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The Crane
by the L5R story team
Kakita Mitohime stood quietly and struggled not to fidget while she waited. It was one of the great oddities of her young life: in a duel, she could find her center and remain utterly motionless for hours on end, if it was what the circumstances required. Anywhere else, she found it difficult to contain her energy. She was waiting for the provincial daimyo to admit her. She found the entire affair annoying, if for not other reason than that the daimyo had summoned her, and now kept her waiting as if for his convenience. Was her value so little? She knew that there were many who thought so, but this seemed unnecessarily cruel and petty…
“Good afternoon, Mitohime,” an unfamiliar voice said. “I apologize if your wait was overlong. Some unexpected matters arose that I needed to resolve first.”
Mitohime turned toward the voice and froze in place for a tiny fraction of a second before bowing so deeply that her forehead nearly cracked the corner of a low table. “Makoto-sama,” she said reverently. “I did not know that it was you who…”
The Crane Champion held up his hands. “A self-indulgent thing, I know. I hope I caused you no consternation. Rise, please.”
Mitohime rose, her cheeks slightly flush. “Wait… it was you who wished to see me, my lord? Whatever for?”
“I have heard of your prowess on more than one occasion,” Makoto said. “I happened to be in the area when I heard of your duel against Matsu Burai. I am grateful that you have resolved such a long-standing debt of honor, although I suspect that Burai’s injured pride will result in the formation of a new one, with you.”
“He may bear me ill will if he wishes, my lord,” Mitohime said. “I am not concerned with his pride, only the weakness of his sword arm.”
Makoto chuckled. “I had heard your tongue was as sharp as your blade. I am pleased to see it was not an exaggeration!”
Mitohime smiled wanly. “Not many share that opinion, my lord, but I thank you for it anyway.”
Makoto nodded. “I understand you visit this province regularly.”
She looked away nervously. “Yes, my lord.”
“Family business, I assume?”
“Yes, my lord,” she repeated.
Makoto drew a deep breath. “How is your mother, Mitohime?” he asked quietly.
Mitohime shifted her weight from one foot to the other anxiously. “She is as well as can be expected, my lord. Her health suffers somewhat.”
“Her burdens have aged her beyond her years,” Makoto agreed. “She carried the responsibilities of others with great pride and dignity despite that it should never have been asked of her.” He paused and regarded the young woman kindly. “Your mother’s mistake should never have been made into the disgrace she suffered,” he said. “It is one of the very few things that I disagree with my mother upon. Your mother should have been forgiven.”
“Even if Domotai-sama had forgiven her, she would not have forgiven herself,” Mitohime said. “I do not know all that happened, but that she hates herself as a result is clear to me.”
“I am sorry,” Makoto said. “You have borne a terrible burden, just as she was forced to. Try to shoulder it as best you can. It will not be forever. That may be difficult for you to imagine now, but I promise you it is the truth.”
“Thank you, my lord,” she said, head bowed. “You are more gracious than I deserve.”
***
It was early evening by the time that Mitohime arrived at the tiny, rural estate where her mother dwelled. There were no servants or any peasants within miles; her mother did everything herself. It was part of her self-loathing, Mitohime knew, and part of her self-imposed punishment. She strode through the front without preamble. “Mother?” she called. “I am here.”
A moment later, her mother appeared in the narrow, plain corridor. She was like a phantom with her prematurely grey hair, lined face, and faded clothing. “Hello, my daughter,” she said in a voice that sounded exhausted. “It is a pleasure to see you once again. I trust your travels went well?”
“They did,” Mitohime confirmed. “I crossed blades with an arrogant Matsu who had a grudge against the Crane. He will not plague our kinsmen any further, I do not think.”
“Your skill is as formidable as ever,” her mother said, a hint of pride in her voice. “How did you encounter the Lion?”
“I visited an Ikoma library owing to matters of heraldry.”
Her mother stopped in her tracks. “Oh?” she said, her voice forced. “How nice.”
“Tell me,” Mitohime said sternly.
“Why do you always ask me?’ her mother said. “The knowledge will not bring you peace.”
“I know more than you think,” Mitohime insisted. “I know my father was a Scorpion, and I know that you were not wed. My birth was the nature of your disgrace, because your hand in marriage would have been a great bargaining tool for the clan. I ruined that for you.”
“I chose my fate,” her mother said. “You are blameless. You are the only thing that I do not regret from that time in my life.”
“Tell me my father’s name,” Mitohime said. “I am not a child. I am not a fool. I deserve to know his name and what happened to him. You owe me that much.”
The older woman covered her hand with her face for a moment; it was a gesture of absolute exhaustion. “Very well. Your father’s name was Bayushi Muhito,” Kakita Korihime said, “and I killed him.”
