by Nikita Thorn
“No, Pottery.”
Ippei choked. “You’re starting a war over a Pottery Scroll?”
Even Mairin made a face. “Uh, maybe Kentaro would be interested in this war now.”
“It’s a very high-level Pottery Scroll,” said Hiro. “We don’t have anyone skilled enough to decipher it, and we didn’t quite know how to split it.”
“Like, how high?”
“Level 30.”
“Well, okay, max level I see. That will be one very nice vase you can make,” said Ippei, trying to keep a straight face. “So it makes sense that you’d decide to keep the box and key separate, so neither clan can secretly take it.”
Hiro nodded.
Ippei thought about it. “But there’s no way to prove anything. So let’s hope that the scroll’s there in the box when the Fuoka Army asks to see it.”
Hiro stared at the floor mat for a minute as he considered the possibilities, before sighing. “Seiki-san,” said the samurai. “I’m not going to ask you to warn hime-sama, since that would put you in an awkward position.” He picked himself up from the floor, a very grim and resolute look in his eyes. “But if you see her, please tell her I died defending her honor, so she had better not disappoint me.”
Seiki could only nod in slight puzzlement, and Hiro lifted the door and vanished.
Ippei stared at the entrance for a bit longer than necessary. “I see,” he said to himself, before turning toward Seiki. “Okay, fine. That guy’s telling the truth.”
“A change of heart?” said Mairin with a smile.
“Well, this Akari said she got the key from the public clan chest. Who in their right mind would leave something that important in their public clan chest? If I were the White Crane Order and I had the key in my hand, I would just take the scroll, relock the box and throw the key away as fast as I could. So the houshi is probably lying. But then again, you can’t really prove something by pointing out what someone could have done.” Ippei raised his palms up. “And the guy actually agreed to seppuku, so I guess he’s really convinced his clan is innocent.”
“What?” said Mairin. “You mean… Oh, come on. You can’t kill yourself in this game.”
“You need a certain ceremonial mat and a certain ceremonial knife,” said Ippei.
That was what Master Tsujihara had done to coax a promise out of Commander Nakatani that he would not pursue the case. And while it was rather noble, it was quite a terrible thing to force someone to stab themselves in the stomach. “Uh, wouldn’t it be easier for them to just kill him?” Seiki asked.
“It’s a special kind of death,” explained Ippei. “Okay, don’t look so shocked. It’s not permanent. It just locks you out of the game for two weeks.”
Mairin’s eyes widened. “Why would anyone do that?”
“Maybe to prove your sincerity and try to avert disaster for your clan?” said Ippei, before adding with a wry smile, “It’s also actually a good strategy when you’re trying to quit, like ‘I’ve gone through this elaborate ritual to kill my character, so now I’m free from the game’. You log in, black screen, I mean, black field of vision.” He shrugged. “Two weeks of that might wean you off the addiction.”
The idea somehow sounded absolutely horrifying to Seiki.
“Spoken from experience?” asked Mairin.
“Of course not,” Ippei said. “That’s half your monthly for nothing.”
“What’s really the point of having it in the game?” asked Seiki.
“Well,” said Ippei. “If you seppuku, you keep your Clan Honors.”
Ippei explained that if the Shogun’s Palace was all about Honor Points, out the East Gate was all about Clan Honors—which allowed each clan to unlock extra benefits for their members.
It also had everything to do with stimulating PVP. Killing an enemy on your territory grounds earned you two points for your clan and took away two points from your enemy’s clan. Armed NPCs were worth a point, and ranked clan members were worth extra points according to their ranks.
It was dishonorable to kill unarmed people, so accidentally killing NPC attendants or servants lost you a point, and killing unarmed enemy clan members subtracted two points.
However, it was utter disgrace to surrender or allow yourself to be disarmed, so if you were killed on enemy or contested territory while having no weapon equipped, it was considered an execution, and your clan lost quite a significant number of Clan Honors. This, according to Ippei, was actually to encourage people to fight to the death and punish surrenders, promoting the spirit of bushido.
