by Ree Soesbee
"My lord Asahina?" gasped a young student. He stuck a bald-shaved head through the doorway. His eyes were filled with the blank stare of a child.
"What is it, Sembi?" Asahina Tamako irritably raised his eyes from his parchment. Too many interruptions and too many rumors. It was bad enough that the Crane had gone to war despite his urgings, but worse
that they would dare bring their terrible battles to his very door.
"Three ronin, my lord, on the doorstep. Three men, and they are," the young man ran a damp hand over his bald forehead, "very eager to see you."
"Do they bring knowledge of any sort? Anything worthwhile?" Tamako's brush continued in its slow, deliberate pace over the rice-paper scroll, copying the words of Shinsei's Tao into an elaborate poem of peace.
"They said only that it was important."
"Turn them away. There is enough to do here without such uninformed interruptions." Sniffing broadly, the daimyo of the Asahina scattered sand across the parchment to dry the ink.
The boy bowed hastily, his wide eyes fearful. He went slowly back to the gates of the Asahina compound.
Shortly after, there was a fierce pounding that echoed through the long stone corridors of the compound, nearly shaking Tamako's brush free from his hand. Ink slid across the carefully prepared scroll. Angered for the first time in years, the daimyo of the Asahina drew himself to his full height and marched out the library door to see what had disturbed him. The disruptive student would pay for his insolence with days of prayer and fasting.
Tamako was completely unprepared for the sight that met his eyes. Three men, dressed in the garb of ronin, stormed through the open halls. Students fled to get out of their way. The ronin did not raise their swords. Nor did they seem to threaten, but their firm step would not be slowed by prayer or pleading. Before them scurried the young student who had come to Tamako's door, his eyes white and rolling.
"Master!" he chittered, wringing thin hands, "they would not leave ... as you see.... I could not make them."
"How dare you!" Asahina Tamako felt the words to a prayer of restraint come to his mind, but cast the spell away with an arrogant thought. "This land is sacred by the decree of the Crane Champion and the dictate of the Emperor Hantei himself! No weapons are allowed here!"
"By the command of the champion of the Crane, I say they are not proof against the maho that stalks this land," one of the ronin said, removing his hood. Tamako staggered backward as he recognized his own lord, Doji Hoturi. "And if I must command you, 1 will. But you will hear the words I have to say, or by the Fortunes, I'll see you cast out to the monasteries of the Crab!" Hoturi's voice was commanding. His presence filled the narrow hallway.
Tamako leaned against a nearby wall, his chalky face blanching. "Hoturi-sama ..." At his side, the student hopped from foot to foot, waving his arms toward his master's face to give him air.
Annoyed, Tamako batted at the offending limbs. With a disdainful gesture, he waved the student back into the hallway. "You must forgive me. I did not recognize you without your guard."
"The undead, you mean?" Hoturi had caught the implication in the old man's words. "That will be explained, soon enough. Know that you need have no fear of me or of my companions."
Tamako glanced at the two ronin. "May I guess that these samurai are the esteemed champions of Phoenix and Unicorn?" he said, sneering slightly at Hoturi's ruse.
"No, Tamako-san," Toturi said as he removed his hood. "I am champion no more."
As Kakita Toshimoko's smiling face emerged from the third hood, Tamako's wide eyed student choked a gasp. He fell heavily to the floor in a dead faint.
Tamako glanced first at one face and then the next. "You ... you travel in distinguished company, as always, Lord Hoturi." His voice was weak and confused, his eyes darting back and forth like those of a trapped animal. Around them, Asahina students scattered through the halls. "Your brother is here. By the strength of our healers, he lives, though his wound was grave."
"Take me to him."
"Of course," Tamako said, waving one of the other students forward. The boy on the floor would need care before he was sentenced to four days of prayer for humiliating his lord in such a fashion. Gathering his robes about him, the Asahina Daimyo looked nervously about, as if seeking an escape. Finding none, he sighed and turned toward a long stairway of stone. "This way, samurai."
They walked through the stone corridors of the Asahina compound. The home of the Asahina was nothing like the opulent palaces of the Doji and Kakita families. It was solid, stoic, and boring—as befit a family of scholars and peacemakers. Yet behind the thick stone walls of the library, an army could stand for days, if need be.
