Champions of Bushido

Part 2 of 3


by
Shawn Carman




Crossroads Village, one year ago


            Kakita Korihime leapt nimbly from her horse, landing with careful grace. The hem of her kimono did not so much as brush the loose dirt that passed for a road in this remote region. She glanced around the village before her. The young Crane could not help but feel somewhat disappointed. Crossroads Village looked to be no different than the dozen tiny villages she had passed on her way from Toshi Ranbo. Somehow she had expected something grander, more portentous.

The name Crossroads Village seemed terribly ambitious. The road was narrow and appeared to be traveled only rarely. It cut through the village heading east toward the Utaku lands. A second, even smaller road, crossed the village heading north and south, to the Dragon and Lion lands respectively, though ‘path’ might be a more appropriate name for it. It was a testament to the village’s obscurity that despite its connection to the three clans currently at war to the south, no one had bothered to place a garrison here.

Korihime glanced around the village until she found what she had come so far to find. There, in the village’s center, was a small temple. The monk in Toshi Ranbo had spoken of it with such reverence, such conviction. He had claimed it was a sacred place, one where serenity and harmony could be found by any who sought them. She had come all this way in hopes that she would find these things, but now that she had arrived, she found herself hesitating. What if it was just another temple? What if she could not find the peace of mind to resolve her desires with her duty?

“No,” she said under her breath. Enough doubt. Doubt gave rise to regret, and regret was a sin. She would find what she sought, or she would not. She would know the truth, and she would return to fulfill her duty.

With dread and hope warring in her soul, Korihime stepped forth toward the temple.


 
            It was several moments before Korihime could bring herself to enter the temple. Standing in the doorway made her feel foolish, but she could not bear to take the final step. Doubt continued to plague her. Having wanted so long to find something was difficult, but the notion of being disappointed at the last moment was even worse. The young boy she had instructed to stable her horse had seemed terrified of her until she asked about the temple, then he had smiled and pointed the way. When asked what Fortune the temple was devoted to, he had laughed and said “All of them, Kakita-sama!” The thought of the boy’s exuberance brought a slight smile to Korihime’s face. She drew a deep breath and stepped into the temple, resigned to whatever she might find there.

The temple was not particularly large, nor did it bear any of the lavish decorations that adorned even the most ascetic temples in Toshi Ranbo. It was typical of those found in villages such as this: sturdy and practical. In the event of a storm or blizzard Korihime imagined that the villagers would take shelter here, protected by both the Fortunes and their shrine. There was a certain serenity, a stillness that permeated the temple’s interior. It was not particularly different from what she had experienced in Toshi Ranbo, but here there was nothing to break the illusion. There were not dozens of monks moving about from place to place, no shouting from the street outside, no smells generated by thousands of people living together in a small place. Here, it was simple.

Korihime walked forward to the altar and knelt. The symbols for all the Seven Fortunes were here, as well as dozens that represented the lesser Fortunes, many of which she did not even recognize. The Great Clan mons were here as well, along with kanji entreating the blessing of the blessed ancestors in Yomi. She drew a deep breath, catching the faintest hint of incense, and closed her eyes to meditate.

There was a slight rustling sound to her left. Korihime opened her eyes and turned, her instincts immediately plotting the first three strikes she would make if an enemy had found her in this place. Instead, she saw another supplicant at a smaller altar along the left wall. The man’s robes were the same bland color as the temple floor. “Forgive me, brother,” she said quietly. “I did not see you. It was not my intent to disrupt your meditations.”

The man turned on his knees, never rising. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “But I am not a brother of this temple. I wish that I were.”

“My error,” Korihime said, inclining her head respectfully. “I am Korihime of the Kakita.”

The man returned the nod. “I am Katsuhito.”

Korihime cocked her head slightly. She glanced at the wakizashi laying at the man’s side; this man was no peasant. From his loose robes and lack of a katana, he was most likely a shugenja. “You have no family name?” she asked. “Are you ronin?” Her tone was salted with disapproval.

Katsuhito hesitated. “I am Asako, although I fear I do not deserve to bear the name.”

“Why do you say that?” she inquired.

“I have failed my family and my clan,” Katsuhito said, his voice forlorn. “I abandoned the oaths I took in favor of promises forged of ambition and avarice. I am a pathetic samurai.”

Korihime frowned. “None of us are immune to temptation. Bushido is not what we are, but what we must always aspire to be.”

“Pretty words, nothing more.” The Phoenix shook his head. “The ancestors have turned their backs upon me. I have crossed the Empire in search of redemption, but there is none to be had.”