“If you’re a ranked member, there’s a multiplier on the penalty, so that can seriously affect your clan’s benefits. So, say your clan has unlocked some stuff recently, if your Clan Honor drops below a certain threshold, your clan actually loses the benefit and all the resources it took to unlock it.”
“Ouch,” said Mairin.
“If they let you seppuku, no one gains or loses any points, so it’s a win-win, but you’re locked out of the action for the next two weeks, and that tends to put people in a bit of a dilemma,” said Ippei. “It’s to simulate the gravity of the act, you see. The decision to stab yourself and die a slow death is not to be taken lightly, and, well, how else are they ever going to motivate people to harakiri?”
“They’re not going to ask us to do that, are they?” said Mairin. “Because I’m definitely not doing it.”
Ippei chuckled. “No, they’re not going to waste a ceremonial mat on a clanless Level 11. And you see now why I stay away from the East Gate? You can’t win out here. You kill them one day, the next day they come and besiege your territory and you lose months of progress. And, without a clan, no one can ever guilt-trip you into committing seppuku.”
Seiki ran a hand through his hair. “Did I start all this?” He used to believe that he had done everything out of his own free will, yet somehow he could not help but feel that his actions had done nothing but place game pieces exactly where people wanted.
“Well, these people probably like it this way,” Ippei said. “Any reason for war, you know, even a Pottery Scroll.” He had to laugh.
“Have some respect for Pottery,” said Mairin, half-seriously.
Eisuke had now reappeared at the door. “It’s a matter of principle. There are things you can’t just let slide.” He held the door flap open. “Come with me.”
“Where?” asked Mairin, suspiciously.
“Your friend here has something to do up in the mountains,” said Eisuke, nodding toward Seiki.
Not quite sure what he meant, they followed him out. Seiki looked around for signs of Hiro, but he had no idea where they had taken him, or whether he had really been forced to commit suicide to temporarily exile himself from the game. Eisuke led them back the way they had come in. After turning left at the giant pine tree that marked the entrance to the territory, they found themselves in the dark Wilderness once again.
“Mannaka Village is that way. Fifteen minutes maximum,” said Eisuke, as he thrust several cold ceramic bottles into Seiki’s hand. “Potions,” said the man. “Go. The Rogami might still be around.”
Seiki had not expected this. “How did you know we were heading to Mannaka?”
“Renshiro asked me to look out for a Level 11 ronin by the name of Seiki. Didn’t realize it was you.” Eisuke nodded toward the Wilderness again. “I don’t know how you got involved in all this, but stay out of it from now.”
Eisuke quickly disappeared back into his territory before Seiki could thank him for the potions.
“Okay, small world,” Mairin said.
Seiki heaved a deep sigh as he called to Fubuki.
“It’s not your responsibility,” said Mairin. “Without you, it would have happened anyway, just a bit differently.” She climbed up onto her horse. “And if you’re going to worry about something, you’d better worry about how many charms you’ve got to sell for Kentaro to cover his cost to repair that
chest armor.”
Seiki smiled. “I suppose you’re right.” Still, he could not shake the disturbing feeling of the events he had inadvertently set in motion again.
One thing for sure was that it never crossed his mind that his casual decision to accept a blood-locked box from a poisoned ninja in Kakura Village would eventually culminate in a full-scale clan war. He also could not help wondering if Kiku would still consider it all fun and games, and part of the experience, if the White Crane Hall burnt to the ground.
Chapter 22
With the aid of the Fuoka Army’s Lotus Seed Elixir, which not only filled their energy but also boosted their energy regeneration rate for ten minutes, they galloped down the East Main Road as fast as they could.
Mannaka Village soon came into view. In the dark, it looked like a desolate little town with three rows of two-storied shop houses, dimly lit by sporadic street lamps. After all the hype, Seiki was surprised to discover how small it really was.
It was deep in the night and they quickly found the sole inn, which turned out to be a non-PVP zone. Seiki paid the old innkeeper NPC five gold for a room, invited both his friends in, and fought the urge to lie down on the sole futon in the room as he finally had a safe roof over his head for the first time in what had felt like weeks.
