By Shawn Carman
Edited by Fred Wan
Moto Hotei waved his hand to try and clear some of the smoke-like vapors that had begun to wisp in from every area. It was not his place, of course, but if he were to be asked by the brother monks of this particular shrine what he thought of it, he would volunteer, respectfully, that perhaps they burned too much incense. There was nowhere for the smoke to escape, and it had begun to clog the inner corridors and chambers. Strangely, there was no familiar pungent scent, which Hotei had become accustomed to from the shrines in his home province, and even other temples within the Imperial City.
Hotei looked back over his shoulder and was dismayed to discover that the corridor looked precisely like the one he was walking down. The strange fugue that he had been afflicted with when he entered had finally left him, and his senses were sharp once more, but he had wandered through the deceptively large temple without paying close attention to where he was, and he was somewhat lost. He glimpsed a form moving through the smoke somewhere ahead of him. “Excuse me, brother,” he started, but the form was gone as quickly as it appeared. “I think I might complain to the abbot,” he grumbled, inwardly disgusted with himself for the entire chain of events that had led him to this point.
“Excuse me.”
Hotei turned toward the voice and discovered a young Phoenix samurai-ko approaching. “I beg your pardon,” she said, “but what exactly are you doing here?”
Hotei raised an eyebrow but did not allow the inappropriate comment to rile him. “I came in for a moment to offer a prayer at the altar,” he said. “Why else would I be here?”
The woman frowned. “I am not aware of any Unicorn guests at Shiro Shiba, Moto-san. I am afraid I must ask you to accompany me to see the captain of the guard.”
Hotei stared at the woman blankly. “Are you feeling well, Shiba-san?” he finally asked. “We are in Toshi Ranbo, not Shiro Shiba.”
“No, I left the Imperial City not three days ago,” the woman insisted. “I am visiting my family in Shiro Shiba. I fear it is you who must be confused.”
The magistrate frowned, his confusion giving way to annoyance. He opened his mouth to retort, but the sound of other voices gave him pause. For a moment he hoped to help convince the young Phoenix that she was perhaps not well, but almost instantly he realized that the voices were arguing, with one becoming increasingly loud. “Perhaps we can ask them?” Hotei said finally, and the Phoenix nodded in return.
The two samurai found the source of the voices moments later, but it was enough time to convince Hotei something was terribly wrong. The corridors were gone, and there was nothing but endless plumes of the strange, odorless smoke. Fog, he corrected himself. This was more fog than anything else.
The sound of the disagreement was from a group of samurai who were apparently in the same sort of discussion that he had been having with the Phoenix only a moment before. There was a quartet of Crane standing together, and opposite them he saw a sinister looking man with a mask that had to be a Scorpion, a large Crab warrior, and, to his relief, a fellow Unicorn. “Excuse me,” Hotei called out loudly.
The others all turned to see who it was. “Wonderful,” the Crab sneered. “As if this was not confusing enough.”
Hotei slowly withdrew his magistrate’s seal from his obi and held it up. “I am Moto Hotei, a member of the Seppun dojo and an Imperial magistrate. If you please, I would like everyone to identify themselves, and…” he hesitated. “And where you believe you are,” he finally finished. He nodded to the Phoenix. “If you please, Shiba-san?”
“I am Shiba Miiko, recently of the Order of Chikai,” she said. “As I believe I mentioned, we are in the temple at Shiro Shiba.” She glanced around at the fog and frowned. “Or so I believed.”
“This is ridiculous!” the Crab exploded. “I went to sleep in a simple little inn called the Drunken Carp, and I wake up to this?”
“Your name, please,” Hotei insisted.
“I am Hida Ubogin!” the warrior roared. “And when I found out which of you is complicit in this imbecilic deception, you will regret it enormously!”
“Complicit?” one of the Crane warriors laughed. “Imbecilic? What large words! Do you need to sit down and rest, friend Hida?”
“That is not helping, Daidoji-san,” Hotei said quickly, cutting off what might have been a violent response. “And you are?”
“Daidoji Yaichiro,” the soldier answered with a curt bow. “My associate and I were on our way to report to the senior officer at Kyuden Doji, as per our orders.”
“Doji Hakuseki,” the woman at his right said, bowing deeply, “of the Doji magistrates. Please let me know how I can be of assistance, Moto-sama.”
“Shosuro Uyeda,” the Scorpion said quietly. “I am… or was… walking in the gardens of my family’s ancestral estate. Which clearly is not where I am presently.”
“I must agree,” the second Crane woman said. “I am Asahina Beniha, daimyo of the Asahina family, and this is my yojimbo, Kakita Hideshi. Only a few moments ago we were investigating a strange noise from within the gardens at Shinden Asahina.”
