Zeitgeist
then
The thin fishing boat slid through the silent marsh, its lantern illuminating the pre-dawn fog with a soft yellow glow. A small swarm of moths and other bugs flittered about in the light. Mirumoto Kissaki sat in the front of the boat with a fishing pole across his lap, doing his best to meditate on the strangeness of his situation and, unsuccessfully, ignoring the basket of fish at his feet. Idly, he pulled out the note he found the other day- the reason he’s here.
Go Fishing. - T.
This didn’t really surprise him- it’s not the oddest thing Togashi-sama has told him to do, but it certainly ranks up there. He couldn’t fault Jin, the old fisherman, either when he asked to be taken to the best place to fish- the basket-load at his feet attested to this. Coincidence, fate, destiny, or possibly just dumb luck landed him in the middle of a foggy cypress swamp at night. Kissaki couldn’t doze off too much, though- his attention was needed to avoid submerged logs and other things which threatened to overturn the boat, as well as to watch for kappa- mischievous water kami who lived in areas like this (which is one reason why there were so few fishermen willing to come here). Luckily he and Jin worked out pre-arranged hand signals and communication patterns early- talking too much scares the fish away. Log Left, Tree Right, Slow Down, that sort of thing, which is why, when Jin broke the silence with an exclamatory “What’s that?” Kissaki was taken aback before looking off in the distance to the right.
What he saw was a series of lights, slowly drifting along through the obscuring fog. While it certainly could be trickster spirits, he reasoned, it did not appear so; he motioned for Jin to move the boat closer. The sequence of lights was merely lamps on a boat, but why such a large skiff was in the middle of a dark swamp was an excellent question. Kissaki motioned to pull the boat alongside, looking at the assembled people on deck. Three samurai armed with spears were aboard, standing between him and the passenger, a woman, plus the peasant boatmen. Though Kissaki held his hands in the universal ‘peace’ gesture, the bodyguards did not lower their spears. He didn’t blame them.
“It’s certainly a lovely evening for a cruise, M’Lady, but I admit I did not expect to find a follower of Doji this far out, and so late in the evening.” Kissaki said with a deep bow, his hands carefully placed at his sides. “Are you lost?”
The lady smiled, bowed, and fluttered her fan politely. “We were told that the sunrise from here was a wonder to behold and have come to view it. Have we met before, samurai-san?”
“Only in distant passing; I remember you from the Son of Heaven’s court last month, but I do not think I had the pleasure of speaking to you. I am Kissaki. Mirumoto Kissaki.”
The guards’ reaction was quick and not very subtle as they gripped tighter on their spears, but the lady excused them with a flick of her fan. It was not an unexpected reaction- Mirumoto’s name was held in contempt in and fear in many circles; his infamy, rather than fame, as a master swordsman was legendary, and frankly well-deserved. Had he been recruited by Bayushi instead of Togashi the guards would have likely attacked him already, but word of the wild man’s taming, as some called it, had begun to spread.
“Ah yes, you were with Togashi-sama’s retinue as a yojimbo.” she said, her smile never dropping. “I am Doji Akemi, servant of the Lady Doji. Would you care to join us, or would you rather keep fishing?”
“We would be honored, thank you,” Kissaki laughed, tossing a rope to a boatman and stepping aboard, nodding to the rather nonplussed guards. “It seems I’m not your only guest tonight, though, but I would suggest that Doji-sama come out and greet this one personally.”
Kissaki nodded to the front of the skiff as everyone turned to look. Perched on the bow was a small crane, looking curiously at the group with a tilted head. In a quick motion of non-verbal communication, he simultaneously bowed while taking a small fish from Jin. “Welcome, Tsuru-kun no Kamui. Please, enjoy this humble offering.” He said before tossing the fish to the little crane spirit, who plucked it from the air. The bird hopped about and spread its wings in a happy flutter. Another fish was handed up from the basket, but this was held out for Akemi so that she could make a similar offering.
“Thank you, Kissaki-san,” she said, wrapping her sleeve carefully around her arm and delicately taking the fish. A giggling whisper emerged from inside the sheltered part of the skiff (eww, she touched a fish!) as Akemi made a similar offering to the Tsuru, who squawked happily. The giggling was cut short as the curtain parted, though- a quick look shot to Jin from Kissaki made both men bow deeply.
“O’Doji-kami,” Kissaki stated. “We are greatly honored.”
“Kissaki-san,” He could hear her smile as she spoke. It was musical. “If I might ask, why do you use the familiar with the crane spirit?”
“With spirits such as this, whether large or small, it is important that they like you and think of you as family. When this young Tsuru gets older he will be an exceedingly formidable opponent and I, frankly, do not wish to insult his older siblings.” Kissaki said, nodding to the small flock of very large blue crane that were being revealed by the receding fog and slowly coming this way, walking through the black water on their long, slender legs. There were only about a half-dozen or so, but as each was the size of a horse, they were a formidable sight indeed. As they approached, it was obvious why Kissaki held them in such high regard- their no-dachi length beaks showed many scars of battle and their large, black eyes regarded the humans with a warrior’s stillness and grace. The littlest Tsuru called to them again (receiving another fish, this time from Jin), and they responded with a haunting song too heartbreaking for words.
This certainly was not what Kissaki was expecting, but that too was something he had learned to expect from Togashi’s cryptic orders. Expect the unexpected was the clan’s unofficial motto. The benefit to this unique outlook, however, was that when strange things happen, the followers of Togashi were more used to dealing with those odd situations, and more used to noticing things first. Therefore, it is of little surprise that it was Kissaki who saw the green arm reaching over the side of the skiff toward the little Tsuru.
“Kappa!” He shouted, drawing his swords in a pair of clean arc and striking the water-kami, who howled and hissed but was still able to grab the little crane by the leg and pull him under the black water, which boiled and the skiff rocked heavily as turtle-men began climbing up over the sides, hissing and screeching hungrily. The boatmen dove for cover as the bodyguards formed a circle around the pristine and unperturbed Lady Doji, spearing anything and everything that looked at her with hungry eyes. The other handmaidens inside the skiff’s covered room screamed.
“See the water in the bowls on their heads? Empty it and they’ll lose their strength!” Jin shouted over the ruckus, sending a kappa scurrying for the depths with a well-scooped hand. He calmly dropped a fish in the water after it, bowing (never upset a spirit if it can be helped!). The fight amplified when the six Crane warrior-spirits flew down and began skewering the kappa with their long, steely bills. Kissaki splashed his hand down into the water-bowl of an advancing kappa, sending it fleeing over the side as well. He grinned, but at that moment an enormous splash sent the skiff reeling. He maintained his balance, but to keep Akemi from tumbling over the side into the black water, he was forced to grab her by the front of her kimono and pull her close to him, pressed tightly. Her delicate hands clutched his arms tightly.
For a moment everything was still, calm, and perfect as she gazed into his eyes, before blushing fiercely and stepping back to compose herself.
Kissaki turned, giving her a moment for modesty, before looking to see what had caused the boat to almost be upset. His eyes were pulled upward to the largest crane he had ever seen, big enough to be currently swallowing a kappa whole as if it were no more than a small frog. Its blue feathers and red crest shining in the first light of dawn, above the fog.
Those weren’t trees, those were legs. Everything was eerily quiet.
“Bow. Bow bow bow bow. Lower the weapons and bow, port side, NOW” Kissaki exclaimed under his breath, quickly sheathing his swords and reaching back to Jin for a fish. Jin gave him the biggest one in the basket before going face-down in the boat. All the occupants had the quick sense to follow his lead.