Korihime could not help but smile, despite the shugenja’s obvious anguish. “I too have traveled far in search of enlightenment. Odd that we should both come here, to this place. Did you by chance meet a monk from Toshi Ranbo?” She hoped to lift the man’s spirits, but was surprised when he glanced up at her, a look of concern crossing his face.

“A monk?” he asked. “You were sent here by a monk?”

“Yes,” she said cautiously, alarmed by the sudden vigor in his voice. “An elder brother in the capital city, at the Temple of Benten.”

Katsuhito’s hands emerged from the voluminous sleeves of his robe and steepled in front of him. “I found this place on the recommendations of a brother in a Crab village, where I was stationed with the Shogun’s forces,” he said. “He said that he had been here during his youth, and that I might find peace here.”

Now it was Korihime who frowned. “The monk I spoke to said something similar. An interesting coincidence.”

“There are no coincidences,” Katsuhito said with dark certainty. He rose, snatching up his sword. “Have you seen anyone else since your arrival in the village? Any monks or samurai?”

“No,” she shook her head. “Only the villagers.”

“I must leave immediately,” Katsuhito said. “Thank you for the warning, Korihime-san.”

“Warning?” She rose as well, confused by his distress. “What are you talking about? Surely that we were both sent to a temple by brothers of Shinsei is not so disturbing a coincidence.”

“Be at ease, Asako Katsuhito.” The voice came from the temple’s doorway. Korihime turned sinuously, her hand hovering near but not touching her blade. Katsuhito did not appear to share her concerns, and had produced a long, wicked knife from within the folds of his robes. A monk stood in the doorway, his thick, muscular arms folded across his massive chest. “There is nothing to fear in Crossroads Village. At least, not yet.”

“Are you threatening me?” Katsuhito hissed. “Stand aside!”

“If you wish,” the monk said. “But if you leave this place, the redemption you seek will never be yours.”

“You know nothing!” Despite his vehemence, the Phoenix’s face showed clear signs of indecision.

“I know of the conflict within your soul,” the monk said. “I know with every passing day, you lose more and more of the man you once were. Do not let the shadows of control who you are, Asako Katsuhito. Do not let your past destroy the man you must become. You pledged your life to the Phoenix. Are you prepared to allow that oath to mean nothing?”

Katsuhito slowly lowered the knife. Korihime relaxed, but only slightly. “Who are you, monk?” she asked, keeping her tone neutral. “What is going on here?”

“I am called Koan,” the monk said. “As soon as all of your comrades have arrived, you will understand.”

“Comrades?”

The monk nodded. “There are two Scorpion taking a room in the teahouse even now, and three others in the hills beyond the village.”

“Others?” whispered Katsuhito.

“Scorpion?” Korihime asked. “I saw no teahouse in the village.”

“It is quite small, and the tea is dreadful,” Koan explained, “but it will serve our purposes well enough.” He bowed and gestured out the door toward the village. “Will you accompany me?”

Korihime glanced sidelong and Katsuhito, then nodded.

“I do not like this,” Katsuhito said. “Such coincidences bespeak manipulation, Koan. Whatever your strange game may be, I will have no part of it.”

Koan looked at Katsuhito calmly. “Then leave,” he said, “I will not try to convince you further, nor demand you rethink your actions. You will have an eternity in Jigoku to regret.”

Katsuhito’s face paled. Korihime looked at the shugenja curiously, then walked to the door and stepped out into the sunlight. After a moment, she heard the shuffling of feet behind her. Katsuhito walked beside her, his face twisted in a biter scowl. This was not the serenity or certainty of purpose that she had come seeking, but for the first time in months she felt the thrill of the unknown. She felt needed. That, at least, was some small comfort.


 
            It was instinct more than anything else that saved Danjuro’s life. He did not hear the arrow, nor truly even see it. There had been the tiniest flicker of motion to his left, and a sudden sense that he was in grave danger. Life among the Empire’s most powerful shugenja had taught Shiba Danjuro to trust in things he could not explain. He hurled himself from his saddle without a moment of hesitation. The arrow missed him, although he felt the scratch of its fletching through the silk of his kimono.

            The Phoenix struck the ground hard, rolled, and quickly recovered his feet with his sword in his hand. He glanced around, seeking an enemy, but the tall grass was thick enough to hide a hundred men, much less a lone archer. He could not hope to find them before they would riddle him with arrows, so his only chance would be to draw them out. “I am Shiba Danjuro!” he shouted. “Son of the Phoenix and Taisa of the Imperial Legions! I am hatamoto to the Shogun Kaneka, slayer of seven and thirty demons on the Great Carpenter Wall? You were a fool to loose your arrows at me unless you seek a swift and merciful death, in which case you have made an excellent choice!”