The chamber that Tamako opened was sparsely furnished. The mahogany floor glinted. No tables rested in the room, but only three futons unrolled on the floor. On one lay Hoturi's brother, Kuwanan. His skin was chalky against the dark covers. At his side, two Asahina healers knelt, replacing the bandages that bound his torso.
As Tamako entered, Kuwanan looked up with bright eyes. "Nearly healed, my gentle friend," he said cheerfully.
"You have a visitor, Kuwanan-sama. . . ." Tamako began, unsure.
Hoturi stepped past the Asahina, lowering his hood so that his brother could see his face.
"Dear Fortunes," Kuwanan's eyes blazed with hatred and anger. "What courage it must take, Brother, to follow me so far south. Or have you captured the Asahina, as well?" He stared at Tamako and the man took an involuntary step backward. "I heard no sound of fighting."
"Kuwanan-san, you must be willing to listen."
"No, I have listened enough." The healers raised their hands in protest as Kuwanan stood, testing the strength of his bandages. "I have seen your slaughter of Kyuden Doji, Brother," the word was a sarcastic slap. "And I do not believe there is anything more to say."
Hoturi took a step forward.
Kuwanan leaped to the side and drew the Crane ancestral sword from the dai-sho holder that had rested near the bed. The bright blade shone in the light, making strange patterns against the cold stone walls.
Hoturi instinctively reached for the hilt of the sword Toturi had given him, but did not draw it from its sheath.
The healers shrieked. Tamako stepped between the dueling brothers, his arms outstretched.
"There will be no war here!" the Asahina said angrily, sounding like the daimyo of his family and not a humble librarian. "No blood will be shed in this place, or by the Fortunes, Lady Doji herself will turn her face from you!"
"You say you do not want war," Kuwanan said bitterly. "Yet you bring war to my chamber, Tamako. This man has destroyed the Crane."
"You are wrong, Kuwanan." Hoturi's voice was calm.
"Kuwanan-sama!" The Asahina stared at the ancestral blade in the samurai's hand. "My healers dragged you and your companion from the sea beneath Kyuden Doji. Brothers of my temple saved your life from the grievous wound. If you have honor, you owe it to me. You will put away your sword, and you will not draw blood in this sacred place!"
Kuwanan flinched, his eyes narrowing. "1 owe you, Asahina, and although you are a vassal to my house, you have a debt of honor from me. But this man has lied to you. He says he comes to bring peace, but I have seen his 'peace' covered in blood on the gates of Kyuden Doji!" Kuwanan moved, striking toward Hoturi.
With a deft step, the Crane Champion avoided his brother's strike. Faint remnants of poison still slowed him. His hand remained on the hilt of his own sword, but he did not draw it from its sheath.
"No, by the Fortunes!" Again, the Asahina stepped between them. "This is a house of peace!"
"Our mother died to save your life, Hoturi, and this is how you have repaid her?"
The words were a blow to the young lord of the Crane, and he stiffened. "How do you know that?" he whispered, disbelieving.
Kuwanan laughed. "So sincere. You told me yourself, when you slaughtered the Crane at Kyuden Doji. Did you have any mercy for her, or did you push her fro
m the cliff, as well?"
"No, by the Sun, Kuwanan! It wasn't like that!" Floturi's voice was choked with emotion. "I never told you because I knew you wouldn't understand. She gave her life for me-— because she knew Satsume would kill us both if she refused."
Doji Kuwanan stepped back from the Asahina, the ancestral sword of the Crane silent in his hands. "Your life for hers. The Fortunes have mercy on us all, for being bound by duty to a damned honorless dog. You should have been the one pushed from the cliff, Hoturi."
Without thinking, Hoturi drew his sword, turning the blade in his hands. "Kuwanan, you have been deceived. The Hoturi who spoke to you, who destroyed Kyuden Doji—it was not your brother."
The Asahina stood as stiff as marble between them, his cold eyes unafraid.