“Sarurun-dono-no-kami! Kissaki said, damn-near yelling. “Thank you for your assistance! Please accept this humble offering on behalf of Lady Doji, daughter of Lord Moon and Lady Sun!”
With that, he threw the fish as high in the air as he could before going back to a deep bow. The Fortune in front of him was the size of a large house and twice as tall. A loud clapping sound let him know that the offering was received. The air smelled thoroughly of fresh water, of flight through azure sky, of pure, radiant mornings, of bird. Sarurun, the great God of the Marshes, leaned his head down to get a better look at the ones before him, casting the boat into cold shadow, inspecting the one named Doji. She had not bowed, but stood tall in the face of his enormous, observant eye, blue as a winter’s day. Kissaki could not hear what they were saying, but it was obvious by the way they were looking at each other that they were communicating... somehow. It was very similar to how Togashi was when around his siblings. After a long moment, the two bowed to each other, one with an inclined head and the other by raising his enormous wings, blocking out the morning sun and casting rainbows, shadows, and sunbeams throughout the receding mist.
This scene was interrupted by splashing at the bow- the little tsuru, soaked and wet, had surfaced. Kissaki quickly reached over and plucked the young warrior from the water, who looked worse for wear but alive, and set him on the boat. His feathers were all in disarray and his beak scraped, but he was in one piece, standing tall. The tsuru squawked in the defeat of his enemy, raising his wings in a triumphant battle stance. The group of cranes and humans all cheered for him, which turned to hearty laughter as Jin tossed him a fish.
--
now
“And that, my friends, is why the followers of Doji are the ‘Crane’ clan.” Kissaki said, to polite applause from the audience. A barrage of questions followed, of course- interviewing a returned spirit from the Dawn of the Empire was a rare opportunity which brought numerous people to visit the Dragon embassy in Otosan Ichi to glorify the events of the past and to get a unique, first-hand perspective on some of history’s most prominent figures. Thankfully the lectures and discussions were staggered over the course of the following week so that the discussions were not too overwhelming, and so that there was ample time to speak with Kissaki about the topics of the day, among other things. Kitsuki Shichirou and his wife, Hara, Kissaki’s provincial lords, were quite adept at handling the conference’s guests, giving him some needed space now and again, allowing him a spot of privacy to collect his thoughts, usually in the embassy’s rocky gardens- a quiet reflection of the clan’s mountainous homeland, looking out over the bustling capitol city, the Imperial palace, and the bay beyond. It was a breathtaking view, dipped in the oranges and reds of a lingering sunset.
A quiet crunch of gravel was enough to tell him that he had a visitor. Turning way from the panorama, he smiled and bowed. “Hello, Rei-san, it is so good to see you again. Are you enjoying the conference?”
“Kissaki-san,” she said, also with a bow, accepting his silent invitation to sit and view the sunset. “I am enjoying it. Your story of Lady Doji this afternoon was most interesting, and the hospitality of the Dragon is always warm and inviting. I am curious, about one thing, though. I have never heard of crane being blue. Were they a difference species, by chance, that does not exist anymore, or was it something else?”
“It saddens me greatly that no one, especially you, has seen a blue crane in so long that it has been forgotten.” Kissaki lamented softly. “Like the deer that turn black after being alive for two millenia, crane turn blue after a similar time. They are the bodyguards of the Fortunes of Nature, much like the deer are their messengers. Only the most learned of the scholars in attendance have heard of them, let alone know the names of the Fotrtunes I mentioned, which troubles me greatly. So much knowledge has been lost, but since it was a thousand years ago, I guess it should not surprise me. Thankfully I can help fill in some of the earliest gaps and hopefully, with the right prayers, the blue cranes might come back.”
Kakita Rei kept her On intact, but having worked with her before, it was easy to see that the mere idea of such a thing made her eyes sparkle, which in turn made her blush faintly. “That would be wonderful, Kissaki-san. Bringing spirits such as the Tsuru that you spoke of... surely that would be a good thing, no?”
“It certainly would, but we would have our work cut out for us. These creatures were exceedingly rare even in my time, and would only be found in the most remote of locations, like the heart of a great swamp. Many of them do not approve of man’s presence anyway, so with the population growth that the Empire has seen, it... may take a while.” Though she hid it behind her polite societal mask, he could see that such a practical view of things was getting her down. “With luck and the blessings of the fortunes, however, we might still see one or two in our lifetimes. I heard rumor of a ki-rin spotting in Dragon lands, and those are just as rare. If that could happen there, it stands to reason that a similar sighting could happen here.”
“Do you... do you think you could find the marsh where you met Sarurun-Kami?” The hope in Rei’s voice was quiet but unmistakable as she looked him in the eyes for the briefest moment. Kissaki didn’t respond. He couldn’t- the way the setting sun cast a warm glow on her perfect face, illuminating the softness of her long black hair, it took his breath away. Her cheeks flushed under his attention before they both turned away self-consciously. “It... would mean a great deal to my family.”
“I already looked, Rei-san. I consulted the maps of the area before the conference and, as far as I can tell, the marsh is now farmland a few hours south of here. A thousand years is a long time for things to change.” he said, his shoulders heavy with the weight of age. “Luckily, not everything changes. The Fortunes and kami spirits are eternal, so the prayers should still work. I can’t think of why they wouldn’t, but I’m no priest; I just like the low-maintenance haircut.”
To his ear, her laugh was not unlike the ringing of a distant temple bell, perfect and clear, calling the pious to worship. Sitting here, basking in the warmth of the last rays of the sun, enjoying such wonderful company, would be a wonderful way to spend eternity again, he thought. The moment was slowly pushed away as her words, and the dawning that it was in fact a temple bell, marking the time, informed him that it would something something... oh yes, dinner. That he could be so lost in this simple moment stirred him inside.
“It would indeed be a shame to keep our guests waiting, Rei-san.”
“Indeed, but that was not what I asked, Kissaki-san.” Rei chided lightly, almost playfully. “My lord, Kakita Inejiro, wishes for you to visit his humble province at your earliest convenience. We have many historians who would certainly wish to hear of your previous life firsthand, and he would like to speak to you about our family’s great Ancestors. We could even speak to the priests and consult our prayers to the O’Tsuru-kami while we are there.”
Kissaki smiled, bowing slightly. “I will most certainly speak to my Lord, but at the moment I do not see any difficulty in this. Thank you for the generous offer, Rei-san. Shall we, then?”
Kakita Rei bowed again, with the faintest of smiles.
--
Dinner and the after-party were as standard as one could expect... from the Dragon. A sumai and jujuitsu competition entertained guests in the garden, a Togashi monk played an... interesting... piece on the biwa, all while various other courtly games occurred throughout the evening, however, to say that Mirumoto Kissaki, hero returned from the dawn of the empire, gave these things any mind would be a stretch. Though he was polite, attentive, and friendly to everyone with whom he spoke, he found himself quite distracted. Every time he spotted Rei in the crowd, dutifully following her charge, it threw him in a bit of a loop. It was everything he could to do keep from telegraphing this to every single courtier in the room, and had to step away for a moment.
“You seem distracted, Mirumoto-san.” A familiar voice snapped him out of his fugue. “Is everything all right?”
“Hara-sama, everything is fine.” Kissaki said, bowing deeply to the wife of his daimyo. “How are you? Enjoying the evening?”
