Sun & Moon, Part IV

Sun & Moon, Part IV
*******************
By Shawn Carman
Edited by Fred Wan

There were more inns and sake houses in the city of Tsuma than one might think, given the relatively small size of the city. Many were only open a few days a year, however, when the attention of the Empire turned to the gempukku tournament held at the city’s dojo. The Topaz Championship was the most illustrious in all of Rokugan, and thousands flocked to the city to see their clan’s representatives compete. Most of the seasonal businesses made enough profit in those few days to last the entire year, while others remained open throughout the year in order to cater to the notoriously hedonistic tendencies of young Kakita. Of those remaining, the House of the Evening Festival was the one that individuals went to when they desired to be left alone. There, one could drink in peace, without being disturbed, alone with their thoughts and whatever specters might haunt them.

It was the sort of place that Kakita Kensho-in greatly appreciated.

The Crane samurai-ko was so engrossed in her thoughts that she failed to notice when a fundamental change overcame the sake house. She stirred from her thoughts, wondering if she should leave or order a second bottle, and then she realized that she was alone. There had been over a dozen other patrons when she had sat down a short time ago, and only a few minutes earlier when she had glanced up for the serving girl. Now, they were all gone, and there was nothing but silence from the kitchen. There was but a single figure with her in the room, cloaked and features obscured with a basket hat, standing in the center of the room.

“Hello,” the figure said, with a beautiful, feminine voice. “May I join you?”

Something deep inside Kensho-in demanded that she flee, that she hurl the table toward the stranger and run as fast as she could, as far as she could. But that was a coward’s path, and she would have none of it. “What would I want with your company?”

The stranger laughed. It was a musical sound, and yet terribly sinister. “You might be surprised,” she said, sitting down anyway. She glanced at the bottle Kensho-in had recently finished. “Tea? You come to a place like this and drink tea?”

“I come for the atmosphere,” the Crane said.

“I can imagine,” the stranger said, glancing around. “But Five Harmonies Blend?”

Kensho-in shrugged slightly. “I told him to bring me the most expensive tea he had. This is what he brought out.”

“Did you find it to your liking?”

“Not particularly,” she admitted. “It was& bitter.”

“Naturally.” The stranger moved another bottle across the table. “I think you will find Midnight Silk Blend much more to your liking. May I pour?”

Kensho-in frowned. “Where did that come from? It wasn’t here before.”

“Wasn’t it?”

“Who are you?” the Crane demanded. “What do you want?”

“Ultimately? To reach the Imperial City and take care of some very important business. In the meantime, however& I made the detour to Tsuma just to meet you, my friend.”

Kensho-in’s blood ran cold and the panic, which had subsided for a moment, roared back into place. Still she would not succumb to it. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I find you simply fascinating,” the stranger confessed. “And I would like for you to tell me of your past?”

The Crane laughed. “I am no storyteller.”

“You could be.” The stranger smiled beneath her hat. “Tell me, Kakita Kensho-in, of the first time you ever killed a man.”

* * *

The morning of the duel was beautiful, like something from a play. The sun crested over the horizon, illuminating the perfect stillness of the dueling ground. The challenge had been issued and accepted, all the necessary permissions granted. It was the first duel to the death that had been held in the tiny castle in living memory, and virtually the entire population of its small winter court had arisen before the sun to witness its outcome.

The Scorpion duelist was on site first, practicing a few kata and foregoing the traditional period of meditation. Some looked upon his breach of etiquette as a clear sign of his impending defeat, but others sensed his overwhelming confidence, and were swayed by it. He was older than his opponent by almost a decade, and had numerous victories already, whereas the young Kakita he was to face had but a single victory to his name. Despite the Crane’s dominance in dueling, some had begun to suspect that this would not be numbered among the innumerable victories attributed to the Kakita Dueling Academy.

The host of the court, an elderly Phoenix, arrived earlier than expected and strode directly to the center of the dueling circle. He opened his hands and bowed in greeting to those assembled, favoring the Scorpion champion with a nod. “My friends,” he said, breaking the long silence, “I fear there has been an accident.”

