang of blood mixed with the clogging smell of ash suddenly assaulted her senses. An unwelcome and unfamiliar sensation arose in the pit of her stomach. Discipline contained her rising panic, but only barely. This was not her home.
Drip
The young shugenja instinctively reached for the kami who roiled around her with unseen indignation. She wondered at their agitated state but their presence returned her strength and her confidence. The young Agasha's eyes opened, smoldering with the fire perpetually burning within.
She was surrounded by the bodies of her enemies, although bodies may have been too strong a word for the smoldering ruins that remained. Many of those furthest from her still burned. Slowly she rose to a sitting position. Her kimono, bordering on immodest on the best of occasions, was both shredded and charred. Her extensive tattooing seemed to glow from within in the sickly half-light. ‘Bruised but unbroken’ she thought mildly as she evaluated her lack of laceration. Only then did she recall her companion. Pain forgotten, she sprang to her feet as she recalled just exactly where she was.
The peasants had only seen three, each had taken a child. The two samurai had found the village that evening by accident, intending to rest there now that they were unwatched and move on in the morning. Instead they had pursued the abductors into the physical darkness of the moonless night, following the bloodstained paths in the snow, and finally into the spiritual darkness of the temple. The peasants had only seen three. There were twelve.
The air itself was twisted and trembled from the chanting within the darkened temple. The children huddled together inside, trembling with fear. A flash of Crane steel had robbed the binding rope of its strength and the children were free. They did not need to be told to run. A fiery dragon sprang to life as the evil chanting ceased, cutting off the path for the cultists and preventing them from following their prey.
It was by the light of the fiery dragon's form that Kaseiko saw their folly, but only for an instant. Spilt blood and foul chanting extinguished the dragon's light.
The battle itself was a blur of steel and fire. Her companion, a duelist by training, carried the grace of a dancer. Kaseiko herself had all she could do to counter the terrible maho of the cultists, and then was only moderately successful. Beautiful Tsuko, turned aside every blade that would have broken the shugenja's concentration, many times at her own expense. Her blood ran as freely as the cultists.
When one of the tsukai gave themselves fully to their corruption the beast that birthed itself from the twisted little man's skin was fully twice his original size. When the creature spewed forth the kami in the stones themselves recoiled and several of the support columns crumbled.
Fire and steel. Tsuko faced the creature without fear. Kaseiko knew the Crane would never run, no matter what the odds were. She knew that she could never abandon Tsuko.
The creature’s assault was brutal, combined with the power of the remaining tsukai, Kaseiko knew they would die here, quest unfullfilled. Tsuko called to her to retreat, but Kaseiko didn't hear the words. When the creature grasped her Crane defender and cast her into the seething darkness moments later, Kaseiko was already prepared.
She reached outward and felt the fire kami leap to her command, just as they always had. It took her years to learn control; she let it slide away. She would give the fire form, and the world would burn again. No one and nothing took what she loved. ‘Never again’ but the thought slid away. She touched the Void to fuel the Fire, just as she had the first time, but this time there would be no Sensei to save her from herself.
Drip
The glint of steel nearly twenty feet away caught Kaseiko's attention. The blue steel of her companion's sword refused the unwholesomeness of the light that shone upon it. Even broken, everything about Kakita Tsuko was perfect. Tsuko's fingers still clutched the hilt of her blade. Somehow, even in her terrible state, the samurai-ko had refused to let it touch the impure ground.
With horror, Kaseiko watched a rivulet of blood ran down that perfect, blue steel, a droplet slowly growing fat at the tip of the blade as it hovered just above the soured earth. The droplet fell into a growing pool of dark fluid below her broken companion's body.
Drip
Tears sprang to Kaseiko's eyes, extinguishing their fire. The Crane woman was arrayed bonelessly over a shattered stone column. Her legs were not visible and Kaseiko feverishly hoped they were just concealed by the broken column. Unlike Kaseiko, Tsuko seemed to be bleeding everywhere. Her beautiful blue kimono was a sick violet-black from the blood's sheer volume. The Crane's bleached hair was crimson, her skin as white as unmarred marble.
The shugenja moved carefully to the broken Kakita's side, trying to avoid the shattered and melted stones that desperately sought to damage her bare feet. "Oh Tsu-chan, I’m sorry" Kaseiko whispered soundlessly, her fingertips reaching toward her friend's face. Tsuko wasn't moving, she couldn't possibly be alive. There was too much blood.
So it was to Kaseiko's great surprise to find herself pressed flat against the cold stone wall with Crane steel pressing against her throat. Her wide dark eyes met deep blue ones. Seconds passed, and then recognition registered in Tsuko's eyes. The press of steel vanished. Tsuko reverently returned her blade to it's saya before sinking to her knees on the floor. In a very matter of fact voice, the bleeding, broken Kakita said "I thought I told you samurai do not sneak."
Kaseiko smiled through her tears.
"Tsuko, I thought you were dead." the young shugenja said meekly, finding her voice. Her fingers touched the tassels that dangled from her scroll satchel. Orange, green, white and black tassels, some charred, dangled there. None of them were blue.
"I could be tainted." Tsuko's voice was harsh and hoarse.
"Your wounds would be healed by now if that were true." Kaseiko replied calmly. Her mind was carefully studying the possibility of them both surviving. Her rage hadn’t killed her, and if it only made a few more cracks it was worth it. They had lived. The children would have died.
The Crane said nothing. She looked over the ruined remains of their enemies.