"You are right, Hoturi." Kuwanan said angrily. "He was not my brother. You are not my brother. You have led the Crane to their death, and I will die before I turn this sword to your hand again." He held the sword of the Crane before him as a steel wall, ready to kill. "The Crane are better off without your service, samurai."
Staring past the Asahina's outstretched arm, Floturi lowered his sword and placed it in its sheath. "Then, Kuwanan, you must kill me. If I cannot make you believe, perhaps my death will prove my words." Hoturi placed his hand on the
Asahina's shoulder, pushing the man aside with a strong shove. "But kill me, knowing that if I could have done so, I would have gladly traded places with Teinko. I tried ... I tried to catch her, but my grip wasn't strong enough. Satsume watched as she jumped, lust watched. He did not even stay to see her strike ground. But I did. I saw her face on the rocks below. She was happy, Kuwanan. She was free of him at last."
Kuwanan's sword shivered in his hand. Tears filled his eyes. "No!" he howled, ignoring the pain in his side and forgetting the Asahina who tried to leap before his sword. "NO!" The sword fell with a single strike, arching toward Hoturi's neck in a powerful blow.
Hoturi simply stood, hands silent at his sides. He did not draw his blade, even to defend himself.
Kuwanan's strike carried true, swinging toward Hoturi with the fury of a Lion.
At the moment the ancestral sword of the Crane touched the flesh of the Crane Champion's neck, it released a single chime of such beauty and joy that Kuwanan's hands opened on its hilt and he staggered back.
The strike froze before it could be completed. For a moment, the sword hung in the empty air. Its ringing chime echoed through every hallway and chamber of the Asahina temples. The sound was a pure note of ultimate truth. In wide libraries, students looked up from their work, hearing the sound. The Daidoji who prayed in the temple's heart leaped to their feet with hope.
Stunned, Kuwanan fell to his knees. The sword swung slowly to the ground, landing gently at Hoturi's feet. Its note faded.
"The sword knows its true owner," Daidoji Uji whispered from the doorway behind Toturi. No one had seen him arrive, but he stood with the others, watching in awe. The sword glowed for a moment with a crystalline light, the echo of its note fading from the air. "It would not ring if Hoturi had truly dishonored himself ... if he were not truly the champion of the Crane. It is true." The dark-eyed Daidoji fell to his knees in reverence. His face glowed with renewed hope.
"Hoturi..." Kuwanan whispered.
"Brother," Hoturi reached for the sword at his feet, listening to the faint chime as he grasped its hilt and raised it to meet his eyes. "Can you believe me now?"
"Hai." Kuwanan bowed in shame. "The creature at Kyuden Doji... was not you."
"No, Kuwanan. And it is time we destroyed that creature and freed the Crane. I will need you, Brother." Hoturi took in the room with a single glance. "I will need all of you. This is a war not against men, but against evil itself. It is battle not against enemies of the Crane, but enemies of life—the very thing that the Asahina strive to protect. The armies of the False Hoturi are undead, stolen from their graves and from the afterlife of ligoku and thrown against helpless men and women. You say that the Asahina are peaceful, Tamako, that you respect all life—then defend it now, and put aside your reservations."
Tamako sank to his knees, unsure what to say. "The creatures you fight are undead, stolen from the eternal wheel of reincarnation, a blasphemy against the Fortunes and the spirits. They are abhorrent, even to us. But we have no weapons, nor skill or will to wield weapons."
"Then use your magic to fight them—or, if not to fight, at least to help us in our battle. Your spells, your healers, all these can be turned against the monsters that destroy the land. These creatures have blasphemed the Fortunes and slaughtered peaceful heimin across the Crane lands. Think of them, their lives wasted against undead servants of the Dark Lord. Can you ignore their cries for help?"
Tamako tilted his head and said, "We cannot allow innocents to be sacrificed to our arrogance, but it is better to allow an unjust sacrifice than to cause one."
Hoturi knelt before the daimyo, bringing their eyes level.
"I do not ask you to fight against humans, but against demons. These are the same monsters that your family fights every day, kneeling in meditation for the salvation of mankind. Can you turn your back to us as we fight them now?"
