Aftermath

Aftermath
By Shawn Carman

There were remarkably few Crab in attendance at the Jade Championship, perhaps not more than a dozen or twenty at the very -most. Most of them were attendants in one form or another of the three competitors: yoJimbo, sentries, magistrates or some other iteration of the Crab archetype. From the sounds of celebration around the Crab tents, however, it would have been easy to imagine that the Crab contingent had brought an entire army of bushi who had not been given leave for years.
Kuni Kiyoshi parted the entrance to the largest tent and entered, his cheeks flushed. He bowed quickly before the lady within, but she waved the gesture away. “Kiyoshi-lama, it is I who should bow to you. You must remember that. It will become an embarrassment in short order.”
“Daigo won, my lady!” Kiyoshi said, his features erupting into a savage grin. “He defeated the Scorpion! The Kuni have reclaimed the Jade Championship!”
Tansho closed her eyes for just a moment, a faint smile appearing on her suddenly aged features. I knew this would be our time,” she said softly. I could sense it. This is the hand of my husband, guiding us along the path he set for us.”
“It is more than I dared dream possible,” Kiyoshi admitted.
“I can rest now,” Tansho said. “My work is at an end.”
A sadness seemed to settle over Kiyoshi. I… regret that I could not be victorious myself,” he said quietly. “I hope that… that I have not caused you shame.”
Tansho looked at the younger man earnestly. “Nothing you have ever done has brought me shame. I know that Utagu looks down on you with great pride, my son.” She smiled. “I would like to speak to Daigo for a moment. if he will entertain an audience with an old woman.”
“He will,” Kiyoshi said firmly. The corner of his mouth twisted up in a slight smile. “His daimyo orders it, after all.” Kiyoshi retreated from the tent, leaving Tansho alone with the long shadows and the familiar scent of incense.
A surprisingly short few moments later, the tent opened again. “You asked for me, my lady?” a quiet voice said.
Tansho laughed. “My last days as a samurai are apparently to be filled with young men of greater rank who insist upon showing me more respect than is necessary. There are worse fates, I imagine, but certainly none more ridiculous.”
Daigo frowned, shifting uncomfortably under the unfamiliar weight of the Mantle of the Jade Champion. “I meant no disrespect, my lady. In my defense, I have been of greater rank for perhaps an hour.”
Tansho raised her eyebrows in surprise. “I recall my husband wearing that mantle for many years,” she said, “but I do not recall that it gave him a sense of humor. Perhaps they have replaced it in the intervening years?”
“I am weary, my lady, I meant no disrespect.”
Tansho gestured to the seat across from her. “If you will sit with me for a moment, my lord? It has been many years since I held parlay with the Jade Champion.”
“I would be honored.” Daigo took his place across from Tansho and sipped at the tea she poured for him. “Is there something you wish me to do, Tansho-lama? Something that requires my attention? You have but to speak It and I will do it.”
“Nothing of that sort,” she said. “I wanted to tell you that I will be finalizing my retirement as soon as we arrive back in the Crab lands.”
“So soon?” Daigo said. “I had hoped I might have your guidance. I must admit that for all I desired this position, I find it somewhat… intimidating.”
“That is precisely the reason I must retire immediately,” Tansho said. “In my selfishness, I have lingered too long even after ceding control to Kiyoshi. He seeks my approval too readily, and that must end. I will not be the same hindrance to you.”
“I would not presume to speak for Kiyoshi-sama,” Daigo said, “but I know he greatly values your wisdom and experience. To seek the counsel of someone like yourself… I cannot see that as weakness.”
“There will be others who do not see things the same way,” Tansho cautioned.
“I care little for the opinions of others.”
Tansho raised a cautionary finger. “That must change, my lord. There will be others, many, many others, who will come to you – now. You are now one of the most important figures in the entire Empire, and those who consider politics a weapon will seek to use you for their benefit. For your sake, for the sake of the Crab, you must not allow this to happen.”
The younger shugenja seemed to consider the matter for a moment. “Were you in my position, what would be your first action?”