"We saved that village, Tsu-chan" Kaseiko said softly, picking her way across the broken floor, avoiding the charred remains of the tsukai she had burned from the world. "They wouldn't have stopped with the children; the creature would have been stronger with sacrifice."
Still Tsuko said nothing; instead she walked slowly after the Phoenix. Pride kept most of the stagger from the stubborn Crane's gait.
"We are alive, Tsu-chan, and we're going to be alright. We'll go back to the village and we'll get help. I'll clean you're wounds and we'll rest until you can travel again. We can..."
"I gave my word of honor to defend you on your journey, Kaseiko. I will not delay you." Tsuko's voice was softer now, but its core was steel. “When you are ready to continue, I am ready as well.”
"Hai" Kaseiko said quietly, stepping out of the ruined temple and into the frigid night air. Automatically, she whispered to the fire kami. She felt the surge of the elements as she used herself as a focus, allowing the fire to flow through her and settle into the ebon tinged phoenix tattoo that graced the whole of her back. It sprang free, taking to the sky to light the way as Tsuko emerged. The pain of its separation was brief, but it provided perspective.
Every time Kaseiko released the fire within her control fractured a little more. She had been too old when they found her. She was a danger to herself and others. They should have blocked her talents. She could touch the void, but there was only madness there; it only made the fires burn brighter. No amount of discipline could hold back the flames of her passions. In the end it would be as it had been in the beginning; nothing but ashes. Was this what her dark suitor wished of her? Was it to this end he pursued her? And what was he, was he like them?
Tsuko grasped Kaseiko's shoulder, firmly but gently, startling her from her dark thoughts. Their eyes met briefly and the shugenja looked away. "You have to stop." Tsuko's voice was firm. Kaseiko's lips parted to rebut, but the Crane stopped her protest with a rough embrace. Kaseiko closed her eyes and rested her head against Tsuko’s chest, indifferent to the blood she sullied herself with.
Tsuko whispered in her ear, "You're going to be consumed, you have to stop."
"I'll try." Chapter Ten: White Paths
Far southwestern Scorpion territory, the cusp between Boar and Ox, 1160...
The shortest part of the journey, skirting the western edges of Scorpion territory, seemed to Agasha no Kento Kaseiko to take a thousand years. She lost track of the days. If not for her Crane companion she would have long ago given into the whispers at the edge of her perceptions that promised to expedite her journey. Though there wasn’t much snow this far south, the world was as bitterly cold as though she’d never left the mountains of Kento Shiro. It was as though winter itself wished to freeze her time, preventing the inevitable from taking place. She cursed the frozen ground and weakness of her own flesh. This is what must be!
Kaseiko lead the way because she knew the path. She walked it each night. She could feel herself drawing closer to him. The closer they came to the end of the journey, the quieter Kakita Tsuko became. Kaseiko would not have believed it was possible if she hadn’t seen it for herself. There was pain in Tsuko’s beautiful, midnight eyes when Kaseiko dared meet them. Kaseiko felt guilt but the urge to go on was stronger. The discussion did not take place in words. The decision was made anew each time Kaseiko looked away.
The manor house, when they came upon it, appeared to be abandoned. They had seen no villages. So barren was the land here that no life stirred. Kaseiko crested a hill and was upon it. The walls that surrounded the expanse of buildings were crumbling but the gates stood closed despite being cracked and aged. She knew them, she knew this place. Her vision doubled as the images of her dreams tried to reconcile with reality. He was there; she could feel him as though he were standing beside her. She felt a mixture of fear and elation as the images bled together into one.
The whole of her vision pulsed. She shuddered as things twisted and consolidated, became complete and perfect before her eyes. The manor house rebuilt itself, the disuse of years falling away. The walls stood tall and well maintained. Howling winds surged from the manor grounds slamming the black lacquered gates opened with incredible force before surging onward toward her. The power! She closed her eyes and drew the kami to her instinctively. She raised her arm and braced herself in a futile gesture to ward off the coming assault of winds.
A warm, gentle breeze caressed her face banishing the chill of the air and scattering the few kami that had come to her fearful summons. It carried his scent and the press of his will. It carried a thousand unspoken promises. She felt a surge of inner heat.
It died when her eyes opened, replaced by the sick feeling of guilt. She was looking at Tsuko’s back. The Crane stood between her and her view of the manor house; placing herself in the path of danger with full knowledge that she couldn’t fight the wind. Tsuko hadn’t even drawn her blade, she simply stood. Kaseiko lowered her arm. Tears stung her eyes. She should have turned back. Despite herself, she peered around Tsuko. A path had been torn through the grass by the winds, beginning at the gates and stopping precisely at the Crane’s feet.
Kaseiko touched Tsuko’s shoulder, stepping to her side. The Crane trembled. Her hands were clenched so tightly they were white. Kaseiko could tell by the line of Tsuko’s jaw that her teeth were set as well. Fear marked her blue eyes. Terror. Yet she stood against it, struggling against the powerful magic that would make lesser creatures flee. She would not succumb. Tsuko caught Kaseiko’s look of wonder and turned away. Kaseiko flinched. “Let us finish this.” Tsuko’s voice, controlled and slightly hoarse, resonated with her steel will, her force of honor, in the frozen air.
Kaseiko nodded and began walking down the path, toward the opened gateway.
After three heartbeats, Tsuko followed.
A slender wisp of a man with skin of golden tan approached them from the shade of the manor house. His slender frame was wrapped in a kimono of burnished gold. It shimmered in the sun. A fragile paper fan rested in his brown obi, and he seemed to wear no blades, not even a wakizashi, yet this man was clearly samurai. As he drew closer Kaseiko could see a tattered strip of black silk covering his eyes. It was incongruous with the rest of his appearance. He was not a handsome man, but neither was he an ugly man. He was an inoffensive man, Kaseiko finally decided. Tsuko touched the hilt of her blade.
