Time to make a story thread, where we can turn our excitement at returning to Rokugan into fiction to pass the time. I really like what the clans have come to mean to their players, and I think the universe and its lore is pretty great. Feel free to post your own and join in on the fun. Nobody else can really capture what your clans, and this setting, mean to you better than yourself.

Feel free to throw up stuff related to the classic timeline as well, as anything and everything can help new players and fans find the clan that fits their own personality and philosophy, even if the details change moving forward.

And I'll go first... This is something I whipped up as I imagined the reaction and perception of the Dragon and Phoenix clans to a change in the fate of the timeline.

A lifetime of relentlessly seeking knowledge behind her, and yet still Nani Aoshi finfs herself profoundly curious about what, exactly, Dragons find so fascinating with staring off aimlessly into the void. At least this one has the sense to do so in the beautiful surroundings of the Garden of Juramashi’s Honor. Many seem to get lost in such a way on whatever street corner is nearest, oftentimes staring blankly at the sides of tea houses or buzzing piles of refuse.

Tamori Enko, the Dragon in question, doesn’t seem to notice her. Or, more likely, just doesn’t care to. She is more than two hands taller than Aoshi, even with her head shaved clean. Aoshi, while many things, has never been physically imposing. A state of being she has come to fully accept over the years. What she lacks in height or natural ability, she has always made up for in curiosity and eagerness. Unlike Aoshi, the lithe monk seems supremely comfortable in her own skin, consistently relaxed in a way that Aoshi likely never will experience.

The bald monk speaks calmly, eyes still unfocused on the very air. “A Phoenix has risen from her studies in the Kuroka Library, reborn into this fickle world of politics and rumor. Has she finally found the enlightenment she so desperately searches for?”

Aoshi grimaces, in no mood for the offhanded glibness that is the true natural mastery of seemingly all born into the Dragon clan. “I will only stop searching when I stop drawing breath. Even then…”

The monk nods almost imperceptibly. “Even then…” The taller woman finally turns her eyes onto Aoshi, brown eyes sparkling with something almost bordering on curiosity. “What draws you to me in this moment? It cannot be the mere curiosity of a Dragon in the capital. Surely you have seen such rarity before. What causes a pacifist such as yourself to seek the destruction of my peace?”

The smaller woman frowns. “I apologize for interrupting your in-depth study of the void, Tamori Enko. If there is a better time for us to speak, I shall-“

“The moment has passed, Nani Aoshi. There is no time of concern other than this present moment.”

Nani Aoshi pulls nervously on the edges of her long sleeves. “I respectfully disagree. The past holds many secrets worth knowing. But I am not here to debate the nature of time with a monk today.”

The Dragon smiles coyly. “I must have misinterpreted your visit, then. I assumed it was that exact purpose that brought you to me.”

“Hm. I suppose it is. So you Dragons feel it, too. Something has changed. The Kami are restless.”

The bald-headed monk sighs, her eyes returning to the natural splendor of the quiet park. “A great many things have changed, even since the beginning of this conversation. They will continue to change.”

Aoshi chooses her words carefully, unwilling to share too much. “But something about this change is… different. Wrong. I am not surprised to see the Crane continue to preen their fine plumage even when they should be seeking food and shelter, but not even a slumbering Dragon ignores the moving of the earth.”

“What is, is. The earth cares nothing for the rightness or the wrongness of those affected when it moves. How we feel about the changes around us do nothing to stop those changes, Nani Aoshi.”

“I do not come here seeking knowledge of how to stop the changes around us, Tamori Enko. I hold no false assumptions regarding my ability to resist what is. I come here seeking knowledge about the nature of the change itself. I seek to understand, nothing more.”

“Why seek out me?”

Nani Aoshi pauses, tugging on the hem of her sleeves once more as she forms an answer. “I am afraid. Not of the changing. I fear that our knowledge is incomplete because of nothing deeper than simple human failings. I fear that we Phoenix are too focused on understanding the effects of the change. My peers desire to shape this into something they can control because they are afraid. These changes have not been easy for most.

“And I believe you Dragons are attempting to understand and accept the cause with too little concern for the effects. Your people can sense all of this, too, but I fear you seek nothing more than where to set your foot next on your paths. It seems to me that perhaps both the Phoenix and the Dragons will succeed in our separate understandings, but ultimately will find ourselves unprepared and ignorant because of our narrow desires. I refuse to be ignorant, Tamori Enko, so I seek out you.”

The Dragon exhales and frowns. “Afraid. Yes. We’re all so afraid right now. The one thing that will forever unite this Empire is our collective fear. The Crane fear that their humanity will be exposed naked for the rest of us to judge, and so they flap about seeking reasons to peck out the eyes of all who might see. The Lion fear that their duty and their honor are on differing courses, so they roar mightily to keep all as it is. The Crab fear the very isolation that they have sought for so long, unsure that their great strength and hardened exterior is enough. The Unicorn fear the future they fought so hard to achieve, racing to and fro to avoid a fate of being either outsiders existing free from our ways or accepted members of a society that is so foreign to their own history. The Scorpions lash out viciously at the shadow of their own successes, unsure of how to proceed now that they are basking so boldly in the sunlight. You Phoenix are afraid of terrified of burning inside of the very flames you sheathe yourselves in. And we Dragons are afraid that our years of peaceful slumber must soon end.

“There is wisdom in your concern, Nani Aoshi. My own fears brought me here today. I will always struggle with the humanity inside of myself, it seems. Perhaps this does warrant an investigation. And if it does, then it must be done together, mustn’t it? I seek the comfort of the void at my own peril. In this time of high walls, there will still need to be wide bridges.”

Nani Aoshi smiles. “Building bridges has always been below the notice of the mighty. So we of little power must get to work.” She pauses, staring sadly at the bottom of her orange robe. “I, lacking the vast knowledge of those above me. And you, lacking the deep wisdom of those beyond you. I do expect us to fail.”

Tamori Enko laughs, the unnatural sound causing the Phoenix to jump in startlement. “If you promise to focus more on where to put your foot next on this path, I will promise to use my eyes to seek more than just mere acceptance. For a time, at least.”

“Agreed.”

“So tell me Aoshi, what besides fear have you found within the walls of the great library? And, in return, I will tell you what I have learned by staring so intently into the void…”

Oh, a drabble thread? Cool, I want to play too!

Deliberations

The bestial screams cut through the gloomy air of the empty storehouse like the nimble naginata that caused them. Burly, dark bodies littered the floor from the front gate to the back of the building where the battle was still ongoing, as inhumane savagery assailed a monument of prowess among a vicious maelstrom of blood and violence.

The monsters were maju, creatures that resembled muscular humans with beastly features, and possessed a comparably fierce and malevolent temper. They were a scourge of this world, blasphemies of fur and fang, and their hordes preyed upon the weak with cruel fervor. Wherever they showed up, they had to be put down like the daemons they were, without any further consideration, for the betterment of all.

Their strength and brutality served them well though, and made them formidable opponents individually for the average men.

But as of now, who they were facing was a samurai, and not an average man.

The beastman flung his oversized mace with all the might he could pour into the strike, but he could barely make a scratch on the emerald-colored armor. A barely audible crack of the ceramic plate was the only thing confirming that the attack connected, but the slim figure otherwise remained unflinching, and answered with a flash of his naginata.

A head flew through the air, its ape-like face still reflecting the dumb shock of being swept aside so easily. Another beastman leaped into action, ducking below the passing head then thrusting forward with his heavy scimitar. The samurai spun sideways, swinging his weapon wide to cut a third opponent in half, then kicked into the knee of the charging beast, breaking it immediately and sending the creature to the floor.

His sharp whimper ended with a thud as he landed, then a wet crunch as the naginata impaled him.

Kaiu Tozen let out a heavy sigh as the beast writhed and died. The maju had been all too eager to pick a fight, and despite Tozen and his company of imperial samurai scattering them at the gates of the town, they hadn't given up on sacking the settlement. The chaos was largely in control, as Tozen could determine from the noises coming from the outside, but he still felt a little bitter about not being able to contain the maju in the initial engagement.

He pulled out his naginata, and looked around. There had been maybe fifty of the brutish beastmen when he had entered the storehouse, and he could count forty-eight dead bodies now. The place was quiet, and looked all but empty. Yet, his zhansin - sixth sense - was still tickling. Maybe it was just the thrill, but he nevertheless tightened his grip on the shaft of his weapon.

A blurry figure joined him only moments latter, descending through the roof, his long fall abruptly stopped just a few inches above the ground by some supernatural force. Clad in bulky mustard-yellow robes and red armor, with a pair of amber eyes meeting Tozen's own from a white headcowl, Mukono welcomed his comrade with a small nod as his kiho suspended, making him land gently on the ground.

"The beasts are routed," began the sohei unceremoniously. He lifted up his jo: there was a large, bloody amulet hanging from the end of it. "Their chieftain is dead. I killed him personally."

"Any casualties?" asked back Tozen as he glanced over the amulet. It was indeed the trinket the maju chieftain had worn when Tozen had last seen him.

"The new girl... Isawa Yuko if I remember correctly..." Tozen nodded. Isawa Yuko was the newest bushi of the company, a young woman fresh off from her gempukku. It would have been quite tragic if something had happened with her. "She is badly shaken. I had to exempt her half-way in the battle and send her back to reserves."

Tozen allowed himself a small smile. He should look at this battle a little more positively. It had been six thousand maju against three hundred imperial samurai, after all, not a fight the imperials could have lost even if they hadn't broken the beasts in the very first clash.

Speaking of which...

"What about the town? Did it sustain any damage? Are the civilians safe?"

Mukono just shrugged.

"A few buildings caught fire, and there are some wounded, but the situation is well under control. We..." He paused uncomfortably for a moment, alerting Tonzen that something had gone awry in the end. "We have some missing townsfolk. The beasts probably kidnapped them and then escaped back to their camp."

Tozen could feel his anger rising, and he had to bit his tongue to not start spilling curses.

"Gather my retinue, Mukono. I'm going after them personally."

"Is this... wise? You should send another squadron. We still have much to do in the town."

"You still have much to do in the town." Tozen countered the sohei. "Take two squadrons, rally the populace, and bring back order. Meanwhile, I will take my retinue and rescue those people." There was a little confusion in the monk's eyes, so Tozen naturally felt an inclination to explain further. "I'm a samurai, Mukono, and an imperial one, for that matter. The safety of all subjects within the Emerald Empire is ultimately my responsibility. It is my duty to defend them from whatever threat arises, and from whatever danger that befalls upon them. This is why I chose to stay and not leave the defense of this town to the local militia." He narrowed his eyes as he reached the heaviest part. "When I decided to fight the maju in the town rather than on the field, I took a risk. I deliberately pushed the people I ought to defend into harm's way so that I can seize a tactical advantage. Every bit of suffering is my fault, and thus it must be I who corrects it by whatever means necessary..."

"...because your honor demands it?" interrupted him Mukono, and Tozen nodded. No more words were needed.

"Come on, we are done here," finished their small conversation Tozen as he prepared to leave.

As an answer, Mukono suddenly punched into the air, aiming at a nearby pile of boxes. A visible gale was stirred by his strike, lashing out in a cloud of dust like a vengeful spirit. It took a sharp turn at the boxes, and blew its wrath there with unrelenting force. A maju fell out from behind the boxes, his chest pulverized into a bloody pulp of fur, flesh, and bone, and his hand still clinging into a crude crossbow. In his dying moments, the beast somehow gathered the willpower to fire his weapon, and by some dark luck, his shot was dead-on, zipping out towards Tozen's head with a deep whistle.

The imperial samurai was not so easily frightened though, and he easily caught the bolt with his hand before it could bury itself into his eye.

"Now, we are done," noticed Mukono with barely suppressed glee, then crouched down and darted out towards the sky, leaving through the hole he had arrived.

Tozen kept his eye on the spot where the sohei flew away, despite having no idea what he was exactly looking for. Then he casually threw the bolt aside, and left through the gate.

"Because my honor demands it," he murmured as he entered the street, just as much for himself as for any Fortune who was listening.

Man, this thread did not take off at all . I'll keep the dream alive tho.

Young Blood

The three beastmen were little more than a patch of darkness in the thick undergrowth of the forest. Their black fur melded almost perfectly into the thick shadows, and their rusted and dirty equipment did not produce any glint despite the glowing spring sun above them. They were lying in ambush, waiting for a suitable prey to come, their brutish minds focused on the single purpose of killing, with crude crossbows in their hands and fresh wounds from a recent lost battle still on their bodies. These injuries filled the air with the smell of blood, only driving the monsters further into a delirium of violence. Their muscles trembled and their eyes narrowed from the savage anticipation.

One of them released a small, deep growl to relieve some of the tension.

A loud, sharp whistle answered.

Then the beast's head exploded in a shower of blood, bone, and brain.

"Hah! Did you see that Yuko-chan?" shouted Moto Bayan cheerfully as he put another arrow on his dai-kyu and made his steed move further along the top of the small hill to get a better angle on the edge of the nearby forest. "These explosive arrows are truly the inventions of Jigoku itself!"

Isawa Yuko just silently nodded and rode up next to the older samurai. She had seen enough blood and slaughter in this day to get her whole lifetime checked out. And that was something, considering that she was only a few months past her gempukku, and a meager sixteen years into her life. She could already feel her stomach turning from witnessing the gruesome death of that beast, but she beat back the inclination to throw up.

"You look pale, Yuko-chan... Is something wrong?" Bayan released another arrow, but it was a miss and only blew up a branch above the head of a beastman. "Fates to be cursed! What a waste of a shot!" Yuko disagreed in herself. She had had enough, and prayed that Bayan would be content with scaring away the two remaining monsters.