Tansho smiled. “Find a handful of individuals from other clans, samurai who have impressed you or who you can trust. If they have earned this from you before now, you can rest assured it was not solely to gain the favor of the Jade Champion. Bring these people into your organization. This will placate the other clans and show them you are a man willing to work with others toward your ends, and to share your power. It will buy you time. Are there such individuals?”
“My cousin attended the tournament as a second,” Daigo said. “He spoke to me of a Mantis and a Lion that he had met during the tournament. He was taken with their character, and I trust his judgment.”
“Excellent,” Tansho said. “Then you must proceed from there. Be cautious that you do not fall into the trap of another, however.”
Daigo nodded solemnly. “I will be strong, my lady.”
“It is not your strength I doubt. Utagu was strong, so strong that others called him the Wall, but I alone saw how greatly the burdens of his position weighed upon him. Trust only those who have earned it, and suspect everyone, no matter how pure their motives might seem.”
“Everyone?” Daigo said, paling slightly.
“Everyone,” Tansho said. “Even Kiyoshi. Even me. You have no choice.”
Yogo Rieko sat alone in a lesser tent in the Scorpion section of the tournament grounds. Her face ached badly, and she could tell that even though the swelling was beginning to subside, it would be some time before the marks of her final duel would completely heal. She whispered a prayer to the water kami and felt them redouble their efforts in healing her wounds, but their influence had limits.
Movement from the entrance briefly flooded the tent with light. “If it is all the same to you,” she said quietly, “I would prefer privacy.”
“I would of course respect your wishes,” the newcomer said, “but I need to speak with you and I fear my schedule is somewhat hectic today. I do hope you will forgive me.”
Rieko looked up in surprise, then instantly knelt. Her head swam from the motion. “I did not know that it was you, my lord,” she said. “Forgive my impertinence.”
“No apology is required,” Shosuro Jimen said. “You are recovering, I hope?”
“As well as can be expected,” Rieko said. “Daigo’s attack was… unconventional. Still, I should have been prepared. My carelessness has cost the Scorpion dearly.”
“Perhaps,” Jimen said. “But perhaps not.”
“My lord?”
Jimen’s eyes twinkled. “It would of course have been extremely advantageous had you been victorious in the final round, Riekosan, I will not deny that. However, out of respect for you and your order, I would have of course remained apart from your duties and responsibilities, and that seems a terrible waste. With a Crab as Jade Champion, however, I am free to do as I please with regard to my relationship with him and his organization. That, I believe, is the delicious taste of freedom.”
“I do not understand, my lord.”
Jimen smiled behind his mask. “I simply mean that, with Kuni Daigo, I will command the power of both the Emerald and Jade Champions, even if the lout does not realize that is what is happening. Any threat posed to my power by the Imperial families is ended.”
Rieko frowned. “I do not doubt your prowess, my lord, but nor do I think that Daigo should be underestimated. It is a mistake have already made. I do not wish to see another Scorpion walk my path.”
Jimen tilted his head to one side curiously. “You are remarkably earnest for a Scorpion, my dear,” he said. “You will need to work on that. It will not do to have one of Daigo’s earliest recruits unable to live up to her potential.”
“Recruits?” Rieko nearly laughed. “My lord, the man despises us all. He will have no part for me in his organization.”
“Oh, I believe he will, even if he does not yet realize it.” Jimen chuckled. “But that is a conversation for another time. Rest, Riekosan. We will speak again soon.”
The Emerald Champion exited the tent, leaving a very confused Yogo Rieko behind.
Kitsuki Taiko placed the last of her few belongings back into her travel pack. She could not help but feel strangely empty now that their small tent had been vacated. For almost three months she had been embroiled in a series of events that seemed more at home in some fantastical play than in reality. Even now, having experienced it all herself, it seemed unreal.
“What will happen now?” Kakita Hideo’s voice was strangely quiet. His things had already been gathered, and his travel pack was shouldered as if he were ready to depart.
Taiko turned to Hideo. “I do not know,” she answered truthfully. “I must report what has happened to my lord. I spoke with the head of the Dragon delegation, and he instructed me to return home immediately to give a full accounting.”