The man bowed at a safe distance, when he straightened Kaseiko noticed the mask had no place through which to see. “The Master’s Goddess and her Guardian have arrived unharmed. He wishes I bid you welcome while he sees to the preparation of your rooms personally. I am called Maigo, have you eaten rice today? The Master offers you a place at his table.” He looked from Kaseiko to Tsuko and back again as he offered up his pleasantries in a mild and pleasing timbre. There was no way he could see through the silk.
Kaseiko glanced toward Tsuko, whose face was set in a mask of serenity. It even spread through her beautiful midnight eyes. Kaseiko felt a thread of fear curl into her awareness. Had Tsuko been overcome by the spell? The Crane no longer touched her blade. When she bowed to Maigo and when she spoke her voice was robbed of its usual power; tamed and mild. “We thank the Lord for his hospitality. We have traveled many long days without the trappings of civility. Kaseiko-hime will need to bathe and rest before she dines with the Lord.”
Maigo smiled, “Then it shall be so, Kakita-sama. Will you both please follow me?”
The blinded, yet sighted, Maigo began walking down the path and Tsuko moved to follow. Kaseiko touched her guardian’s arm as she fell into step, causing the duelist to look toward her. Their eyes met and Kaseiko stumbled, only to be caught and steadied by the stronger crane. The spell had not overcome Tsuko; she had overcome it. This was not the complacency of control; it was the stillness before the storm. There was death in Tsuko’s eyes. Pointedly the Crane looked behind causing Kaseiko to look back as well. The gates stood closed behind them, and grew ever more distant as they followed this disconcerting servant. Tsuko released her suddenly while she was looking away from her own steps, causing her once again to stumble. This time she was forced to catch her own balance. The Crane hadn’t even looked at her, though her lips were pressed into a thin line. She glanced at Maigo but the man had no turned.
A strange calm settled over Kaseiko. The paths away from this place were barred. The only way left was forward. Corruption seethed through the estate at the edges of her perceptions. To falter in this place was to be damned, if they were not already damned. A wry smile came to the shugenja’s lips, unbidden. She shivered but the smile remained; the ghost of another’s emotions.
Maigo showed them to the baths and left them. It was clear Tsuko would choose to bathe separately. Kaseiko felt her heart break; she had wounded the only person who had ever offered her love and protection despite her afflictions. It could not be undone. As they parted ways Tsuko’s words, though soft and pitched only for her ears, struck her like a physical blow.
“I can only catch you once.”
Kanmaru’s castle Scorpion territory, the cusp between the months of Boar and Ox, 1160...
Kakita Tsuko immersed herself in the warmth of the opulent bath. The smooth texture of the marble basin was comforting and familiar; like home. She’d grown unaccustomed to having so many options for cleanliness. Dozens of bottles and jars filled with soaps, perfumes and lotions were easily within hand’s reach. So were her blades. Faintly, she smiled. Shiro sano Kakita this place was not.
The sweetly scented waters made it easier to think, or not to think. For the second time in her life her inner world withheld judgment. The silence resonated loudly in her mind. She was empty without her mother’s incessant indignation and the assured guidance of her Illustrious Ancestor. The course was not complex. The likelihood she would ever leave this place was low. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to relax. She must not tremble. If there was any chance to be had it would not come twice.
She heard footsteps growing nearer, breaking into her brooding thoughts. The sound was not soft enough to be the servant who brought them and too steady to be Kaseiko. She opened her eyes and raised herself partially from the steaming waters, bracing her arms against the back of the basin, her left hand resting near, but not on her daisho. She suppressed a shiver as the shadows in the room seemed to darken.
The footsteps paused just beyond her sight, just beyond the doorway. A quiet chuckle touched her ears a moment before the creature that called itself Shosuro Kanmaru swept it’s presence into the bathing chamber. She felt it press against her sense of self. Tsuko made no effort to move, her face remaining carefully neutral. He brought with him the smell of roses and an underlying spice she couldn’t identify. It overpowered the smell of the perfumed waters. Slowly and with no subtly Kanmaru’s unveiled, golden eyes moved over the Crane in his bath. Tsuko’s jaw clenched and she fought the urge to spring from the bath and cover herself. She couldn’t afford to display such weakness. She focused, instead, on studying her enemy. He, like his servant, wore no blades. His fingernails were long, and sharp; they glinted metallically. His skin was pale and opalescent, a striking contrast to the black silk that clung to his slender frame.
“Kakita Tsuko-san” his voice caressed her, instilling her with the great desire simply to relax. She recognized the enchantment for what it was, but took great effort to throw it off. He was watching her carefully for her reaction.
“Shosuro Kanmaru-sama” Tusko’s voice was strong and formal even as she paled from the effort.
The creature smiled and reached for its obi, loosening it. Tsuko looked away, studying her blades with great interest. She heard the whisper of silk settling to the floor, felt the movement of the waters as he settled into the bath near her. She heard him sigh contentedly. Tsuko knew she was in physical danger, but she could not look at him. Enchantments wrapped the creature to draw the viewer in, to elicit awe and desire. This was not a simulacrum as the one sent to Kento Shiro was. This was the creature itself.
“Look at me.” His words were just as soft but they held the ring of command. It was a subtle subversion of will, playing on instinct and training. Tsuko turned to face him even as she made the choice to defy his command. He was an arm’s length from her, leaning casually against the edge of the basin. His skin was flawless. He was still smiling.
