Distant Thunder: Chapter 3

The Eighth Day of the Month of Shinjo, 1137

Mirumoto Uso stood wrapped in the Void.

He held his katana and wakizashi together, both pointed forward and slightly up, blades almost touching. Around him, the dojo air was still and silent, but in his mind's eye, it began to fill with foes, their own swords reaching for him.

He moved.

One blade swept out in a short circle, slicing a kneecap, while the other raised high to ward off a counterstrike. They lifted together, knocking aside two cuts and opening a space for a quick thrust, then fell back, drawing the attackers into overextending; another twist, a graceful sidestep, and another imaginary foe died, head severed cleanly at the neck. The two blades separated, driving away from each other as Uso bent low, ducking under a phantom swing, then came together with the power of an avalanche pounding down a mountain. The last of his imagined foes died under the blow, and Uso paused.

"Beautiful," came a quiet voice from behind him, startling Uso out of his focus, and he turned, blades automatically lifting to point toward the sound. The Mirumoto daimyo's surprise vanished, however, when he saw who it was.

Hoshi Wayan, leader of the tsurai zumi, the Order of Hoshi tattooed monks, stood leaning against the wall. Bare to the waist as he always was, Wayan's arms and chest gleamed with the brilliant red coils of a dragon tattooed across them, but the thickly muscled monk nonetheless managed to convey an attitude of serenity as he straightened and bowed to Uso. "Your pardon, Uso-san, for disturbing your meditations," Wayan said.

Uso bowed back, shaking his head as he stood up. "No pardon is necessary, my friend. But I was not meditating. I was practicing."

Wayan smiled. "I know what I saw," he replied simply, and Uso nodded in acknowledgement. "I must confess, however, that I do not recognize the kata," the young monk continued. "Has the master of the Iron Mountain created a new artwork to chastise his foes and terrify his students?"

Uso sheathed his blades and moved slowly across the room to where a small bowl of water awaited him. He raised the bowl to his lips and sipped, trying not to look as though he were avoiding the question, but he knew better than to believe Wayan would be fooled. Indeed, the monk merely waited politely, standing as though he would cheerfully pass days in the same position until Uso was prepared to answer.

"It is… not complete," Uso said finally. "And at this point, will never be so. It is a dance without music, and I practice it only to remind myself of what it lacks."

"And that would be…?" Wayan asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Perspective." Uso shook his head.

"You know," Wayan said conversationally, "there are many who claim the tattooed orders are inscrutable in their conversation and modes of thought. I am pleased to see that I have had such an impact on your own development, my old friend."

Uso looked sideways at the monk as he led the other man out of the dojo and into the hallway. His two yojimbo looked startled and chagrined as they saw Uso was not alone – it was clear they had not seen Wayan enter – but the swordsman lifted a reassuring hand. The tattooed monks go where they will, and their methods were at best difficult for others to grasp. "It is not like you to pry," Uso said finally, turning his attention back to Wayan.

"If there is a splinter in your hand, do you ask permission from your skin before you dig it free?" Wayan replied with a half-shrug.

The halls of Shiro Mirumoto were filled with samurai moving about their business, servants rushing past on errands, and all the bustle of a major castle's everyday life. Uso began to speak, but found he could not; the topic was one for seclusion, not public display. Wordless, he led Wayan to his study, gesturing for his guards to take up their positions outside his door, and stepped into the small room with only the Hoshi at his side, shutting out the noise of the castle. The office was smaller than one might have expected for the daimyo of a Great Clan family, but Uso had always found it spacious enough. A pair of tables sat on the north and south walls, a small writing stand between them with a cushion behind it; on the eastern wall, a window stood open to let in the cool mountain breeze and show the majesty of the Dragon Mountains beyond. Scroll racks flanked the window, and it was to one of these that Uso moved, bending down to carefully draw forth one set of tightly wrapped scrolls and spread them out across the lefthand table.