To say she gave him a knowing smile was an understatement, and it was everything again that he could do to maintain his composure and not turn red. Her smiling gaze was both joyful and piercing to him- he was an old fool and she could see right through him. There was no use pretending anyway, and thankfully she had caught him in a quiet, fairly empty corner of the garden.
“I am doing wonderfully. Our guests are all a-flutter over your stories, Kissaki-san, and you have made many friends for the Dragon by doing this for us. Shichirou and I are most grateful for your presence.” She bowed, only slightly lower than normal. The recent birth of her child has given her the radiance that only a mother could possess. “Is there anything we can do to help you while you are here, or anything you feel should be brought to our attention?”
Kissaki smiled. “Kakita Inejiro, the lord of the Nanhan province, has invited me to speak with him and his scholars at the earliest convenience. After this is over, if you have no other assignments for me, I would like to ask permission to travel there for a little while.”
Hara thought about it for a moment and nodded. “Inejiro-san is a great man, I think you will certainly enjoy your time there.” She said with a coy smile. Yeah, she knew. “You must do as you feel is best, Kissaki-san. You have brought great honor to us, and we have full faith and confidence in you. I believe Shichirou has scheduled a meeting for you in the Seppun Archives here first, though, but once your duty there is fulfilled I see no reason you should not spread the good will of the Dragon to the Crane. I will arrange for you to have some company, I think, so that we may take better advantage of this opportunity to bring our clans together.”
Kissaki bowed deeply. A great sense of relief and anticipation washed over him. He couldn’t help but smile. “I shall inform the Crane delegation here at once. We should head back in, though; I wouldn’t want anyone to get any fresh ideas due to our absence.”
“Of course not. You have a good eye, by the way; she’s quite a catch. If you need anything, say so, and I will do everything in my power to help.” Hara said with a smile. Her comment came right as they passed through a shadow so that his daimyo could not see his reaction, but she knew anyway. Her light laughter said so, and he knew immediately that she would be contacting a Crane matchmaker in the morning.
--
then
“Who do you think you are that you can lay your hand on my sister?” Doji Tsuro said, hissing under his breath. “I won’t have filth like you or even thinking of her, let alone touching her.”
Kissaki stood tall, doing his best to not let the little man’s words get to him. “What should I have done, Tsuro? Let her fall into a swamp full of hungry kappa? NO. Use that lump three feet above your ass and think. It was a battle; I did what I had to do to save her life. Nothing untoward happened.”
To say the two men stared daggers at each other was an understatement- they were nose to nose and neither was backing down. There was a small crowd watching them as they stood in the garden of the castle.
“It would be a Mirumoto who would take the opportunity to compromise a lady under the mask of honorable action...”
Kissaki went cold. The crowd, even the crickets, went silent, knowing that Tsuro had hit a nerve. To insult a man’s sensei, his family... it was unforgivable. One just didn’t do that. Mirumoto Kissaki took a step back, drawing his swords, letting his arms hang loosely at his side.
“Tsuro-chan, please, don’t do this!” A teary-eyed Doji Akemi cried out. Mirumoto-san was a complete gentleman! Even Lady Doji commended his quick act-”
“Enough!” Doji Tsuro barked at her, placing his right hand over the handle of his blade, as if offering it as a gift. This was the style recently popularized by Lady Doji’s husband, Kakita, and by him doing so letting everyone know whom he had trained under. A murmur ran through the crowd. “If you would defend him against your own brother, its obvious this dog has compromised your morals as well!”
A flurry of movement and a moment of flashing steel ruptured the air; Kissaki stood over the fallen and bleeding body of Doji Tsuro. With a resolute flick, he cleaned his blades and re-sheathed them. “Doji Akemi has not been compromised!” He stated, daring anyone else to challenge the point again. His eyes burned furiously, but one look at the aforementioned Crane maiden and his anger melted, like a spiderweb before a taifun. He turned and walked away, to go find Lady Doji and apologize profusely. Behind him, he could hear Akemi weeping loudly. It broke his heart.
The next morning, Mirumoto Kissaki sat in the small room, bowing deeply and silently. The room was busy- His family daimyo, Mirumoto and his son, Hojatsu, were going toe to toe with Doji Tsuro’s family and sensei- Kakita and Tsuro’s father, Makaze. Both Lady Doji and her handmaiden, Doji Akemi, were present as well, though the latter were mostly silent, as were a few other neutral arbitrators and courtiers from other clans. The words were knife-edged; Mirumoto was not known for his civility and Kakita Makaze was extremely upset. It was a duel, his son had been the aggressor, but On must be maintained. People had been killed for much less, and there were many witnesses to the event- it was certainly not murder, but really, that did not make it magically all better. His son was still dead, his daughter on the verge of dishonor. Thankfully Hojatsu and Doji were there to mediate, keep things civil, and maintain a level head about such matters lest a bloodshed, or worse, a blood feud, develop.
Hojatsu, Doji, and Kakita, and a few others were busily discussing how dueling like this could be regulated in the future, but Kissaki admittedly was not paying attention to that. His attention was focused on Doji Akemi; that he could cause such harm to her made his stomach knot. After the incident in the swamp with the Tsuru-kami, they seemed to run into each other constantly, and she was even the first to congratulate him on his appointment to the Emperor’s Guard. It was not her fault that that fool Tsuro had taken such offense with him, especially since his real issue was that Kissaki was a student of Mirumoto- Kakita’s rival and once one of the greatest villains in the new-found Empire, short of the Fallen One himself. Tsuro’s intention did not matter at this point, but it was obvious action would need to be taken. While the others debated the finer points of future customs, Kissaki and Akemi sat quietly as the white elephants in the room while the others ignored the potential shame hanging over their heads. Cautiously he looked her way. Even in this time of stress and grief, she looked radiant and serene. When she gave him the faintest of smiles, the room grew quiet as he sat up straighter.
He knew what he must do.
--
now
The hall of the Seppun estate was lavish in ways that made Crane opulence seem passe and the wealth of the Mantis and Unicorn seem gauche. A thousand years of Otomo influence, decorated with the combined wealth of an Empire, does that. Mirumoto Kissaki and his two daimyo, Kitsuki Shichirou and Mirumoto Uso, sat in places of honor near Seppun Hotaitaka, the daimyo of the Seppun family, as well as Miya Yumi, daimyo of the Miya family, before an audience of very important and influential people, mostly other Imperials, but there was a smattering of highly-connected Crane and Lion, the latter of which highly upset about the current tale of a conflict involving Akodo-kami and his vassal, Ikoma.
“So forgive me if I’m blunt about this, Kissaki-san,” said Ikoma Kaojin, a representative of Ikoma Kaoku, the family daimyo. His knuckles were white as he gripped his fan. “You’re saying that Akodo-kami lost his eye in a barfight? I find that highly suspect.”
Kissaki could feel every eye boring into him, and therefore did his best to choose his words precisely, as they might be his last. “I wouldn’t say that, I would say that it was a matter of Honor. I was there, and I understand that this is... a delicate story to speak of, and would only bring it up in the strictest confidence, which is why it hadn’t been mentioned yet, to anyone, ever, and will never repeat it. You had asked why geisha houses do not allow weapons, and this is why.
“Myself, Mirumoto-sama, and a few of my clansmen were enjoying a cup of Hida’s Blessings, as it was called, in a little place outside Otosan Ichi called the House of Blue Leaves. Given Mirumoto-sama’s reputation, we had the place to ourselves until Akodo-sama, Ikoma-sama, and a few others came in, looking to enjoy the evening. Aside from Akodo-sama himself, they were a rather boisterous bunch, especially Ikoma-sama; I will not impugn his or anyone else’s reputation, but you are familiar with his fabled demeanor, and I can assure you that the stories about him are quite correct. One of the serving girls caught his attention and, as he got progressively drunker, well… you can guess how things started to play out. When the girl’s father arrived and started to protest, one of Akodo’s men struck him. One of our men stood up in protest, and Akodo’s men all stood in response.
