Preparations, Part II

by Lucas Twyman, Nancy Sauer, Brian Yoon, & Fred Wan

Edited by Fred Wan

The Crab

The Jade Champion had returned to the Wall.

The Fifth Watchtower of the Kaiu Wall loomed large in the evening gloom, its ramparts bustling with activity, and on the other side of wall, across a valley enshrouded in black smoke, stood its dark twin, the fallen Tower of Fear. Its ebon walls were difficult to make out, but we felt its foul presence in our guts, the primal fear it represented freezing us cold. Nearly a decade ago, a demon of fear, Kyofu, called on the patronage of his dark lord, who twisted the original Fifth Tower into an unbreakable source of constant corruption. The Crab rebuilt the Wall around the fallen tower, but even after his redemption, Kyofu believed that the corrupted structure would stand forever, as a constant reminder of the price of failure.

The Jade Champion felt no fear, and he did not allow failure.

As the first line of defense against the horrors inhabiting the Tower of Fear, the Fifth Tower was normally among the busiest locations along the Wall, but the forces the Jade Champion had brought to bear outnumbered the garrisoned Crab nearly two to one. The mons of nearly every clan flew under the Chrysanthemum Seal, and on the furthest rampart, stood Kuni Daigo, the Jade Champion showing little emotion as he looked out across the valley. Behind him, camped across the Wall, was the largest gathering of Jade Magistrates since the order’s formation.

Daigo narrowed his eyes and glanced around at his advisors; to us, he was a man transformed by duty. We knew him as a gruff, withdrawn man – he spoke little, lest he speak without total certainty Unlike many Crabs, Daigo is not particularly tall, but as he stood across from the scorched and blackened fortress, he loomed as large as the Kaiu Wall itself. As he watched the Tower of Fear, it shifted almost imperceptibly, as if it were a thing alive, and breathed out a thick smog. Cries of alarm rose from the Wall’s battlements as the Hiruma scouts began to identify the spindly, chitinous limbs of insectoid horrors creeping through the gloom.

 Kuni Daigo had come to the Tower of Fear, and none present were willing to say that the man was less fearsome than the Tower.

- From the final letter of an unknown magistrate, now assumed to be deceased.

•

Moshi Minami was no stranger to the loss of her senses. Once, she heard the whisper of spirits; once, she spoke the language of the elements, but that was all gone now. A piece of her was lost, and she had vowed to never lose another – but now she found her voice lost, her tongue frozen by fear. She could easily blame the presence of the monstrous structure looming in the distance, or the simple fact that she was on the Wall, less than a mile from the vast expanse of the Shadowlands, but whenever she watched the Jade Champion set his jaw and stare towards the demonic ramparts, whenever she saw the fire in her lord’s eyes, she was not so certain.

Daigo finished reading her report and looked across the length of the Wall, over his gathered army. Perhaps sensing his advisor’s discomfort, he smiled at Minami. It was not a pleasant sight, but it did settle her somewhat.

“You have my thanks, Minami,” he said, his voice a low rumble; “Your clever words have served to gather and organize these men. You have skill beyond compare – if you were once as adept at speaking with the kami as you are at talking to mortals, then had you retained your gift, perhaps I would be serving under you.”

Minami turned her eyes to the floor, and was immediately thankful that Daigo seemed incapable of noticing the subtle shift in her composure. The Jade Champion turned away from her to face the Tower of Fear again. His voice grew softer, as if he was speaking only to himself, as he said, “Our victory today is assured.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Minami said, bowing slightly to him, “Your men are all in position. Every family in the Empire has representatives present today, and most came bearing jade.”

Daigo turned back to Minami, his eyebrow raised, “Most, save the Crane?”

Minami looked down at her figures. “The Crane have sent men. However, after we add the jade brought here today by the other clans to the stockpiles you liberated in your recent investigations, and the jade levied by Sozen’s men, we have more than enough for today’s operations. In fact, we have enough to continue past the Tower in the future, if you so desire.”