“Noise,” the other Unicorn said. “Like a whispering sound?”
“Hai,” Beniha answered with a nod.
She nodded. “I heard the same at my family’s home. I am Utaku Remi.”
Hotei’s eyes darted to a form lingering in the distance behind the others. “And you?”
The others turned, surprised to see the other among them. He wore a hooded traveling cloak of nondescript form. “I have nothing to say,” he barked gruffly.
Ubogin frowned. “Taru?” he said. “Taru, is that you?”
“Be still, please.”
The new voice was calm and serene, like the voice of a monk or a venerable sensei, and calmed the group at once. They all turned to discover another among them, one who had not been there only a moment previously. His appearance was so perfectly suited to the environment around them that he seemed almost to be part of the landscape around them. He bore no markings that were obvious, but his presence commanded a certain degree of authority. “Forgive our disturbance, my lord,” the Phoenix said. “Can you please explain what is happening?”
“I can,” the man answered, “but you must remain calm. Your anger, your anxiety, it is anomalous in this place. There are forces here whose attention you must not attract, for your own well-being.”
“Where are we?” Uyeda asked. “What is this place? It seems less like a garden with each passing moment.”
“You stand on the eternal plains,” the man answered. “You are within Meido, the Realm of Waiting.”
“The realm of the dead,” one of the Crane offered. “We are dead, then.”
“No,” the man countered. “You yet live. I called you here for different reasons altogether.”
“No,” Beniha said. “No, I do not think so. Even the most powerful Kitsu cannot simply pluck someone from their home and deposit them within the spirit realms. There are rituals that must be completed, lengthy and arduous ones. No one commands the manner of power you speak of.”
“No mortal,” the man agreed. “I am no mortal. I am the guardian of the spirit realms, and the passages between them are mine to control as I deem appropriate. I have never opened them in such a manner before, but my cause is just.”
“The guardian of the spirit realms,” Beniha said quietly. “You are the tenth brother.”
“I am,” he agreed. “I am Ryoshun, final son of Amaterasu and Onnogantu, the original Lady Sun and Lord Moon, brother to the Kami who created the Great Clans, and to the Fallen Kami, my poor brother Fu Leng.”
“Poor brother?” Ubogin demanded.
“This is scarcely the time!” Shiba Miiko insisted. “Why have you called us here, great one? What service can we simple vassals offer one such as you?”
Ryoshun lifted his hand at the praise. “Please, I am but a servant of the Celestial Order, as we all are. Sadly, few among the realm of mortals seem to remember such a thing, and thus you find yourselves in the present predicament.”
“Us?” Yaichiro said. “Our predicament is a result of our failure to know our place? What manner of judgment is this?”
“You misunderstand,” Ryoshun said. “The plight of the Empire is a result of such an oversight. After more than one thousand years, the Heavens intervened in order to create a new dynasty. What better indication could there be that mankind has lost its way?”
“That matter should be closed now, I would think,” Remi said. “The Divine Empress rules from the throne with the unwavering support of the clans.”
“For now. How many times could such a thing have been said in the past, and how many times has it proven false?”
“This is different,” Hideshi interjected, breaking his silence. “The Heavens intervened, as you yourself said. This is an unprecedented time.”
“Perhaps,” Ryoshun admitted. “There are moments such as these scattered throughout history, when things change forever. Perhaps you have been fortunate enough to experience one such moment in the span of your lifetimes.” His expression saddened. “Unfortunately, I fear you have not experienced the last.”
Silence fell across the group. “What do you mean, Ryoshun-sama?” Beniha asked quietly.
“I am not at liberty to discuss events that have not yet unfolded,” Ryoshun said. “You know this. All I can say is that your Empire is to be tested, tested as it has never been before. Dark days are ahead.”
“And behind us as well,” Ubogin sneered. “Dark days are all that we have known my entire lifetime, I think, and my father’s and grandfather’s as well.”
“There will soon come a day when mankind will pray for the trials of the past. When he will question the favor of the Heavens, even after all that has happened.”
“Question the Heavens” Remi scoffed. “That is madness. Who would do such a thing, in light of recent events?”
“Too many,” Ryoshun answered. “And when that day comes, the repercussions will be dire. The Heavens will not tolerate mankind straying from the path again. If mortals lose their way as they have in the past, the vengeance of the Heavens will be swift and without mercy.”
“Is that why you have called us here?” Hotei asked. “Surely there cannot be something that we few can do to forestall such a thing.”
“The shape of man’s destiny has been guided by a handful of souls on more than one occasion throughout your history, including quite recently.” Ryoshun smiled slightly, but it did little to alleviate the pervasive, morose nature of his demeanor. “It is for that reason that I have brought you here.”