“This place is kinda cool,” said Mairin, after she had finished her usual exploration of the room in fox form, including a fair bit of jumping up and down on the fluffy futon. “There’s even a tea stove.”
In order to take advantage of the darkness, they had departed late that night. And after agreeing that starting a clan war was enough achievement for one sitting, they decided to push back thinking of an action plan until the next day on how they were going to reach Kano Castle.
Once his friends faded out, Seiki found himself in one of the nicest tatami rooms he had been in, and he took time to lie on the mattress and take in his surroundings. His room at Central Crossing across the Shinshioka pawn shop was entirely bare, and certainly did not have a soft futon and a painting of a bamboo tree on the wall. In that instant, Seiki felt something he had not felt for a long time; the feeling he used to experience when going to sleep for the first night in a foreign city during his tournaments. It was always a little disconcerting, but exciting and brimming with promise.
The next thing he knew, the alarm clock on his phone was buzzing beside him in the dark, and it took him a few seconds to figure out that the game had shut down automatically when he had fallen asleep. It was interesting to note that this was one of the rare nights he did not wake up with horrible dreams about drowning, and he chuckled as he wondered if he had at last found a solution to his sleeping problems.
Dawn was lighting up the sky outside when he logged back later that day, a bit earlier than usual. He was lying on the futon, warm from his body heat, and he felt as if he had slept the whole night there. As he got up, Mannaka Village seemed to still be mostly in slumber, and he pushed open one of the windows to let in the chilly morning air.
The mist surrounding the village shrouded everything in refreshing damp gray. As Seiki craned his neck around to have a complete look, he almost gasped at the view. Beyond the dark roofs of the south-most row of buildings, a high mountain range—which was much nearer than he had imagined—towered up like a gigantic dark green wall. In the middle of it, he could spot a series of white buildings sitting on a cliff, partially hidden behind dark green pine trees. Once he had calculated the distance and directions, he realized in awe that this had to be his destination: the Kano Castle.
Their room had windows facing two directions, and Seiki cast his gaze to the west, which offered no notable sight at the moment apart from the single road that led into the village through a sea of dense evergreens. But it was now dawn and, somewhere, perhaps an army was currently on the move.
Mairin had quietly appeared next to him and joined him by the window to watch the scenery. In the peaceful silence, Seiki could hear the tiny pearls on her crescent hairpin jingling softly as she leaned out for a better look.
“Hey, this place is not bad in the morning. It’s kinda chaotic during peak hours,” she said, before running to another window to get another view of the village. “Ceramics, noodles, fine mounts, oh, exotic goods?” She was trying to read the shop signs. “Last time, we didn’t have time for a proper look.” She pointed in a direction. “The village spirit shrine’s there, and the Rangers have a station, uh, let’s see, somewhere over there where we got practically free rice balls from. Maybe we should get more for the ride back.” She pondered, before spotting something. “Oooh, be right back.”
Seiki could not even respond; the kitsune girl had slid open the door and burst into a white fox. Like most instance entrances, the shoji door slid close by itself, and Seiki could hear the sound of soft paws fading down the wooden corridor.
Looking out the window Mairin was just at, Seiki could spot an old man carrying a stack of steaming baskets on a pole across his shoulder, slowly making his way down the street. The day was dawning quickly, and travelers were starting to appear. Heima of the Chubu Rangers [Level 17] on his dark gray horse with a bright red tasseled rein was trotting by with a long saber strapped across his back. Michiya of the Wilderness Wanderers [Level 21] in bright pink was looking at the fine pottery laid out in front of the ceramic shop. A few nameless NPCs in simple pale gray yukata were leading a donkey cart along.
A white fox ran out of the building and tried to catch up with the old man with the steaming baskets, before turning into an excited girl in white and green. Seiki chuckled as he watched her. He doubted she would be able to see him from here, since the room was instanced, and passersby would most likely see shut windows.