The sound of fans opening was like a whisper throughout the room, and the Scorpion sneered in contempt, flipping his long mane of black hair over his shoulder. “Did the Crane soil himself in fear?”

The host frowned and the uncouthness of the comment, and several among the courtiers gasped in horror at his words. “I will remind my guest to keep a civil tongue,” the old man said. “The young Kakita-san was practicing his kata in the dojo this morning, where such activities should be conducted,” his tone was reproving, “and his bokken shattered upon striking the practice target. His arm is gravely wounded. I fear it shall be some months before he is able to wield a sword in a duel effectively.”

“Bah,” the Scorpion said, waving the comment away. “There is no satisfaction to be had here.”

“Another has volunteered to take the boy’s place,” the host continued. “She is his cousin, and wishes to defend her uncle’s honor just as Hitsuken was intended to.”

“Bring her forward,” the Scorpion said at once.

Kakita Kensho-in stepped forward from the crowd and took her place opposite the Scorpion. The host retreated to allow the two duelists to assess one another before determining if the duel would continue. The Scorpion glanced at her derisively, but then took a closer look at the stillness of her hands, the set of her eyes, and the comfort with which she bore her blade. “You are just a girl,” he said, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “A child.”

“I am old enough,” Kensho-in said quietly. “My gempukku ceremony was this past spring.”

“I recognize deception when I see it,” the man said, his voice lower. “This is some manner of trick. The boy is not injured.”

“I assure you he is. Are you so enraptured with lies that you see them when there are none?”

The Scorpion scowled. “I will not be baited.”

Kensho-in smiled ever so slightly and lowered her voice to just above a whisper, just loud enough that only the Scorpion could hear it. “Are you soiling yourself with fear?”

The Scorpion’s eyes blazed, and he glanced at the old Phoenix and nodded. The Phoenix gave a sad smile and bowed. “The duel will take place as scheduled.”

* * *

The suddenness and power of the vision staggered Kensho-in, and had she not already been sitting, she would surely have been driven to her knees by the sheer unexpected magnitude of it. It was as if she had experienced it only this moment, not ten years ago. She could feel the steel still in her hand, but it was of course checked at the doorway. She could smell the blood, but there was none to be seen. “What& what is this?” she said weakly.

“Experience,” the stranger said. “Is it not magnificent?”

“It is not& it was not what you think.” she croaked.

The stranger’s mood seemed suddenly sour. “Do not spoil such a wonderful moment with pitiful rationalizations,” she said. “I will only lose my newfound respect for you. You knew exactly what you were doing. There was no mistake, no unfortunate coincidence. You chose your path carefully.”

“It& it was for the good of the clan.”

“Of course it was,” the stranger demurred. “After all, there have been ample opportunities to do the same thing again, and you have not chosen to do so unless it advances both your own agenda and that of the family, or the clan. That demonstrates your discretion, your recognition of a greater good beyond your own desires.” She paused for a moment. “It also shows wisdom, I believe, since it seems likely that magistrates might ask after too many accidents’ of the same nature, wouldn’t they?”

“You do not understand,” Kensho-in sputtered. “He would have been killed. The duel would have been lost.”

“Quite possibly,” she admitted. “And yet the accident you arranged was in some ways worse than death, wasn’t it? The shattered bokken sent a massive shard of wood into his arm. Did he ever fully recover? Certainly not enough to duel, I would think.”

Kensho-in looked away and said nothing.

“I understand you perfectly. It is you who do not,” the stranger said. “Tell me, deadly little blossom& how did you come to be one of Kakita Noritoshi’s personal students?”

* * *

The entirety of the Kakita dojo was in an uproar. The magistrates had arrived early in the morning and had a hushed audience with the senior sensei. Something was certainly amiss, and after a wait of a few hours, Kakita Noritoshi himself had arrived. The students could sense that there was something dark in the air, and when the call came to assemble in the main courtyard, there was not a sound uttered.