“Please understand, sama’s, that fights happen. Pride makes men do many things, some honorable, some not. There were certain unwritten rules about these things back then- mostly pertaining to the use of weapons; namely, don’t involve them. This was a good, clean brawl as the Mirumoto soldiers and the Akodo soldiers went toe to toe, and all sides acted with Respect for those rules. I couldn’t say what side was winning at the time, and I couldn’t say who drew first, but as you all know, the sound of a blade clearing a saya is distinct, even in the midst of a loud ruckus. For good or ill, hands went to blades. No one wants this sort of thing to happen, but it did, and still does. We stood there, each watching everyone else, listening, waiting... the swords were all drawn at once, and it would have ended in a lot of bloodshed if Akodo-kami had not stood up. He had been quiet the entire time, and I can say with no shame that, even having faced towering oni, none of us wanted to fight him. It didn’t matter, though- Mirumoto stood up right after him and very quickly the two men were face to face.
“I can tell you that that was the longest, most tense moment in my life. I doubt anyone was breathing, either- this was a maelstorm waiting to explode. Akodo, a God Made Flesh, was facing off against Mirumoto, the most infamous killer man in the empire. There were no words spoken; none were required. We had all gotten in way over our heads, but there was no way to back out- two unstoppable forces were about to collide... and collide they did. I could not tell you who drew first. I couldn’t even tell you what the first few attacks looked like nor how long the fight itself even lasted. All I know was that it ended with Akodo running Mirumoto through.”
There a ripple of murmurs shock ran through the crowd. Kissaki waited politely for them to finish.
“The thing is, though, Mirumoto was not a man to die or give up easily. He turned and gripped Akodo’s blade with his stomach and struck him in the face with the pommel of his wakizashi, crushing his eye. His other blade lay pressed against Akodo’s neck, ready to open him, when a loud “STOP” brought the room to an absolute standstill. We turned and standing there, silhouetted against the doorway, was Togashi-kami. We did not even know he had been in town, let alone nearby. On a side note, that one word was the only thing I have ever heard him say, ever. He wasn’t looking at us, though, he was looking at Akodo-kami and Mirumoto, but that look... I would not say he was angry, if I were to guess, he was disappointed, but I am glad to say I was not on the receiving end of it. I hear that one shout in my dreams even now; had it been directed at me, I would have killed myself right then and there.”
Kissaki paused, but soon begun again, as teh gravity of his words set in.
“Moments after the fighting stopped, the magistrates entered, jitte drawn. I can say that the look on their faces was equally unsettled, though- this was not something they were prepared for. The lead magistrate asked us all very, very politely, to please meet him in the public square tomorrow at dawn, and went to fetch healers.” Kissaki laughed lightly. “At least he had some sense. Of course, we promised we would meet him there and went to making sure that Mirumoto was ok. Thankfully for us all that Togashi-sama had arrived in time.”
Before others could begin asking questions, he continued. “As promised, we arrived at dawn. The magistrate was there, waiting, with few others. He cautiously explained that the penalty for fighting in that town was a public flogging, which was common at the time- the law had not yet reflected the difference between samurai and heimin. Ikoma, who had not in fact participated in the fight itself, declared loudly that to disobey the law would be to flaunt the rules of the Glorious Emperor, saying this while looking directly at Mirumoto, challenging him to back out. Needless to say, we and the other Akodo soldiers had broken the law and as such we took our punishment without complaint. When it was Mirumoto’s turn, some of us began to protest due to his wounded state, but he cut us off. We all offered to take his strikes for him, but he would have none of it. The only thing he said that whole afternoon was to the doshin with the whip: ‘You are the only mortal to strike me and live.’ The doshin turned ghostly white, such was Mirumoto’s reputation, and this should say something about his sense of humor, too. Even in his wounded state, he took his lashes, the whole time staring down a smirking Ikoma. He walked away from the whipping post on his own two feet and did so without a word. He even bowed slightly to the doshin to acknowledge the man’s courage- it was the faintest of nods, but it was there.
“Well we were about ready to leave when Akodo-sama pulled down his kimono and began to walk toward the post. We, Dragon and Lion alike, all protested this loudly, but we were immediately silenced: ‘The law is the will of the Emperor. It cannot be denied’ he said.” Kissaki said, pausing to watch his audience’s reaction. Even the Kaojin was silent, listening. “At this moment, I pitied the doshin like no other. The man was trembling, completely unwilling to strike a Child of the Heavens. Seppuku was not yet a common or accepted occurrence then, but I know full and well he would have been the first to do so rather than raise his hand to a God. Akodo saw this and, in his infinite Compassion, took the whip from him. He then walked past the magistrate and handed it to Ikoma, staring him down with his remaining good eye. They stood there silently, looking at each other for a long moment, before Akodo-sama walked back to the whipping post and grabbed the iron ring above him.”
“Ikoma fulfilled his duty, but with tears streaming down his face. He could not defy his Lord, and was forced to whip his best friend that day.” Kissaki said, quietly, holding back the welling emotion in his voice. “I am of the firm belief that his punishment was the worst out of all of us.”
He shook his head, looking directly at the Lion delegation. “Anyway... that is why swords are not allowed in geisha houses. You can all see why the full account never made it into the historical records; which are still true, by the way. Akodo lost his eye, and later fought oni. This likely got shortened at some point to ‘Akodo lost his eye fighting an oni.’ Perhaps it was a sublt barb at Mirumoto-sama. Maybe Akodo-sama was able to get the wound healed later on, and it was again later damaged by an oni; I don’t know. I only know what I witnessed first-hand. It is my sincere hope that no one feels dishonored or slighted in any way- I say all of this with the utmost respect and admiration for all parties involved, and you can obviously understand why this has never been spoken of, and why I will never speak of this again.”
The hall was quiet for a long period as people regrouped their thoughts before Seppun Hotaitaka spoke. “That is a fantastic story, Kissaki-san. I’m sure you understand when I ask all parties here to not repeat it and that it not be recorded in the Histories.”
Kissaki bowed deeply. “I fully understand, Seppun-sama. Such things should indeed not be spoken of. It is my sincere hope that Kaojin-sama does not take offense to my words; I mean no offense to him, his family, his ancestors, or the accuracy of his family’s historical records. If my seppuku is demanded, I will certainly comply.”
There was a long silence as the group of high-ranking officials pondered, watching the Ikoma. In the space of a few breaths, he thought about it and shook his head. Kissaki’s death would only make the story spread.
“Perhaps you have a good story to tell about Akodo-sama instead, then, that they may focus upon?” Miya Yumi asked, immediately deflecting the conversation to another less sensitive topic.
“Certainly,” Kissaki stated, happy to change the subject. “It is well-known that Akodo-sama was the one to codify the tenets of Bushido. This is absolutely true- Bushido as we know it now did not exist before the Kami fell. There was no real system of morality in place, in fact; it was a wild time where might made right, and men pursued their own ends, following whatever warlord happened to be strongest, out of nothing more than self-interest.