“Did you actually sleep here?” said Ippei. Seiki turned and found his friend, who had just logged in, looking at the wrinkled futon. “They say when you actually start sleeping in the game, you’ve got a problem. Soon, you won’t be able to tell which world is real.”
Seiki laughed. “That would actually solve my problems,” he said, not sure if he was serious or joking.
“Foxy’s not here yet?” asked Ippei. “We’d better get you to Kano Castle so we can all go home.”
“Uh, she’s gone to buy steamed buns, I think.”
Ippei was already planning their session. “Kano Castle’s only fifteen minutes away. I don’t think we can do much except to get back to Shinshioka today. It’s a long ride, so we’d better get started.” He stretched his arms, as if anticipating being stuck on a horse for two hours.
Suddenly, Seiki unequipped his Sheathed Blade and handed it to Ippei. “I want you to have it.” He had been thinking about this for quite some time, and that seemed like the right thing to do.
Ippei seemed surprised.
“Just take it, please,” said Seiki.
Ippei looked at him for a moment, before his eyes narrowed, and a devious glint sparked up in them. “You’re not buying your way out of this that easily,” he said. “Seriously, what am I going to do with a sword that’s not even going to be light-forged?” The samurai exhaled, dismissively. “It’ll be completely useless against demons.”
Seiki suspected that it was not entirely true. “Okay.” He smiled. “Then, what do you want?”
Ippei gave a casual shrug. “Oh, after all we did, for starters, you’ve got to start showing up for the Tuesday mission reset, and when we hit 14, you’d rather be ready at the West Gate every Tuesday, 7pm sharp, no excuses, no flaking, Thursdays reruns optional, and extended instances every third weekend of the month.”
“For how long?”
“Pretty much for the rest of your life, I’d say,” Ippei said with a straight face.
Seiki laughed. “Okay.” He had a feeling that once he committed to this, his friend would not cut him any slack. “I’d like that,” he added. It was not a lie.
Ippei appeared satisfied as he leapt to his feet. The morning sun had peeped from behind t
he low-hanging clouds and was shining through the window in long strips of yellow, as Mannaka Village started to buzz alive outside. “Next stop: Kano Castle,” he said. “But, first, please stop carrying that Sheathed Blade around.”
Seiki carefully placed the Sheathed Blade in the box in the corner and, now with access to all his belongings, he picked up an extra health and energy potion, just in case he needed them.
Any item you had in the box in an inn room, if not retrieved from any other boxes by the time the twenty-four hours were up, would be treated like evicted items, and would automatically appear inside the starting Yanagi Alley room. So, there was no need to pay for an extra night.
“That Sheathed Blade will be in your Yanagi room tomorrow, but not in your box, so you have to physically go to Yanagi.”
“I wouldn’t mind a trip to South City to be honest,” said Seiki. He had not been back at all after the whole ordeal with Master Tsujihara. “It’s been a while.” Now that he was reminded, Seiki remembered he had always liked South City with its canals and willows and harmless chicken-catching quests.
As they were preparing to leave, Mairin reappeared, looking extremely pleased. She tossed them each a hot steamed Mannaka Steamed Anman [Level 4 food], which was a fluffy white bun filled with sugary red bean paste that gave an extra hour on no Fatigue, plus a random stat.
Your health now restores 1% faster. 59 minutes remaining.
“How much did you pay for these?” asked Ippei.
“A Favor each,” said Mairin.
Ippei almost choked. “You paid Favors for food?”
“Currencies are meant to be spent, and we’re going to spend some more right now.” She nodded toward the exit. “I’ve found the Village Bureau, and we’re going to use their Lost and Found.”
The Village Bureau was located right in the middle of Mannaka, in a stand-alone medium-sized one-storied house made of black wood with a gray-tiled roof and surrounded by low pine trees with artistically crooked trunks.
They had to take off their shoes at the entrance, before a junior official instructed them to walk down an impeccably clean tatami corridor to a room at the end, marked Lost Property, where a single Mannaka District Official [Level 30] sat behind a low writing desk full of paper stacks.