Hideo nodded. “I experienced much the same. Handen-sama has instructed me to report to Lady Domotai at once. He believes she will be greatly interested in what has happened.”
Taiko smiled. “It would seem your disgrace is at an end.” “Perhaps,” Hideo said. “I intend to ask Lady Domotai for leave to continue pursuing this matter.”
“What?” Taiko was shocked. “Why would you do that? The Mantis have made it clear they consider this a matter for their concern alone now.”
“I have no plans to offer insult to the Mantis in any way, if that “can be avoided,” Hideo said. “But I cannot simply stand by and do nothing. This is too important to be left to the auspices of a single – clan.”
“The Mantis have offered us their gratitude and their debt,” Taiko cautioned. “Further action on our part will not only cost us what we have gained, but it could very well lead to open conflict between our clans.”
“I will make no attempt to conceal that from Lady Domotai,” Hideo assured her.
Taiko said nothing for a moment. “Why?” she finally asked.
“Have you ever seen anything, heard of anything like Narako?” Hideo asked. “Even stories of Agasha Hamanari are nothing compared to what I have seen her do. I will not stand by and hope that someone else can protect what is likely the greatest gift mankind will ever know during my lifetime.”
“There is truth to what you say,” Taiko admitted. “Still, it seems a terrible presumption to make, that we would be somehow able to play a role in something that seems so important.”
“You heard what Narako said about the Emperor,” Hideo reminded her. “You know what she said about the punishment of a clan. What if it is the Crane she spoke of? What if it is the Dragon? Do we dare risk sitting by and doing nothing, If the fate she spoke of could be prevented?”
Slowly, she nodded. “You are right,” she said quietly. “I will make the same request of my lord as well.”
“Then we will continue,” Hideo said. “If all goes as planned, we will meet in the Imperial City in one month. Agreed?” “Agreed.”
Hideo’s familiar, roguish smile surfaced. “And to think you thought you could resist me.”
“Moto Yong-tai.”
The priestess looked up from packing her belongings into her saddle bags. The man addressing her was dressed in non-descript robes, but she caught sight of a chrysanthemum mon that adorned his kimono, hidden beneath his traveling cloak. “I am Yong-tal,” she answered. “I do not know you.”
“No,” the man agreed, “but I have been observing you during this tournament. You acquitted yourself well. I offer you my congratulations.”
“I did not win,” she said flatly. “Save your congratulations for someone more deserving.”
“Victory is a matter of degrees,” the stranger said. “Your skill is considerable, and your methods unique among those competing here today.”
“I am an adherent of the Lords of Death,” she said proudly. “They favor me with their strength. It is my privilege to enact their will.”
“And what might your lords think of a Crab Jade Champion?”
Yong-tai frowned at the question. “The Kuni are a strong people. I have no doubt Kuni Daigo will bring glory to his position.”
“Doubtless,” he agreed. “And yet, the Crab have been known to fail in their duties. This has happened more than once throughout history. Can we be certain that Daigo-sama will not repeat his ancestors’ mistakes?”
“That is not for me to say,” Yong-tai said. “Nor is it for you.”
“That remains to be seen,” the stranger said. “There are those who consider the Jade Champion inadequate to the most important task a samurai can serve. There are those who believe the enormity of his duties distracts him from what must be done above all other considerations.”
“Which is what?” she demanded.
“The protection of the Emperor, his family, and his estate,” the stranger said. “This is the most sacred of all duties, and one that can accept no excuse, no weakness. Much like your Lords of Death, I understand.”
“What is it you want?” she asked. “I have no time for games.” “I am Seppun Tomaro,” The stranger said. “It is my privilege and honor to serve the Hidden Guard.”
“The Hidden Guard?” she asked.
“We are an order of shugenja who protect the Emperor and that which is his,” he answered. “Even with an empty throne, there are many threats to the eventual emergence of a new dynasty that must be combated, and only those with strength and will can see to it these threats are crushed before they become an issue.” Yong-tai tucked her hair behind her ear. “And?”
And we wish you to join us, if you will.”