"You remember two years ago," Uso began, "when Kakita Kaiten and I met for our duel in the Valley of the Two Generals? He the master of the Kakita dojo, I the head of the Mirumoto? The duel was tradition, and we both stood to defend our schools, but afterward, we… talked, and it quickly became clear to both of us that the `rivalry' we were there to continue was nothing we wanted to support." Uso smiled at the memory. "Kaiten was a good man, and the finest swordsman I have ever had the honor of facing. It was his suggestion that we try a new path: rather than focusing on the differences in our schools, we would seek the commonalities, in hopes that we would gain new insight into the true essence of swordplay." He looked at Wayan, who had slipped into a lotus position on the floor near the far wall, and now sat listening quietly. "It was a revelation," Uso continued. "It changed so much for me.

"As a youth, when I first began to read `Niten' and Kakita's `The Sword,' all I could see were the differences. Kakita spoke of `one perfect cut,' a single strike executed with total precision, and claimed that all other strikes were distractions, mere shadows of perfection. Mirumoto Hojatsu, however, always spoke of fluidity, adaptation, formless form – he rejected the idea of a single cut, and wrote that every moment was another opportunity, every angle another line of attack. Kakita offered predetermination, one sword and one strike. Niten offered two blades. Two choices. It seemed to me that the Kakita were trapped, and we were free."

Uso looked down at the scrolls, the fine paper covered in Kaiten's fine calligraphy and beautifully drawn illustrations of stances and movements. "Even as Kaiten and I worked on the kata we wanted to develop, I held on to that belief. The similarities were in the goals, I thought, but we still had our differences in method. Kaiten thought I was being naïve; `Victory is the only standard we judge ourselves by,' he told me.

"And now he is dead." With a shake of his head, Uso knocked the letters off the table, scattering them across the floor.

Wayan lifted his chin slightly. "He died in accordance with the demands of honor," said the monk in a neutral tone, studying Uso's face, and the Mirumoto nodded fiercely.

"Yes," Uso said harshly. "His only course. His single, perfect cut. And it is only now that I begin to see what Kaiten meant all along. Hojatsu wrote, `If my enemy moves first, I kill him. If I move first, I kill him. If we move together, I kill him.'" The swordmaster looked at the monk, and Wayan leaned away slightly from whatever he saw in Uso's eyes. "You understand, don't you? There is no choice in that. The end is always the same, and the method means nothing."

Wayan opened his mouth to answer, but a sudden noise interrupted him from the hallway. An excited voice, demanding entrance from Uso's guards, made its way through the door and into the office, and the daimyo closed his eyes as the moment he had been dreading arrived. He scooped up the letters from the floor, replacing them carefully on the table, then crossed to the door and slid it open.

Agasha Chosai, the acting daimyo of the Agasha family, stood there, trying to carry the dignity of his office in robes that were just slightly too big for him. Chosai had never quite managed the ease of power that his older brother Tamori had always possessed, but in Tamori's mysterious absence, the younger brother was managing as best he could. As soon as he realized Uso had opened the door, Chosai turned to the Mirumoto daimyo, bowing deeply. He began speaking even before he finished straightening up. "Uso-sama! I am pleased to see that you have returned from Otosan Uchi! If you have a moment, I would very much like a chance to speak with you! There are matters of serious-"

Uso raised a hand, cutting Chosai off. "Of course, Chosai-san," replied Uso gravely. "Please, come inside." He stepped back to allow the shugenja to enter the office, nodding to his guards once more before closing the door behind him and turning to face the new arrival.

Chosai was almost bouncing on his toes in his excitement, but he seemed put off abruptly as he noticed the still-seated Wayan, who had now closed his eyes and appeared to be deep in meditation. Visibly deciding to ignore the Hoshi's presence, Chosai refocused his attention on Uso. "So, Uso-sama, if I might ask, what transpired at the Empress' wake?"