“What can we do, great one?” Miiko asked.
“There is precious little anyone can do to avoid the coming storm,” Ryoshun said. “But what can be done, what must be done, is to prepare mankind for the trials ahead, and to remind him of the favor of the Heavens. In this regard, I have selected you few, you exemplars of mankind, to serve the favored of the Jade Sun and the Obsidian Moon.” Here he paused and held both hands out, palm up. In his right hand appeared the spectral image of a Lion warrior, her hair wild and free, her right hand encased in jade. In his left, a Crane samurai, her hair as black as the night itself, her right hand encased in black stone as the Lion’s was in green. “They are the crucible in which the souls of men shall be tested. The Jade Hand shall inspire them to greatness or hasten them on their path. The Obsidian Hand shall pit men against their weaknesses, making them stronger or destroying them. Both strengthen men, albeit in different manners.”
“How can we serve them?” Yaichiro asked. “We are merely men and women. We do not carry the Heavens’ favor as they do. Why would anyone listen to us? I rarely even listen to myself.”
“You will carry my favor,” Ryoshun said. “Alone among my brothers and sisters, I am without a legacy in the mortal realm. It is my right as a child of the Sun and Moon to bestow my blessing upon mortals who will enact my will in the mortal realm. It is a right I have never had need to claim, but now I see no other means.” He waved his hand, and the fog that billowed all throughout the area suddenly blew away and revealed a low table, containing a number of different items. “Please choose wisely.”
“What are they?” the hooded Crab asked.
“They are talismans,” Ryoshun answered. “I have crafted each of them from the essence of one spirit realm. Tengoku’s essence is here, as is that of Yomi, and even darkest Jigoku.”
“Jigoku?” Ubogin recoiled. “You expect us to bear a talisman of the Realm of Evil?”
“Only one of you,” the Kami said. “And it will not extend its tendrils into your soul; that would do little to accomplish the purpose for which these were created. These shall grant you a tiny fraction of the power available in each realm, no more than that. More importantly, however, it will give you that which you require in order to assist in the purpose of the Jade and Obsidian Hands. It will let you test men as you see fit.”
“As we see fit?”
“Yes. Some of you will doubtless serve the Jade Hand, but others will serve the Obsidian Hand. There will be balance. There must always be balance.”
“And who shall serve whom?” Hideshi asked.
“I leave that matter to you,” Ryoshun answered. “To rob you of your choice is to rob you of the power which I seek to bestow upon you.”
The assembled samurai looked at one another silently for a moment. Finally, it was Hotei who stepped forward first. “I bow to the will of the Kami, even if it is a Kami other than that which I serve,” he said.
The others followed suit.
Epilogue
Kensho-in enjoyed the solitude of the garden at night, and often indulged in a midnight walk. She had noticed that she seemed to require less sleep of late, something she could not immediately ascribe to anything other than her new condition, or as her patron insisted upon calling it, her new purpose. Regardless, it was clearly a benefit and she enjoyed it tremendously. The gardens at Kyuden Bayushi were particularly beautiful at night, especially the outer gardens, which existed outside the gates of the palace itself. Walking among them at night without guards appeared to be an annoyance for the Bayushi sentries who admitted her to and from the gates, but Kensho-in did not find that she cared for their feelings one way or the other.
She was staring up at the moon, wondering whether the tiny veins of black that she could make out across its surface were real or simply her imagination, when she heard a slight rustle in the bushes nearby. Kensho-in glanced over her shoulder irritably. “I have had a trying day,” she said in a low, almost confidential tone. “For that reason alone, I offer you one and only chance: leave now, and trouble me not. Your life might yet amount to something if you leave me be.”
A form emerged from the shadows. “Forgive my intrusion, my lady, but you misunderstand. I am not thief or assassin. I come to serve.”
Kensho-in raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think that I have need of your service, even if I were so inclined as to believe you?”
“I was told you would recognize this,” the man said, withdrawing a helm from a sack he carried on his back. He held it forth, and the moonlight caught it perfectly. “Was I misinformed?”
“No,” Kensho-in said slowly. “No, I know what it is. Why have you come?”
“To serve,” he repeated. “I will serve you in any way you require, whatever task you command. In exchange for one favor, I will be your vassal, body and soul.”
“One favor,” she mused. “How interesting. Do tell me.”
The man told her what it was he wanted, and she laughed lightly. “What makes you think I can even acquire such a thing?”
“You have your ways, I have no doubt of that.”
She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “What is it you wish to do with such a favor?”
“That business is my own, my lady. The choice is yours.”
She nodded slowly. “I believe we can help one another, then.”
Kaiu Taru bowed deeply. “I am greatly pleased to hear it.”
*
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