She thought for a moment. “I find your offer interesting, but I must speak with my lord and my senses:’
“That has been done,” the stranger said. He withdrew a scroll from within his robes. “Accept this, and the matter is done.”
Yong-tai considered the scroll, then took it from the Seppun’s outstretched hand.
Otomo Hoketuhime placed her fan on a small table in her chambers and withdrew a pin from her hair. Miya Shoin shifted his weight uncomfortably and looked away, as even these slight gestures of familiarity felt somehow inappropriate with a lady of her standing. “What are your thoughts on the day’s outcome, my friend?” she asked.
Shoin considered it. “A Crab was not among those most favored to win the day, but given the militant bent of the Kuni family it is not particularly surprising. The Champion prior to Sekawa was the Kuni family daimyo, after all, and his reign is still spoken of today. I imagine this will be little different.”
“Hmm,” Hoketuhime said. “Do we know anything of substance about this Daigo?”
“Very little,” Shoin said. He withdrew a scroll from his obi and consulted it. “As you announced prior to the final match, he is a veteran of the conflict that the Crab call the Battle at the Wall of Bone, which was apparently a massive victory against an oni overlord, although it cost the Crab very nearly their entire legion of Tainted warriors.”
“The Damned,” Hoketuhime sniffed. “What a distasteful topic. Move on, please.”
“My apologies,” Shoin said with a bow. “Daigo was among the only survivors, and personally related his account of what happened there to the Crab Champion. Since then he has been determined to be free of any… lingering effects from his trip, which is why he was allowed to compete. He is known to be extremely brusque and militaristic in his outlook.”
“He is a Crab, in other words.”
“Hai, my lady. I have a report that indicates Daigo believes the Jade Champion’s influence would be best used in eradicating the threat that lies within the Shadowlands as well. Again, typical for the Crab.”
Hoketuhime tapped her finger against her chin. “That would keep him absent from the events in the capital, which will not do. I require him as a counter to Jimen’s overt manipulations. If Daigo can be convinced that the Emerald Champion has some nefarious plot afoot, he seems the type incapable of leaving the matter alone.” She raised an eyebrow. “Or, if he was not present, then perhaps a trusted underling might wield his power by proxy. Whom do we know among the Crab?”
“I… do not understand, my lady. I have records of hundreds of different samurai, of course, but…”
“No, no,” she corrected. “What trusted agents do we have among the Kuni?”
“Ah,” Shoin said. “Very few, I am afraid. They are a rather Insular group.”
“Unfortunate,” Hoketuhime muttered. “Still, Daigo will need allies very soon, even if he does not yet understand that. Someone who comes to his banner early, someone who he learns to trust quickly, would likely be appointed his representative in the capital. That would be the person we would need to influence.” She smiled, and for once there was very little warmth in it. “I believe I have just the person. Shoin, I will need you to take a personal message, if you would be so kind.”
Shoin’s stomach fell. He bowed. “Of course, my lady.”
Deep within the Shinomen Mori, the dark lord Daigotsu sat in meditation in his private chambers. He understood what would be happening elsewhere in the Empire, and waited patiently for word. His meditations stretched into hours, then more than a day, but he did not stir. No one entered the temple, for none wished to disturb his vigil.
My lord.
Finally, Daigotsu thought inwardly. “Katsu,” he murmured, barely aware that his lips were producing speech. “What news?” The Championship is at an end, my lord.
“And the result?”
We were not victorious, but our secondary objectives were accomplished in accordance with your wishes.
“Well done,” Daigotsu muttered. “Who is the victor?”
A Kuril, my lord. He intends to use the position against the Crab’s enemies within the Shadowlands.
Daigotsu’s mouth twisted into a victorious smile. “Return at once, ICatsu. There is much to do.”
As you command.
The dark lord rose, his joints creaking after so long at rest. “Genkeil” he called, his voice preternaturally loud throughout the temple and beyond. Only moments later, a twisted little shugenja approached. “Yes, master?”
“Make ready,” Daigotsu ordered. “You will carry a message to Omoni in the Shadowlands, and assist him in enacting it.”
The little man bowed. “As you wish, my lord.”