Uso strode to his writing stand, seating himself on the cushion, and gestured for Chosai to sit as well. "A number of things," replied the Mirumoto, "including the appointment of Ide Tadaji as Imperial Advisor, but I know what it is you are most interested in, and I will not leave you in suspense. I obtained agreements from several Clans to support future military efforts, including arms sales from the Crab, mercenary contracts from the Mantis, and an agreement from the Lion to move troops near the Phoenix border to increase pressure on them and potentially divert their attention. The Unicorn have also promised caravan guards for our trade shipments throughout the Empire, and our allies among the Scorpion will speak on our behalf in the courts." Chosai's eyes lit up in glee, and Uso noticed a slight frown appear on the Wayan's face, though he seemed otherwise deeply involved in his meditations.

"At last…" Chosai whispered. "Those who turned their backs on us will face retribution."

Uso sighed, looking away. "It will be no simple matter, Chosai-san. Among other things, the Crab have also promised Kaiu engineers to the Phoenix, and the Unicorn are sending gaijin steeds to supply the Phoenix cavalry. They also have promises of Crane assistance on the political front. We possess the advantage, but-"

"Then it is time to strike!" Chosai broke in, a fanatical glow wrapping itself around his expression. "The Fortunes favor us! Not only have the Clans of the Empire rallied to our cause, but the Heavens themselves have intervened to provide the justification we require to satisfy the Imperial watchdogs!"

Uso frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You remember Agasha Meitaro, the returned spirit who was a student to Agasha herself during his first lifetime?" At Uso's nod, Chosai rushed excitedly on. "I was speaking with him last spring when he mentioned in passing that the Dragon Heart Plain had been granted to the Dragon by Hantei Genji, though Togashi-kami never expressed any interest in following up on the grant. Though Meitaro-san was merely making conversation – it seemed he was merely curious as to when the Emperor had ceded the territory to the Phoenix – it immediately struck me that more might be behind that simple fact, and began my own research. I have just completed those efforts, and even as I bring them to you, I find you have returned with such good news! Clearly this is the will of the Heavens!"

Uso lifted a hand to stifle some of Chosai's overflowing enthusiasm. "Your pardon, Chosai-san, but you did not say what your research uncovered."

"What? Oh, yes, of course. What I learned was simple: the Emperor never did, in fact, cede the lands to the Phoenix! When the Dragon failed to establish any settlements in the area, the Phoenix merely decided to send in their own peasants to begin building towns, moves that we never responded to. So the Empire thinks of Dragon Heart Plain as belonging to the Phoenix, but in truth, that land is ours!"

"Forgive me," replied Uso, frowning, "but that cannot be the case. I know for certain that the Plain was granted to the control of the Phoenix after the destruction of the Snake Clan." But Chosai was already shaking his head excitedly.

"No, no, Uso-san! The Emperor only deeded the lands of the Snake to the control of the Phoenix. The rest of the Plain was and remains ours! I have the documentation needed to prove this to the Imperial courts – we have everything we need!"

Chosai's excitement had reached a fever pitch, but Uso felt nothing save for a bone-deep chill. He nodded, letting out a slow breath. "So it would seem, Chosai-san. Send copies of your documents to Shosuro Taberu in Ryoko Owari; he will know how to best use them. I will begin making the rest of the necessary preparations. By next spring, we will have troops reclaiming our territory on Dragon Heart Plain." Chosai all but leapt for joy; he seemed to be bubbling as he bowed quickly and very nearly sprinted out of the office. Uso watched him go, his heart filled with lead.

"So," Wayan said quietly, opening his eyes and looking at Uso. "You were speaking of choices, Uso-san."

Uso shook his head. "Bushido holds all the answers, Hoshi-sama. My course is clear."

"Perhaps it does," Wayan replied quietly, rising gracefully to his feet. "I can assure you, however, that it does not hold all the questions." Uso blinked as the monk continued, "You need not lead us to war."

Uso turned toward his window. The Dragon Mountains spread out before him, their granite grey peaks clawing for the sky like the spears of a vast army. His left hand moved slowly, precisely to the saya of his katana, and his right hovered above the hilt – palm upward as though offering a gift in the classic Kakita iaijutsu stance. "You are wrong, Wayan-san," Uso said sorrowfully. "There is only one path. All else is shadows." And he struck, blade flashing upward, toward the heart of the Phoenix lands.