In the Midst of Life

In the Midst of Life
by Nancy Sauer
edited by Fred Wan

Toshi Ranbo was awash with joy and color. The Empress had declared a festival to celebrate the defeat of the Army of Fire and to honor those who served in the Empire’s defense, and her subjects were happy to obey her command. From the eta quarter to the Imperial Palace people wearing their finest clothing moved through the streets, chatting with friends, offering prayers at shrines, and nibbling on delicacies bought from street vendors.

Kakita Matabei did none of those things, though he was dressed in his best kimono. The letter had instructed him to go to the House of the Blue Chrysanthemum, but it had not said why. That worried Matabei. There were several Kakita-owned estates in the city and they could have had their meeting in any of them. The letter had also used the language of a lord addressing his vassal, and not a sensei one of his students, and that worried Matabei even more.

The hostess of the Blue Chrysanthemum bowed deeply as Matabei entered. “How can I serve you?” she asked.

“We’ll take the Silver Room,” a voice behind Matabei said. Someone else might have twitched at the surprise, but Matabei was a Kenshinzen. “Of course, Kakita-sama,” the hostess said. “I will go myself and see that it is prepared.”

The hostess departed down the hallway to evict whoever was currently using the Silver Room and Matabei turned and bowed to the man behind him. “Greetings, Noritoshi-sama,” he said. The title sounded odd to him; for years he had addressed Noritoshi only as “Sensei”. As Matabei rose up he looked the other man over. Noritoshi was wearing an elegant blue kimono marked only with the Kakita mon, and on his head was a deep basket hat that hid his face. There was nothing unusual about it; on a day like today one could find many samurai dressed in a similar manner as they went into the city’s poorer quarters to watch the puppet troupes there. But there was something about Noritoshi that disturbed Matabei, something that teased at his memory and yet refused to surface.

“Matabei-san,” Noritoshi said. “We will speak more after the tea is poured.”

A pair of Lion samurai came down the hall towards them, looking disgruntled and complaining loudly to each other. Their voices dropped as they caught sight of the two Kenshinzen, and they passed the Cranes with polite bows. The hostess hurried up after the Lions, bringing word that the room was now ready for them.

The tea was of decent but not astonishing quality, Matabei noted with some relief. He didn’t think he’d be paying it much attention, and he hated the idea of slighting a good leaf. He set the cup down and waited.

“You have heard the reason for my leave from the Academy,” Noritoshi said. He had removed the basket hat, but his face was just as unreadable without it.

“A musha shugyo, I was told.”

“That is what most have assumed,” Noritoshi said. “But Domotai did not ask, so I did not say.” He picked up his cup and swirled it slightly. “In our match at the Emerald Championship I became…disturbed by the question of what sort of a man Shosuro Jimen was. I left to pursue some answers.” He drank his tea.

Matabei could feel his muscles tense, just slightly. The courts were full of stories about what sort of man Shosuro Jimen was. “And you found an answer?”

“Of a sort.” Noritoshi put down the cup. “He killed Mai.”

“What!” Matabei burst out. Dropping his tone he continued. “How?”

“He sent an assassin, who is now dead. And now I am going to kill him.”

It took Matabei a moment to find his voice. “He is the Emerald Champion! One of the Empress’s Chosen–to raise your hand against him is treason!”

“He is unworthy of his position. He gained the Emerald Armor by deception and every move he makes advances his good, and not the Empire’s.” Noritoshi stared at Matabei. “Are you going to report me?”

It had been a very long time since Matabei had felt trapped by another man’s stare, but he felt it now: Noritoshi’s one good eye practically glowed with the intensity of his passion. Matabei struggled against the weight of that stare and tried to think. Honor required him to report Noritoshi’s threat–but honor also demanded that Mai’s death be avenged. He knew without question what he would do if he ever learned who had killed Orika.

Finally he closed his eyes and bowed his head. “My lord,” he said formally, “thanks to Jimen I have access to the Imperial Palace. Give me the order and he will be dead before nightfall.”

“That is not how a Kakita settles a feud,” Noritoshi said softly. “I have a different task for you.”

“Name it.”

“I am sure that Lady Domotai knows what is going on, but as I have not told her anything she can still plead ignorance with an honest heart. There may come a time when the Kakita and the Crane are no longer served by such a state, and at that time I want you to go to her and tell her everything I am going to tell you.”

Matabei nodded. “I will be your watchman, Noritoshi-sama. Leave the matter to me.”

“I have no doubts,” Noritoshi said. “Now, listen well. I don’t have much time.”

By the time Noritoshi had finished and departed the tea in the pot had grown cold. Matabei considered drinking it anyway, but then put it aside. Its bitterness would not wash away the pain of Kakita Mai’s death, or relieve his fears for his lord. He drummed his fingers on the table for a few moments, thinking. He still could feel the tug of memory that Noritoshi had triggered, but he had come no closer to figuring out what it was.