Tsuko felt the world reel and she struggled to maintain her sense of self. She did battle with his will anew. Instinct prescribed flight, a persistent clambering in her mind. This was the superior predator; better to flee or yield. No, the thought was too alien to be her own. Her skin betrayed her, dimpling in waves as her hair stood on end. She could not suppress a shiver.
“You are the union of a spy and a murderer. Your blood rages against itself bound by enmity that will never truly end.” Tsuko nodded mutely, she found herself fascinated by his mouth as it purred forth its words. As much as she wished to, she could not look away.
“You are sworn to those who cannot understand you, cannot utilize your talents. You were virtually cast out. They couldn’t help you, they told you to find your own answers and not to return before. Is this not true?” again Tsuko nodded, resentment flicking across her face. Kanmaru’s smile widened slightly.
“How many men have fallen to your blade? The one that tempts you even now?” Tsuko’s hand closed over the hilt of her sword. She didn’t remember reaching for it. The smooth lacquer of the saya was like cool water washing away the filth of Kanmaru’s sorcery. She shifted subtly, warily, her focus expanding to encompass her enemy. Tsuko suppressed her anger, forcing herself to grow calm. Kanmaru’s smile vanished. “Thirty four, Shosuro-sama.”
“We both know I am not Scorpion.” Tsuko was extremely gratified by the touch of annoyance she heard in his voice. “Kanmaru will do.”
“Hai, Kanmaru-sama.”
He tilted his head back, looking at the ceiling. Tsuko’s fingers tightened on her blade, her muscles growing tense, but she did not strike. This was feigned vulnerability. As she watched, his smile reappeared.
“You love her.” It was not a question. Tsuko said nothing.
“I offer you an opportunity. She will need a Guardian. I intended for you to die when you faced the rabble in the temple, but you did not. I have decided you are worthy to serve me. Swear your loyalty and I will allow you to live and remain beside my Goddess. Remain loyal and perhaps, in time, I will share her with you. You would have acceptance among my servants that you would have failed to obtain in your lifetime.” He stood, languidly stretching, before stepping out of the bath. Tsuko watched him dress, his back toward her. Her silence remained unbroken.
He paused at the doorway, resting his hand upon the marble frame. His nails clicked softly upon the smooth stone. “Understand that if you decline your life is forfeit.”
Still Tsuko said nothing, simply watching Kanmaru’s back. After several heartbeats he left, the sound of his footsteps retreating. Only when the sound completely vanished did the Crane release her sword.
Tsuko was straitening the seams of her formal kimono and settling the minutia of her appearance when Maigo cleared his throat from the hall.
“Come,” with a last tug to set her obi and a final look in the mirror she turned to face Kanmaru’s servant as he entered. He bowed deeply to her and she nodded in reply.
“Ah ah ah…Tsuko-sama, you look lovely! I came to see if you had proper attire but I should have known better of someone with your illustrious bloodline. The Master told me you may join us soon. It would be so wonderful to have someone of breeding with which to speak.” Maigo fanned himself lightly as though the very idea might be too much for him.
“I wish to speak with Kaseiko-hime.” Tsuko picked up her daisho, tucking it securely into her obi.
“I’m afraid that will not be possible, you see the Master wishes time to reacquaint himself with his betrothed before the meal so he has taken her to the inner gardens.” Tsuko’s eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth to speak but he plunged onward, holding up his hands as though to forestall her anger. “Ah ah ah…you mustn’t think so poorly of me! I assure you I have left my most trusted to guard her honor. I am not unaware of the effects the Master has on those uninitiated who come in contact with him.”
Tsuko’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click.
Maigo chuckled, “Come now, I’ll show you a bit of the Master’s home before the meal.”
Kakita Tsuko was the last to arrive to the meal Kanmaru had provided. He sat at the head of the table and favored her with a benign smile as she entered. She bowed stiffly in return. His presence did not press upon her senses as it had before. After Maigo’s declaration, this troubled her deeply.
The room, which had opened to let in the false spring warmth of the gardens, contained only three other people. The first was Maigo, who seated himself an arm’s length from Kanmaru on his left. He bid Tsuko sit beside him away from his lord. The second was an unattractive female with her hair pulled back in a topknot. A gruesome scar twisted the right side of her face, forcing her to scowl. She did not sit; she stood near one of the open screens. Her kimono was the color of spilled blood drying on stones. It was trimmed with silver. She wore blades. The last was Agasha Kaseiko, sitting directly to Kanmaru’s right.
Kaseiko was wearing a beautiful kimono; the silk was some of the finest Tsuko had ever seen. The ebon silk flowed like water over the shugenja’s skin. Butterflies of greens and blues swept over the black backdrop. She wore the feathered mask she had rejected so many times. There was a vague, vacant smile on her lips. Kaseiko served Kanmaru as she was served by nameless servants. She poured tea first for him then for herself. She was clearly overcome.
Tsuko’s narrowed eyes moved to Kanmaru only to find him looking back at her. The duelist pointedly dropped her eyes to her plate, indulging in the barest hint of a bitter smile. Maigo was in the process of serving her, since she had seemed disinclined to fill her own plate. He was speaking about the season’s harvest and the prosperity of the lord’s house.
“Tsuko-chan, have you considered my offer?” Kanmaru’s voice drifted softly down the table. Miago stopped mid-sentence and began eating.
“I understand your terms, Kanmaru-sama.” Tsuko reached for chopsticks and let her words hang, leaving the heart of the matter unresolved. Still his will did not press against her. Beside her, Maigo shifted uncomfortably.