Scratching his chin, Daigo smiled. “Acceptable. And the Phoenix, who did they send?”

Minami shook her head. “Every Elemental Legion has sent representatives, but Lord Juro and his retinue sent their support in the form of jade.”

Daigo crossed his arms and looked back at the Tower of Fear. “A pity. I would have liked to meet the boy who managed to finally kill the Dark Oracle of Earth.” Daigo stared silently for a moment, and then placed his right hand on the back of his neck and stretched, his joints popping noisily in the heavy silence. Disconcertingly, despite the heat, Minami could see her breath coalesce before her. Each breath faded slowly, as if hours were passing. Finally, Daigo turned to her, his eyes betraying concern. “You seem worried, Moshi-san. I am a practical man. I would much rather you tell me of any possible misgivings you hold now, when they can be addressed, than fail because you were too worried about the nuances of rank and propriety to voice them.”

“I… my lord.” Minami feared her voice would crack; she knew it was wavering with trepidation. “The Crab stationed here on the Wall say that they have attempted to shatter the Tower a hundred times, and every time they failed. Why should we expend our resources on this, when we could be hunting bandits… or tracking down the assassins who attacked Lady Amika?”

Taking a step towards Minami, Daigo nodded. “You want to know why the Jade Champion has chosen to take the war to the Shadowlands, rather than simply investigating the petty squabbles of the Clans?”

Minami’s eyes were wide; she bowed to Daigo, and took several steps backwards. “I… apologize, my lord.”

Daigo took another step forward, and proffered to her with an open palm. “No, Minami. I am not angry. Stay. Your question deserves an answer.” He walked to her side, and she could feel his breath on her cheek. “The earth speaks to me, Moshi. It has spoken to me since I was young. Whenever I am alone, it whispers to me, unbidden. Do you know what it says?”

Minami pressed her arms tightly against her sides and shook her head slowly.

Daigo leaned in closer to Minami, and whispered, “It says, ‘I listen to you, my lord. I will do as you say, because you are a mortal, and mortals have dominion over the earth.”

Minami felt herself shake. She could not stop. Her voice was gone. Daigo swiftly took two steps backwards, and smiled widely. “Do you understand, Moshi? The ancestors rule over Yomi, and the Heavens rule over us all, but Ningen -Do is the realm of mortals, and the greedy creatures of Jigoku seek to go beyond their place and take it from us! I am a man, Moshi! I am a man, and have dominion over the earth, and I will not abide the encroaching touch of Jigoku on any of it!”

Whirling around, Daigo pointed to his inanimate adversary and roared, “Do you hear me? I will not abide this! It is not enough that you bow humbled before us – no, I will see you destroyed!”

If the Tower had an answer for him, Moshi Minami did not hear it.

•

The Jade Champion had come to the Wall, and his men loved him for it.

He stood before his army, his collected legions of investigators and magistrates, inquisitors and witch-hunters, Hiruma scouts and Kitsu soden-senzo, and they cheered banzai with him. His voice carried across the entire length of the Kaiu Wall that day, and in his upraised hands he held a shimmering piece of heaven itself.

Those present would never forget his speech:

“The Heavens have been in turmoil, but our cause is just!” he cried, and the earth rumbled in assent, “We are supported by both the Jade Crab and the new Jade Sun. There is no Emperor to sit on the throne, but we will serve as an example to the Empire! We will show them that through unity, the Emperor’s good work can still be done!”

As the setting sun lowered in the sky, a ray of green light washed across the assembled men, refracted by the massive piece of jade in the Champion’s hands. “This incorruptible jade is a show of support from Lord Kuon himself, taken from the final gift Lord Yakamo gave to our Empire. With it, we can channel the purity of Yakamo and his fellow Thunders, and we will destroy what was thought to be indestructible!”