One of the beastmen released a shot from his crossbow, aiming roughly at the two samurai, but they were far out of range, and the bolt hit the ground harmlessly around half the distance. Bayan couldn't leave this unanswered, and fired another arrow. This time however, he decided to not use up any more of the precious explosive arrows - the projectile burst into a bolt of bright orange fire soon after it was released, and engulfed its unfortunate target with a splash of hungry flames upon hit. The beast screamed up as its body burnt, running out from its hiding place with his hands in the air, drawing a tail of fire like some sort of bizarre falling star. Finally, the incendiary solution ate away enough flesh to reach something important, and the beast fell into the dirt, still twitching and shrieking in his dying agony.

Yuko had to turn away for a moment to regain her composure. The memory of the first battle in the day, when hundreds of these beastmen died the same cruel death within a few seconds, was still too fresh in her mind. All that flurry. All that mayhem. The overpowering smell of burnt flesh and fur. The feeling of a body writhing and dying at the end of her naginata. All that blood on her armor. All that sweat on her body.

The mere thought of the battle drenched her with a feeling of impurity. She couldn't withhold it any longer, the horrors of war broke through her tattered self-discipline, and she vomited on the ground. This one was surprisingly reliving, though. When the same thing caught her in the earlier fight, her mempo was still on her face, causing quite a discomfort.

"I take this as something is wrong," commented Bayan. He lowered his bow, allowing the last surviving beast to flee into the forest. "Is this your first battle, Yuko-chan?" The girl weakly nodded. "It isn't pretty, is it?" She shook her head. "Well, I can't say much good about it. It will only get worse, make no mistake." He scratched his chin and stared into the distance he was trying to remember something very important. "My first battle was pretty bad too. Took part in running down a bunch of bandits as part of a lancer squadron. Those guys had even less of a chance than these maju back in the town. Crushed four under the hooves of my loyal steed." He proudly patted the neck of his horse. "Broke my lance into the chest of one. Killed maybe a dozen with my katana." He pouted and started playing with the string of his bow. "I did not take a single scratch. Not on my body, at least. But my spirit... There were some injuries." He looked into Yuko's eyes. "This is not what we imagine while training in the dojo. Our sensei tell us tales of glorious battles, against foes worthy of challenge. They tell you that you are a samurai, a warrior, and even better, you are a bushi, the warrior of warriors. But then you leave the dojo, get into your first battle, and reality checks in." He took a dramatic pause. "This was no glorious battle. These were no foes worthy of challenge. You were not a warrior. You were a murderer."

Yuko reeled under her armor as the last word reached her mind. The world began spinning as her feelings were put into words by the older samurai.

"I..." That was all she could press out from between her lips.

"Don't worry, what you feel is natural." Bayan rode around her, stopping just within an arm's length. "Everything in this world must exist in some sort of balance to reach harmony." He lifted his fists with his pointing fingers stuck out, for an awkward visual representation. "Your warrior spirit is no exception." He pulled back one of his fingers. "If you fight without balance, you will experience disharmony. You have to have something on the other side. Like a worthy foe. Or honor." He leaned forward in his saddle. "Just imagine what would have happened to that town if we hadn't killed those maju. Those beasts would have sacked everything and slaughtered the innocent townsfolk... or do unspeakably worse things to them. We did massacre those beasts without glory, but our cause was righteous. We murdered those worthless monsters so that honest imperial citizens can live in safety. If you ask me, that's more than enough reason for a fight, even if it turned out to be so... despicable."

Yuko straightened her back. She did start to feel a little better from Bayan's lecture.

"Thank you, Bayan-sama, I will try to keep this in mind."

"No worries!" he laughed. "Better to get it straight now. Disharmony draws doubt. Doubt draws Fear, Regret, and Desire. The Three Sins chew away your honor, and if you stray from Bushido, you surely perish." He gave Yuko a friendly pat on the back, and she did not mind the somewhat inappropriate gesture. "You are young blood, Yuko-chan. Don't let reality poison your life before it can really start. I don't know you for long, but I'm sure you are destined for more than to crumble in your first battle."

With that, he dashed out with his horse towards the forest , most likely to hunt down the third beastmen. After a moment of consideration, Yuko followed him without a word.

A little something from long ago (2014 or so)- an alternate timeline of a different sort, where Toturi Tsudao actually reigned as Empress-

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The encamped First Legion went about its daily routine, already preparing to move on to its next assignment.

But not all assignments were created equal.

Shiba Kaigen eyeballed the letter with something akin to a smile on his face... it didn't quite make it all the way, but it was clearly trying to be a smile.

'Shiba Kaigen-Gunso-
It has come to my attention that you have been invited to attend the Winter Court of Empress Toturi II, Long May She Reign. This is fortuitous, as there is a task I believe you can assist with that would not be out of your way. As you may be aware, the Lion have been moving Heaven and Earth in an effort to make Kyuden Meiyo worthy of the honor to be bestowed upon it. However, complications have arisen with the peasant laborers they have conscripted. I wish for you to go with your men, and insure both the completeness and security of the construction. Use any means you see fit, so long as the task is completed.
Daidoji Tsimaru
Taisa, First Imperial Legion'

Kaigen rolled the letter back up and stuffed it into a scroll case, which he absently handed off to Yoshi, an illiterate but highly loyal and skillful budoka.

"What is the order, Shiba-sama?"

"We go to Kyuden Meiyo."

"The Legion?"

"No, just us."

"Whatever for?"

"If I read the intent correctly, we go to tweak the Lion's whiskers."

"Sir?"

"Politics, Yoshi. But never mind. Put the word around. We should leave immediately."

And if I am supremely fortunate, we will not make matters worse... well, not much worse.

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Just Outside of the Walls of Kyuden Meiyo

Shiba Kaigen's expression did not flicker as he regarded the bruised, battered countenance of one of his budoka, a man named Misasa.

"... and then before I could even begin to comply, Matsu Ichibara-sama knocked me to the ground and started kicking me!"

"I trust your response was nothing that would worsen the situation?"

"No, Gunso-sama, I simply stayed in a deep bow until he'd wearied of kicking me, and then I returned to camp."

"Wash your face, Misasa. I get the impression that you and the other budoka had best stay out of the castle for the remainder of our time here."

Misasa bowed and then made his way to his fellows.

I should have known better than to let them send Misasa with that message. We seem to have ruffled some fur already.

And the budoka, as heimin, would be easy targets for any resentment the Lion wished to express.

Could you not have simply let me come with the rest of the Imperial forces at my appointed time, Daidoji-sama? Oh. Of course not. That wouldn't have caused any trouble.

Oh well. Time to go make friends and influence people.

He opened the scroll Misasa had endured that beating to retrieve and read carefully.

'Shiba Kaigen-Gunso,
How fortunate that you have not run afoul of the same lamentable violence that claimed the life of a samurai here today! This only reinforces my belief that the Imperial Legions must lend all aid possible to the honorable Lion, who, after all, have much to do as hosts of this Court. Please, continue to assist as best you know how. I am sure the Clan of Akodo will be properly grateful.
Daidoji Tsimaru
Taisa, First Imperial Legion'

Kaigen sighed aloud, rolled the scroll up, stuck it through his obi, and made his way toward the castle gate.

That is quite enough of that, Daidoji-sama.

As the holder of a formal invitation to Winter Court, Kaigen had some rather nice rooms set aside for his use with the Phoenix delegation. Perhaps he would move in.

Yoshi watched his Gunso enter the castle gate with a wry shake of his head.

The "boss" only walked with that sort of spring in his step when something unfortunate was going to happen to somebody else.

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Having settled in with the Phoenix (by dropping his furoshiki in an unclaimed room), Kaigen, practically radiating good cheer, took his leave and made for the headquartersquarters, not of First Legion Taisa Daidoji Tsimaru... but of First Legion Shireikan Akodo Koga. Understandably, the place was a madhouse. Kaigen seemed not to notice.

"Gunso Shiba Kaigen, reporting as ordered, sir!"

Koga, whose competing duties as Imperial Legion officer and socially important Lion had left him with little time to sleep, let alone deal with random Phoenix samurai popping out of the woodwork, looked askance at the Shiba.

"As ordered?"

"Hai, Shireikan-sama!"

Kaigen bowed low and proffered the letter.

"If have received orders from my Taisa that I am to assist the Lion in any way possible. As I received this order from my Imperial Legion superior, I naturally..."

Koga wasn't listening. He was, instead, reading the letter and turning a marvelous shade of purple. Kaigen allowed his explanation to trail off, in order for the Honorable Akodo-sama to compose himself. It took a couple of minutes.

"Your... assistance... is not required at this time, Shiba-sama. You are to be a guest at Winter Court?"

"That undeserved and glorious honor is mine, Akodo-sama."

Koga's eyes narrowed as he regarded the gunso.

"Then, as Shireikan in the First Imperial Legion, I hereby grant you leave for the duration of Court. This, naturally, means you will not receive any further orders for the duration."

"Hai, Akodo-sama."

He paused.

"Akodo-sama? My guntai is, pursuant to prior orders, encamped outside of the castle. Are they to remain?"

Koga's talent for turning brilliant shades of crimson was truly spectacular.

"I... presume... these prior orders are related to this latest..."

He gestured with Tsimaru's letter as if it were an unwashed fundoshi.

"Hai, Akodo-sama."

"Then perhaps, as you are no longer on active duty, you would do me the favor of informing one of your Nikutai that your unit is to report to the rest of the First Legion currently stationed here."

While the words were technically a question, the tone made it plain that there was no question at all.

"Of course Akodo-sama."

"Dismissed."

Polite samurai do not hear what goes on behind closed shoji screens... but really, Akodo-sama's bellowing for ink, paper, and a messenger could probably have been heard from the Badger lands.

Kaigen allowed himself a little smile as he headed back for the gate.

I would say I am sorry, Daidoji-sama... but as we would both be too aware, that would be an utter lie.

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I try desperately to keep my men alive in the face of frequently stupid and even more frequently utterly insane orders from above. I turn a blind eye to petty theft of food when our supplies don't reach us in time. I write letters for illiterate heimin soldiers to be read to their equally-illiterate wives by some monk who happens to live in their village. I help make up ribald songs about the wives of homesick men. I lie through my teeth and tell untested, soft-handed, pale-skinned officers that I respect and value their opinion, and will of course carry out their orders with pleasure. I count the dead, and since shugenja can seldom be bothered with the timely funerals of mere ashigaru, I burn them and try to remember the right prayers for the circumstance. I keep order when they endanger the rest of us. I try to make trouble, severe trouble, for anyone who picks on them. I ask men to follow me into ridiculous situations inflicted upon us by uncaring superiors, and I get them to do it gladly. I occasionally take leave of my senses and lead assaults, and get the credit for the actions of my unit. I look at the situation on the ground and try, after everything our own side has done to hinder us, to keep the enemies of the Empire from killing us all.

"I am a gunso."

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For all that Kaigen took note of the exchange, he might as well have been asleep.

Well... that escalated quickly.

And then he cleared his throat.

"Tsuruchi-san can, I am sure, attest to my general fitness in social matters."

My utter lack thereof.

"But I could hardly decline to follow the gracious example set by Tsuruchi-san and Matsu-san."

I absolutely could, but I refuse to give "Taro" the satisfaction of flustering me.

"So. Sincerity."

Call it what it is... plausible deceit.

"There was a peasant- a man of low birth but great wisdom. His name was Ichiro."

His name is Yoshi, and as far as I know, he continues to keep my guntai well-supplied with pickled fish and lewd pictures. Not so much great wisdom as low cunning.

"Ichiro had, through no merit of his own, attained a position of some responsibility in the kitchens of his lord, and did his best to profit by his new station."

We made him our cook after the previous man sent us all into the bushes with a variety of terrible digestive woes.

"One day, Ichiro's master informed him that a very important guest from the Crane Clan would be joining him, and that a truly exceptional meal was required."

I believe my exact words were, "Make sure you scrounge up something worthwhile- Doji-taisa is notoriously picky."

"Ichiro racked his brain, and then set about skillfully acquiring the ingredients of a first-rate feast."

To this day, I have no idea where Yoshi stole all of that fish, although I am reasonably certain the rice came off of a Crane supply wagon and the quail eggs were definitely bartered from that poacher we let go with a warning. What was his name? Godo?

"Having stretched his creativity to the limit, Ichiro set out a magnificent banquet from his master and their honored guest, making sure that each dish was perfection, and that the presentation was immaculate, as befitted their guest's station."

He actually managed to find some porcelain dishware. Of course... he stole it from Doji-taisa's tent.

"The meal went excellently well, with the honored Crane declaring he felt quite at home, everything was just as he liked it."

"Kaigen... what is my tea set doing in your cook's possession?"

"Ichiro's master bowed and accepted all of the credit for the meal's success... and the wise peasant allowed him to take it, knowing that able service to his lord was credit enough."

"I am certain I have no idea what you mean, Doji-sama. This tea set is a family heirloom, one I only bring out for special occasions."

"The guest departed in good cheer, and Ichiro's master, pleased with the peasant's efforts, arranged for the peasant's sons to be taken into his direct service, to benefit from their lord's generosity and from their father's wise example."

"Yoshi... if you ever put me in that situation again, I will kill you."

"Duly noted, Shiba-gunso."

"Now... before he wakes up... make sure his **** tea set is back wherever you got it."

"Hai, Shiba-gunso. How fortunate that he imbibed so heavily of the sake..."

Kaigen allowed himself a slight shrug.

"It is not much of a tale, but then again, I am not much of a storyteller."

The last story is hilarious. It reminds me a bit of Abercrombie.

Yep. Kinda by design. Kaigen had a healthy dose of Bremer dan Gorst in his makeup...

It liiiiiives! Well, kinda, but at least I have a reason to continue .

A Political Sickness

Otosan Uchi, the Sprawling Giant, the glorious capital of the Emerald Empire, spread its mighty presence from horizon to horizon in front of Miya Fujisaka's window. He always enjoyed this time of day like this, just glaring through the seemingly endless field of roofs as their colors faded in the setting sun, the sounds of the enormous metropolis slowly lapsing into the relative quiet of the night, and the slight smell of incense whirling in the air from the nearby shrine. Sadly, he rarely stayed for so long in his office, usually leaving hours before this scene could set in, but the day's last appointment had made him wait this time.