Taking a deep breath he closed his eyes and laid his hands flat against the table. Gently he cleared his mind of everything but Noritoshi and waited for the memory to unfold itself. For a few moments he floated in peaceful darkness, and then a room snapped into place around him: opulent, drenched in crimson, and filled with the screams of both the dying and the living. Matabei opened his eyes and stared across the table in horror.

Noritoshi carried around with him the scent of blood.

* * * * *

Shosuro Jimen looked out over the gardens of the Imperial Palace and frowned, ever so slightly. Kakita Noritoshi was somewhere in Toshi Ranbo, and Jimen had no idea where he was or what he was doing.

It was either sheer luck or brilliant planning on Noritoshi’s part, Jimen thought. At the moment the city was close to bursting with people as the various clan champions and their retinues arrived to fulfill the Divine One’s command. That, combined with the ongoing festival, had created such a demand on Jimen’s resources that he dared not pull anyone off of their present duties to go find him. The Empress had made it perfectly clear that she expected him to keep peace and order in her city, and he could not fail her.

It was remotely possible that Noritoshi would show up at one of the city’s Kakita estates and demand hospitality– and they were always under watch–but somehow Jimen didn’t think it would be that easy. The thought that his enemy had started to find the holes in Jimen’s web of watchers filled him with a heady mixture of dismay and elation.

“I can return at a more convenient time, Jimen-san.” Paneki’s voice had just a hint of dryness.

“Please forgive me, Paneki-san,” Jimen said. He turned away from the window and bowed slightly to his guest. “I am sometimes swept away by thoughts of the grandeur of our Empress and her city.”

“I can only imagine,” Paneki said. “In any event, I believe we are almost done here.”

“Indeed.” Jimen crossed the room and knelt down at the table Paneki was at. “The Crane have responded to the Empress’s call to rebuild the Empire with great energy. Though their own resources are limited by the expenses of the last Yasuki war, Doji Nagori is in the midst of brokering a deal between the Crab, Lion, and Unicorn. The outcome of it would be an exchange that would leave all three clans in a much better position than they are now.”

Paneki frowned behind his mask. “The Lion dealing with the Unicorn?” The two clans had fought shoulder to shoulder against the Army of Fire, but he had counted on peace to return them to their normal animosity.

“Doji Domotai is handling the Lion negotiations personally. She is highly regarded by them, and her argument–that obedience to the Empress’s command must be considered first–has been gaining ground.”

“Completely unacceptable,” Paneki said. “The Crane would gain great prestige from such a success.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Jimen said. He picked up a scroll and handed it to the other man. “My agents have prepared this summary of the courtiers involved in the matter and their likely weak points. Domotai, I am afraid, remains unassailable.”

“She is the product of two schools, both of which are tediously upright.” Paneki slipped the scroll into his obi. “But with this many clans involved it will not be difficult to unravel things.”

“Indeed. Is there anything else I can assist you with, Paneki-san?”

“A small thing,” Paneki said. “It concerns Kakita Noritoshi.”

Jimen’s eyes betrayed only a slight interest. “What of him?”

“Do you know what he is up to?”

“He is on a musha shugyo,” Jimen said, “or so I have been told.”

“You have not investigated further than that?” Paneki’s eyes were as casual as Jimen’s.

“It is not an unreasonable action for him to take.” Jimen shrugged lightly. “After conceding to me he would want something to distract the Empire’s eyes away from his failure. Such a journey would give him to time to study himself, and time for others to forget.”

“True,” Paneki said. He rose to his feet. “I thank you for your time, Emerald Champion.”

“It is always a pleasure to help one of the Divine One’s vassals,” Jimen said. He also rose to his feet and then politely walked his guest to the door.

After Paneki left Jimen returned to his window and stared out towards the city. What is your next move, Noritoshi?’ he wondered. What new game do you bring me?’

* * * * *

Jimen watched with carefully hidden impatience as the procession slowly inched its way down the street. Technically he had sufficient rank to order the whole thing out of his way, but it was part of a religious ceremony and the last thing he needed was to acquire a reputation for impiousness–that was one of the few things his enemies could not accuse him of, and he intended to keep it that way. And so he stood quietly while the sun made sweat run down the inside of his mask and his yojimbo strained to keep the worst of the crowd’s pressure away from him.

Finally the procession moved past and the crowds pent up in the side streets flowed out into the main road. Jimen strode briskly through the crowd, glaring at anyone who came too close to him, and was brought up short by a tall, blue-clad figure in a basket hat who paused in front of him.

“Get out of my way, samurai,” Jimen started to say, and then the words trailed off in his throat. The hat was not enough to hide Kakita Noritoshi from him, and Jimen realized that he was standing inside of the Kenshinzen’s zone. The two men stared, masked to the world but naked to each other.

The hat tilted to the side by just a hair. “I am going to kill you,” Noritoshi said. “After I am finished with you.” And then he was gone, moving into the press of bodies that were still pouring into the street.

Jimen took a deep breath and marveled at how sweet air could be. The game,’ he thought shakily, and smiled. He now knew the game that lay between them.