It is said that not everyone believed Lord Daigo’s words, that some even spoke out against him, but he silenced them swiftly, saying, “While he was under Jigoku’s sway, Kyofu told the Crab that the Tower of Fear would stand forever. Today, we prove to all that Jigoku has presented us with nothing but lies!”

A banzai cry echoed across the battlefield, and Lord Daigo himself led the charge, racing towards the tower on a pillar of purified earth. Empowered as he was by his station, no shugenja could match Daigo’s strength that day. He commanded the elements, as always, through sheer will alone; not even the spirits of earth would deny a man as righteous as he.

A thousand tons of jade were launched into the air, and not a single piece missed its mark – the shugenja of every clan combined their magics to guide it. The hideous creatures manning the ramparts of the Black Tower tried to fight back, discharging foul acids from their long, monstrous maws, but every blow was turned aside by the righteous fury of the Kuni, guided by the watchful eye of Daigo himself. The jade tore through the sides of the tower, carried by the spirits of fire and air, and each piece traveled inwards and outwards until spent, guided by the assembled shugenja as a seamstress guides a needle through silk. Finally, its strength spent, its foundations torn apart, the Tower of Fear collapsed inwards.

At that final moment, the Jade Champion struck, driving the incorruptible jade, Yakamo’s greatest gift, into the heart of the Tower itself. A light shone down from the heavens, and it is said that all those who did not look away were blinded by its holy beauty – all save Daigo himself, who said a glorious prayer of thanks to the Heavens as they showed their approval of the actions of man. The incorruptible jade remains in the earth there, suffusing the ground with its holy energies, ensuring that the Tower will never regain its strength.

I will not lie, we paid a great price that day. A company’s worth of Crab bushi gave their lives that day holding the line, protecting the shugenja of the Jade Legions from the rampaging creatures that sought to escape their final fate. But I know for a fact that the men who died did so gladly, as their lives purchased victory for our forces. They died so that we could turn Jigoku itself away from our borders; they died so that we could keep the realm of evil from gaining a foothold in our realm.

It was through the Crab’s strength of purpose and Kuni Daigo’s wisdom that this incredible feat was accomplished. Every day since that battle, I have thanked the ancestors that a man like Daigo is working to protect the Empire.

- An account of The Battle of the Fallen Tower by Moshi Minami, as told to Soshi Tishi, Imperial Historian.

•

The Crane

Shinden Asahina was well known throughout the Empire for the serenity it inspired; the layout and decor of the shrines that made up the temple complex and the gardens that surrounded it had all been carefully calculated to foster harmony in the hearts of those who lived and worshiped there. Since being appointed as Asahina Beniha’s yojimbo Kakita Hideshi had been there several times, and never had it failed to lay its spell of peace upon his soul. Until tonight.

“Hideshi-san,” Beniha asked, “what are you doing?”

Hideshi dropped the small tongs he had been using to poke at the incense charcoal. “Apologies, Beniha-san. I did not mean to disturb you.”

“I suspect it is you who are disturbed.” The courtier laid down her brush and idly fanned the letter she had just finished. “What is wrong?”

Hideshi frowned slightly. There was a faint persistent itch in his bones that he could almost, but not quite, ignore, and it made him hunger for an enemy to turn his blade against. “I do not know,” he said finally. He could not bring himself to admit to bloodlust within a temple. “I am simply… restless.”

“Do you fear another assassin?” Beniha forced herself to not look around the room.

“I fear no assassin,” Hideshi said without hesitation. “Let a second one come – he will be no more successful than the first.” He walked over and seated himself in front of Beniha’s writing desk. “Perhaps it is the idea of this tournament that is bothering me. Who is behind these ‘Voices’? Where do they get their authority to announce such a thing?”

“From the Celestial Heavens,” Beniha said.

“Can you be so sure?”

“The Seppun shugenja at Toshi Ranbo have accepted the Voice of the Sun and the Voice of the Moon as genuine. And the astrologers here tell me that their readings of the heavens support both the arrival of the Voices and the tournament they have ordered.”