All things considered, he deserved at least this much.

Fujisaka turned away from the window with a heavy sigh. The vast administration building around him was almost empty at this late hour, most of the other bureaucrats had already left, only a few servants had remained, mostly janitors and maybe some scribes. He could even hear the night shift of the guards arriving at the front gate, and the heralds riding out with the day's messages, so that they could start their long journeys into the Empire from the city limits at the next dawn.

These obvious signs of his worktime being long overdue drew out another sigh from Fujisaka. He prayed to Ebisu so that his work would end soon for today. He really was not in the mood to stay for much longer.

Like the Fortune of Honest Work answering his wish, the door to this office opened up, revealing a small man in fine orange robes. He was a simple commoner, Fujisaka could determine that much from the lack of daisho, and as his eyes glanced through the man, he immediately recognized that his last meeting for the day was a merchant of some sort.

"Take a seat," welcomed him Fujisaka and pointed towards the seating place in front of his desk. He tried to soften his voice a little bit, knowing that commoners were easily frightened by the commanding tone he tended to use. "I am Miya Fujisaka, Senior Director of the Imperial Bureaucracy, Sixth Division of Provisioning, Supervisor of the Imperial Reserves." The man nodded awkwardly to sign that he had understood this all, and hurriedly took a seat exactly at the spot where Fujisaka was pointing. A large drop of sweat started to gather on his forehead. "Considering the recommendation of our common friend, Miya Noshi, you can call me Fujisaka-sama."

The man nodded again, and bowed deep in his sitting, with his forehead almost touching the floor.

"Fujisaka-sama," he began with a shaky voice. "I am Amemasa, a merchant prince of no importance from the Phoenix Clan, a loyal subject of the Yogo family." Fujisaka raised his eyebrow. This Amemasa should be truly of no importance, as his clothes had neither the mon of the Phoenix, nor the mon of the Yogo. "I came by the orders of Lord Zenshiro, concerning matters of certain allocations towards a specific vassal of the Yogo."

Fujisaka leaned a little closer over his desk. If this Amemasa really kept him in the office for so long just because of some bickering over supplies, then he would be deeply disappointed.

"Go ahead, Amemasa." His voice happened to be a little stronger as intended, making the merchant prince reel. "I don't know this Lord Zenshiro, and organizing supply allocations are way below my station, so I hope you have a lot more to say."

Amemasa made a visible attempt to swallow back a yelp as pure fear spread through his face, then bowed deep again, knocking his forehead into the floor.

"My sincerest apologies, Fujisaka-sama, I will explain myself at once!" He barely looked up from his bowing stance as he said this. "Lord Zenshiro is the daimyo of the Hanamatsu province, worth twenty-thousand koku, and is a supporter and good friend of Lord Tokuda, the rightful daimyo of the Yogo family." Fujisaka almost questioned Amemasa abotu what he meant by "rightful daimyo" but then he remembered that there were rumors about infighting in the Yogo family after the recent death of the family daimyo. "Two months ago, Hanamatsu province was attacked by a horde of maju, and even though the beasts were repelled by a company of imperial samurai, the largest town was heavily damaged in the fighting. Repairs were made from resources allocated by the Sixth Division, overall worth three-thousand koku." He drew out a piece of paper from his robe, and handed it to Fujisaka. It was a report from the First Division of Dominion that acknowledged the reduction of provincial wealth and the consequential restoration. "These resources were drawn from a nearby province, reigned by a certain Yogo Sen. As of recently, it was told to Lord Zenshiro that the Yogo Sen was about to be compensated, with Kaiu steel worth two-thousand koku, as well as quality timber worth one-thousand koku. Both drawn from the Imperial Reserves."

Fujisaka's eyes narrowed. He could distantly remember the case, as allocating two-thousand koku worth of Kaiu steel demanded his attention too, but he still had no idea what this Amemasa wanted from him.

"Lord Zenshiro wishes this deal to be undone," spilled out the merchant finally. "and is willing to repay the Imperial Reserves in return with rice worth one-thousand koku, and high quality stone worth four-thousand koku."

A long moment of silence befall on the two men. Fujisaka could barely believe his ears. For a bribe attempt, this way way too thinly veiled. For a reasonable exchange, this was way too stupid.

"I suppose Lord Zenshiro has a good reason to disagree with the transaction?"

"Yogo Sen supports Yogo Hoshi, who wants to usurp Lord Tokuda and become the Yogo family daimyo. Lord Zenshiro has solid information about Yogo Sen gathering an army to claim the nearby lands, including Hanamatsu province, for his master. If the Imperial Reserves truly provides him three-thousand koku worth of weapon-grade materials, then he will be all but unstoppable."

Fujisaka had a fleeing thought that the real reason was Lord Zenshiro planning a war of his own. He found this political maneuvering mildly amusing after all the day's paperwork.

"The allocation has been affirmed. I could undo it, but I don't see why should I do that." Other than the Imperial Reserves having a much nicer balance, he added in himself. Five thousand koku plus in place of three thousand minus was nothing to laugh at, after all.

From the looks of it, this was a question not even Amemasa could truly answer. His eyes wandered around the office, maybe trying to find something to use as a starting point, but as a Senior Director of the Imperial Bureaucracy, Fujisaka had everything he wanted. He played with the thought to reveal that his office worth only a little more than one-hundred-and-sixty-thousand koku, but then he discarded the idea. Despite being a commoner, Amemasa still deserved that much courtesy.

"Lord Zenshiro would be deeply obliged by your generosity," blurted out Amemasa awkwardly.

"He better shall be," added Fujisaka with a belittling smile.

"Our friend, Miya Noshi also supports the idea. He would definitely know a worthy compensation for your efforts."

Fujisaka raised his hand, showing Amemasa to stop. He had heard enough.

"The problems of two quarreling provincial daimyo have little interest for me. If not for Miya Hoshi, we wouldn't be even talking here. So here is my deal: I will undone the assignment, then talk with my friend about your situation. Within this week, I will let you know what price this... inconvenience is going to cost for Lord Zenshiro."

Amemasa bowed yet again, sounding another knock on the floor with his forehead.

"I'm mostly honored, Fujisaka-sama," he said with a dry throat. "I will await your message."

Fujisaka just nodded and turned his back to him, signalling that Amemasa could leave. The merchant almost crawled out of his office, combining a hurried walk with a deep bow. The senior director couldn't care less, and he felt a lot better when the merchant finally disappeared behind the door.

"Attendant!" he shouted a few second later, and his loyal servant immediately arrived. The young man even brought a cup of steaming tea for him.

"Your bidding, Senior Director?"

"Bring me the last assignment to a province ruled by a certain Yogo Sen." The attendant bowed, but stayed, much to Fujisaka's surprise. "Do you have anything?"

"With all due respect, the Senior Director looks rather pale. Is everything alright?"

This drew out a small smile from Fujisaka.

"It is nothing. I just feel a little sick."

The attendant worryingly looked at the opened window next to Fujisaka.

"Is it cold, my lord?"

Fujisaka's smile widened.

"No, it is just politics."

Cross-posting it here, since there is a lot of stories to read there:

Plenty of stories here.

Nani Aoshi’s pace slows as they approach the edge of the small village located deep within Crane territory. She had heard that the damage from the great wave was severe, that the suffering of the lower classes was growing with each passing moment. But hearing the description of something and experiencing the actual truth are often very different things. Aoshi’s heart would have preferred to remain only in possession of that fanciful abstract her imagination had constructed, but it was not meant to be.

Even Nani Aoshi’s travel companion, the Dragon monk Tamori Enko, cannot hide the concern in her voice as her eyes travel over the throngs of the malnourished, the sick, the broken that seem to be streaming towards the unheard song of the Void. “Why did you bring us into this, Aoshi?”

The small Phoenix shugenja feels absolutely tiny before all of this. Her voice seems even smaller as it exits her body. “Because there are answers here.”

The Dragon nods and shuts her eyes, retreating into herself. “There are a great many answers to a great many things here. You believe that somewhere buried in all of this is an answer to the question we ask? How do you plan to find it?”

Nani Aoshi frowns and spots the man she seeks. “I plan to start by talking to him.”

Along the edge of the busy dirt road sits a small man with thin stringy hair on both the top of his head and across his face. Like the rest of the travelers, he has seen better days. His clothes are stained and tattered, his body gaunt. Unlike the rest of the travelers, though, he was like this before the great wave came.

Aoshi leads Tamori Enko towards him, making sure to avoid being a menace towards any of the people just seeking peace somewhere down this road.

The man scratches his beard, yawns, and looks up at the approaching women with annoyance. “Nani Aoshi. Come to learn all you can about starvation? Or perhaps you are here to make sure these lands are reborn from their soggy ashes?”

Nani Aoshi bows. “Ikketsu-noshin. I am here seeking you, actually.”

Ikketsu shrugs. “If you brought this Dragon with you so that you might find enlightenment by being near one blessed with it, then I fear I have nothing but bad news for the both of you. That isn’t how enlightenment works.”

“No, Ikketsu-noshin. I was drawn here by… By the Kami, I think. I am… Following something that feels like… Like ripples in waves. I don’t know how else to describe it.”

Ikketsu nods. “Sounds to me like you seek a pebble or a fish, not this lecherous monk. While I might drink like a fish, I doubt my thrashing about caused these ripples. No matter. I enjoy your company. The local lord has heard of my presence in his lands, and has invited me to a very important dinner gathering tonight. And now that the travelling Phoenix and Dragon know about this, they must also attend.” The dirty monk pauses for a moment to scratch his backside, then continues. “Would be very unwise and impolite to decline an invitation to a Crane social gathering. So we shall all suffer through being trapped inside of that prison of objects and honor together. Come, I must get changed into my finest robes.”

Nani Aoshi and Tamori Enko follow the aging man towards a nearby inn. Aoshi tries to hide her smile as she watches her bald Dragon companion regard the Brotherhood monk with deep confusion.

Ikketsu notices the attention, too, and addresses it as they walk. “Yes, yes. I found enlightenment. How marvelous. They even made me the master of a temple here in Crane lands. Stuck me in there with the knucklebone they say comes from a man who once touched Shinsei. They think if they stick enough enlightened things together behind four walls, they’ll find the ends of their own paths. Fools!”

Aoshi tugs on the ends of the sleeves of her kimono. “How did your temple fare with… With all that has happened?”

The Brotherhood monk scoffs. “Spared. When so much beauty was not… How is that for justice?” Ikketsu stops in the doorway of the inn. “You two can wait here. I need to go bathe and change into my finest. My beloved would be quite upset if I had to explain to her why I was spending time alone in my private room with two other women.”

Tamori Enko waits for him to disappear before speaking. “So that is the infamous Ikketsu in the flesh? And what lessons do we hope to learn from one such as he?”

Nani Aoshi pauses, collecting her thoughts. She met Ikketsu several years ago while seeking an answer to something else, something already unimportant. Despite his numerous obvious flaws, the enlightened monk is regarded by many as the greatest living poet in all of Rokugan. Aoshi wholeheartedly agrees with that assessment. She sought him out to try to learn how his words and his enlightenment intertwined, to try to find how he created such beauty.

Aoshi had heard the stories. They were commonly told by everyone of all classes in all lands. Ikketsu, roughly translated to “One Flaw,” a name given to him upon his attainment of Kenshō. His one flaw, his mentor liked to say, was everything about him. A monk who hates being trapped in temples. Who refuses to turn down any offer of alcohol. Who cannot stand civil society.

A monk who also has been, for many years, in a relationship with the widowed blind Crane musician Doji Madoka. Makoda was, long ago, invited to play at the temple, and there during her performance Ikketsu fell so deeply into her voice and song that he attained full enlightenment. The resulting poem written by Ikketsu about love-making session between the two that followed his attainment is widely regarded as perhaps the most perfect romantic piece ever penned.

Aoshi speaks slowly and carefully. “Ikketsu’s beautiful poetry, combined with his status as enlightened, makes him welcome throughout Crane lands. This is his home. Sometimes I find, in his words, knowledge that I don’t think even he is aware of. He is honest. He is perceptive.”

The Dragon nods. “He was not what I was expecting. I have met other Noshin before. I have never met one such as he.”

Nani Aoshi frowns. “There is no other like him.”

A few minutes of silence follows, and then Ikketsu returns. The scrawny man is decked out in the finest Brotherhood robes that Nani Aoshi has ever seen. It is the first time, in fact, that she has ever seen him in dress robes. He carries himself different, oddly, incorrectly.

The poet monk leads them towards the pale blue palace on a nearby hill. Untouched by any of the effects of the great wave, the massive house stands above the petty concerns of food and shelter that plague those outside of its walls. As they walk, Ikketsu talks of all he has seen. The horrors, the beauty, the humanity, the futility.

They are greeted at the front gate by a servant who leads them in. As they approach the parlor of their host, Ikketsu shoots Nani Aoshi a look that spells nothing but trouble.

With much bowing, the servant invites them in and seats them. “Honored guests, the master and his other guests will be here shortly. Please, allow me to serve you tea while you wait.”

Ikketsu visibly bounces with anticipation as they drink the tea they have to drink as part of the formalities of such an invitation. Aoshi shoots her tattooed companion a look of warning.

The Crane noble enters with other important Crane clan members and the ritual of bowing profusely to one another and doing introductions begins in earnest. The noble holding this party is likely no more important than either Nani Aoshi or Tamori Enko, but being a Crane means always having to be as important as any situation allows. Ikketsu’s presence has allowed for quite a bit of importance tonight.

Iwasaki Futoshi smiles the correct amount at his three guests, his eyes flicking nervously back to Ikketsu as he talk. “I was hoping only to meet this fine poet, but I see he has blessed me with even more than I ever could have hoped! I am sorry for the delay I caused you, and am proud to have representatives of the Phoenix and the Dragon here on my family’s ancestral lan-Ancestral lan-Ances…“

Every person in the room watch Ikketsu-noshin as he stands, their mouths open in shock. This is not a part of the formalities. Causing the Crane to not finish his niceties is an incredible insult. But Ikketsu isn’t done.