Noritoshi surveyed the assembled students with a baleful glare. “I have been diverted from my duties for a most disgraceful purpose,” he said, his voice thick with anger. “Last night, a merchant was found murdered in the city. This alone would be a disgrace for the Crane, to have visitors to our lands cut down by assassins, but the matter is far worse than that. This merchant was transporting a significant amount of something called liquid void.’ I trust I need not explain this noxious filth to the lot of you.”

There was no need. Lurid tales of Ryoko Owari Toshi were popular among the students, and the vices found within the so-called City of Lies were well known to most young Kakita, if for no other reason than to fancy themselves men and women of the world despite their young age.

“The magistrates investigating this matter,” Noritoshi indicated the pair, one a Doji, the other a Kitsuki, “have determined that the person responsible may have been a student at this dojo. I find such an idea beyond reprehensible, but in the absence of testimony, we have only evidence to rely upon.” The daimyo was not particularly pleasant in his pronunciation of the word evidence, but he continued. “I wish to know this instant if any of you, the most senior students of this dojo, have seen or heard anything that might tie the students here to this matter.”

There was a long moment of silence until finally, reluctantly, one of the students stepped forward and bowed sharply. “Sensei,” he said.

“Yes?” Noritoshi answered sharply.

“I was serving with the guard last night,” the young man said. “I was stationed near the garden last night, and I observed a student slip back into the dojo well after curfew. I assumed it was simply someone returned from revelry. There was no one to watch my post, and I could not desert it to pursue them. I& I would never have dreamed that any student of this dojo could be involved in a criminal enterprise or I would certainly have.”

“Enough.” Noritoshi cut him off with a sharp hand gesture. “You will report to the senior sensei for disciplinary measures for failing in your duty as a guard at once.”
The young man’s face fell. “Of course, master.”

“Sensei,” Kensho-in said.

“Speak.”

She bowed her head. “I was in the garden last night, practicing my kata. I find the quiet and the seclusion helps me to think. I observed a fellow student enter the garden through the exterior entrance, I assume it must have been the one the guard spoke of, and move quickly toward the student quarters. It must have been the same individual, my lord.”

“Did you recognize the student?” Noritoshi demanded.

Kensho-in nodded slowly. “I did my lord. It was& it was Kakita Toruo.”

There was a faint gasp of surprise from the ranks of the assembled students. Toruo was among the sensei’s most favored students at the dojo, and was said to have once caught the eye of Noritoshi himself during a visit. “Sensei, that is not true! I did not leave my quarters last night!”

“I certainly hope that is the case,” Noritoshi said. “Please accompany the magistrates to your quarters, and perhaps this unfortunate business can be concluded for good. Dismissed.” He watched as the students started to disperse, then pointed at Kensho-in. “You.”

“Hai, sensei?” she asked, bowing sharply.

He said nothing for a moment. “When I was your age, I practiced in the gardens at night as well,” he finally said. “Quiet, is it not?”

“Hai, sensei,” she answered. “I truly feel at one with the blade when I am there.”

Noritoshi smiled ever so slightly, then nodded, turned, and left.

* * *

“Masterful,” the stranger said. “Simply masterful. Of course you were the one the student at the gate saw, and you allowed him to see you so that you could implicate your friend. I assume you knew that he had a pre-existing involvement with such illicit substances. I am not certain if I believe you placed the liquid void that the magistrates found in his chambers, or if it was there already. No matter, ultimately. You murdered the merchant, surely a blight on your clan, implicated your colleague, eliminated a weakling from the ranks of the dojo, and took his place. As I said, masterful.”

“Who are you?” Kensho-in demanded again. “Why are you doing this?”

“Until very recently,” the woman said, “I was known as Shosuro Maru. If you like, you may continue to call me that. It is no longer accurate, of course, but it will do for the moment.

Kensho-in’s eyes narrowed. “A Scorpion?” she asked. “Maru. I have heard that name before.”