“I had not known that,” Hideshi said, “and I cannot argue against the testimony of the night sky. Who do you think Lady Doji will send to represent the Crane?”

“The Lady Yasuyo, of course. We could not shame Doji-kami by not having one of her descendants as a competitor.”

Hideshi nodded. “It must frustrate Domotai-sama that she cannot do it herself.”

“True,” Beniha said. “But a woman in her condition should not be participating in such a tournament. The Voices say there shall be more to it than simply fighting, but tests of combat are sure to be part of it. The future of the clan cannot be risked, not even for the Throne.”

“She should send Daidoji Kikaze,” Hideshi said thoughtfully. “He is the lord of a Crane family, and a very brave man.”

“Kikaze? He disobeyed a direct order from the Emperor!” Beniha stared at her yojimbo in disbelief.

Hideshi looked down at the table between them. “My mother was a Daidoji,” he said quietly, “and her father fought in the armies of the Crane at Oblivion’s Gate. He returned, and wed, and died fighting the Lion a few years later.” He raised his gaze to meet Beniha’s. “I do not wish you to think me dishonorable. But if instead Jigoku had taken his body and was using him to shame our ancestors, I do not think I could restrain myself.”

“Kikaze’s motive was just,” Beniha admitted. “But a truly honorable man would have found a better way. We cannot have an Emperor who resorts to impulsive, dishonorable acts in the name of justice.”

“If the Heavens selected him as Emperor, it would be a sign that he had risen above such things.”

Beniha’s fan closed with a loud click. “I am not,” she said firmly, “going before Doji Domotai and arguing that Kikaze should be sent, and nothing you can say shall persuade me otherwise.”

Hideshi looked thoughtful for a moment, then shrugged. “Very well. When I next visit my mother’s grave, I shall tell her I tried.”

“Filial piety is a great virtue,” Beniha said. She began packing up her writing kit. “I suppose I should retire for the evening. It is getting late, and we travel tomorrow.”

“It is not that late,” Hideshi said, smiling slightly. “I am sure we have time for a game of go.”

Beniha looked at him and smiled in return. “I think I would enjoy that,” she said.

•

Asahina Keitaro made his way through the halls of the temple, weariness showing in every step. He had been having severe headaches near continuously for weeks now, and he hated the idea of leaving the Anvil alone for any length of time, but none of that mattered at the moment.

His Champion had summoned him to advise her on the matter of the tournament, and so he was going to Kyuden Doji. The preparations for the trip had consumed long hours of his day, but now all was nearly ready. He had only one more small detail to take care of, and then he could rest. Slipping behind a richly decorated screen he opened the door behind it and started down a set of stairs.

Halfway down Keitaro noticed something wrong. The air kami had been growing more and more difficult to persuade – he suspected they disliked the Anvil of Despair’s presence – but now they were completely wild, darting about and creating odd breezes. He hurried down the remaining stairs, wondering what was disturbing them, and came to a halt two steps into the room. Standing next to the table was a strongly-built man in a rich kimono, and as Keitaro watched the white-haired stranger picked up an incense burner and examined it carefully.

“Who are you?” Keitaro demanded. “What are you doing here?”

“I was looking for something.”

“You should not be looking for it here. Didn’t the presence of the wards on the doorway tell you anything?”

“Ah, the wards,” the stranger said absently. He put down the incense burner, picked up a tsuba, and smiled. “A workmanlike effort; decent enough craftmanship, though I have seen better.”

“You have not told me who you are,” Keitaro said. “And as you are already in grave trouble for being here, I suggest you be more cooperative with a lord’s questions.”

The stranger laughed and looked directly at Keitaro. “It has been many long centuries since I was a vassal to a fool like you. And I am not the one in trouble here.”