No. The Brotherhood monk slowly begins to untie the fabric holding his formal robes together in just the right way. While all of the guests watch in stunned silence, he places the belts onto the ground at his feet. He then removes, one by one, the layers of his outfit, folding them and gently placing them next to the belts.

The Crane blushes and stammers as Ikketsu stands naked before him. “Noshin, why have-why have you-?”

Ikketsu glares down at Iwasaki Futoshi. “Given how I was treated last night, it is these robes you wish to have at your party. And so you shall.”

“But I-I did not know that you were-I couldn’t possibly have guessed!”

The monk ignores the Crane and exits the room. Nani Aoshi and Tamori Enko stand and silently follow, making sure to avoid eye contact with anyone. Ikketsu storms out of the house, through the courtyard, and down the hill with purpose.

The naked Noshin growls out his words as he quickly strides away from the chaos he has created. “I came here last night dressed as I was when you two met me today, asking for food for myself and those in desperate need. I was turned away by Iwasaki Futoshi himself. He dismissed me as someone who was below his notice. Turned me away like I had no value. This is how he views these poor people just trying to survive. This is how he chooses to greet suffering. I have repaid his kindness in full, I think.”

And so the mad monk has. Nani Aoshi thinks she can feel the lord’s shame radiating off of the building behind her even now. She dares not look back. Dares not add to his failures.

Ikketsu doesn’t stop striding with purpose until they are once more outside of the inn. Hands on his bony hips, unashamed by his nakedness, he turns to face the Dragon and the Phoenix. “Nani Aoshi, it has been a pleasure to see you once more. This is where we part. Whatever answers you seek, I do not have. I do not care whether you find your answers. If you find that food is the answer to your question, you should share it with these people all around you. If food is not the answer you find, then what good is it? Thank you for your assistance tonight. Until we meet again, if we ever do.”

Tamori Enko laughs for the second time Nani Aoshi has ever heard as Ikketsu strides away. “The Noshin has a point.”

The Phoenix shugenja smiles sadly. “He always does. But what choice do you and I have?”

The tattooed Dragon nods. “It is unwise and futile to fight against fate. This is our path.”

“Then we should continue walking it. I do not know how welcome we will remain here.”

The two women continue against the flow of humanity pouring out from the deeper horror and suffering of the coastlands.

The farmer watched the massive muscular hulk approach cautiously. “Good day, noble Dragon samurai.”

“Good day to you. I am Togashi Yokuni, champion of the Dragon clan.”

The farmer raised his eyebrows. “And I am Ginjiro, farmer of this field.”

Togashi Yokuni nodded wisely, his oddly glowing eyes travelling towards Ginjiro’s water well. “Tell me, Ginjiro the farmer… I have had a long journey. Might I bother you for a drink from your well?”

Ginjiro couldn’t stifle his scoff. “Might you bother me for a drink from my well?”

“Yes.”

The farmer squinted suspiciously. “How old are you, noble champion?”

“Older than you, dear farmer. Much older.”

“Older than thirty, then?”

“Yes.”

“Forty?”

The champion sighed, still eyeing the distant well. “How old are you?”

“I am twenty-nine. And you… You might be twice my age. But I look three times your age. My wife… My lovely wife… She died of old age at twenty-seven. Twenty-seven, my liege! She died of old age at twenty-seven!”

“I am so sorry you lost your beloved at such a young age, but-“

“Young age? Why, in three years I’ll have to go sit on the village council of elders. Because I’ll be one of the few who reaches such a lofty set of years. I was lucky to have had so long with her.”

“Please might you fetch me but one drink of water, kind farmer?”

Ginjiro’s wrinkle-wrapped eyes narrowed. “Is this a test?”

“A… Test?”

“Answering questions with questions is a specialty of yours. Truly, you are the champion of all Dragons. Is this a test, mighty samurai? If I refuse, will you cut me down for my lack of hospitality?”

Togashi Yokuni paused, shoulders seeming to slump as he stared at the distant source of water.

The farmer grunted. “Well? It is then, isn’t it?”

“No. I was just considering the wisdom of the idea. But no. I will not cut you down for lack of hospitality.”

“So then you’ll curse me. Turn me into the monster that is within my own heart?”

“No.”

“Make me as ugly as my actions towards you have been?”

“No.”

“But this is some sort of test then. Are you a shugenja? Do you command powerful kami?”

The massive champion’s attention turned fully on the farmer. “I… Why would that influence your answer?”

The farmer laughed bitterly. “Ah-ha! I knew it! I knew it! You ARE a shapechanger! You present me with this form to confuse me deeply about why you can’t just go get your own water! The well is right there! I couldn’t stop you if I wanted to! You could take all of my water and I would be able to do nothing more but watch and cry. Perhaps my tears would refill my well! But you refuse to! Is this your true form, shapeshifter?”

A loud groan emerged from underneath the massive champion’s helmeted face. “Why would I shapeshift to bother you for a drink?”

“Again with the question in response to my question! You would do so because this IS a test! You’re testing the kindness of my spirit!”

“Wouldn’t I choose some vulnerable form to do that if that is in fact what I was doing?”

“Oh, you’d like me to think that, wouldn’t you? You’re a tricky one, shapeshifter! So you choose a form that obviously doesn’t need help getting water from my well! Fine, I’ll take my old and fragile body over there and get you a bucket of water that you could more easily get yourself with those ridiculous arms!”

The farmer set off at a quick pace towards the well, the Dragon champion following and watching. Just as Togashi Yokuni was about to say something, the farmer continued his tirade. “You know, noble lord, in the future you might wish to choose individuals to trouble with less pain in their lives! You know what happens if you turn me into a hideous beast that none can stand to look at?”

“I do not, no.”

“I likely die this next winter! And do you know what happens if you curse me with a voice that drives all who hear it away?”

“No.”

“I likely die this next winter! And if you make it so that all food that hits my mouth tastes as bitter as my soul?”

“You likely die this next winter?”

“Right! And if you put upon me no curse at all?”

“You likely die this next winter?”

“Very good! As clever as you are enormous! Here we are. Let me, a tiny scrawny stick of beans who toils in a field for twelve hours a day just fetch you, a massive muscular behemoth more than twice my size, a drink of water from my well!”

The champion silently watched the farmer bring up the water.

The farmer silently watched the samurai drink his water. “All done, shapeshifting magical intruder? Or shall you punish me for my unkind treatment? Shall you place a curse upon me because I dared to wonder why you, so large, couldn’t get your own drink?”

“I cannot imagine a way to punish you further, honestly.”

“Oh, you could promise me twenty more years of farming! That’s what you could do. Twenty more years of sun and heat and leeches and loneliness and random samurai asking for drinks! Twenty more years of eating rice and beets and, when I’m particularly fortunate, the tiniest portions of fish! Twenty more years of my neighbor being unable to keep even just one damned oxen out of my fields for one damned season!”

“…”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

The champion sighed and placed the bucket on the ground. “No. No I would not. That would make me a poor guest indeed. Thank you for the drink. Next time, though, let me haul the bucket up. I was more than willing to do so this time but I am unable to stop a good rant once it gets going.”

“Do I get a gift then, giant shapeshifting shugenja?”

The champion’s eyes went to the horizon, deep in thought. After several long moments, the massive samurai nodded. “I shall give you a gift in return, yes.”

“Is that gift death by katana? If so, keep it.”

“The gift is not death by katana.”

“Is it death by any other means?”

“No, farmer.”

“Is it a curse?”

“A better question, and one I cannot answer.”

Before he could stop him, the samurai leaned over close and began to whisper into the farmer’s ear. Ginjiro’s eyes got wider and face paler with each word uttered.

The samurai stood tall once more. “Good fortune to you and your harvest, kind farmer.” The champion then strode off, towards whatever was drawing him in that direction.

The farmer frowned, a small tear forming in the corner of his eye as he himself continued to stare into nothingness, considering the dragon’s words. And then the farmer laughed. And it was loudest and the longest and purest laugh he had ever had. And it felt good.

Here's one from the recent fan-run Winter Court 5- It was always going to be an alternate timeline, and now bears probably zero resemblance to the plot going forward. However, the following little exchange beteen my untainted Daigotsu bushi to a Doji courtier can easily have the details changed to be repurposed to come from the mouth of a Crab...

Quote

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Yakari-san. We Crane aren't that bad, are we?" A small Doji smile.

She fixed him with a measured look.

"I don't know about 'bad,' but your Clan's behavior is often quite strange to me. In your way, you're as deliberately incomprehensible as the Dragon sometimes."

The smile remains, of course. As is the Crane way.

"How so, Yukari-san? The Dragon in their wisdom teach that there is value in mystery, but the Left Hand believe that other ways have value as well."

"You deal in favors and... courtesy. Perhaps your way would have made sense in the old days, with a united Empire, all gathered in the same courts, but... in these times- this is the first Court in my lifetime to be attended by all of the Clans. Your own words betray the sorry state of your farmlands, the desperate shortage of heimin to tend them, and now matters are such that a beautiful poem is little more than a curiosity. And still your Clan traffics in favors, in ephemeral art, in assurances of understanding."

Not that Yukari had ever had much use for poetry.

"Now.Try to imagine, Doji-san, growing up in tents with an army on the march, your father going out to fight every day, never settling in one place for the first six years of your life. Imagine moving into a ruined city, a place haunted by legend, before you'd even begun to train as a samurai. Imagine seeing the blood and brutality involved in clearing those ruins of the bandits and less conventional things living in them, all before you'd turned ten. Imagine your father soberly informing you that he would not be coming home and bidding you farewell before you even understood what Duty was."

She sighed.

"Imagine receiving training from hired ronin, men willing to accept the coin of the Spider because it was easier than trying to survive alone in this Empire of Ash. Imagine all of that... and then imagine your feeling when someone insists that there are proper ways to arrange flowers or debate the finer merits of a tanka, that the way you prepare and serve your tea is more important than having any in the first place. That is why I find the Crane largely incomprehensible."

On 2017-5-7 at 5:19 PM, DGLaderoute said:

“I am fire,” he said, “I burn

Soon, now, I will be unleashed...”

As he spoke, he remembered Kita’s face, her look of determined fatigue after a long march, the way her eyes blazed when the charge was sounded, the fierce grin she threw back at Kasei when they started their game of tallying the enemies each had killed. He remembered her saying, “I told you your pretty words would get you in trouble someday,” which was the last thing he remembered about her, really. Along with her face were a dozen others, a hundred, more, all samurai that Kasei had known, who had fought and fallen in service to the Empire. They were lost in the great events written into the Ikoma Histories, remembered only by friends and loved ones, and only for a while, then too soon just a weather-beaten statue in a garden or a faded bit of ribbon crumbling to dust on an ancestor shrine.

Heroes of Rokugan, every one, and memorialized as such in Kasei’s words.

“...I burn,” he said,

And now, am unleashed.”

Silence.

Kasei swallowed, his mouth dry as rice paper, then bowed to the floor.

“Rise, Matsu Kasei,” the Voice said.

Kasei got to his feet, stepped back—

“Hold your place,” the Voice said. “You are not yet dismissed.”

Kasei froze. He stiffened further, then dropped to his knees and bowed again as the Empress herself stepped into view.

There were tears upon her cheeks.

“Rise, Matsu Kasei,” the Voice said, “and face Rokugan as its new and first Turquoise Champion.”

A dream?

Grandmother...Kita...no, it isn’t. Because of you.

This passage had me blinking back tears myself, so beautiful. This whole story was amazing, thank you.

Up next...a window onto the mindset of my Winter Court 5 character- Daigotsu Yukari's worst nightmare, experienced in a fine old Winter Court Tradition. Of note- "Garu" is her pet sparrow, who she habitually lets fly free most of the time.

So yes, her worst nightmare was an Empire at peace, free of want. Even the untainted Spider were a weird bunch.

Quote

Yukari blinked into the mirror.

She wore white-white over red.

Of course she did. She was going to be married.

What else was left to do?

The war was over. All Clans were at peace. The Spider were respected above all others. The old travel bans were rigidly enforced, and travel was almost unheard of. The Emperor had decreed that all samurai should stay bound to their lands unless some crisis intervened- but everyone said Tengoku smiled upon them. No bandits had been reported for over a year. Before the travel ban,it sounded as if peace reigned in Zogeku, in the Burning Sands, everywhere.

Even the Crab were at peace.

Across the entire world, placid serenity reigned. No battles, nothing to strive for. And so Daigotsu Yukari was to wed, and become a mother. And never again would she draw her blade, or don her armor.

What else was left to do?

She looked at her daisho on the stand. The blades were not peacebound- the tsuba had been welded to the saya. No need of swords, not anymore. Especially not for a wife who would simply tend the estate by day and sleep beside her husband at night. And to think of being required to perform seppuku was simply laughable.

Garu chirped in his cage. Yukari approached to let him out, as she liked doing- but the door of the cage was welded shut. No need to let him out, he had everything he needed. No more live spiders for Garu- the harvest had been plentiful, and the sparrow's feed tray was full of plump grains of rice.

So Yukari just stared at the sparrow, who would live the rest of his life inside of that cage, never to fly free.

What else was left to do?

Yukari heard a servant at the door. It was time. Time to enter into a long, tranquil life, one of peace.

She turned and ran for the window, throwing the shutters open preparatory to leaping out. One last act of her own volition.

The window was on the ground floor. Outside she could see the shugenja preparing for the wedding.

One of the guests smiled and waved at her. Not Haihime, or Hagane, or Yamada, or Kazusa, or Kenichi, or anyone else she knew and respected. The well-fed Crane samurai was no one she knew. She had never known someone so soft, so obviously free of want. His vacuous good cheer repulsed her. Yukari slammed the shutters closed, and the servant called again.

She grabbed one of the lamps in the room and poured the oil over her head, then struck a tinder. She smelled her hair igniting, and then her flesh.