“I suppose I accomplished something of note here and there, when I was still a& but enough of that,” Maru said. “You asked me why I was doing this. I do this only because I seek the truth that we all hide deep inside ourselves, Kensho-in. You intrigue me, because you do not hide yours quite so deeply.”

“What?” The duelist was completely confused, and her head was swimming from the visions she seemed to be having. “You make no sense!”

“Do you know how many simpletons in this Empire equate the notions of sin and evil with spiritual corruption? With the essence of Jigoku itself?” She shook her head in disgust. “The term Realm of Evil’ is a misnomer, just a label inaccurately placed upon it to make things simpler for the first denizens of the Empire. Jigoku is chaos, disorder, entropy, malevolence. Evil, though& that is not something that Jigoku alone controls.”

“You are completely mad,” Kensho-in whispered.

“Man is not an inherently good creature,” Maru continued. “Those who believe otherwise are fools of the greatest order. Each of us, each of you,” she emphasized the last word, “are capable of good and evil without any need for external influences. Sin is part of what you are. Some are consumed by it, and it destroys them. Others overcome it, and it makes them stronger. Still others, such as yourself, use it as a weapon, keeping it hidden away and razor-sharp. That is a rare gift, Kakita Kensho-in. Rare indeed, and worthy of reward.”

“You do not know what you are talking about,” she hissed.

“Don’t I?” Maru smiled. “I seem to recall an incident recently that demonstrated exactly what I am talking about.”

* * *

It was the late afternoon when Kensho-in received the summons. Among some of the men, an unexpected message that the commander wished to see them would have been met with anxiety, fearing perhaps that something they had done could have somehow garnered the commander’s disapproval. The notion that she could in some way have failed was virtually alien to Kensho-in, however, and she simply assumed that the commander wished to offer her some additional duty to perform.

Her father had been right. Opportunities abounded during times of war.

Daidoji Zoushi was not a particularly warm or caring man, nor did he fraternize overmuch with those under his command. He was a distant, almost iconic figure to his men, about whom he knew little and who knew little about him in turn. He conducted war without thought of individual men under his command, only of the clan and the army as a whole. Kensho-in had known him to sacrifice large amounts of Crane warriors in maneuvers that were risky, but which always seemed to win the day. He was a pragmatist. For that, he was one of those rare individuals whom Kensho-in respected completely.

As Kensho-in entered the command tent, the general was carefully studying a map of the village that had been pinned to a vertical board that dominated the eastern side of his tent. He glanced once over his shoulder then returned to the map. “Good afternoon,” he said.

“Greetings, rikugunshokan,” she said with a deep bow.

“Do you know where I have been?”

She frowned at the question. “No, my lord.”

“I was recently drinking in the village. I had a delightful conversation with the Crab commander who intends to capture this territory, perhaps within the next few hours.” Zoushi glanced at her again. “What do you think of that?”

“I think that given our relative numbers, it will prove difficult for us to hold the area,” she answered at once.

“Honesty,” Zoushi said dryly. “Refreshing, from the rank and file.”

She bowed slightly. “If you would prefer, I can give a more unrealistic estimate about how the fighting prowess of the Crane Clan cannot be matched.”

“No, I think your original estimate will suffice,” the general said. “As part of the conversation I had with Hida Dayu, I offered my assurance that the village and, perhaps more importantly, the brewery it contains would be left intact regardless of who won possession.” He paused, then repeated his earlier question. “What do you think of that?”

“I am uncertain what gains could be made from such a claim,” Kensho-in admitted, “but as the general it is your right to make whatever such decisions you deem appropriate.”

“Such decorum.” The older man sighed slightly. “Although I know that the decision was the correct one, for to do otherwise would have been to invite an immediate attack, I find myself considering& alterative solutions.” He turned now, and leveled his steady gaze at her. “You seem the sort who might have a notion as to how such a thing might be accomplished. What would your suggestion be?”