Keitaro opened his mouth to speak and then stopped as the design on the man’s kimono – cranes in flight, tearing at each other with sharp beaks – and his brawny shoulders registered on him. “Yajinden,” Keitaro said.

“I have come for my anvil.”

“You will not have it! It has come here, to the Asahina, so that we can destroy it.”

“Destroy it? You don’t even understand how to use it.” Yajinden held up the tsuba, letting the lamp’s light play on the wisteria motif. “Though it seems to understand how to use you. At least some art has come from the arrangement.”

Rage gusted through Keitaro at the insult and his headache trebled in force. He blinked away the redness in his vision and took a step closer to the other man. “I am not interested in a monster’s opinions on art.”

“And I am not interested in a coward’s,” Yajinden said.

“Coward?” Keitaro laughed. “I fought the darkness for all the years that Sekawa was Jade Champion. You can not weaken me with that insult.”

“Coward,” Yajinden repeated. He dropped the tsuba and picked up a spray of iron lilies. “You did not have the courage to turn your back on my Anvil and the power it offered, but you refused to acknowledge the price it demanded. Had you the courage to admit what you were doing and commit yourself to it you could have created marvels – but all you have to show for it is lackluster trifles.” He tossed the lilies into the forge’s embers. “The Kitsuki woman probably could have figured it out for you, could have given you the chance to rise above your foolishness, but she had begun to notice my activities. A pity, that.”

“Orika,” Keitaro said. “You killed Orika.” The redness had returned to his vision.

“She was an obstacle to my art,” Yajinden said. “As are you.”

Keitaro raised his hands and prayed to the kami around him, hoping he could reach them through the agitation that Yajinden’s presence inspired. Jade fire rippled out of his hands and shot across the room to envelop the smith. Yajinden stood silent, unaffected by it. Keitaro shrieked in surprise and collapsed. When the pain subsided the Asahina stared at the blackened wreck of his hands. “What…?” he said.

“My anvil is Tainted,” Yajinden said. There was a slight note of asperity in his voice. “What did you think would happen when you used it?”

“No,” Keitaro said. “I will not – this is not –” He started to scramble to his feet.

Yajinden crossed the room with several quick strides and grabbed Keitaro, wrapping one arm about his shoulders and grabbing the Asahina’s head with the other. “I would use you to feed my anvil,” he said, “but what could I make from such a weak, deluded soul?” The cracking of bones was loud in the small room.

Dropping the body Yajinden walked over to the Anvil and stared down into its dark steel, gazing at the dim images of screaming faces that swam beneath its surface. Then he laid his hands down and ran them caressingly across it. “At last,” he murmured. “At last.”

•

The Lion

Shiro sano Ken Hayai

The sight of a hundred samurai performing kata in unison met Ikoma Otemi’s eyes as the castle gates opened before him. He walked briskly forward, trying to ignore the twinge in his side and what that twinge represented. He nodded as the guards bowed in his direction. The satchel of scrolls weighed heavily on his shoulder, a fact that bothered him far more than his mien indicated. In spite of all these things, and in spite of the fact that his time away had been productive, his return to civilization was heartening. He had first stopped at the Imperial City but soon made his way back to Lion lands. The sight of young warriors practicing was reassuring. The Empire might be in turmoil, Otemi thought, but the heart of the Lion will remain strong.

From a distance, Akodo Itoku looked discomforted and out of place standing in front of the door. The small building looked modest from the outside and it looked nearly out of place dwarfed by the nearby barracks. Otemi walked directly toward the young man, who bowed deeply at his approach.

“Welcome home, Otemi-sama,” Akodo Itoku said.

“Thank you, Itoku-san,” Otemi said.

“Allow me to carry that for you, my lord,” Itoku said.

“I have heard of your discovery, Itoku-san,” Otemi replied. He handed the satchel to the young man. “I am eager to see it with my own eyes. I would also appreciate an update on the progress you have made on deciphering the strange book.”