What else was left to do?

And the story continues continues continues continues

Rebirth, Part 1

They said he had sent so many souls to Emma-O, the grim Fortune of Death himself frowned with displeasure. They said things better left unnamed had reeled when they heard about the horrors he had done. They said the shugenja could spot him from miles away, only by listening to the ecstatic screams of the death spirits that followed him everywhere. They said even the daemonic kansen avoided him like plague, for he was someone not even them would have dared to touch.

They called him Yogo Kenchiro.

Yogo Kenchiro, the Butcherer.

Yet, after all that said, he wasn't walking on this rocky mountain path because of what he had done. He had no regrets about those, in fact, he remembered most of his exploits fondly, and all those screams and death could only draw out a sly smile from him. No, it wasn't about what he had done, but what he had lost along the way.

The path took a sharp turn as it began its climb towards the top of the mountain. Kenchiro only stopped there for a moment, sparing a final thought to the world he was about to leave behind, then made his step.

He almost bumped into another on the other side of the turn.

The man was of slim built, wearing grayish, drab clothes, presenting a sharp contrast to Kenchiro's brawny form and fine orange robes. His features were hidden under a wide-brimmed straw hat, only his strong lips and sharp chin were visible. He was maybe some sort of a monk, a sign that Kenchiro was close to his destination.

"Are you from the monastery?" began Kenchiro unceremoniously. He was really in no mood for courtesy.

"No, I traveled here from a very far place, Butcherer." The monk's sharp voice was riddled with determination, but Kenchiro could easily recognize the tint of fear in it. "I'm here to give you a fair warning." He stepped aside, opening up the path further ahead. "What you are looking for, you can't find here. You can't find it anywhere on this world." He suddenly grabbed Kenchiro's daisho in his belt, almost making him strike down the strange monk. "There is only one way to end this, Butcherer. There is only one way that can give you the peace you so much desire." His voice was now barely a hiss as he pressed out these words. "Do it! Here... I will be your second. Nobody will know, and you will get rid of this burdensome life of yours... permanently."

Kenchiro answered only with a growl to this nonsense, and shoved the monk out of his face, restarting his walk on the path in the process. The monk did not protest, but he could feel his gaze on his back.

"Know this, Butcherer!" the monk shouted after him as he walked away into the distance. "You are a Yogo! You are a Phoenix! Even if you turn your life into ash in that monastery, you will rise again!" He almost screamed this, and his words began to cut their way into Kenchiro's mind. "You will be reborn in blood and fire, Butcherer! And may the Empress save us from what you will unleash upon these lands!"

This was enough. Kenchiro spun around with the speed of lightning, steel flashing as he drew his katana to strike down the annoying monk.

But to his biggest surprise, the path was empty behind him. The monk was nowhere to be seen, only a small cloud of rolling mist drifted through.

You will be reborn in blood and fire, Butcherer!

Kenchiro put away his sword and turned back to the path upwards.

And may the Empress save us from what you will unleash upon these lands!

Maybe it was just the wind blowing from the mountains, but he could swear the echo of the monk's ramblings followed him like a ghost for a dozen steps, until they died in silence.

"Yogo-san, we can arrive at the monastery at any moment now!" Yogo Asha acknowledged the caravan master's warning with a nod. She looked out from the window of her carriage. The mountains outside stared back at her with the same bleak expression as two hours earlier, but the mist indeed became thicker, most likely from their group climbing higher on the poorly paved road.

The window on the other side offered the same empty view, so Asha turned back to her inner thoughts. She still needed a little encouragement for what she was about to do, and her burden felt increasingly heavier as her time was approaching. She knew she could do it. But whether she should, was another question entirely.

Her carriage suddenly stopped, and she could hear horses racing away on each side. One stopped briefly next to her, the silhouette of a robed figure stood up from the saddle, and barked a few orders.

"Stay inside, Asha-chan!" The raspy voice snapped when Asha tried to take a look outside again. "This place is not safe for you!"

The horsemen returned, forming a protective circle around the carriage. Asha saw the shadows of samurai dancing around on the windows, their armored bulk swinging around as they faced some unknown enemy with swords drawn and spears readied. Then a prayer was sounded, the voice that ordered Asha to stay inside the carriage now raising clean and strong with the holy words, filling the air with a swirl of supernatural energies that made the hair on Asha's arm stand upright. The spell was unleashed with a deep thump and a surge of unnatural warmth that splashed through Asha and probably the whole caravan too, catching its victims beyond her senses. A daemonic cacophony rang through the mountainside, then the world fell silent.

"It is safe now. You can come out, Asha-chan. The road is over. We have to continue on foot."

Asha wasted no time to finally step out, escaping her carriage like a bird its cage. The first person she ran into was Yogo Nishizen. The old shugenja had just gotten off from his horse, the effort from the spell he had summoned forth moments ago still lingering on his wrinkly face.

"The monks were not joking when they said that the roads are unsafe for mortal men," he cracked with a tired smile when Asha stepped to him. "I haven't banished this many spirits at once since my youth..."

"Your power did not wane since then at all, Nishizen-dono."

This drew out a heartfelt laugh from the shugenja.

"Leave it at that, girl! The spell has already pushed me too far! A little more praise from you, and my heart will certainly fail me!"

"I'm just grateful that you came with me."

Nishizen's smile widened.

"Anything for my sweetest granddaughter. Your grandmother would have chewed my ear off if I had stayed back, anyway." He let a caravan guard lead his horse away, and smoothed and invisible creak on his fiery-orange robe. "And now, I can say with certainty that my decision to come with you was wise."

This immediately ended their good mood.

"So, what were they?" asked Asha after a short silence.

"Death spirits," answered Nishizen grimly. "His death spirits." A shadow spread through his face. "They couldn't enter the sacred grounds around the monastery, so they stayed... waiting for the return of their favored." He took a deep breath. "I could feel their anticipation. They know he will come back, despite him not leaving that place in the last ten years."

"Ten years is not very long for the spirits, I reckon," added Asha. She was just a simple courtier and not a shugenja like her grandfather, but she did know a thing or two about the ways of the supernatural.

"It is long enough for them, Asha-chan. They must really like him."

Their little chatter was interrupted by the caravan master. The samurai looked rather nervous, but for one, Asha couldn't blame him.

"The path looks safe," he reported. "We should have a quiet trip to the monastery."

"We will stay," sighed Nishizen, and silenced Asha with a hand wave before she could say a single word. "Those spirits will return soon. I have to ward the place against them. Meanwhile, Asha-chan travels to the monastery with two guards and... sees her wish through." The caravan master nodded and left, shouting orders to his men. Two samurai quickly walked up to the windy entrance of a small mountain path, waiting for Asha to come.

"I would like you wish good luck, Asha-chan," murmured the shugenja with a weak smile. "but I doubt... no, I hope you will not find what you are looking for there. He is dead. And he must stay that way for the sake of this world."

Asha's throat dried as her grandfather's words sank in her mind. They had been through this a few times already, but it hadn't become any easier.

"He is our only chance if we want to win the coming war. Yogo Hoshi-sama made it clear for me that the whole existence of our family was at stake. I can't fail." She tried to flash an encouraging smile, but her lips stubbornly remained feeble. "I might doom us all if I do."

"You might doom us all if you don't."

To this, Asha had nothing to say.

Rebirth, Part 2

"I'm looking for a certain Yogo Kenchiro," explained Yogo Asha for the ninth time. "They told me he retired in this monastery ten years ago."

"The name still rings unfamiliar," answered the abbot calmly for the ninth time. "And I have been the head of this monastery for more than forty years."

Asha licked her drying lips and made a futile attempt to regain her focus. They let her through the gates, but it seemed like the monks' generosity had ended there. She had been sitting in a dim, poorly furniture room for the rest twenty minutes or so, explaining herself over and over again for the abbot, and being turned down in return. Her courtier training began to fail her, and she was running out of ideas about how to proceed.

"The daisho that once belonged to Yogo Kenchiro was brought back to Kyuden Yogo from this monastery. The swords were sealed by the same symbol," Asha pointed at the personal mon on the abbot's brown robe, "you are wearing." The abbot frowned, and pulled his robes tighter, hiding the mon. But Asha was not so easily turned down. She took her pair of swords from her belt and showed them to the abbot. "Do you recognize them?" She lifted the swords to be in the same level as the abbot's face, and gently clicked the wakizashi out of its sheath with her thumb. The light reflecting from the blade illuminated a fat drop of sweat on the abbot's forehead.

"The Butcherer's daisho," commented the abbot coldly. "Yes, I can recognize them. They say the blades are cursed, and cannot be sheathed without tasting blood first."

As a response, Asha easily pushed back the wakizashi into its sheath, and tucked the swords back into her belt. The abbot's eyes narrowed and his lips quivered as this little show finally broke through his patience.

"Many things about Yogo Kenchiro are just stupid tales, made up to frighten children." Asha's voice cut into the air like her wakizashi would have. "He is here. I know it. And now, you will tell me where I can find him."

"With all due respect, Yogo-san." The way the abbot pressed the belittling suffix was impossible to miss. "I don't know where you could find Yogo Kenchiro. Even if he had been here, he must have left this monastery a long time ago." With that said, he stood up, bowed slightly towards Asha, then waved his hand to someone behind her and left. As he disappeared behind a nearby door, two sohei showed up, and lead the young woman out to the gates where her humble escort was waiting for her.

She was not so easily denied, though.

Being a courtier had certain advantages other than a witty tongue, like an aptitude to pick out important details. The monastery was a fairly average one, the usual simple but solid building complex atop a smaller mountain peak, surrounded by an array of smaller auxiliary buildings. When entering the monastery, Asha caught glimpse of a cookhouse lazily spreading along the raised foundation. That place could lead only to one other. And Asha knew where she would have hidden a person like Yogo Kenchiro for the duration of her visit if she had been the abbot.

As she stepped through the gate and out to the mountain path she had so tediously climbed to get here, she immediately took a sharp turn and raced through a small walkway, then the cookhouse. She had even left the two samurai assigned to her behind. She was almost running as her steps hit an old wooden ramp, the cold mountain winds pinching into her rosy face but failing to find a way through her multi-layered orange robes. An iron fence gate barred her path, but she burst through it, barely slowing down as she forcefully swung it wide open.

What awaited her was exactly what she had been expecting: a modest garden cut into the mountainside, used by the monks to grow vegetables and some basic crops. Now, there was only one person working there quietly, his large body stoically resisting the onslaught of the harsh weather despite him wearing only a shabby robe that had been maybe once orange, but now was closer to some indescribable brown color. His head was bald, and from the angle Asha couldn't see much from his face either, but she instinctively knew that she had just found her man.

"Yogo Kenchiro!" she shouted. The man did not react. "Yogo Kenchiro!" He now lifted his head up, and looked around, trying to find both the one who was shouting and the man she was addressing. "Yogo Kenchiro-dono!" She hurried to the man, bowing deeply, and successfully swallowing back the urge to squeak like a little girl. She couldn't stop her face turning red from the excitement, but she had the self control to turn her smile into a barely visible smirk...

...that in turn instantly melted away when she noticed the man's completely oblivious face.

"Excuse me," he bowed slightly, putting just the necessary courtesy into the move, "are you looking for someone?"

His voice was deep and rugged, a sword sinking into armor and flesh should give a similar sound. Just the tone alone sent shivers down on Asha's spine. His grey eyes were empty and lightless, telling nothing about the person behind them. Those were the eyes of a dead man.

No, corrected herself Asha, those were the eyes of death itself.

As he stood up and straightened his back, she instinctively took a step back. The kama in his hand swung around in the air like it could gut Asha in any moment, and she couldn't miss how his eyes glanced through her with a systematic vigor, assessing her stance and looking for vulnerabilities.

If she had had any doubts about this man being Yogo Kenchiro, those were all gone by now.

"Are you looking for someone, Yogo-sama?" He asked again, but he paralyzed Asha with his sheer presence. Her tongue was numb, her mind was blank, and for a long moment, she was just suffering a relentless onslaught of fear. "Are you alright, Yogo-sama?"

Asha shook her head to clear her thoughts, and snuffed the dread in her heart. She had thought she was ready to face Yogo Kenchiro, but she had to admit, she had vastly underestimated him.

"I wouldn't do that if I was you." The quiet warning finally snapped out Asha from her misery. First, she did not even know what she had done wrong, but then she realized that her samurai training broke through her shock, and her hands were now firmly grasping the hilt of her katana.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she snapped and immediately took her hands back. She tried to regain at least a show of composure and confidence, but between still reeling from the previous experience and completely loosing the thread of the situation, she only managed to achieve a partial success.

"Are you looking for someone, Yogo-sama?"

The question actually reached Asha's mind for the third time. Her first reaction was almost questioning the man how he knew she was a Yogo, but then she realized that she had her family mon on her robe.

"Yes, I'm looking for you," she looked into his eyes, attempting to seize some initiative, but to her biggest surprise, the man looked away. "I'm looking for Yogo Kenchiro."

A long, uneasy silence befell on them.

"You are mistaken," replied the man finally, his eyes wandering around Asha but avoiding her. "I'm not Yogo Kenchiro. My name is Wakei, and I'm just a simple monk of no importance."

This caught Asha completely flat-footed. She opened her mouth, but then closed it without saying a word. Her eyes opened wide as the sheer ridiculousness of the situation caught up with her, and there was definitely a maniacal laughter of some sort growing in her chest.

Seeing the young woman struck speechless, Wakei just shrugged and turned his attention back to the vegetables.

A golden ray of sunlight swept through the garden, its elusive warmth glancing Asha's face for only the briefest moment.

"You are not Yogo Kenchiro?" she whispered with disappointment. "Are you sure?"

"I am."

Asha almost left it there, and just abandon this cause entirely. Not even she could tell why she still continued.