“It is also well-known that the kami who founded the seven clans all represented one aspect of what is now Bushido- Akodo’s Honor was matched only by Hida’s Courage, and so on. These were the great characteristics that drew men to follow the Children of the Moon and the Sun- they inspired humanity and gave us something greater than ourselves to believe in. While the great duel of the kami certainly took place, it is my belief that Hantei-sama won the right to rule because in him were all the virtues of Bushido, and that Akodo’s respect and love for his brother was so great that he wanted every samurai, ever, to aspire to be like him. Bushido itself, then, was written in homage to the one he loved most, to teach men to love something greater than themselves. I am immensely proud to see that he was successful.”
--
“I’m impressed this place is still here at all, Kaojin-san.” Kissaki laughed, swirling sake around in his cup. “It’s completely different of course, but still.”
The House of Blue Leaves was loud and boisterous as any good geisha house should be. It was much larger and fancier than Kissaki remembered (nothing besides the Imperial palace would ever be called fancy by modern standards), but also in a completely different part of town. The numerous fires that have occurred throughout history have shifted everything, making nothing familiar (the current marker on the foundation’s keystone outside dated from 758). It was still a location in good standing, though, so having a table full of extremely high-ranking samurai was uncommon but not rare. Kissaki had noticed that he and Uso were receiving much greater attention than the rest, but when pressed about it, even the Oma-san could not say why- Mirumoto bushi have always had preferential treatment- it was just how things were done here. Certainly the more powerful guests received the best sake, but the Mirumotos’ cups were always full of the owner’s personal label- a robust, almost uncouth, shochu called Avalanche.
“I asked around.” Kaojin said, wavering slightly, pointing at Kissaki with a half-full cup. “Apparently it’s progressively shifted closer to the center of the city... or maybe the city has grown up around it... but it has moved a few times. Anyway... do you think you could point out...”
“You think that’s a good idea, Kaojin?” Uso asked. He was approximately equally hammered, but seemed to be holding his liquor better, and had a fair idea of where the Ikoma was going.
“Sure... ! It’s one heck of a tale, Kissaki, and would be great for teaching the more obnoxious Omadaisu some humility in private... I love my family, you know, but some of ‘em are just twats!” Kaojin laughed, as did the rest of the table. “Of course we’ll leave out the... incriminating details... We won’t mention that it was you guys and that other business... last thing we want is for some uppity bastards to declare eternal war... you know they’d do it, too...” Kaojin smirked, waving his cup at the serving girl, who refilled it quickly.
“Yeah, you know why I’m loathe to tell the tale, but in fairness, your... guy... did strike first. That isn’t something we need repeating, though... ever. It just wouldn’t end.” Kissaki said, throwing back his cup and shivering reflexively. The shochu was aptly named. “It’s amazing how different Akodo was from his followers. That man was absolutely unflappable. I’d heard Bayushi made it a game to try to rile up Akodo as often as possible, but he never could. He’d have better luck lifting the ocean. I mean, I don’t know what he was like before the tournament, but after... He was... like a proud father. If he liked you, he just knew you’d accomplish what you were setting out to do. Never flew off his handle or yelled, never struck his subordinates, none of that. Dissappointing them was punishment enough, you know. All of ‘em were like that, you see... well, except Hida. He had a temper.
“The way the Akodo act now is completely different... but we’re all just mere mortals trying to follow some very large footsteps, so it’s forgivable, you know? But to answer your question, if you were to have a table to sit at... you’d sit at... that one.” Kissaki said, pointing to a table in roughly the center of the room. “I’d suggest the seat on the back left, facing the bar. Set out seven cups, going from the worst sake to the best, but fill the one to your right with vinegar and yours with water. Knock ‘em all back, starting to the left. By the time you get back around to the water, you should get an approximate feel for how that day went without, you know, starting a fight. Or at least that’s what I would do.” Kaojin, Uso, Hotaitaka, and the rest of the group thought for a moment as Kissaki poured them all another round.
“So... Uso...” Hotaitaka said, finally speaking. He had been quiet all evening, enjoying the fact that he really didn’t have to pay attention here. “How’d you know this guy was legit? I mean yeah he came through the gate, but how’d you know he wasn’t just pulling your leg? No offense, Kissaki...”
Uso looked at Kissaki, with a grin. “He knew things that no one besides a Mirumoto daimyo would know. Specifically, that Mirumoto’s haori: you know, the inflexible one with the enormous shoulders and gold filigree that I wore last year, had certain things sewn to the inside.”
“Yeah? What was it?”
Kissaki answered this time, with a grin. “On the inside was sewn Kim-un–no-Kamui, the Lord of the Mountains and Fortune of Bears, having tea with a Snow Maiden under the watchful eye of Fuj-...excuse me.” He said as he made a small prayer sign with his hand, warding away bad luck. “Kaze-no-Kami. You’ve probably heard the legend it refers to? No? Pity, it’s a good one. Well, I know this because my wife made it for Mirumoto as a gift. There was a running joke inside the clan about him being too much of a grumpy old bear, so it was a playful reminder that if Kim-un could be civil, so could he. It made the old man laugh, so I think it worked.”
“That name you just mentioned...”
“Yeah, I’m sorry. It’s the sake- this stuff would peel the paint off a wall. Hopefully I caught myself before Lord Wind took offense.”
“You... you know Kaze-no-Kami’s name?” The table was very still at the moment as Hotaitaka whispered accusingly.
“Of course. Don’t you? It’s just bad to say it because you can never be sure of the inflection, and he gets really offended when you say it wrong. Heck, I wouldn’t even recommend writing it unless you’re exceptionally precise, ridiculously pious, and doubly purified. He’s a touchy Fortune.” Kissaki made another warding sign again, just in case.
“Uh, Kissaki...” Uso said, rather dumbfounded. “Kaze-no-Kami is one of the Unnamed Fortunes. You know: Air, Earth, Marriage...”
“...they’re not unnamed, and ‘Marriage’ is actually the combining of Fire and Water...‘cause they got married. You... you don’t know that... do you...”
The small table shook their heads collectively. Hotaitaka was the first to speak. “How do you know this, Kissaki-san?”
“My family had a long tradition of priests, wise men, and healers, and we were of the Tribe of the Greater Wind, aka Kaze no Kami. He was our patron, and some say we were his descendants. If the names have been lost...” Kissaki said, suddenly quite sober. “We should fix that. I don’t know the rituals to call ‘em up off the top of my head, I just know what names not to say when out and about, but I’m sure the priests can put it together.”
--
“We cannot thank you enough for your help in this matter, Kissaki-san. You have given to us knowledge beyond value and measure that were once lost to the depths of time.” Seppun Hotaitaka said, speaking loudly to the court, making grand, political gestures. He had a show to put on and standards to maintain, after all. “As you have returned to us, so shall we return to you.”
Kissaki looked up, confused, as the great daimyo of the Seppun motioned his hand, retrieving a long box from a waiting servant. It was a simple walnut box that bore the Imperial Chrysanthemum crest, inlaid in gold. As he opened it, the crowd gasped. It was all Kissaki could do to keep his jaw off the floor. Hotaitaka smiled. “This, I believe, was once yours.”
Inside the box lay a sword. His sword. “Where did... how...”
“After your destiny was completed and the life of the Glorious Emperor was saved, this sword was recovered. Togashi-kami, in his wisdom, had it reforged by his humble servant, Togashi Nyoko, and it was then gifted to the Seppun family so that it might continue to defend the Imperial line, which it has done so with great Honor. It is my privilege to return it to you, with full knowledge that it could not be in better hands to continue to fulfill its great karma.”
Kissaki struggled to maintain face. He was in shock. “Seppun-sama, I... I can’t accept...”