“We have accomplished admittedly little work on the translation,” Itoku replied, “but the assignment has already been more successful than our wildest expectations.” He gestured toward the door. Otemi stepped inside the room and immediately stopped. His eyes widened and a small smile crept onto his face as he surveyed the room. Itoku and the others had built a war room. Several large tables stood in the center of the room. The tables were entirely covered with open scrolls filled with diagrams and what looked like strategies. Several men pored over the scrolls, talking quietly to each other over the significance of one of the manuscripts.

“We cannot decipher much of the text as yet,” Itoku continued. “Still, even just the diagrams have sparked an intellectual conversation that has spread across the entire Lion army. The officers that lead our armies have heard of our efforts and each one visits this castle as often as they can to add to the discussions. We may not know the details behind these foreign tactics, but we will translate them soon. I am confident that this project will bear fruit for our Clan.”

“Good,” Otemi said. His eyes caught on a figure leaning over one of the tables, poring over the scrolls. He smiled and walked across the room toward his friend. Itoku followed a few steps behind Otemi.

“Kosaku-san,” Otemi said. “I did not expect to find you here.”

Ikoma Kosaku looked up at the sound and bowed deeply to the former Lion Champion. The Ikoma was one of Otemi’s oldest associates as they both ascended the hierarchy of the Ikoma army. He was a trustworthy and warm man, and Otemi knew that his mind had a knack for strategy.

“I was not sure if I could find the time to visit this place once more, my lord,” Kosaku said. “My chief shireikan Matsu Watako offered quite valiantly to assault the paperwork this week.”

Otemi chuckled. “You’ve already learned to delegate. That alone marks your first step on the path to being a fine rikugunshokan, Kosaku.”

Kosaku smiled in return and the man looked even uglier with the expression. “Army management was never my strong point. Fortunately, Watako seems suited for the task. His abilities have given me time to confer with others over these diagrams.”

“What do you think of them so far?” Otemi asked.

Kosaku sobered. “It is difficult to gauge the strength of these tactics without knowing the foreigner’s thoughts on these maneuvers. As you know, everything is in the details. However, I feel that these strategies have a feel of refinement, as if they have been worked on for dozens of years. The armies that use these tactics will be highly trained. I would consider them worthy adversaries, but the thought of anyone rivaling our noble heritage and strength is laughable.”

“Do not underestimate our enemies,” Otemi warned.

Kosaku started to reply then bowed deeply instead. Otemi turned around and came face to face with Akodo Shigetoshi, Lion Clan Champion. He bowed.

“Shigetoshi-sama,” Otemi said. “I was told you were out with the Akodo army on maneuvers. I apologize. I should have come to you immediately.”

Shigetoshi shook his head. “We returned last night. Do you have news from Toshi Ranbo?”

“I do,” Otemi replied. “But first I have a gift from Ikoma Akiyama, the Imperial Librarian. These may be of use.”

He nodded toward Itoku who stepped forward at the prompt. Itoku opened the satchel at Otemi’s prodding and pulled several scrolls out from the bag. Otemi took one and spread it out on the table. Shigetoshi leaned over and looked over the contents of the scroll. It was a scroll written half in Rokugani and the other in the same strange language of the foreign book. Shigetoshi looked at Otemi once more.

“What is this, Otemi-san?” Shigetoshi asked.

“An account of the Scorpion Clan’s exile to the Burning Sands,” Otemi said. “Akiyama tells me this scroll was created several years after they returned to the Emerald Empire as an addition to the Imperial Histories. The Scorpion were loath to give up possession of this scroll but they could not disobey an order of the Emperor himself. The writer, Abresax, mirrored the Scorpion account of their travels in his own language so that the Scorpion could decipher the Senpet language.”

Shigetoshi’s mouth moved. The gesture looked more like a predator baring his fangs than a smile. “The Scorpion’s efforts will aid the Lion. How delightfully ironic.”

“I found it appropriate,” Otemi agreed.