"The Yogo family has been in a disarray ever since the previous family daimyo died." Her words rolled out from between her lips without her mind putting any thought into them. At that point, she was not speaking from her mind, but from her soul. That was the last chance she had. "Tokuda, a commoner merchant prince, wants to usurp the the position, using his wealth and influence to undermine the rightful successor, Yogo Hoshi. This Tokuda is a brilliant, but wretched man, who harbors a deep envy towards the samurai of the Yogo, and wishes nothing better than their destruction." Asha gulped. She had had a short encounter with Tokuda, and it had left her with no illusions about the dire future of the family if he would ascend to power. "There is a war looming between the two sides, and Yogo Hoshi is now recruiting people for his army. People who could help him defeat Tokuda."

"And how does Yogo Kenchiro fit into his recruitment plan?" asked back Wakei with barely suppressed bitterness.

"Yogo Kenchiro was the greatest general of his generation, and one of the most formidable bushi in the whole history of the Emerald Empire. Our power would grow exponentially with him in our ranks."

"Oh, that's quite an incomplete story," Asha couldn't decide whether Wakei was mocking her with this, but he definitely sounded like that. "Come on, you can tell me more about him!"

Asha ground her teeth upon hearing this insolence, but she beat back her surging emotions.

"They say he was a lovin husband, a great father, a loyal friend, and a true brother in arms. They say his men would have marched against the Heavens themselves at his command, because he would have led them personally."

"True, but his life was far from heroic... as I heard." Now he was mocking her for sure.

"They say he did terrible things with his enemies."

"You put it very mildly."

Asha wanted to shout at him, to stop playing this game with her, but she had invested far too much into this and she had got way too far to allow herself to slip like an idiot.

"They say he once punished a traitor officer in a way not even the Ikoma historian accompanying his army dared to describe the actual method. All they say his army did not march at that day."

"Do you know what nokogiribiki is?"

"No..."

"That Ikoma historian didn't either."

The man showed his back to her, but Asha could swear that she saw him smiling as he said this.

"They say he died once, but not even Jigoku, the Realm of Evil, wanted his soul, so he returned to life on his burial pyre, rising from the flames like a true phoenix."

"I cannot comment this either way."

"They say his son died in his arms, and his wife was torn into shreds by skinwalkers. They say everyone he loved died fighting alongside him." This froze the man. Asha hit a sensitive spot, she could tell that much instantly. "They say he couldn't bear the loss, and retired to this monastery."

This time, Wakei remained silent.

"They say he is a Yogo. And he is a Phoenix. They say he will rise again in this time of need, as he would never allow others to harm his family."

"Enough." Wakei put down his kama with a heavy sigh. "I'm tired of your chatter. You are an idealistic young woman who has no idea what she is dealing with. Leave now, and never return. Forget that Yogo Kenchiro ever existed. You know nothing about him, because if you did, you wouldn't be here."

"My entourage is camping at the end of the mountain road. We are staying for the night." Asha took a deep breath. She was approaching her final words. "If you change your mind about Yogo Kenchiro, you will find me there."

"Just go. Please."

Asha bowed, and left the garden in hurry. She blamed the cold wind for the tears that blurred her sight.

His usual place was in the small blacksmith, so he had been pleasantly surprised when the abbot asked him to tend the gardens for the day. Of course it had turned out to be a disaster, but that was his luck nowadays.

Yogo Kenchiro stirred the embers in the forge and gathered all the larger iron pieces lying around. He tested their hardness and rigidness, until he found a good one. He then had this tools and began to work.

That young woman had spoken well, despite expressing herself so awkwardly. Kenchiro could see where she had been coming from, and she could also see the future awaiting her. He also knew his part in this future.

He blew the bellows, making the embers in the hearth glow. He put the iron in, waited, then pulled it out and placed it onto the anvil. The hammer in his hand worked tirelessly as he shaped out the basic form.

You will be reborn in blood and fire, Butcherer!

The roughly shaped iron disappeared in the water of the cooling tank. As it emerged again, its reddish glow piercing through the cloud of steam, Kenchiro hesitated for a moment. But then he remembered the woman's tear-soaked eyes as she had left the garden, and all doubt disappeared from his heart.

And may the Empress save us from what you will unleash upon these lands!

The hammer struck again and again in his hand, slowly forming the blade of a parangu.

Some theme music for this story, in case someone does not get the reference

Rebirth, Part 3

His granddaughter had returned late in the night, and as far as Yogo Nishizen could determine, she had only brought her two escorts with her. She had seemingly failed to recruit the Butcherer to their cause, but Nishizen knew that it was the case only partially.

He could hear the death spirits whispering for all night long beyond the wards that now surrounded their camp. They had tried to break through the spiritual defenses when they had first returned, but after a while, they had stopped, like something beyond Nishizen's perception had calmed them down. They were now just waiting. Preparing.

As the first sunlight of the next day blossomed above the mountains, they fell silent.

Nishizen left his tent early, not even sparing the time for going through his proper morning ceremonies. His back was aching from the rough comfort his tent provided for the night, all ninety-seven years cracking down on his aging body. He tried to relieve some of the pain with a few basic exercises while he walked to the wards to check them, and the still quiet camp welcomed him with a cold and bleak air.

He barely reached the first ward when he noticed that he wasn't the only one to get out early.

The large man emerged from the shadows of the mountain path like a specter, his presence only made known for Nishizen by a reek of spiritual corruption. He was bald, and less muscular than Nishizen remembered, the life in the monastery had clearly left a mark on him. He wore tattered robes that had been once orange, but now being indescribable brown, and he had a parangu hanging from his belt.

Above all, he looked too young, maybe in his late forties, despite Nishizen knowing that he was well in his seventies.

Maybe it is true, he thought in himself as the man approached the camp, that death no longer has any interest in the demise of the Butcherer.

"Yogo Kenchiro?" Nishizen's voice stopped the man where he stood. A moment of unnatural silence followed, like the whole world stopped to bare witness to the return of the Butcherer.

"No, he is not him," Yogo Asha crawled out of her tent, her weary eyes, messy hair, and disheveled clothes betraying a sleepless night. "He is Wakei." She glanced through the man, with disappointment written all-over her face. "A simple monk of no importance."

Wakei bowed to both of them without saying anything.

"Oh, then I must be mistaken," noted Nishizen, successfully masking his surprise. He did not know what game these two were playing, and for one, he felt like he did not want to find it out either. "Why are you here, Wakei?"

"I'm here by the orders of the abbot. He wants your caravan to be escorted out of these mountains." His deep voice was even and calm, but Nishizen had to admit, Wakei was still a terrible liar.

"That's very courteous from him." Asha did not even attempt to hide her contempt, going as far as flashing a belittling smile towards the monk.

"I will try to not make my presence burdensome, Yogo-sama." With that said, Wakei bowed again and left, disappearing among the tents of the waking camp.

Asha just let out a heavy sight, and went back to her tent.

Behind Nishizen, the death spirits remained voiceless, but their turmoil was clearly felt, heralding terrible things to come.

Rebirth, Part 4

The sign that his time in the monastery had been indeed unmerciful on him was obvious to Yogo Kenchiro from the moment the caravan had started moving. Before his retirement, no samurai in the Phoenix Clan, let alone belonging to the Yogo family, would have ignored him, for one reason or another. But now, they just looked through him like he was thin air, or at least truly a simple monk of no importance.

Only the young woman, Yogo Asha, and the old shugenja, Yogo Nishizen as he had heard, recognized him, but the former seemed to be still upset from how harshly Kenchiro had turned her down in the monastery, while the latter knew better than to mind him too much.

So in the end, Kenchiro's original plan to just meld into the caravan and disappear among the crew succeeded, maybe even a little too much for his tastes. He had been pushed to the end of the marching group, just in front of the rearguard, far away from Asha and Nishizen where he wanted to be.

But this way, at least the ambush didn't catch him completely flat footed.

It had been set up down in the path, where the barren mountain slowly transitioned into a dense forest. The attackers seemingly wished to divide the caravan as the road reached the thick undergrowth, springing their ambush with a barrage of arrows at the front half to drive it deeper into the forest, while cutting off the rear and trap it on the rocky brushland.

Their plan almost worked, but Kenchiro was not the only one who had spotted the weak morning sunlight glimmering on the arrowheads.

A samurai in the middle shouted a warning, and the caravan guards immediately drew their weapons.

A panicked salvo of arrows washed through the caravan, but only scared some of the servants and killed one of the horses in front of the carriage.

The rearguard darted forward to help their beleaguered brethren, leaving Kenchiro with the fleeing servants.

Another barrage was unleashed from the underbrush, now a lot more organized, peppering at least one samurai with arrows. Kenchiro could see the man and his steed falling to the ground, the horse screaming in agony, but the rider already dead from an arrow sticking out of his throat.

A prayer broke through the chaos, but the strong voice was cut into silence as the third volley hit the caravan.

Kenchiro just smiled. If the shugenja had wanted some spirits to help them out, he should have just asked him.

He only needed to nod towards the forest, and a dozen ethereal forms launched themselves at the attackers, inhumane shapes materializing as the death spirits were set loose. Some were distantly humanoid, others had a recognizable bestial form, but most were far beyond anything a mortal mind could comprehend. They moved with an otherworldly grace, wrapped in perfect silence as they slipped into the forest, their bizarre cavalcade disappearing among the trees just as scores of men suddenly burst out from their ambushing positions with weapons held high and stout battle cries on their lips.

The attackers looked commoners as far as Kenchiro could determine. They did not wield samurai weapons, neither did they carry daishos. They did wear orange clothes, but their secondary colors were not the black of the Yogo, but pure white. They were budoka, and Kenchiro did not need to think about it twice to realize that they were that usurper Tokuda's men.

The caravan guards were caught a little surprised by the assault, but they quickly went for the counter attack, sounding their own battle cries and charging their horses into the thick of the enemy. Only two horsemen remained behind, one trying to get Asha out of the carriage, while the other had the wounded Nishizen. The shugenja was in a really bad shape: he had at least two arrows in his back, one in his shoulder, and a fourth in his leg. He was at least alive, clinging weakly into the samurai sitting in front of him.

A maelstrom of screams tore through the air, half of them coming from humans, the other half coming from something else entirely. The underbrush next to the caravan exploded into a shower of blood and body parts as the death spirits reached their preys, and the ones fighting the guards suddenly found themselves without backup. Still, they were the lucky ones, all things considered, being cut down by mortal steel instead of suffering an unspeakable death at the hands of the death spirits.

Thus, the battle ended pretty quickly. The last servant didn't even manage to get past Kenchiro when a guard sunk his naginata into the last fighting attacker. Only one man remained, holding his nagamaki awkwardly as he reassessed his situation.

"Surrender, heimin!" shouted the leader of the guards at him. "Surrender, and your death will be quick!"

"Never!" cried the man, and threw his weapon at the nearest guard, momentarily dazing him. Then he charged forward with all the desperate strength he could muster, aiming for Asha who was just stepping out of her carriage.

The blade of a knife flashed in his hand.

The young woman reacted calmly as she reached between the layers of her robes, pulling out a bajozutsu. She leveled the sleek pistol against her attacker, and pulled the trigger.

The click of the wheellock was followed by the thundering roar of gunpowder, as death was unleashed in a cloud of grey smoke. The man did not have even the slightest chance to evade the shot, his face barely had had the time to twitch into a dumb confusion before the bullet hit right on target, blowing half his head clean-off.

"Yogo-sama is full of surprises," noted Kenchiro for himself, his smile widening.

He walked to the remains of the caravan, trying to evaluate the damage. The carriage was done for, both its horses were dead. Two guards and their horses also died in the fight. Two other guards and Nishizen were heavily wounded - the latter was receiving careful attention from Asha, but it was clear that she was not a professional healer.

It could have been worse.

"We should mo.." began the caravan leader, but his words were cut by a series of loud whistles coming from the distance.

Kenchiro had heard this sound a lot in his life. He knew way too well what it meant.

"Dandoudan! he shouted, "Run for cover!"

The guards acted quickly and did not let panic reign. One picked up Asha and rode away. Another did the same with Nishizen. A third began to clear the returning servants away. A fourth rode to Kenchiro, trying to pick him up too...

...then death came, in a shape of almost man-sized rockets, raining down from the sky with a cacophony of dreadful shrieks. The first hit the carriage and immediately turned it into a fireball, disintegrating it on the spot. The second caught a group of guards, engulfing them in fire and shrapnel, killing them all in a howling explosion. Kenchiro could not see where the other three went, they most likely missed the caravan by a long shot, but the sixth was another lucky hit, this time coming down just behind the rider who was coming for Kenchiro.

The world became a blur as the burning pain ran through him and the blast wave sent him flying into the forest. He could feel the crushing force gnawing into his body, the shrapnel scarring his skin, and a cold embrace as he landed. For reasons unknown, the last image in his mind was Asha's tear-soaked face as she had ran away from the garden at the monastery... then Yogo Kenchiro fell into darkness.

On ‎5‎/‎13‎/‎2017 at 4:59 PM, player1840272 said:

Is there more to this story? What did the Dragon say? Why are people in this village dying of old age in their twenties? So many unanswered questions!

Here's another story I wrote back during AEG's days of owing the IP. This one was another story-team try-out (but I forget the exact requirements they were after). The main character in this is a Kakita, a Crane, but it's really a story about the Crab, as you'll see...

(Apologies for the inconsistent indenting, but this forum software isn't the format-friendliest.)

Dark Gempukku

The Shadowlands, A Half Day’s Journey from the Carpenter Wall…

With a howl like tearing steel, the megada no oni swung its massive club. Kakita Kusa dropped the heavy ono and leapt backwards, dodging the massive weapon—but only just, the wind of its swing puffing across his face. Hida Ton was a fraction slower. The oni’s club slammed into the Crab, knocking him against a pile of rock with a crack of breaking armor. Kusa gasped, fearing the worst…but the big Hida was already moving, struggling to recover his tetsubo and regain his feet.