Hotaitaka dismissed his refusal attempt, hoping to draw him back. “It is your sword, Kissaki-san. Please.”
“It should stay with the Seppun family... to best defend the Emperor...”
“It was your karma and destiny to defend the Emperor, Kissaki-san. In these difficult times, we must look to our ancestors now more than ever.” Hotaitaka said, speaking more to the crowd than to him. “You once defended the First Emperor, and in that act, saved the Empire. Now, by returning such important wisdom to us, you have once again proven your duty to the good of the Empire and thus by extension, the Empress. You are a great example to us all, and this is the least we could do to show our appreciation for your work, both then and now. Please.”
“I... am at a loss for words, O’Seppun-sama.” Kissaki said, carefully reaching for the box. “I will not disappoint you.” He bowed low, touching his head to the floor and staying there, just vaguely hearing the thunder of applause.
--
The dojo was alive with the clacking sounds of bokken and the furious kiai shouts of its many students. Mirumoto Kissaki, as well as Kakita Rei, Kakita Inejiro, and others were dutifully working with the students, helping them perfect their skills. Kissaki found himself working with a handful of students preparing for their gempukku- volunteering to be their iaijutsu and kenjutsu target. This was their first time sparring with anyone outside their school, and it showed. Many of them were trying too hard, trying to impress him and their teachers.
“Relax. Remember your center; your target is inconsequential.” Kissaki said, avoiding the typical Dragon riddles and calmly holding his swords at his sides, trying to channel what he could remember of Kakita’s training- he did not wish to insult his hosts by using the words and methods of his own sensei, but it was difficult. “One. Perfect. Strike.”
He could see the student opposite him, Fudai, was having trouble. He was having a hard time calming himself, finding that perfect place of quiet inside, unable to focus. Kissaki waited for a long moment before reaching out with his bokken and tapping him on the arm so that he would not embarrass himself by standing there too long. Fudai looked shocked- even though Kissaki had gone slow, he didn’t see it coming. Fudai frowned. “You’re not dead yet. Continue!”
The boy looked at him and nodded before assuming a different stance, one for kenjutsu. Kissaki nodded, and after a fleeting moment flew at each other with a fury of cracks and strikes. At this the young man excelled- His forms were good, his strikes strong and confident- even at 13 years old he was giving Kissaki, a skilled and strong veteran, a fair run for his money. He was only defeated when the older man locked his blades, slipped a heel behind that of the younger man’s, and pushed- his balance gone, Fudai fell to the ground and had a blade on him before he could get up. At least this time Fudai had a grin on his face.
“Meet me here tomorrow, two hours before dawn.” Kissaki whispered as the two bowed to each other, and then to the shrine on the far wall.
“Students, gather.” Kissaki heard. He turned his head to see an older man, who had been introduced to him as Kakita Tsubasa earlier, say while motioning for the students to move in closer. “What do you think of the technique Mirumoto-san just used to defeat our young Fudai?”
A young girl named Yoshiko raised her hand to speak. “It was... unorthodox... but effective, as we could see.”
“Do you think it was a dishonorable strike?” Tsubasa pressed. Kissaki made no effort to influence her opinion one way or another, sitting passively, not responding to Tsubasa’s potential insult.
Yoshiko thought for a long moment. “I do not think so. There was no deception involved, no attempt to blind or confuse; Kissaki-sama found an opening and took advantage. If I may: Kissaki-sama, where did you learn such a technique?”
Kissaki smiled. The girl was obviously going to do well in the court. “I am studying jiujutsu with my Togashi cousins, Yoshiko-san.
“As you know I am a returned spirit, and I was fortunate to learn the way of the sword from Mirumoto Hojatsu-sama, and I studied extensively under Mirumoto-sama himself. One thing that made Mirumoto strong was that if there was an opening, he would press the attack. It did not matter if his swords were not available- he was the weapon and his swords were an extension of him; I believe you are all taught something similar. If he saw an opportunity to strike an opponent with his foot, for example, he would take it.” He let that bit of knowledge sink in for a moment before continuing. “The difficulty of this, for the rest of us who were not Thunders, was that it often left one open for a counter-attack. At the time, only Mirumoto was able to make this work and the rest of us got hurt, badly, trying to follow his footsteps. Thankfully Hojatsu-sama, refined the sword techniques, which are the ones that Dragon bushi learn now. I am trying see if I can determine a way to make Mirumoto’s juijutsu-based methods functional for us mere mortals, because my daimyo, Mirumoto Uso, and your noble sensei, Kakita Takezo, are working to develop a set of kata that might help bridge the gaps between our respective schools, and have graciously invited me to participate. Thank you, Fudai-san, for allowing me the opportunity to refine it. The question I have for you, then, is this: when this is developed, how can the Crane ensure that they may use this kata without challenging its, or your, orthodoxy or honor?”
One hand raised in the back. “If it works as you say, we could incorporate Mizu-Do. As a Crane martial art, it would be unchallengeable.”
Kissaki paused. “Forgive me, but I am not familiar with this style. Can you elaborate, please?”
“It is a non-violent school of juijutsu which emphasizes joint locks and throws instead of strikes.”
“Would you demonstrate this for me after class?” When the students accepted, Kissaki bowed in return. “Excellent. Now, let us return to the lesson at hand. Who’s next?”
--
The conversation with Fudai the next morning was an interesting one, partly because they were sitting on a pier, whispering to each other about the parallels between iaijutsu and fishing, all with lures in the water. The stars were softly twinkling above, not yet fading from the coming morning. Songbirds tweeted away merrily. A small basket of fish, most of which were Kissaki’s, lay to one side; Fudai was catching up, though. He had begun gripping the pole less tightly, his breathing slowed. Soon, all it took was a mere flick of the wrist and his hook was set.
“Try not to laugh when you start viewing your opponents as fish, Fudai-san,” Kissaki said, playfully chiding him. “But that’s not a bad way to start. I would suggest against referring to this as the Floating Cricket Style, too. People might frown.”
Fudai grinned and bowed lightly.
“Who taught you this method, Kissaki-san?” Once again, Kissaki turned to see Kakita Tsubasa standing behind him. He was not frowning, at least.
Kissaki and Fudai bowed. “Tsubasa-sama, this was an method passed to me from my father when I was young and still struggling with the way of the sword, as a way of active meditation. As young Fudai-san was demonstrating similar difficulties channeling his void essence as I once had, I wished to see if this method would help. I believe it has.”
“All right, then. Let us test your method.” Tsubasa said, nodding to the young man, who quickly stood and assumed his position. Kissaki nodded as well, standing opposite, taking the traditional Mirumoto style.
The difference in Fudai’s stance was noticeable already, even though he had a bokken and Kissaki had live blades. His breathing was calmer, more regular. He fell into his center more smoothly. It was obvious to all parties that Kissaki allowed him to strike first, as last time, but this time he did in fact strike in perfect Kakita form- forcing Kissaki to raise his sword and parry. When Fudai realized what had just happened, a look of dawning realization came over him, and he bowed low to both men, who returned it happily.
“It seems your method was the correct one, Mirumoto-san. I apologize for doubting you.” Tsubasa said, bowing. His voice was still formal and controlled.
“Kakita-sama, please, it is I who should apologize to you. It was impolite of me to assume my methods would work in the first place. It is I who must beg for your forgiveness.” Kissaki said, bowing even lower.
Kissaki could hear Tsubasa smile slightly. “Do not feel yourself out of place, Mirumoto-san. You did not teach him a different technique and you have not dishonored our school by doing so- meditation comes in all forms. How do you feel now, Fudai-san?”
