Training Day
Year 1341, Month of the Monkey.
It had been over a year since the Unicorn clan came to a mutual agreement with Gatsu to host a training camp for The Claws of Retribution, a new ronin otokodate sponsored by the Emerald Magistrates with unanimous support from the Great and Minor Clans, in exchange for assistance with dealing with a domestic bandit problem. The recent rumblings from the south hardly phased the denizens of the camp - the war between the crab and the lion did not directly affect the day to day life, but there was a shift in recruitment and ronin leaving to pursue lucrative endeavors from that war. Nevertheless, the camp held true to its original mindset of training to combat local bandits in preparation for their true enemy: the Forest Killers.
Gatsu was no strategic mastermind, but in his travels as a ronin he found that no single clan has been able to completely eradicate The Forest Killers. They continue to return in history when they were thought to have been wiped out. Perhaps it was the method of eradication? That is a plausible reason, but the fact remains that no clan can also lay claim to their romping grounds: the Shinomen Mori. Not being privvy to any clan’s methods, Gatsu was left to come up with his own ideas. These ideas had been coming to fruition of late, and could be seen as he walked through the camp on this overcast day.
The camp looked almost nothing like it had in the beginning, where it was just a motley of tents and campfires. Now, the camp had grown so large that, while it still had a fair amount of the former, it also sported a number of buildings that sprang up as a result of a congregation of people. In essence, a town came to be due to the size of the camp. For every hand that held a sword, spear, or bow, there were multitudes more to support them. Weavers, fletchers, smiths, cooks, and...other questionable clientele that followed a large group of people, all served to support - or profit off of - the fighting body itself.
Today was no different than before, Gatsu spent the morning looking over his chosen trainers in various roles to reinforce a fighting style that could fight in the chaotic wilderness of the Shinomen Mori. In an open plains area, all things regarding horseback were being taught, whether it be scouting, archery, combat, or simply being a courier of a message. Being in the Unicorn lands, the equestrian stock was of high quality. In arenas and ranges, sparring and archery were being practiced. Some had been train in a clan dojo and had more practiced technique, while others displayed more innate skill. Besides training of skills, the body, spirit, and mind needed to be trained. Most of the construction and labor of the camp and town was not done by peasants, but by the recruited ronin. Even with less than a year of such training, even the scrawniest of samurai were visibly changing to be more lean and muscular, rather than skinny and malnourished or fat and lazy. More importantly, the wooded area of the adjacent forests remained mostly untouched. Just as important as combat was to fight bandits, so too was navigating the environment of their native area. Gatsu held no qualms with methods that proved effective - stealth, ambush, and striking without warning were not necessarily the methods of those that wear badges of honor. After all, a tanto in the eye is still a tanto in the eye, and when it comes to Forest Killers, the ends can almost always justify the means. And Gatsu was more than willing to get his hands dirty in place of those with a more...respectable nature. Today, however, had Gatsu in front of a small assembly of potential ronin. He looked each of them up and down, gauging their skill. Some were young and energetic, some were old and calculating, some were just looking to find an easy rice bowl.
Gatsu gestured towards weapon racks nearby, which held bokken. “Take up your weapon and pair up with another.” He took up a bokken of his own, and lowered his head in a predatory stance as he sized up his own opponent. He was a smaller man than himself, and Gatsu gave himself an opening for his opponent which, he perceived with a higher alacrity, could exploit.
The smaller man did indeed make a connection with the given weakness to his side, and was able to land a solid blow. However, since Gatsu had anticipated the blow, he was able to tense his muscles and withstand it, and before the facial expression of the man could change from determination to victory of landing a winning blow, it skipped a moment and flashed to surprise as Gatsu’s bokken came down in a diagonal slice into the opening he had anticipated and baited. The bokken in his hands snapped and bent against the strength of the blow, and even though it was enough to claim victory in the spar, Gatsu threw his weight into the attack, thinking to cleave the man in two as if he had held his personal no-dachi. The man crumpled, coughing up blood, but Gatsu’s sight was already elsewhere.
Spinning the broken bokken hilt in hand, he quickly aimed and threw it at a nearby combatant. It was slightly off the mark, but the intent was not to harm. It bounced off the man’s shoulder, which drew his concentration in surprise enough that his opponent came in to strike a heavy blow. Stooping down to his own sparring opponent, Gatsu picked up their weapon, but a muscled hand grabbed his wrist and twisted, forcing him to drop it. He had a moment to turn and look at his assailant. He was just as tall, if not taller, than himself, and features that only came with old age and surviving many skirmishes. Despite his resisting, the grip only became tighter, and with a roar the man twisted with expert footwork, and pulled Gatsu up and over himself before slamming him on the ground, knocking the wind from his lungs.