Danjuro chuckled from the bravado of the challenge. He had adopted it from one of the Shogun’s battlefield boasts and though such statements were unlike him he felt a heady rush when his enemy hesitated. For a moment, there was no response. Then, there was of movement to the west, and a wizened figure appeared amid the grass, clad in golden armor. He held his bow to one side and an arrow to the other, showing he meant no harm. Danjuro raised his blade, pointing it at the man’s chest. His mouth twisted in a wry smile.

“I am Ikoma Fujimaro,” the stranger said, “and I did not have to miss.”

Danjuro’s eyes widened. He lowered his blade. “Well met, Ikoma-san,” he said.

“My sincerest apologies, Danjuro-san,” Fujimaro replied. “We thought you might be a bandit, and had hoped to frighten and chase you to your brethren.”

“I thought it would be wise not to wear my clan colors openly,” Danjuro said. “Politics in this area are complicated enough without the Phoenix becoming involved.”

“Fair enough,” Fujimaro said. “So I take it, then, that the Phoenix have chosen not to become involved in my clan’s war?”

Danjuro did not sheath is blade. He glanced about carefully. “You said ‘we.’ Who stands with you, Fujimaro?”

Another figure rose from the grass. The second man was older even than Fujimaro. He held a bow ready, and had managed to move nearly halfway into a flanking position in the few moments since Danjuro had been unhorsed. His eyes were dead and merciless, though he lowered his weapon when Fujimaro nodded. Danjuro made a mental note to be cautious.

“Matsu Masutaro,” the man said. “Deathseeker. Watch yourself here, Phoenix”

The Phoenix sheathed his blade slowly. “Unusual it may be for me to travel these lands, but these are not the Lion provinces. These are the Emperor’s lands, and his alone. I am an officer of the Legions. Perhaps I should ask you what business you have here rather than suffer your suspicion.”

“Perhaps you should count again, Phoenix,” Masutaro said.

“What Masutaro-san means,” Fujimaro said hastily, “is that we have been ordered to seek out possible spies in this region, spies that could jeopardize the Lion forces to the south. I do not believe the Phoenix to be involved in such acts, but it is our duty to make certain.” He paused a moment. “May we inspect your travel papers?”

“Why don’t you present yours to me?” Danjuro answered, drawing an ivory chop of rank from his obi and displaying it to the Lion soldiers. “After all, this area is under Imperial jurisdiction, and I wish to reassure myself that you are not spies.”

Masutaro’s hand tightened on his bow, but Fujimaro held up a hand. “We have no objection, Taisa,” he replied, withdrawing a scroll from his obi.

Danjuro sheathed his blade and strode over to face Fujimaro. The Lion offered his papers, taking a moment to more closely inspect Danjuro’s badge. The Phoenix smiled politely, glanced at the documents, and returned them. “All appears to be in order,” he said.

Fujimaro nodded. “Again, my apologies for the misunderstanding, Taisa. We only seek to fulfill our orders and protect this region from potential enemies. As an officer of the Shogun, perhaps you might even assist us.”

“I have my own business here,” Danjuro said, “but if there is a problem with bandits, as you say, naturally honor would demand I offer my blade.”

“You can help us by not interfering,” Masutaro said brusquely.

“There are bandits in the region,” Fujimaro admitted, drawing a glare from his comrade. “That their true goal might be espionage is obviously my lord’s concern.”

Danjuro hesitated for a moment. If these men knew of Katsuhito they might not have been so surprised to see another Phoenix, but they could be concealing the truth in hopes of gauging his reaction. It was possible that they could point him in the right direction, but he would have to give them something in return.

“I am searching for Crossroads Village,” he finally said. “I seek a fellow Phoenix, and have been told he traveled there. Are you familiar with the area?”

“We have seen no other Phoenix,” Masutaro answered. “There is little traffic in this region, making your presence all the more suspicious.”

“I see,” Danjuro said. “Then the Scorpion I saw on the road did not pass this way either?”

The two Lion were suddenly very intent. “Scorpion?” Fujimaro asked quietly.

Danjuro nodded. “I never got close, but I caught a glimpse of them on the horizon twice over the past three days. There were two - a young woman and her bodyguard. We appeared to be traveling in the same direction, but I saw no reason to disturb them so long as they did not appear threatening.”