Kensho-in considered the question carefully. Clearly, the general wanted something from her, something that he had guessed he could expect despite their limited interactions. For her part, Kensho-in cared little for the gravity of what she was about to be asked to do. Life meant nothing to her, ultimately. She did appreciate craftsmanship, however, and the thought of losing such incredible mastery was distasteful. She could say nothing, and allow the brewery to survive. This was an opportunity for advancement, however, and she had never before turned such an opportunity down. She would not begin today. “The brewery and the village can remain completely intact,” she said plainly. “The secrets of Cherry Blossom Snow sake are what the Crab wish to retain, and they live only in the minds of the brewers at the sake works.”

“That is true,” Zoushi acknowledged, clearly unsurprised by anything she had said thus far. “Your recommendation?”

“Kill them all,” she said without hesitation. “Leave everything intact, as you promised. Your honor, the Crane’s honor, will not be impugned. But the Crab will gain nothing from seizing the sake works and the village.”

“Hmm,” Zoushi said. He withdrew a small chop from his obi and stamped an open scroll that had been sitting on his desk the entire time. He fanned it lightly, allowing it to dry, then handed it to her. “This marks your promotion to gunso. Take a squad of men and see to the matter at the brewery.” He raised an eyebrow. “Unless of course such loss of artistry disturbs you?”

“No,” she answered at once. “I will see to it, my lord.”

“Very good.”

* * *

“What do you want?” Kensho-in hissed. “I want no more of these games!”

“Games?” Maru chuckled. “My dear, you grossly misunderstand the most important event of your lifetime. How quaint.”

Anger had completely replaced fear, and the Crane samurai-ko pounded the table with her fist, causing the sake bottle to rattle. “Tell me!”

“You were born with an affliction, of sorts. An ailment that drives you to commit acts of violence at every opportunity. Many men and women have been so cursed over time, but most allow it to consume them, and they become little more than slavering beasts.” She tilted her head to the side. “But not you.”

“I am not some filthy animal,” Kensho-in said, struggling to regain her composure. “I do what is expected of me. I am a soldier, nothing more.”

“Nothing more? Truly?” Maru clucked her tongue. “No, I would not say that is altogether true. There have been ample opportunities for you to find other means of advancing your career. But instead you have embraced this one. You are a woman without any scruples, without any compassion. Your superiors know this, and they find you useful for it. Have you not risen to the position of chui, a lieutenant in the Crane legions, almost purely because of your absolute ruthlessness?”

“I do not want to discuss this any further.”

“You have accepted your sins,” Maru whispered. “You have turned them into a weapon. They have made you stronger. You are more than you could have been because of the darkness in your spirit.”

Kensho-in looked away. “What if I am?” she whispered bitterly.

Maru laughed. “Do not be embarrassed. Why should you be ashamed of strength? You accepted your darkness, now embrace it.” She leaned forward, and the tip of one long, pale finger touched the back of Kensho-in’s right hand ever so lightly.

Pain roared through her entire body, and it was all Kensho-in could manage not to cry out in sheer agony. She flailed about for a moment, knocking bottles and cups off of the table before grabbing the edge and gripping it tightly. The pain subsided almost instantly, but she was left gasping for air, only distantly aware of a mild tingling sensation in her right hand.

“What& what did you.”

But the woman called Maru was gone. There was no trace of anyone else in the building. Kensho-in glanced around in vain, then noticed her hand. From the tips of her fingers to midway between her wrist and elbow, her hand was encased in some rigid, black substance. It glinted like glass, but did not crack when she attempted to move her fingers; instead, it seemed to move as naturally as it had before. She touched it lightly with her left hand, fearful that it might spread, but felt only cool stone beneath her fingers. Oddly, she could still feel the touch of her left hand on the flesh of her right, even though she could not see the surface of her skin. “What is this?” she whispered, gripping the edge of the thick wooden table tightly. The wood shattered in her hand.

“You bear the favor of the Obsidian Moon,” Maru’s voice whispered in her ear, despite that she was nowhere to be seen.

“What does that mean?” she demanded.

Maru’s musical laugh sounded again, this time growing ever more distant. “You will learn very shortly, my dear.”

*