The oni howled again, its twin heads joined in awful harmony. Kusa sucked in a breath of acrid Shadowlands air and lunged forward, retrieving his dropped ono. But as he hefted the big axe, the myriad eyes dotting the oni’s bluish-black hide fixed him with a collective, baleful gaze. Roaring, the creature wheeled, its club an avalanche of gnarled wood and malice thundering down on Kusa.

Sunda Mizu Dojo, Seven Months Earlier...

Kusa gripped the hammer and chisel and stared up at a massive stone wall at least five times his height, its upper reaches lost in a gloom unknown in the airy dojos of the Crane. He sighed. Somewhere on this wall, he had to find a place to chisel his name. Ironic, that…his father was a jewel-smith, teaching his son to discern subtle planes of weakness in precious stones, allowing for precise cuts to reveal their inner beauty. This, by comparison, should be an almost mindless task….

Except it wasn't. There were already thousands of names engraved across the hard stone, and on walls like it throughout the ponderous gloom of Sunda Mizu Dojo. And it was forbidden to deface, even by a fraction, an existing name.

You may forget your training, but Sunda Mizu Dojo never forgets you.

These words had been thoroughly drummed into him and rest of the Dojo’s new students. It explained why some of the names were hidden by crude paintings, or chamber pots, or equally tawdry bric-a-brac. Those were past students who had dishonored themselves, and the Dojo by implication. But even disgraced names couldn't be removed; they could only be hidden from view by disgraceful things.

Sunda Mizu Dojo never forgets...

But the dishonored were few. Far more common were names stroked through with white paint.

The Dojo's dead.

… never forgets you.

Kusa frowned. So many names, so many dead, fixed in unforgetting stone. They pressed on him like thousands of hard eyes, glaring at this little Crane who'd come to their place of immortality and dared think he could actually belong here.

Kusa shook his head. Would that he had never been 'honored', as his father put it, to study here as part of some greater arrangement between his Clan and the Crab. He desperately missed the Crane lands, where the air was bright, washed clean by fresh winds from the sea. But duty demanded—

His eyes stopped on one of the names.

Hida Yakamo.

He let out a slow breath. Yakamo. Lord Sun. Nothing distinguished it from the names around it…except that Divine hands had cut that name into the stone. He lifted a finger toward the chiseled letters—

"Don't even think about it, Crane."

Kusa spun around. A hulking figure stood only a few paces behind him. He didn't recognize the face…not much older than his own fifteen years, so probably another student, and clearly a Hida, from the coarse features and massive build. Kusa composed himself and bowed.

"Your pardon, Hida-sama…what should I not think about?"

"Placing your name near that of Hida Yakamo-kami. There are few Crab worthy to do so…and certainly no Crane."

The Crab's belligerence surprised Kusa, but drew on his courtly tutoring and bowed again. "Your pardon again, Hida-sama. I mean no offense. I am Kusa of the Kakita, and honored to make your acquaintance."

The Crab snorted. "Kusa? Grass? What sort of name is that?"

Kusa stiffened. He had been warned that many Crab lacked…refinement. But this was treading close to outright insult.

"It is the one my parents chose for me, Hida-sama. They believe it suited my slightness of build." He kept his tone and expression carefully bland.

Ton scowled and opened his mouth, but some belated instinct appeared to warn him how grave would be an insult to the Kakita's parents. Instead, he gestured again at Yakamo’s name. "Find a place more suited to the name your…esteemed parents gave you, Crane-san. That's all I'm saying." With a perfunctory bow, he stalked away.

"Excuse me, Hida-sama," Kusa called after him. "You did not tell me your name…or how I came to offend you so."

The Crab stopped. "My name is Hida Ton. As for your offense…well, you are Crane, I am Crab, and we will soon be at war. Is that not enough?"

Kusa watched as Ton strode out of sight, then turned back to the wall. It suddenly seemed even larger and more ominous…or perhaps it was just Kusa who felt even smaller and more out of place. He glanced again at the name 'Yakamo', then resumed searching, seeking a less portentous spot to carve his name.

Sunda Mizu Dojo never forgets you.

The Shadowlands, A Half Day’s Journey from the Carpenter Wall…

Kusa dropped the ono and dodged again. The oni's club slammed into the ground hard enough to bounce fist-sized stones into the air. Desperately, Kusa grabbed the finger of jade hanging around his neck and stumbled on, desperate to keep outside the oni’s reach. The creature stalked after him, intent on crushing this small but nimble opponent.

Kusa cursed. He could probably out-run the oni, but Ton certainly couldn't. And he couldn't, wouldn't, leave Ton. Bad enough they had lost the Hiruma leading them on what was supposed to be only a brief, introductory foray into the Shadowlands….

He needed to retrieve the ono, because without it, he was unarmed—

He fingered the smooth length of jade.

Or…was he?

Sunda Mizu Dojo, Two Weeks Earlier....

Kusa sidestepped, spying a gap left in Ton's defense by the Crab's last attack. Hefting the tetsubo, he swung—

Defying momentum, Ton reversed his own tetsubo, deflecting Kusa's blow, then blurring an attack at the Kakita's head. Kusa dodged—

But the world flashed green and rang like a temple gong, then Kusa was staring at a blur of high rafters and roofing slates. He blinked and the image shimmered, then settled into place, more or less. A face appeared.

"Tell me, young Crane…what is pain?"

Kusa blinked again.

What…?

Something prodded his ribs, hard. "What," the face asked again, "is pain?"

Kusa sucked in air. "Pain, Toritaka Tatsune-sensei," he rasped, "is just weakness…leaving the body."

Tatsune nodded. "Hai. So rise and thank Hida Ton for helping rid you of such weakness."

Kusa levered himself back to his feet and bowed. A wave of nausea rolled over him, but he made himself ignore it.

"Thank you, Hida Ton-san…for helping me to…improve myself."

Ton offered a shallow bow in return. "My pleasure, Crane. Soon, I hope to offer many of your cousins a similar opportunity…but with a real tetsubo. I do hope they offer a greater challenge, however—"

His words collapsed into a gasp as the bokken practice-sword Tatsune used variously as training weapon, prod and cane for his permanently-injured leg smacked against Ton's stomach.

"You are a student of Sunda Mizu Dojo," Tatsune snapped, "speaking of a fellow student. It is your duty to see to each other's improvement, and to treat one another with honor and respect. That is why I’ve convened this practice session, away from the other students…so that both of you can learn this lesson. The ongoing enmity between you is an unseemly and unproductive distraction. Do you understand?"

Ton coughed, then nodded tightly. “Hai, sensei.”

But Tatsune sighed. “No, I don’t believe you do. You fixate on our war with the Crane. But consider…before them, we fought the Scorpion. And tomorrow, we will fight the Mantis…or the Unicorn…or the Scorpion again. Such is the Empire. But even as enemies, samurai of the other Clans are to be treated with honor. Only one enemy deserves our hatred and contempt.” Tatsune lifted the bokken and jabbed it towards the Dojo’s south wall. “And that enemy lurks beyond the Carpenter Wall.”

While Ton recovered his breath, Tatsune turned to Kusa. “Even so, Kakita-san, there is a kernel of truth amid the chaff of Ton’s words. You have improved, but the tetsubo remains a less-than-ideal weapon for one of your stature.” The old sensei narrowed his eyes and tapped the bokken against the earthen floor of the dojo. “Perhaps strength, alone, will not allow you to overcome your enemies, eh?"

Tatsune turned and limped a few paces towards the Dojo’s sidelines, then turned back and shouted, “READY!”

Two weapons were lifted, two fighting crouches adopted—

Then one tetsubo dropped. Thoughtfully, Kusa strode to a nearby weapon-rack, studied its contents, then selected a small bokken the size of a wakizashi.

Ton glanced at Tatsune, but the sensei stood impassive. The Hida smirked. “I wish you better luck, Crane-sama, with that stick—“

“FIGHT!”

Kusa and Ton circled, advanced, backpedaled. The small bokken was far lighter than the ponderous tetsubo, allowing Kusa much more freedom of movement. Deliberately, he closed on Ton, daring him to strike—

Faster than Kusa thought possible, the Crab drove the tetsubo butt-first, like a battering ram, almost catching Kusa in the chest.

Almost.

The Kakita leapt aside, then bounded past the Hida, slashing as he passed. Ton deflected the attack with the tetsubo’s pommel, but Kusa whirled and struck again, this time from almost directly behind Ton. The Crab tried wheeling to block, but the bokken cracked down on Ton’s shoulder in a stroke that would have cut the Crab from neck to sternum had Kusa been wielding steel—

“STOP!”

Tatsune limped forward as Ton bowed a grudging defeat to Kusa. "So…what have you learned from this, Kusa-san?" the sensei asked.

Kusa looked at the bokken. "That I am faster and more proficient with the lighter weapon. And…that I must understand, and accept, my limitations…and my strengths."

Tatsune narrowed his eyes. "But?"

"But, as you have said many times, normal blades are often no match for the Shadowlands beasts.” He shrugged. “In any case, it would not be proper for me to wield the wakizashi in battle until I am a samurai. Until then, I must learn to swing the tetsubo and the ono as Ton-san does. Or… at least try.”

Tatsune nodded approvingly. “Very well. Stand ready, then.”

Kusa retrieved the tetsubo and adopted a fighting stance.

“READY.”

He locked eyes with Ton.

“FIGHT!”

Kusa started to move. But Ton remained still…then lowered his weapon.

“If you are going to wield that,” Ton said, “then you must grip it properly.”

Kusa paused, narrowing his eyes at Ton. A ruse…?

But the Crab just stepped forward, his own weapon still unready. “I will show you. That is, if you will stand down and let me.”

Kusa lowered his tetsubo and watched as Ton moved in beside him. “Look…place your hands here, and here. And hold the weapon up, like so.” Ton watched as Kusa followed the instructions, then added, “I will still likely defeat you, Crane. You just aren’t strong enough to swing the tetsubo as well as I can.”

Kusa shrugged. “I know.”

Ton stared at Kusa…then looked at Tatsune.

“Kusa has learned a lesson today," the Toritaka said. "What about you, Ton?”

Ton considered Tatsune's words, then nodded and turned back to Kusa. “I will drive much weakness from your body, Kakita-san.”

“Hai. And…I shall thank you for it, Hida-san.”

Ton held Kusa’s eyes…then smiled.

“Now,” Tatsune said, “if the parley is finished, I believe I gave the command to fight.”

Still smiling, Ton cried “HIDA!” and leapt at Kusa, tetsubo swinging.

The Shadowlands, A Half Day’s Journey from the Carpenter Wall…

“Ton!” Kusa shouted, “you must distract it!”

The Hida staggered forward, tetsubo raised. “I would…rather…kill it,” he rasped, then spit blood and cried, “HIDA!”

The oni spun on Ton. At once, Kusa leapt to their dropped pack-boxes. Upending one of the wooden cases, he kicked through its contents until he found a small hatchet. It was a tool, not a weapon, but Kusa snatched it up regardless.

Behind him, the oni shrieked and swung at Ton, who dodged and swung back. The tetsubo slammed into the creature’s leg, gouging a shallow gash.

Kusa forced himself to focus. Carefully, he examined the finger of jade. His father said that every stone contained patterns of stress imposed by its formation and history. Exploiting such weaknesses, an artisan could coax raw stones into revealing their natural, hidden beauty. It wasn’t beauty Kusa sought, though. Rather, he sought a line of stress aligned close to the finger’s axis….

There. Eyes fixed on the subtle flaw, he placed the jade on a rock, raised the hand-axe and…tapped.

The finger split into a jagged, stubby shard and a longer, slender spike.

Hardly perfect, but as close as he was going to get.

Grabbing the jade splinters, he turned back to the battle in time to see the oni’s club smash Ton to the ground.

Kusa didn’t hesitate. He leapt forward, brandishing a shard of jade in each hand. The oni’s many eyes saw the attack and the creature started to turn—

But not before Kusa slammed his makeshift jade knives into the creature’s back.

Green-gold light erupted from Kusa's hands, like bright sun through leaves, and a dark, acrid fume rose from the searing wounds. Gagging, Kusa leaned forward, shoving the jade as hard as he could into the corrupted flesh. The oni shrieked, dropping its club and flailing about. Kusa ducked, avoiding one massive fist, but the other slammed into his side. A bright snap in his chest, incandescent pain, then gray fog washed over the world….

Kusa gritted his teeth and the fog parted. Dark earth appeared, filling his face. He dragged in a breath and rolled over, to find the oni blotting out the sky.

It howled, its gut blackened and smoking as the jade burned away inside it. But it still lived, and was poised to crush the life from him.

Kusa struggled to crawl aside, but pain flashed and the fog thickened again…

I tried. Ton…Tatsune-sensei…I tried—

"HIDA!"

Kusa frowned. Hida was here…?

One of the oni's heads…vanished. The other stared stupidly at the stump, spurting blackish fluid. Then Ton swung the ono again, chopping away that head, too.

So, Kusa thought…I'm not dead.

Unless the cursed oni falls on me.

Now, wouldn't that be funny?

Kakita Kusa giggled into an ever-thickening fog….

Darkness.

...

Light.

"How do you feel, Kusa-san?"

Kusa blinked, then looked toward the voice.

"Toritaka-sensei…?"

Tatsune nodded. "Yes. You are back at the Wall, in the infirmary of the Eleventh Watch-Tower. Hida Ton brought you."

"Ton…" Kusa coughed, wincing as he did. "Ton-san…how is he?"

"He is gone."

"Gone?" Kusa stared. "Dead?"

"No. Gone to the Barracks of the Damned."

"I don't…" Kusa coughed again. Wait…the Barracks of the Damned. So Ton was—

"Tainted?"

"Hai."

Kusa stiffened. "Am I also—?"

"Tainted?" Tatsune shook his head. "No, merely injured."

Kusa slumped back on the pallet. "We lost our patrol leader—"

Tatsune shook his head again. "He was never far away, and neither was a Hiruma squad…at least, until just before your battle with the megada no oni. This is an exercise we normally reserve for advanced students. But I judged it worth the risk…that there was value in subjecting you and Ton to it, to further meld you into a team. Unfortunately, another creature attacked the Hiruma and they were unable to re-establish contact with you. It is fortunate Ton was able to get you both back to the Wall."