“How does a Scorpion not appear threatening?” Masutaro snapped.

“They saw me as well,” Danjuro answered. “They expressed no curiosity about a Phoenix so far from home. A Scorpion without curiosity must be on urgent business indeed. I chose not to interfere.”

Masutaro and Fujimaro exchanged a quick glance. “We will take you to Crossroads Village, but we have seen no sign of any Phoenix or Scorpion,” Masutaro said. “You are certain they were traveling in this direction?”

Danjuro nodded. “There is very little to be found in these plains, unless I am mistaken. Perhaps the Scorpion are at Crossroads as well?”

“We shall see,” Fujimaro said. “Retrieve your horse, Danjuro-san. It is not far.”


 
            “Koan, you say? A rather unusual name, if you do not mind my saying so. It sounds more like an alias.” Shosuro Maru reclined and sipped at her tea, regarding the monk and his companions with an inscrutable expression. Korihime disliked the woman at first sight. She had an arrogant, knowing air. Her dark eyes missed nothing. There was violence in that gaze, but it was not the violence of blood and steel. It was the violence of carefully chosen words and cutthroat ambition.

“And who are your companions?” Maru asked.

Koan gestured to Katsuhito with a slight bow. “Asako Katsuhito of the Phoenix, currently assigned to the Shogun’s forces.”

“A bit far from your post, Katsuhito-san,” Maru purred. The Phoenix paled, but said nothing.

“And this,” the monk said, turning to gesture in Korihime’s direction…

“Kakita Korhime,” the other Scorpion said quietly. “I know her.”

Maru turned to her companion with a look of genuine surprise and amusement. “Why Muhito,” she said playfully. “You surprise me.”

“I do not believe we have met,” Korihime said cautiously. She looked at the man, who she had previously dismissed as a dull-witted bodyguard. He stared back at her with a dead, unreadable expression.

“I witnessed your skill at the court of Moshi Amika a year ago,” the Bayushi explained. “Your art… it was flawless. The perfection of form without rigidity or repetition. Like a dove taking to the wind.”

“My goodness,” Maru said, turning back to the others with a smile. “I’ve rarely heard him so talkative. You must have made quite an impression, my dear.”

Korihime smiled. “Arigato,” she said breathlessly.

The Scorpion inclined his head and returned his unwavering gaze to his lady.

“Now, if we are all acquainted, perhaps our friend Koan will share with us exactly what it is he needs. I have pressing business in the village that I must attend quickly.”

“Your business is concluded,” Koan said. “I am the monk you seek.”

Muhito shifted his position ever so slightly. The others did not seem to notice, but to Korihime it was obvious that he was gathering his weight, preparing to leap at the monk if necessary. She also heard a faint whispering sound, the sound of a knife being drawn. “You are the one who met with Yasuki Shikaro? The one who aided him with information from my court?”

“No,” Koan answered. “It was by my order that the act you speak of was committed, however. I arranged it, just as I arranged for Korihime and Katsuhito to be directed to the village.”

“But why?” Korihime asked. “Why would you do that? For what purpose?”

“I cannot say until the others arrive,” Koan answered. “I despise repeating myself.”

“Others?” Katsuhito said nervously.

As if on cue, the doors to the teahouse swung open and three figures stepped into the darkened interior. The flash of bright sunlight from outside blinded Korihime for a moment. Two of the new arrivals bore the familiar earth tones of the Lion Clan. The third wore pale grey armor without the symbol of any clan or family. “Hello, Katsuhito,” the third man said with a smile. “I have been worried.”

“Two Scorpion, just as Danjuro said,” the taller of the two Lion said with a sneer. “And a Crane? What is this madness?”

“My friends, meet Ikoma Fujimaro, Matsu Masutaro, and Shiba Danjuro,” Koan says. “Your future comrades.”

“This is most unusual,” the other Lion replied. “The villagers here assured me only two days ago that they had not seen a samurai other than the occasional ronin since the last tax season, and now this? What is going on here?”

“A fortuitous manipulation, Ikoma Fujimaro” Koan said. “This situation has been manufactured by me. It is regrettable that such things are necessary, but the political climate of the Empire is such that we often have no choice.”

“Who is ‘we’?” Fujimaro asked. His voice was calm, but Korihime sensed his anger. “Who manipulated us?”

“I did,” the monk confessed. “Or rather, the sect I lead did so at my order.”

“Explain quickly, if you please,” Muhito said coldly.