“It makes better sense, Tsubasa-sensei.” The young man said. “In retrospect, I do not know what my difficulty was. I suppose I did not know how to relax, and as such the calm of iai had been eluding me. I...”
Both Tsubasa and Kissaki looked at the young man, and then turned to see what had distracted him so egregiously. In the middle of the lake, slowly, gracefully, fluidly walking forward, was a crane. In the moonlight it was a mere shadow, barely casting ripples on the water. The tsuru was larger than usual, the size of a man. It turned to look at the men, showing its long, swordlike bill in profile. Everyone bowed deeply in unison.
“O’Tsuru-donno!” Kissaki called out, reaching for a fish from his basket. “Please accept this offering on behalf of the children of Doji and Togashi!” He threw it in an arc, watching to ensure the crane caught it, before returning to a bow. After a long, tense moment, he heard the distinct sound of walking through water... and then the creak of the wooden dock. Kissaki looked up to see mighty tsuru-kami sitting on the dock, watching them. He tossed it another fish, and it was accepted, spreading his wings, the span of which was larger than many small boats. “Thank you for joining us, O’Tsuru-donno. Fudai-san, do you wish to give our esteemed guest a gift?”
The boy took the hint and threw the crane a fish, who ruffled its feathers acceptingly. Kissaki took the time to examine the bird. This was an odd thing, but in the moonlight, he could see more- even noticing the peculiar scar on the bird’s bill and the blue feathertips. He laughed lightly, which drew some very peculiar looks from his companions.
“I know this tsuru... from my previous life. We fought kappa together.” He couldn’t help but smile- this explained not only the normally reclusive bird’s approach, but the way it was looking at him. He gave it another fish. “Fudai-san, why don’t you return to fishing and see if you can’t find the perfect gift for our friend here.” The boy did so eagerly.
“Kissaki-san, I admit that at first did not approve of your unorthodox methods, but... this is... most unexpected.” Tsubasa said, watching the large crane. Kissaki was about to address him but, as he turned, he saw the look that Tsubasa and the crane were sharing. It took a moment to realize that he had seen it before- his eyes grew wide.
Tsubasa bowed slightly, his blue eyes sparkling. Kissaki bowed deeper, but not so much to arouse suspicion in Fudai.
--
“This sword is amazing, Kissaki-san.” Tsubasa said, carefully touching the pieces of the blade as its many parts lay out on the table between them. The latter had invited the former over for dinner, honoring Kissaki with the introduction as a ‘friend of the family,’ much to his daughter’s great surprise (his father did not elaborate, though, and Rei was too polite to press the issue). Rei and her mother, Miu, had prepared an excellent meal, but were now busy with other things, leaving the two men together in a less formal setting. As Kissaki’s personal history had been brought up during conversation, eventually his sword was produced and disassembled for the elder swordsman to inspect. “A work of Togashi Nyoko’s is a rare thing to behold, and you honor me greatly. ‘I am Daikiku. Mirumoto made me. Togashi Nyoko re-forged me. I cut.’ Such simplicity. Perfect.”
Kissaki bowed. “This blade has been in the care of the Seppun, defending the Imperial family. I am honored beyond words to have it back, Tsubasa-sama. They even gave me the handle prayers, too. Not many have survived throughout the years; most were too brittle, but I have a few left, if you wish to read them.”
Tsubasa’s eyes widened. In each sword handle were prayers and blessings, that the blade would be blessed by the Kami and the Fortunes. These are an intensely personal thing- no prayer was written, nor even read, by the sword-wielder - to do so would be to invite untold wrath and bad luck. He looked at Kissaki quizzically.
“I... do not have much family that I can connect to now.” Kissaki admitted.” We traced my lineage, my descendants, but...” he looked away for a moment, admitting a painful truth. “From what I can tell, the last of my direct descendants died in the Battle of White Stag. Even though there are a great many who are distantly related- one in fifty of the Mirumoto, I am told, it is... well, there is no strong connection.”
Tsubasa was at a loss for words, mostly because he had an idea of the pain Kissaki must feel. “...My condolences. That is a most unfortunate dilemma, ancestor to many, grandfather to none. But... why me?
“I know you see my methods as unorthodox, but I am, at heart, a very traditional man. Some things must never change.” Kissaki swallowed, pausing to collect himself, and bowed deeply. “I intend to ask for your daughter’s hand, but honor demands I seek your permission first.”
The room was quiet for a very long time. Neither men moved and barely breathed.
“What is your ambition in life, Kissaki-san?” Tsubasa’s tone did not change, but the words hung heavy.
“I have no ambitions. My karma, my destiny was fulfilled long ago, and I wish only to protect the Empire.” He did not look up. “My efforts now are to instruct the current and future generations so that the young men and women of Rokugan may best fulfill their karma, and so that they might best be ready to defend the Empress, and the Empire, from any and all future threats.”
“How does Rei-chan fit into this?”
“She didn’t, until I met her. Now I cannot see a plan without her.” Kissaki sat up at this, looking Tsubasa in the eye, letting his potential father-in-law see his conviction. The two men dueled quietly for a long period, each taking measure of the other. “I have not mentioned this to Rei-san yet, of course; it would not be proper to do so. I believe my daimyo are already speaking to your clan’s matchmakers, but it is my duty to come to you first.”
“I cannot give you an answer at this time, but I shall consider your proposal,” Tsubasa said. “I will speak to Rei of this tomorrow. Until then, let us put this away- Miu-chan wishes to perform a song on her biwa, and I believe Rei-chan has a sculpture or two she wishes to show.”
Mirumoto Kissaki bowed deeply, but inwardly he was leaping for joy.
--
The court of Kakita Inejiro was lively. The discussions for the evening revolved around the daimyo’s extensive tsuba collection, and the hall was packed with courtiers and students, plus a number of Dragon visitors. Kissaki was greatly interested in the collection, but any time he saw Kakita Rei, his heart paused. Neither her father nor her had shown any inclination of responding yet, but of course, this was not the right venue for such things and an emotional display from either with be unthinkable. He focused on the tsuba as much as possible, idly examining one that was shaped like a purple lily. His concentration was broken by Yoshiko.
“Mirumoto-sama, if I may have a moment of your time.” The young woman was radiant, dressed in her finest kimono and her bokken polished, tucked into her obi, waving her fan precisely (possibly too precisely).
“Yes, Yoshiko-san?” He turned to face her as she stepped in to speak privately.
“I could not help but overhear,” She whispered, as Kissaki steeled himself for a great embarrassment. If Rei said no... “One of our esteemed Kitsuki guests, utilizing his keen perception, spotted a tsuba in Inejiro-sama’s collection that looks strikingly similar to the one on your wakizashi. Would you wish for me to show it to you?”
Kissaki’s eyes grew wide, and then narrowed. He smiled, but it was forced. This restraint was something he would have to work on, but it could wait. “Please do.”
For some reason walking through the crowd was the most difficult thing he had done so far in his life, but thankfully the young Crane was there to lead him. Had she not been there, he would likely have greatly insulted a large number of people with his ungracefulness.
“It is... there,” she said, pointing to one in the “unknown date” section of his collection.
True enough, mounted to the wall was the tsuba... his tsuba, and frankly, it looked like crap. The only thing that kept it in one piece was that it was heavily gilded, but even then it was beaten and ravaged with age. Inejiro had obviously had it cleaned and maintained as best he could, but there was only so much one could do... Kissaki stood there in silence as the room faded away.