At last, Tamako nodded. "You respected our temple and did not strike, Hoturi-sama." The Asahina's voice was shaking. "Even when your own life was in danger, you put away your blade. For that, I can respect you. Though we do not approve of fighting, the Asahina will repay his respect with their own. But there can be no fighting in the temple of the Asahina, or the Fortunes will turn their faces from us forever."
"You are right, Tamako-san." Hoturi rose and stepped to the window. "The Crane have hidden behind too many walls." Lifting the Crane ancestral blade, he pointed out toward the golden fields that surrounded the compound. A great torii arch stood on the horizon. "This battle will not be fought behind the gates of the Asahina, but there—on the Fields of the Golden Sun, that Amaterasu herself might know the valor of the Crane."
"My lord," Uji said from the doorway, not wishing to disturb the champion but knowing where his duty rested. "I have failed in my responsibility, and I humbly beg your permission to commit seppuku."
"How have you failed me, Uji?" Hoturi asked softly, not understanding.
With catlike grace, Uji stepped from the doorway. He reached into his belt and withdrew a long, shining lock of jet-black hair. "I have carried this since Kyuden Kakita fell. Where I could not protect her, I thought to save it... at least, so that something of her survived to greet you when you came home once more." Uji raised his dark eyes. For once, his stone face bore a hint of genuine grief. "Your lady, my lord. She is ... gone."
The news struck Hoturi like a blow. Where he had thought himself numb from the thousands of deaths at Kyuden Kakita and Kyuden Doji, the sight of Ameiko's hair brought tears to his eyes. "Ameiko ..."
"I allowed this to happen, Hoturi-sama."
"You allowed nothing. I was not there . . . when she needed me most." Hoturi took the hair from Uji's hand and touched it softly. "Forgive me, little one. I should have loved you for your imperfection, rather than despite it. May you have mercy on me for not understanding your true nature." Hoturi tied the lock of hair to his obi, touching its softness once more with a shaking hand. So much had been lost, and all because of his own pride. Looking up at Uji, Hoturi said, "No, Daimyo-san, you have not failed. You may not take your life. It is still too valuable to be lost. Tomorrow we fight this false Hoturi and his men, and we will have need of you."
"Hai, my lord." The sorrow in Hoturi's voice was echoed in the somber tones of the daimyo's assent.
Looking out the window at the golden plains of the Asahina, Hoturi could have sworn he heard a fox's mournful howl. Then the lands were silent in the coming twilight, absolutely still beneath a fading sun.
soul of thunder
Strengthen the spirit as well as the body, and the depths of the soul will become the steel of the blade....
Kakita's words rang
in Hoturi's mind as he reached for his armor. He drew smooth blue laces through the enameled metal of his breastplate. The wide shoulders, edged in soft feathers from a long-dead crane, gave the appearance of wings. Hoturi reached for the silk cord that bound his white hair beneath the metal mempo. He tightly tied back the long strands. There must be no error today, no mistake. Any flaw in his technique or his strength could cost him more than his own life.
It could be the death of his family, and the final chapter to a thousand years of Crane history.
For them—for his brother, the spirit of his ancestors, and those samurai who still
lived and camped on the Asahina field—Hoturi must be everything they believed him to be. He pushed Satsume's voice from his mind and lifted his helm. His fingers brushed the smooth hair at his belt one final time before he stood. No time remained for doubt or indecision.
Tamako's students slid the screen door of the chamber slowly open. They looked down at the hard stone floor as he stepped by. "My lord Hoturi-sama?" The Asahina coughed, huddling in his robes and tugging blandly at a long braid of his black hair. "Lord Uji-san has assembled the men."
Hoturi lifted the beaklike mempo of his armor and brushed his fingers over the cool metal mask. A samurai's armor was designed to be impressive, to strike fear into the hearts of opponents and to give courage to one's own men. It also invoked the spirit of the ancient kami, the first of each clan.
Lady Doji, forgive me, Hoturi thought as he replaced the mempo on the wooden armor stand. Today, I cannot hide my face. I fight myself. I must be willing to accept that dishonor without shame.
Without looking back, he followed Tamako from the room.
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Two thousand Daidoji stood upon the golden plains. The Fields of the Sun were covered for the first time in steel and war.