Silence filled the room. Distantly she could he the flow of water in the gardens. Tsuko waited for this creature to pass sentence. She heard him draw breath, but Kaseiko cut him off, speaking as though from a waking dream. “Kanmaru, how have you changed so? Your eyes were such a gentle blue…”
Tsuko looked toward the head of table in time to see shock, then annoyance on the creature’s face before it vanished behind a pleasant façade. “Do you not like them, my Beloved? I got them from a Kitsu.” Beside her Maigo grew very still.
“I can change them if you desire. I’m sure I can find something more suitable.” Kanmaru glanced toward Tsuko, a flash of cruel amusement touching his eyes before looking back toward Kaseiko, “It was required for a time that I hide myself. It was the best way; you’ll have to trust me. You do trust me, don’t you Beloved?”
As the back of Kanmaru’s blade-like claws caressed Kaseiko’s face Tsuko looked away, returning her attention to her meal. To starve served no purpose. She would require her strength and her wits.
“Without question, Kanmaru.” Kaseiko’s voice drifted down the table.
Kanmaru’s castle presumed to be in Scorpion territory, second day of the month of Ox, 1160...
Kakita Tsuko knelt in the center of the room she had been provided. Delicate paintings of sakura trees and wind blown blossoms adorned the walls. At some point Kanmaru must have acquired an artistic servant. Fine, cream colored silks blanketed the undisturbed futon beside her. Her blades rested on the floor before her, between herself and the door. She had been dismissed after the meal and had returned here, to the room Maigo had assigned her during their tour, to think. Kanmaru said he had matters to attend to and Maigo had informed her that she would be expected in the gardens by the hour of Bayushi as she had retreated from the creature’s presence. Lord Kanmaru had some entertainment planned and while she was reluctant to do him the discourtesy of disrupting his household, she was firmly convinced he must die.
Lord Kanmaru?
Mentally, the duelist shrugged.
There was a light tapping upon the door. Tsuko opened her eyes, breaking from the light meditations she’d attempted to put her thoughts in order. It wasn’t a complete failure, but the venture hadn’t truly been successful. “Enter” her voice was stern, but quiet. Maigo stepped inside, closing the screen behind him. Tsuko frowned very slightly her face transforming into an emotionless mask. A closed door implied many things, most of them shameful or unpleasant.
“Forgive me, Kakita-sama. I must speak with you privately, and I’m running out of time to do so.” This creature, Kanmaru’s pawn, was in pain. He couldn’t keep it from his voice. “Will you listen?” there was a certain desperation to Maigo’s countenance. She felt her expression soften, but only slightly.
“I will listen.”
“Take this.” Maigo thrust a trembling hand toward her, offering her a small, unadorned wooden box. Tsuko hesitated. “Please.” Her eyes flashed over the lithe golden man seeking duplicity in his demeanor but she found none. Tsuko calmly accepted the box. Maigo heaved a trembling sigh and leaned away from her. Tsuko opened the box and looked inside.
The jade talisman belonging to Agasha no Kento Kaseiko rested inside.
Tsuko’s eyes turned back to the former Lion. She saw him flinch as she settled her gaze upon him. She had a thousand questions but sat unmoving, simply watching, waiting. Maigo settled himself to the floor before her, his hands resting lightly on his bent knees. She was surprised he didn’t turn away. She watched as layers of his composure settled back into place. She didn’t begrudge him his dignity.
“You will reject his offer.” It was not a question. Tsuko answered anyway. “Yes.”
“He will kill you.” Mourning colored Maigo’s voice and flickered across his face. “I can help you escape. Kaenko is lost, you cannot save her. The hour is almost upon us, the Master will be distracted. If you move far enough fast enough he will not give chase. He has what he wants now.”
“You were Lion once, weren’t you? How can you even suggest such a shameful thing?” Tsuko’s voice was tightly controlled. The suggestion was appalling. No paths lead from this place. She would have struck him if he didn’t look so miserable. Instead she removed Kaseiko’s jade from the box, setting the wooden container aside.
“I…I needed to know the answer.” Maigo immediately moved backward away from the exposed jade. At least he had the decency to look guilty. “She abandoned her jade, she will accept him. You must know this!” His youthful, inoffensive face was crossed by a maelstrom of emotions Tsuko did not attempt to sort out as she affixed the jade around her neck with a silken cord. She tucked it beneath her kimono, feeling it’s cool surface against her chest. Finally Tsuko spoke “Why did you bring me her jade?”
“I cannot envision you as one of us. I knew you wouldn’t flee. A clean death will have to be enough…” Tsuko nodded as she rose, tucking her blades into her obi. The off-balanced ex-lion obtained his feet with all the grace of a new born fawn.
“What will you do?” His voice was quiet. He had done all he could.
“The hour of Bayushi is upon us, it’s time for some entertainment.” Proud and cold, Tsuko stepped past Maigo, through the door and into the hall. He turned toward her back as she walked away from him. He marveled at her outward calm and the strength of her will, but Maigo was no longer truely human. Though he no longer had eyes with which to see, he saw more then most. Betrayal and doubt gnawed at the edges of her calm, providing her the weakness his Master would need to claim her. He had performed his duty flawlessly. His master would see her turmoil and know as much. Kanmaru would never suspect that he, Maigo, had betrayed him.
With a sigh, Maigo headed for the gardens.
Tsuko strode down the white garden paths toward the sound of Kanmaru’s voice. She stepped through an archway and found him kneeling upon a crimson pillow amidst a gathering of a dozen men and women. Although most of them had noble bearing, none of them wore blades save the severe women from earlier. She stood aloof from the others, leaning against the garden wall almost hidden from view.