In mere moments, the sparring had finished. Men lay on the ground nursing wounds, many had minor cuts, and all would have visible bruises. Such was how each new group of potentials were tested, and many did not find the strain of the training to be worth it, and left to find better ventures.
The large ronin helped him to his feet. “You are quite the well trained warrior. What is your name, ronin-san?”
The man’s face twisted a little at being called ‘san’ by a younger man, but then shrugged his shoulders. “I have had many names in my lifetime, but currently, I am called Horo.”
Gatsu gave him a nod and his name in response before addressing the rest of the people. “Now, I want everyone to pair up with their sparring partner and join 4 other pairs to form groups of ten.” Horo began to move away, “Except you, Horo-san. I would like to speak with you in private, afterwards.” The man grunted and changed direction, moving off the field, thick arms crossed as he observed the figurative dust begin to settle.
“The goal of this exercise was to give you an idea of the type of training that you will undergo. The men beside you will be your new family, treated as brothers, as kin. You all will face a daunting task of fighting the most ruthless bandits known to the Empire. Most of you have learned how to survive on your own until now, working jobs to fill your bellies and sleep with a roof above your head! But know that the goals of this brotherhood extend beyond simple survival of yourself, but of every denizen of Rokugan! The Emerald Magistrates have deemed it fitting to fund this endeavor, with every clan providing their support. These foes are not to be taken lightly, and will not fight fairly. Thus, through unity among your peers will you prove to be stronger than a bunch of organized bandits! I will make you stronger, and more cunning. They are entrenched in a place that few dare to go, yet our lot is to go in to that place, and drive them out! This place is vast, and each unit will learn to work together. Your skills and talents will be tested, and improved where lacking. Look around you - to the ones training. They all have been in your position, where you stand now, and have seen what glory awaits! Now, instructions will be given to direct you to your barracks, along with your training schedule.”
Gatsu gave a hand signal before turning away, and some senior ronin began to give orders to the various groups. He passed by Horo without saying a word, but none was needed as the man’s heavy footsteps immediately followed him. They passed by various buildings of the training camp and town, finally arriving at Gatsu’s abode. Horo eyed the inside surroundings in silence. His eyes drawn to silken fabrics that had been embroidered. “Sake, shochu, tea?” Gatsu’s voice didn’t make Horo react as he examined the softness of the silks, and he responded without facing him, “Tea is fine.” Horo moved from the silks to the daisho stand, where Gatsu kept it when not in use. His brow furrowed, deep in thought as he examined the wrappings, and his hand was slowly reaching toward it as if by an unseen force was drawing him in. The splash of tea being poured somewhat broke him from his trance, and his eyes focused on Gatsu in contemplation, as if noticing something that was out of place, yet familiar. Unsure of what to do, he took the moment to drain his teacup.
“You do well for yourself...for a ronin.”
Gatsu looked to the silks, with a slight smile. “Better than most, I’d wager, but these were made from the silks on our - my wife I mean - silk farm. Never was a silk kind of person, too soft for the travels that I do, but it does remind me of her while I am away. I hear she might be expecting, I will need to visit soon.”
A hint of sadness passes over Horo’s eyes, but is gone like a shadow. “Surely you did not invite me here just to impress me with your riches.” “Straight to the point, good. No, I did not. Tell me, were you from a Great Clan?”
“I don’t see why that is relevant, but yes.”
Gatsu waved his hand dismissively. “I can recognize talent when it smacks me in the face, and you strike me as having been trained in a Great clan dojo. Judging by your skill, build, and scars, I would wager you were Crab, which likely means of the Hida family?”
Horo’s hands clenched into fists and relaxed a couple times before answering. “I left that life behind when I took the Horo name. I am only here because you seem eager to defeat a common enemy. If not, I will be on my way.”
“There will be plenty opportunity to face them in time, for now we prepare, and I am in need of talented sensei to prepare them for the fights to come.”
“If you expect me to earn the ire of a Great Clan, know that I will not teach this rabble any techniques.”
Gatsu shook his head. “No, I have my own training regime in mind to bring this rabble into a working unit. I only could use one with your experience to see it done right. There was once a ronin from the Phoenix clan, but he did not stay for long.”
“I am not surprised he did not stay for long, he is Phoenix, after all. What do you need from me?”
Gatsu and Horo spoke for some time over tea. With the vast amount of ground in the Shinomen Mori, the main idea is to create specialist units of 10 or so. Each would be self-sufficient, able to work if on their own, scouting out the possible locations of Forest Killer encampments, and once discovered, could spread the word and bring in other units. Survival being important, each would also be trained in their foes method of attack - ambush, and how to spot the signs and avoid it. Archery, Horsemanship, and living off the land would be key to surviving, assuming the other denizens within the forest did not find them first.