Koan nodded. “My order was, until recently, a small sect within the Order of Bishamon. Our philosophy was far more proactive than that of many in the Brotherhood, a fact that has made our members unwelcome in several temples throughout the Empire. We have studied the lessons of history, and recognize the patterns that exist. Shinsei taught us that fortune favors the mortal man, and indeed all of history has shown that the pivotal moments of history have been shaped by a few valiant souls with the courage and conviction to do what is right when the need arises.”

“Your order has left the Brotherhood?” the Phoenix asked.

“No, Danjuro-san,” the monk answered. “We have found new purpose. We now serve the Fortune Goemon, formerly Matsu Goemon.”

“The Fortune of Heroes,” Masutaro said softly.

Koan nodded. “We enact his will as best we can, seeking out those worthy of his recognition and aiding them in achieving their true potential.”

“Matsu Goemon is a Fortune?” Katsuhito asked. “Since when?”

“He fell in battle at the City of the Rich Frog during the Rain of Blood,” Masutaro answered, glaring at the Phoenix. “He descended to godhood at Toturi’s own command, so that he might help fight the corruption the wretched Bloodspeakers hoped to spread across all creation.”

Katsuhito quickly looked away. Korihime wondered if the little man felt ashamed that he, as a priest, did not recognize the Fortune’s name.

“I thought the Oracle of Thunder was the guardian of heroes,” she said with a frown.

“The Thunder Dragon has not chosen a new Oracle since his last fell to darkness,” Koan said. “We suspect the great dragon has lost faith in the world of men, and so it has become even more important that we enact Goemon’s will.”

“And what is Goemon’s will?” Maru asked.

“My brothers are scattered at temples throughout the Empire,” Koan said. “They seek out souls of worth. Samurai who adhere to bushido and who live lives that are exceptional. We have awaited the opportunity to demonstrate your worth. A great danger threatens this village, which was once sacred to the Thunder Dragon. Perhaps, in proving yourself, mankind might win back the dragon’s trust.”

“Pretty words,” Katsuhito laughed darkly. “Your methods are flawed, monk. I am no hero.”

“Perhaps I am wrong.” Koan made a disinterested gesture. “Then again, you cannot see own destiny any more than I can.”

“What makes you so superior?” Katsuhito spat. “What makes you think that you can engineer some challenge to impress the masters of heaven?”

“What makes you think I cannot?” Koan asked.

“I think I have heard enough,” Maru said. Her smile was clearly forced. “Monk, you are clearly mad. Whatever you hope to achieve with your machinations, you will accomplish it without us.” She nodded to Muhito. “We have wasted enough time here, Muhito.”

“If you leave,” Koan said flatly, “this village is lost.”

“How?” Danjuro asked.

“The ronin that my brothers sent word of to Matsu Nimuro are real,” Koan said. “They are bandits of the most ruthless variety. They have destroyed two villages that refused to submit to their will. Small villages like this one, villages no one will miss until tax season. They will return here soon, and demand tribute. A tribute that the villagers simply cannot afford.”

“How many?” Fujimaro asked.

“Nearly four dozen,” Koan answered.

“Why did you not report this to the local magistrates?” Fujimaro demanded. “Is your bizarre challenge so important?”

“I tried,” Koan said. “Given the war escalating in the south, I could not find a Lion magistrate willing to spare the resources required. My ‘bizarre challenge’ is the only hope these people have.”

Fujimaro was silent. Korihime sensed a growing unease within the two Lion warriors.

“Your master did not tell you everything he knew, I sense,” Koan said, looking at Fujimaro intently.

“We will ride,” Danjuro said in an instant. “The Lion and Dragon armies are near. They can send troops.”

“You know that they won’t,” Korihime said.

“This is ludicrous,” Maru said. “The seven of us cannot defeat so many. I will not be a part of this. My duty is to the Scorpion.”

“The Fortune of Heroes will not abandon you, Maru,” Koan said. “Do you have so little faith?”

Maru opened her mouth to reply, but closed it quickly. Something made her hesitate.

“How long till the enemy arrives?” Muhito asked tersely.

“I cannot be certain,” Koan said. “If the ronin are moving in the same direction and at the same speed as the last report I received, then they will be here in less than a day.”

“Less than a day,” Danjuro said. “Seven of us against four dozen ronin.”

“We are samurai,” Masutaro said. “We do not abandon peasants to scum such as these. Live or die, we must fight.”

“Easy enough for you to say, Deathseeker,” Maru said weakly.

“Madness,” Katsuhito breathed. “This is all madness. What do we do?”

Korihime looked up, steel in her eyes. “We do our duty,” she said.