Kanmaru and his supplicants sat in the shadow of an ancient dead tree whose base width was wider then her arms could stretch. It was jarringly out of place in the well tended gardens with branches that stabbed skyward like arms grasping at heaven. Behind and to the right of Kanmaru, near the base of the tree was Kaseiko. She still looked to be dreaming. She wore the scandalous backless kimono she had often worn at Shiro Kento, exposing all of her tattooing and leaving very little to the imagination. If this is what she chose to wear to a formal appointment it was likely that Kaseiko was still there somewhere behind her body’s dulled and dreaming eyes. Tsuko could only hope.
Kanmaru rose as Tsuko reached the fringe of the gathering. The Crane woman bowed stiffly before the corrupt lord as attention was forced upon her by Kanmaru’s reaction to her presence. Quickly and without subtlety, supplicants displaced themselves to avoid being between Tsuko and Kanmaru. He nodded to her graciously. A strong breeze whirled through the gardens, sending a flurry of sakura petals flying in a fragile curtain between them.
“Kakita Tsuko-san, will you accept my offer?” A cold, controlled smile curved Tsuko’s lips as she felt the questing press of Kanmaru’s will. She mentally braced herself against it. He was smiling, confident that he could hold her in thrall. Why shouldn’t he be? He’d done it before. She was aware of footsteps faltering then quickening on the stones behind her. Tsuko’s smile faded but her resolve did not.
“I apologize, Kanmaru-sama, but I must decline.” A few of Kanmaru’s supplicants gasped. She heard Maigo behind her make a strangled cry and from her position near the wall the tainted fox chuckled.
“Then you will die.” Kanmaru’s words were quiet and causal as though he were merely talking about the weather. His aura surged against her will and she felt the terrible weight of his power as she reached for the hilt of her sword. If she was lucky she would get one strike before he killed her, she intended to make it count. If she could disrupt his control over Kaseiko at least she would have a chance.
Her fingertips touched the blue silk of the wrap and she was free. She felt the soft touch of guidance from within and exalted at the broken silence. She could feel the press of his hideous power but it parted before her leaving her untouched as she closed the distance between them; her strength was greater then her own. His golden eyes widened in shock as her blade cleared her saya. He was fast, faster then she was, but he had been overconfident. She felt resistance, but not enough. He recovered too quickly. Kanmaru turned with her as she passed him by, forced by her own momentum and she felt a lancing pain in her left shoulder; the caress of his steel claws. She pivoted to strike again as a sickening numbness spread through her left arm and leeched warmth from her body. She never completed her repositioning. Enraged golden eyes met calm blue ones as spears of ice pierced Tsuko’s body. Their force pushed her backward slamming her into the great dead tree. A second icy volley pinned her there causing Tsuko’s blood to splatter over Kaseiko’s bare skin.
“How dare you!” Kanmaru’s roared, bluish blood splattered over the white stones as he retreated several steps backward toward the archway and Maigo, clutching at his left side. The wound was deep. His supplicants huddled fearfully as far from the source of violence as possible. Only Maigo moved, slipping past his enraged lord he moved toward Tsuko. “How dare you.” He said again, regaining some measure of composure as his wound began regenerating. Tsuko watched him as his blood flowed slowly backward, sealing his wound as it went. A spasm went through the pinned duelist and blood spilled from her lips. Only Tsuko’s labored breathing broke the silence.
“You carry my grandfather’s blood; I can smell it in your veins! You walked my path! Destiny brought you here; you cannot deny your own destiny! Bleed and die, you will serve me even in death. I will strip your soul bare and consume what I require then use your body to make improvements on my servants!”
Kaseiko moved slowly, reaching outward toward the spreading crimson stain at Tsuko’s feet. She dipped two fingers into it and raised them before her eyes. She then half-turned to look upon the dangling Crane women, her eyes widening. Kanmaru did not seem to notice.
Kanmaru’s voice became mournful, “I would have spared you, given you all you desired. You walked my path but you failed. Your sacrifice is meaningless, you accomplished nothing.” A metallic resonance shattered the air as her sword slipped from Tsuko’s hand, striking the paving stones surrounding in the old dead tree; it was an anguished sound.
Tsuko’s weak, blood-choked laughter caused Kanmaru to take another step backward into the archway.
There was something wrong, though; the idle chatter of his evening court was silenced. She heard him speaking and a familiar voice replied. She couldn’t place it. It nagged at her.
There was a flurry of motion and the familiar singing of a blade being cleared for a strike. Her skin crawled as the elements around her fluxed unnaturally. It did not agree with the pleasant haze that filled her mind. She struggled against it, disgusted by the corruption and seeking escape. Warm wetness splattered across her skin, startling her. She blinked her eyes focusing upon the flag stones. The pristine white was being obscured by a spreading crimson stain. She reached out to touch the stain, feeling its warm, sticky texture. She brought it to her face and her mind recoiled. It was blood, so much blood. Seeking a source, she looked upward.
Shock snapped her back to her senses, a look of dawning horror spread over her face. This was not a dream. She watched Tsuko’s blade fall and felt terror rip through her soul. The woman who had protected her, accepted her and held her as no other had was going to die.
“I love you.” He spoke with passionate conviction, as though the rest of his world had fallen away and there was only her. He beckoned her to him, the setting sun behind him making him little more than a thin silhouette. He no longer clutched his side, the wound was nearly undone.