“Great work, Otemi-san. Follow me. We have matters to discuss,” Shigetoshi said.

•

The room cleared out immediately as it became clear the Lion Clan Champion wanted privacy. Once they were alone, Shigetoshi fixed Otemi with a stare.

“The efforts at Shima no Quehao are going well, my lord,” Otemi said without further prompting. “I suspect we will see great results very soon.”

“Good. Have you encountered any interference from the other Clans?” Shigetoshi asked.

“None as of yet,” Otemi replied. “Perhaps we were fortuitous. No Mantis ships have approached the island, but that may change in the near future.”

“We will have to be vigilant. The Mantis Clan would not appreciate the importance of our find. They would ransack the place, until they found something of—” Shigetoshi grimaced, “monetary value. The damage they could do would be significant. Still, you will no longer oversee that project. The Ikoma family is in need of guidance, now more than ever,” Shigetoshi said quietly.

Otemi’s face did not betray any emotions as he watched his Champion. “I was distressed to hear of Korin’s death. He was a good man and his leadership of the Ikoma was exemplary. I hope I returned in time for the funeral.”

Shigetoshi shook his head. “The funeral took place several weeks ago, but I intend to hold a much more elaborate ceremony for all our casualties within a week. Ikoma Korin and Kitsu Katsuko were heroes of our Clan. We will honor their deaths and destroy those who were responsible.”

“How many people were killed?” Otemi asked.

Shigetoshi looked down at the floor for a moment. “You know of Korin’s death. Kitsu Katsuko was found murdered in her room, five assassins dead at her feet. Twelve guards died protecting the daimyo, and ten more committed seppuku in shame. A few of our officers perished, most notably Akodo Hachigoro. Two more died hunting down the ronin group partially responsible for the attacks.”

Otemi’s mouth dried. “I did not realize the attack was so extensive.”

“Someone orchestrated the assault. It was well planned and beyond the capacity of those ronin. The attack will not go unanswered,” Shigetoshi said. His mouth tightened to a grim line. “My messengers told me you rejected the seat of the Ikoma daimyo in favor of Ikoma Hagio.”

Otemi raised an eyebrow at the frank question. “I did, Shigetoshi-sama.”

“Why?”

“My time as leader is over, my lord,” Otemi said. “I am just a wounded old man, unsuited for the stress of battle. The Ikoma need a young, vigorous man to put them back on their feet. Korin’s son can be that man. He is inexperienced, but I will advise him through difficult times. I believe he can become the person to shape the Ikoma to achieve greater heights.”

Shigetoshi studied Otemi for one long moment before he continued. “You are already that man, Otemi.”

“My uncle recognized that the Ikoma family needs someone with different qualifications and passed the responsibilities to another,” Otemi replied. “He was a wise man. I accept his decision.”

“Perhaps your future lies elsewhere, then,” Shigetoshi said. “You’ve heard of the Heaven’s proclamation.”

“Yes,” Otemi said. His eyes widened. “Do you mean to say…”

“I can think of no one else who would fit the qualifications,” Shigetoshi said. “Others will go, of course, but you will succeed over any of them.”

Otemi’s expression softened. “My lord, I have spoken with the finest healers in our clan. My injuries were too severe, the damage too extensive, for them to heal. They believe I shall never be as I was. I am no longer worthy to represent the Lion in battle.”

Shigetoshi fixed Otemi in place with the same expression Otemi had often used when rallying troops.

“You, Ikoma Otemi, are a Lion. I have seen you fight, I have seen you bleed, and I have seen you prevail, time and time again. I have seen you in your recovery, and while your body may not bear the strength it once did, our ancestors are still with you. Honor still guides your blade. There is no other person I would have stand for us when the Heavens decide which clan is worthy.”

Otemi bowed to his Champion. “Thank you, my lord.”

Shigetoshi smiled. “In the first tournament, the Lion finished above all the other clans. This time, I expect the same.”