Kusa looked at his hands and remembered them flaring with jade-green light. "I am surprised it was Ton-san who was Tainted, and not me."

"Although both of you were wounded, you had jade. He did not."

"But my jade—"

"Was destroyed, yes. A clever tactic, and one that likely saved two inexperienced samurai. But that is why Ton was Tainted. With your jade gone, his was only enough to protect one of you."

"But…oh."

Ton had given Kusa his jade, dooming himself to the Shadowlands Taint.

Kusa looked at Tatsune. "Why?"

"Because he is Crab," Tatsune said. "'We are the Wall' is not mere words. It is who we are, and what we do."

Kusa swallowed hard, nodding. “Will I see him again?"

"No."

"I will…regret that. I believe we could have been friends."

"Hai. But you can honor his memory."

"Sensei?"
"Eventually, our two Clans will not be at war. But every Crab or Crane who fell will be a hole in someone's heart. Bitterness will linger. Your memory of Ton can be otherwise. From such small things can come healing between our Clans."

Kusa considered this, then nodded. "Hai, sensei. I understand."

"Good. Now, you have one day to recuperate. Then you will return to Sunda Mizu Dojo. You may be a samurai, but your training is not yet complete."

"Your pardon, sensei. I am not a samurai yet."

Tatsune smiled. "Ah, but you are, young Kakita. Ton brought something else back to the Wall…the megada no oni's heads. One for each of you. That fulfills the requirement for gempukku in our Dojo. They will be grinning at you from the Dojo’s gate when you return."

Kusa opened his mouth…but closed it again.

"And that means you have another duty, Kusa-san. You must choose a name for your gempukku. Customarily, of course, you would take the name of someone you admire, who has meaning to you." Tatsune shifted his weight on his bokken-cane. "I shall leave you to think about it."

Kusa nodded. "Hai. Thank you, sensei."

Tatsune turned and left Kusa alone with his thoughts.

53 minutes ago, DGLaderoute said:

Here's another story I wrote back during AEG's days of owing the IP. This one was another story-team try-out (but I forget the exact requirements they were after). The main character in this is a Kakita, a Crane, but it's really a story about the Crab, as you'll see...

(Apologies for the inconsistent indenting, but this forum software isn't the format-friendliest.)

Meh, the stories get by. Don't sweat it!

Thanks for sharing!

I have a stack of old stories I'd write just to pass the time. They are, however, perhaps unlike a lot of the fiction you're used to reading from L5R forums. Here's a pretty random if representative sample:

*****

The forest lapped upon the shores of the Valley like a hungry sea, and the wood was not cut down as fast as it might for fear of offending the wind which blew through it.

It was said that the forest was the last portion of the ancient and mighty Shinomen Mori to be found north of the Spine of the World Mountains, and that, in old times, the great Shinomen had once grown over the very mountains themselves, only to be pruned back to their current borders when Lady Matsu grew bored of Akodo One-Eye’s advances, and pledged to cut down one tree of the Old Shinomen for each whisker upon Akodo’s face which offended her delicate sensibilities. The resultant deforestation so alarmed the woodsfolk and forest spirits who depended upon the continued existence of the Shinomen that they pleaded upon the kami for their help, which eventually arrived in the form of a clever suggestion from the sage Togashi, who convinced Lady Doji to decree that it would be high fashion in this season’s court for all men to be clean-shaven. So it was that their brother Akodo arrived in court fresh-faced and wise just as the Lady Matsu had reached the borders of what is today’s Shinomen Mori.

That this story was obviously true was apparent only within the Valley. Studious monks on their pilgrimages noted that there was no known account of such a bare-cheeked season’s fashion recorded in any other history. The Valley inhabitants pointed out that their own temple contained venerable scrolls that told the story quite clearly, and it was not their responsibility to make apologies for the shocking lack of maintenance showed by the other libraries in the Empire. Seasoned travelers pointed out that the trees of the Shinomen bore no resemblance to the species living in the Valley. The Valley inhabitants noted that the logogram for “Matsu” closely resembled the one for the trees which grew in the Valley. Wily traders made sure to have many shipments of ceremonially-engraved shaving razors available for shipment to the Valley on Akodo’s holy day. The Valley inhabitants made sure to buy them in great numbers, for not only was it tradition in the Valley that no man may claim a bride while he bore any facial hair, they were easily pawned off on travelers who visited the Valley on other months who wished an easily-recognized souvenir of their visit.

Those travelers not interested in returning home with packs full of men’s grooming apparatus from their trip, or those monks with no hair to begin with, would make sure to visit the Valley’s temple, which was properly known as the Temple of the Sun’s Tearful Embrace, commonly known as the Plain of the Sun’s Tears, and usually referred to as “over there.” It was a solid, blocky, somewhat ungainly building, an architectural holdover from the Seventh Century, a period whose unimaginative style had, by last count, caused no less than five dozen official requests to the Ikoma Histories from various Kakita daimyos so as to strike all records of it from the Imperial Histories in order to avoid ongoing shame to various mortified descendants of the artisans of that time.

The temple was not the focus of the religious life of the Province, for these were Lion lands, and as such family shrines saw far more use than temples to the Sun. It was far better known for its significant collection of rare scrolls and engravings from the early days of the Empire, and the many legends they contained. This was the temple responsible for the testing of those poor unfortunates who were caught by the full moon’s wind within the Forest of Matsu, and to weigh their tears by the subtle tests which had been handed down for centuries. The exact nature of these tests was unknown to even the most diligent Phoenix inquisitor, as it was a sworn secret kept only by the Lion priests who served within the temple, but the results were unimpeachable. Each year those worthies...

*****

I'll cut there, as I don't want to bore the worthies of this thread if you're not interested in more of the above.

If you're interested, let me know, and I'll drag some of these old chestnuts up for public consumption. If not, no probs. Happy L5R'ing!

Rebirth, Part 5

In retrospect of what Yogo Asha had told to him, Yogo Kenchiro had to admit, Tokuda might have been a dirty commoner who probably thought way too much about himself, but if he failed to become the Yogo daimyo, then it wouldn't be for the lack of persistence from his followers' part.

Kenchiro hadn't seen even half this kind of resolve from budoka in his entire military career, and he had had his share of commanding them around.

The ambush at the edge of the forest had been only the beginning. The rocket barrage after that had showed the shape of things to come, but what was Kenchiro witnessing now was beyond his wildest imagination.

He was lying behind a mound of dirt, just out-of-sight from the people in front of him. Maybe two or three jo away from him a sturdy cart was waiting on the road that ran through the forest. Atop it was a contraption Kenchiro was quite familiar with: a repeating bolt thrower, a massive crossbow equipped with a self-reloading mechanism and a drum-like magazine filled with arm-length bolts. It was a true Phoenix invention, a rapid firing siege engine that could wreak incredible havoc in the good hands. Now facing away from Kenchiro, the bolt thrower pointed towards the grander scene, with its budoka operator lazily leaning against it.

A little below the cart and its deadly cargo, the road opened into a large clearing that was now bristling with activity. Four dead horses and a dead samurai offered a telltale first impression, completed with maybe fifty budoka swarming around the remnants of Yogo Asha's caravan: ten samurai, an old and badly wounded shugenja, and the young lady herself. They were all tied up and stripped of their weapons, most likely just moments away from being executed.

The most interesting person was still the samurai who was not tied up, and clearly acted as a leader for the attackers. He too wore the mon of the Phoenix Clan and the Yogo Family, a sign of how deep the conflict was running, and in his full suit of armor he looked ridiculously out-of-picture amidst his underlings. He had Asha's bajozutsu, trying its grip and handling. He stepped to one of the tied-up caravan guards, and shot the samurai in the head without saying a word.

The thundering roar was the sign for Kenchiro to leap into action. All the budoka turned their heads towards their leader, watching what he would do next.

He slowly reloaded the pistol, and walked to the shugenja.

The budoka behind the bolt thrower stretched out his neck to get a better look.

His reward was Kenchiro's parangu slashing through his neck.

The severed head barely had the time to hit the floor of the cart when Kenchiro was already had the grips, swiveling the weapon around towards the closest target.

The cart driver had a small moment to think about his life as he suddenly found himself staring at the head of a bolt. Then Kenchiro pulled the trigger, impaling the man into the ground by his chest. The loud whistle of the weapon firing drew just the right amount of attention.

Kenchiro only had to level the bolt thrower against the mass of budoka.

Panic did the rest.

The clearing exploded into a tempest of screams just as the second bolt left the rail, passing through the air like a harbinger of bloody vengeance, being little more than a blur before it carved a path of death and destruction, dissecting at least five budoka and ending its rampage by impaling a sixth one onto a tree.

The enemy samurai disappeared in the chaos, but Kenchiro could hear him barking orders.

The second bolt shortened a budoka by a head, and went through two other like they were pickles.

Arrows started to fly towards Kenchiro, and he answered the gesture in kind, sending bolt after bolt into the mass of soldiers.

His sixth shot was especially lucky as it tore apart at least a dozen opponents. Blood and body parts flew everywhere, but the initial disarray was subsiding. The remaining budoka became more and more organized with each passing second, spreading out and throwing themselves to the ground to minimize casualties.

The seventh bolt was loaded with a sharp click, a sign that only one more piece of ammunition was in the magazine.

Kenchiro did not have to worry about that though, as a well-placed arrow cut the string on the bolt thrower, turning the weapon into a piece of useless junk. He did not have to look to see the enemy samurai lowering his bow and drawing his katana, pushing his soldiers into a charge with a menacing war cry.

The first budoka who reached the cart met the same fate as the late operator of the bolt thrower, but at least he died with a weapon in his hand. Kenchiro burst out from behind the cart like a bewildered beast, roaring his own battle cry into the world. Some budoka hesitated, others lunged forward regardless, all died on the blade of the parangu.

An arm flew into the air, a piece of a head followed, and blood flew like a river, but Kenchiro couldn't care less. After all those years, his self-imposed shackles had been thrown off, the monster in his head was screaming in ecstasy, bathing in the violence his hands unleashed. A throat was ripped wide open, a carelessly unarmored abandonment was slashed, emptying guts and viscera onto the blood soaked ground. A terrifying howl escaped Kenchiro's lungs, shaking the whole forest with its echo. A dead body flung the wrong way, and knocked Kenchiro prone. Some tried to take advantage on this, hurling themselves onto him and trying to wrench the parangu out of his hand, but to no avail.

"What are you waiting for, you idiots? FIRE!" The voice of the samurai sounded strangely distant, but what followed happened way too close for Kenchiro's liking. A barrage of incendiary arrows hit the pile of dead and dying that had buried him, and fire washed through him as the burning chemicals splashed all over the place.

You will be reborn in blood and fire, Butcherer!

His strength suddenly peaked, and Kenchiro exploded out from the burning heap with a feral roar that froze all nearby. What had remained from Wakei, the simple monk of no importance, dissolved in the storm of blood and fire that surrounded him.

There was no more Wakei.

What these fools were facing was Yogo Kenchiro, the Butcherer himself.

The first archer couldn't do as much to move when Kenchiro reached him and gutted the man like a real butcherer guts an animal. The remaining six budoka fled in utter terror and never looked back.

The samurai, though, remained, with katana still in hand.

"I will take your head, monster!" he hissed as he assumed his stance.

"Idiot!" murmured back Kenchiro with contempt. "I'm Phoenix. I'm Yogo. I'm reborn. And this can end in only one way for you..." His parangu was almost invisible as it struck, the samurai had no chance to react whatsoever. It sunk deep into his body at the root of his neck, cleaving its way across his chess, severing flesh, bone, and armor with equal ease. "...I rise..." Kenchiro put his foot on the collapsing samurai's crotch, looking deep into his eyes as the light slowly faded from them. "...and you fall..." With that, he kicked the dying wreck of the body away, making it gracelessly fall into the dirt. The samurai was long dead before he hit he ground, his blood escaping through the gaping wound like a fountain, and joining the red sea the clearing had become.

His warrior spirit lapsing upon the thrill of slaughter, Kenchiro walked to Asha, roughly pulling the young woman up by her hair. She tried to protest, but the bloody blade of the parangu at her throat drowned her words before she could spill them.

"I give you exactly one chance to explain yourself," Kenchiro's calm words made Asha shudder. "Don't fail me."

"I..." The woman tried to crawl herself to a sitting position, but Kenchiro pushed her forward, and kept her hanging from his hand. "I don't know what you are talking about!"

"What about my family?" The parangu swept closer, drawing red line on Asha's pale skin. "What about you being my granddaughter?"

The woman's eyes blazed up with the flames of anger. She forced out a pained hiss, and shook herself to get out from Kenchiro's grip. She failed, only leaving a few locks of black hair in his hand, but this outburst betrayed her immediately.

"I'm the granddaughter of Yogo Kenchiro, the Butcherer!" She started kicking, but after realizing that she couldn't free herself, she stopped. "Not the granddaughter of Wakei, the monk!"

"Good, because I am Yogo Kenchiro." He crouched down, putting his head at the same level as Asha's. Their eyes met, and for a long moment, they just stared at each other. Yogo Kenchiro at his granddaughter Yogo Asha, and Yogo Asha at her grandfather Yogo Kenchiro. "And I don't like being manipulated. In fact, I hate it." With that said, Kenchiro released her and casually threw his parangu away.

"I'm sorry," she said ultimately, voice shaky from a torrent of repressed emotions.

Kenchiro's attention was already elsewhere. The daisho was atop the pile of the confiscated weapons, like it was just waiting for him there. He wasted no time to take the katana and the wakizashi, and tuck them into his belt.

As he turned his sight back to the massacre he had caused, a strong wind blew through the clearing. Its tone was familiar, like it was forming words Kenchiro had heard in the long past.

And may the Empress save us from what you will unleash upon these lands!

But it was just the wind, or maybe his mind playing with him.

THE END