Kaseiko walked forward, leaving crimson footprints on the white paving stones. “Is there anything you would deny me?” She raised her eyes to regard Kanmaru. Behind her she heard movement as Maigo went to Tsuko. She hoped he could comfort Tsuko in her last moments.
“I would deny you nothing, Kako-chan.” He smiled at her, and she returned his smile, holding out her arms to him. He embraced her, burying his face into her hair and drawing in her heavy, cinnamon scent.
“I need something from you, Kanmaru, will you give it to me?” she whispered into his ear. She closed her eyes, opening herself to the untainted kami that remained enslaved in this place. She gave them her fury, offering herself as a doorway to freedom.
“Anything, anything you ask.” He breathed, seemingly entranced. “I need you to die, Kanmaru.” Kaseiko’s grip upon him grew stronger; too late he felt the gathering of power within her. “What?” he questioned and he suddenly became aware of his surroundings. He saw Maigo embracing the Crane women, as though to shield her. For the first time in nearly thirty years, Kanmaru questioned his decision. “My Kanmaru was a gentle creature. You are a monster harboring the tattered remnants of his soul…do not be afraid, we will free you from your prison.”
The flames that licked at the hems of Kaseiko’s kimono became real. Scorching heat seeped from her very pores, and steam poured forth from her eyes. He saw the phoenix tattoo peeling from her back, taking a life of its own. He struggled to escape, the corruption within him making the will to live stronger then the sting of Kaseiko’s words, but the small women held fast as he began to tear her apart.
Kanmaru was too late to stop her. Kaseiko gave herself to the flames and a maelstrom of fire seared the world.
Dimly she became aware of a presence, touching her, speaking softly. She tried to smile but it was difficult she was so tired. She felt a surge in the elements, a spark of warmth that began in her chest and spiraled outward becoming stronger and more uncomfortable and leaving nothing but pain in its wake.
Tsuko heard a comforting words become an alarmed cry. She felt the sudden press of something heavy against her body and a tidal wave of agony crashed over her followed by the kiss of searing heat.
Tsuko knew no more.
South Eastern Scorpion territory, first day of the month of the Serpent, 1161...
Morning sunlight streamed through the crumbling walls surrounding the ruins of what may have once been the beautiful manor house of a wealthy lord. A terrible fire had swept through the estate those crumbling walls had once protected. The building that might once have housed a noble lord was nothing more then blackened timbers sticking up haphazardly through its own ashes.
The garden that surrounded the once respectable manor house had been equally blackened, but that didn’t stop nature. Nature went on about its business, reclaiming that which had been lost. Vibrant green wrapped its way around the charred remains of trees and trellises alike, reaching for the sun. Flowers, both cultured and wild, grew unfettered by the designs of man creating a chaotic rainbow of colors and shapes, indifferent to the broken stone that had once marked out the boundaries of their lives.
Looming like an ancient guardian over the untamed gardens was a great dead tree. It alone was untouched by the flames that had seared the estate to nothing more then ashes. Its branches reached skyway, stoic and unmoving. At the base of the tree, nature had failed. An unnatural mound of soil nestled within its branching roots. Nothing green and vibrant reached for the sun, and colorful flowers did not stir in the breeze. The white flagstones leading to the tree were cracked and broken. Many of the stones were scorched, silently testifying to the power of the fire that had swept through. What was once an archway leading to the garden at large was now crumbled and fused together creating a physical barrier that separated the living gardens from the unhealed scar on the land.
Yet, there was movement in the shadows of the ancient tree. A solitary strip of silk, bleached a dark shade of grey from elemental exposure, flittered in breeze. The strip was held in place but the fine, thin steel of an aiguchi. The blade itself was buried in the smooth, bark less surface amidst numerous deep wounds in the corpse of the ancient tree. Below the blade and the dangling cloth, below the piercing wounds in the ancient tree, were a series of kanji carved with great care.
Burnished bronze immersed
Within liquid velvet veils,
Embracing winter's chill
It was not signed.
A lone samurai-ko walked beside the wide, well cared for road leading to Shiro sano Kakita. Tangled white hair spilled, unbound, from beneath a wide, straw hat. Her deep blue hakama and haori were clean, but frayed and bleached from travel. She wore her blades uncovered, settled into her obi in the style of the Crane. A worn furoshiki sack was slung over her shoulder.
The swordswomen did not raise her head as she passed through the open gates into the stronghold of the Crane. There was no interference from guards. She alone was not an army, and while she was somewhat unkempt she was clearly not ronin. The mild look of distaste the lounging guard had given her turned into the shock of recognition as he caught a glimpse of her face beneath the straw hat. Beyond a polite nod, she paid him no notice at all.
She moved through the manicured spaces of her family’s ancestral stronghold. She had been gone for slightly more then a year yet it seemed that nothing had changed. Only she had changed, placing her out of synch with her surroundings. It would be difficult to readjust. The woman paused, looking skyward to check the time. Her sensei would be taking tea privately in the gardens near the practice fields if his routine still held. She would go directly to him; she could always announce her return later. A frown touched her lips at the thought of her Uncle, but that was an inevitable matter.
She followed the twists and turns in the elaborate gardens as only the familiar could. She may not have been born here, but she was raised here. The sound of many training with practice blades reached her ears as she approached the garden tea house. She ascended the short steps and removed her sandals, glancing toward the training fields. Students of varying skill levels faced off against one another with unswerving dedication, learning from the strengths and weaknesses of each other. Returning her focus to her purpose, she tapped lightly upon the door.
“Come” spoke a smooth baritone.
She opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind her. She set her furoshiki sack along the wall and drew her sheathed katana from her obi and set on the rack beside the door before continuing into the room. As she walked she loosed the ties holding her straw hat and removed it. An inch or two of black shone beyond the touch of bleach in her somewhat ragged hair. White strands wove through the exposed ebony, blurring the boundaries between black and white. As her hair fell unimpeded over her shoulders it created a frame for her lovely, aristocratic features and unusually dark blue eyes.
A man in his late thirties knelt within, teacup in hand. His eyes rested where hers had been drawn; the practice fields. Pristine and proper, his kimono was immaculate. Even the way he drank his tea was measured and graceful. His long black hair was pulled high and tied in a traditional hairstyle. The young women knelt and bowed deeply, setting her hat beside her. A slight nod was his only acknowledgement.
The poised Crane sensei glanced toward his errant student, “Have you been announced, Tsuko-chan?”
“Iie, Sensei.” She replied.
“Hm.” His eyes turned back to the practice fields.
A sharp rap upon the door caused both the woman called Tsuko and her Sensei to look in the direction of the door. Without waiting for acknowledgement a slender, effete man, most likely in his early thirties opened the door and stepped inside, leaving the door opened behind him. His powder blue kimono was finely embroidered with cranes in flight, and his obi was a deeper blue embroidered with a complex array of koi. A fine, thin wooden fan sat loosely in his hand. He was the very picture of opulence and fret. In the small garden teahouse it was he who was deeply out of place. He bowed deeply to the sensei, who looked at him with faint amusement before shifting his gaze back to his students on the green.
The effete man whirled on kneeling women the instant the sensei looked away. “Tsuko-chan, you are late! How could you worry your caretaker so unthoughtfully? Did you not consider that I worried about you?” The man’s court-trained voice wove through Tsuko’s attempting to afflict her with guilt. In truth she felt something more akin to annoyance.
“Gomen Nasai, Uncle. I was indisposed.” Tsuko’s voice was smooth and without warmth.
“So indisposed you could not write? I have invested a great deal in you since the death of your father. I believe I am entitled to be the first to know where you are and where you have been!” The man’s indignity fairly echoed off the walls of the small teahouse.
Silence stretched between them and Tsuko felt her uncle’s growing agitation. She tried not to allow herself to grow angry. She had not anticipated the question. When a warrior returned from a pilgrimage there should be no questions. That was tradition. When she finally spoke her voice was soft, “I was very badly injured, Uncle.”
“You accompanied a Phoenix woman to Scorpion lands, and on the way you championed a Shinjo. A Shinjo! You killed an ally. Your judgment was very poor.” He looked very satisfied with himself.
“The Shinjo had no champion and the Lion had no honor. Do not question my judgment, Uncle.” Tsuko’s voice grew lower, though its tone remained the same.
“I will question your judgment until you tell me where you were. I received no word from any court of your presence in Scorpion lands of your arrival or departure. I cannot protect you from the rumors of the court if you don’t tell me what you’ve done, Tsuko-chan.” His voice became patronizing and fatherly while he tried to conceal the glee he felt in making her uncomfortable.
He hated her as much as she hated him. He had no children and no wife because once he had her he had the political capital he required, or so he thought. She ruined his plans by being gifted with a blade and he made her miserable for it. She stifled mirth at how angry her uncle would be if he could see the scars marring her body. She’d be further devalued as a marriage token. Her grandfather would have been ashamed of his son…probably all of his sons. She glanced toward her Sensei and found to be studying her. For a moment their eyes met and he nodded, almost imperceptibly. Tsuko looked back toward her Uncle, who was still smiling.
“I was settling a matter of family honor and karmic destiny in Scorpion lands. I was nearly killed, and nursed back to health by Kitsu Maigo, who regained his name and his honor in death. You will find no record of my actions, Uncle. No one who stood by still lives save myself. That is all you need to know, Uncle.”
“I don’t know what tempts you to try my patience, Matsu Tsuko, but I am your only link to this family and you will not defy me!” The petulant little man reached out to shake Tsuko. Moments later he went sailing through the thin walls of the teahouse, landing in a heap near the practice fields. Tsuko stood near where she had been standing. The sensei, still watching her, took a sip of his tea. The students moved further into the practice field, but otherwise made no acknowledgement of what had just occurred.
Tsuko stepped through the broken wall as her uncle regained his feet. “You’re right, Uncle, you have no idea what tempts me. You have no idea what temptation is.”
She stopped when she reached him, watching him fuss over his kimono with some disgust. “You know, you have held me in contempt for my blood since the beginning. I was a bartering tool for you. I no longer accept this. Grandfather’s sword is mine. I am Crane.”
Tsuko turned her back on her uncle and walked back into the ruined teahouse. She bowed before her Sensei with a pained look and remained that way. “Gomen Nasai”
He gazed at her sternly, “Kakita Tsuko, announce your arrival and retrieve your belongings. I will arrange new lodgings for you outside your Uncle’s house. This will be required for your advanced training. You will be here at dawn.”
“Hai, Sensei.”
As Tsuko retreated from the teahouse she tucked her sword back into her obi. Loneliness nagged at her, but it probably always would. Still, Kaseiko had left her untouched by the fires that cleansed Kanmaru from the world. It was a gift she could not take lightly. She would live for them both. Subconsciously she touched the jade that still hung over her heart.
She glanced back toward the tea house, shaking her head slightly. Her uncle should have known better then to try and touch her. She was Kakita Tsuko, daughter of Matsu Suki, Granddaughter of Matsu Nanami, no man would lay hands upon her uncontested.