“What? Oh, I’m sorry Inejiro-sama, I did not see you there. How may I help you?” Kissaki said, surprised and shocked. It slowly dawned on him that the daimyo of the province had asked him a question, and that everyone was watching.
“Forgive me, Kissaki-san, I did not mean to surprise you. I see you have taken an interest in one of my pieces.” Inejiro said, gracefully ignoring Kissaki’s faux pas. With a motion, a servant removed the tsuba from the wall, handing it to Inejiro, who then held it out for Kissaki. “Would you wish for a closer look? Perhaps you can tell us more about it?”
Kissaki bowed and took the tsuba, turning it over in his hand gently. Carefully, so as to not offend anyone, he withdrew his wakizashi (still in its sheath, of course), and compared the two. The spiritual copy was a clean, perfect, undamaged version of the other, and aside from the extreme weathering of a thousand years of age, they were identical. He quickly collected himself, focusing on the immediate matter at hand.
“Of course, sama. This tsuba was originally commissioned by Togashi-kami himself and crafted by his servant, Mirumoto; a gift for one of the Emperor’s guardsmen. It was part of a matched set.” The implications of his words were obvious, but he was not going to challenge the ownership of it. “If I may ask, where did you find it?”
Inejiro smiled. “This piece was discovered about a day’s ride south of here, brought to the attention of a magistrate. The fortunes blessed us, as it was very far underground and only discovered because of a well construction project. If you would like to visit the site, I am sure that can be arranged.”
“That would be most interesting. Thank you.” Kissaki said, bowing, as Inejiro took his leave. When the conversation picked back up, he found himself still in possession of the tsuba. Quickly scanning the room, he spotted Rei, who blessed him with the faintest of smiles.
--
The site was not what he expected. He and the small group of dignitaries, including Inejiro, Tsubasa, Rei, and the handful of ambassadors, stood around the low stone well. Even this simple well was the picture of perfection, though sadly the fields that it served were not in the best of shape. The bigger question was- how did this get here? Kissaki scanned the area, turning immediately to look up the hill behind them.
It was smaller than he remembered.
Without a word, he tied the tsuba to a string and held it down, praying to the fortunes. One might ask which fortunes, but he went through as many as he could remember. He heard a whisper.
“What are you doing, brother.”
It was the spirit of Doji Tsuro, his brother in law- the one whom he had killed in a duel before marrying Tsuro’s sister, Doji Akemi. To say that Tsuro was pleased with Kissaki would be a flat out lie. Kissaki motioned for the rest of his group to give him some space, which they did.
“Tsuro-sama, I am attempting to locate the spot where I fell, defending the Hantei from the oni army.” Kissaki said, as politely and humbly as possible. “If you could assist me with this I would be exceptionally grateful.”
“I don’t care about that, brother.” The ghost’s icy voice whispered. “What are you planning to do with her.”
Kissaki paused, not looking to the source of the voice. “I plan to re-marry, Tsuro-sama. I am a widower; I mourned the loss of Akemi-chan for a thousand years. You cannot tell me she is not worthy.”
“Of course the Kakita maiden is worthy. It is you who are not worthy of her.” The accusation stung.
“By my hand, by my death, the great Hantei’s life was saved, and by extension, the Empire. A thousand years of noble samurai live because of me. I do not boast idly, but you know this is true. The heavens declared it so, as I spent my time in the blessed realm of Yomi. Such things are not for you to judge.” Kissaki’s words were stern, filled with the determination of the Mirumoto. “But you are right; I am not worthy of her. Who could be? I promise to you, to her, to her father, to everyone who will hear that I will be a worthy husband.”
There was a long pause of silence as Kissaki waited for Tsuro’s retort, his beration to continue, as it always did. The only answer was faint pressure on the tsuba. Kissaki followed. The gentle tugs pulled him up the hill, about halfway, before they stopped; he turned and sat down, looking out over the rolling landscape. While not the same, it did look vaguely familiar. His party followed. “Kissaki-san?”
“Inejiro-sama, if I may: build a temple here.” Mirumoto Kissaki stated. “This is where the Hantei was wounded by an oni lord’s sword, and this valley is the site of the great battle in which I fell. Though I am confident that the Imperial priests cast the proper rituals, a great amount of... demon blood was spilled here, and I am sure that this is why the crops fail.”
The party fell to the ground and prayed.
--
“Mirumoto Kissaki, you have shown uncalculable wisdom and compassion, and we cannot thank you enough. First with your contributions to our priests and shugenja, returning knowledge of the kami that was thought lost,” Inejiro said, speaking loudly, “and then providing us a unique opportunity to revere the Heavens and O’Hantei-Kami. It is my great honor to return this to you.”
Just as before, Kissaki watched as the daimyo retrieved a box from a servant, and handed it to him. However, when this one was opened, his heart stopped.
“Kakita-sama, you honor me greatly with your words.” Kissaki said, wavering slightly. “...this is part of your great collection. I could not accept.”
“Your graceful and humble nature is a testament to the wisdom of our friends from the mountains. Please, I wish to return this to its rightful home.”
“Inejiro-sama,” he paused, careful so that his words would not fail him, but they were. He knew to expect the unexpected, but this... “I am a mere samurai. Surely others could benefit from this...”
“Kissaki-san, please. I would not assume to re-forge it for you, but I will be happy to provide whatever is required by whatever smith you choose. It is the least I could do.”
Whatever Kissaki said after that, he didn’t remember. The rest of the evening was a blur. It wasn’t until he was back in his room, staring at the broken shank of a blade, battered and rusted beyond repair, that the gravity of his entire existence sank in.
Kissaki wept.
--
“Mirumoto-sama, I am flattered that you think I can fix this, but...” the smith said, eyeing the remaining bits of rusty steel. “It will be difficult.”
Kissaki slid the box forward again. “You may be the only one who can repair it. Whom else should I take a blade, left sleeping in the earth for a thousand years, to be repaired? Nyoko-sama isn’t exactly available to fix this one too.”
“Nyoko?” The smith could hardly contain his curiosity, or for that matter, his pride. “Your katana was reforged by Togashi Nyoko?”
“Yes it was. Here.” He quickly disassembled his sword and held it for the man to inspect. Sure enough, there was the mark. The smith was obviously impressed, his eyes afire. “Thankfully it has been in the care of the Seppun, but this one... this one was not so lucky. I can feel the katana in my heart- it is a sword of great honor. This one... I hear it whisper in my dreams. Please help me re-unite them.”
“It will be... difficult. Obtaining the proper materials will be a challenge,” he said. The body of any sword could be fixed, but the soul of the blade... He was not one to back down from such a challenge, but what was left out was the difficulty of obtaining the proper guidance.
“Here is a letter from Kakita Inejiro. He will cover the expense.” Kissaki said, producing a small scroll and placing it on the table.
“Forgive my bluntness, Mirumoto-sama, but how in the world did you get him, a notorious zeni-pincher, to authorize that?” It was a fair question. Even as lavish as his palace was, Inejiro had a reputation for... extreme thriftiness.
“I showed him a place to build a temple to offer prayers of well-being to the Great Hantei, to heal his land. I assisted his students who were having difficulty with their studies. I provided the forgotten names of the Three Unnamed Kami to his priests.” The smith didn’t even bother showing his shock at the revelation, but his thoughts were moving quickly. Kissaki anticipated his next words. “I’m sure that with the proper rituals and prayers, their blessings could be placed on your family’s forges, too.”
Tsi Sanzo bowed deeply.
