Toshi Ranbo, two months ago

The ring of the morning bell was clear and perfect, as always. To Doji Seishiro, it had always reminded him of a perfect blade, drawn from a saya with perfect form. He had heard such a sound from his sensei Noritoshi many times, but had never successfully managed the form himself despite hours of kata practice. It was a goal he would work for throughout his life, he imagined.

The Miya host took the dais near the chamber’s northern edge and bowed before the assemblage. “Greetings and good fortunes to you, members of the Imperial Court. I regret to inform you that the Emperor will be unable to attend the proceedings today, as His Majesty is required elsewhere. Nevertheless, there are several matters of great importance he wishes to be discussed, that he might deal with them immediately upon his return.”

There was a murmur through the crowd at that, but Seishiro was the only one close enough to hear a grunt of discontent from someone standing nearby. He turned and raised an eyebrow curiously at his fellow Crane.

Asahina Handen smiled apologetically. “Forgive me, Seishiro,” he said in a low voice, “I was just reminded of when I first began studying at the temple, and the teachers gave us all lengthy passages from the Tao to read and memorize each night. It was a practice more intended to keep young minds from wandering and finding trouble, rather than to truly educate and enlighten.”

Seishiro frowned. “I’m not certain comparing the Emperor’s wishes to schoolwork is a good idea, Handen. It seems almost… blasphemous.”

“Not at all. The Emperor’s superiority to his subjects is certainly comparable to that a master sensei holds over his students, thus there is no disrespect intended,” Handen insisted. “If anything, I must say that, overall, we are somewhat unworthy students.” He gestured around at the dozens of people milling throughout the vast chamber. “You must admit the Imperial Court has seen more glorious memberships.”

Seishiro’s frown deepened. “I fail to see how this is an improvement of your position. These men and women are heroes of the Empire. To speak of them so is shameful, Handen.”

The shugenja drew a breath, perhaps to begin an explanation, then stopped and sighed. He glanced around the chamber, his eyes taking in those around them. “As you wish, Seishiro. Please forgive me a moment of weakness. One such moment will doubtless prove my undoing one day. I suppose I should be grateful you are here to guide me.”

“Just keep such opinions between us and we will be fine,” Seishiro said sternly. The Miya was continuing to speak, though few seemed to be truly paying attention. He droned on about the need for peace at the City of the Rich Frog, and mentioned that recent small political conflicts between the Mantis and the Phoenix were a potential problem that needed to be extinguished before they blazed out of control… typical rhetoric for the Miya.

That thought concerned Seishiro. He wondered if perhaps he had reacted poorly to Handen because the shugenja’s words mirrored his own thoughts. How many times had he wondered what the purpose of his appointment was in the past five years? How often had he, a warrior, truly been able to represent his clan’s interests? There had been occasions when his blade had served as an ample deterrent, certainly, but that was not the true purpose of the Imperial Court. This place was the province of men like Bayushi Kaukatsu, Ikoma Sume, and Ide Michisuna. Seishiro had learned much in five years, but only enough to know that he would never truly master the ways of politics.

And yet, he had duties to fulfill nonetheless. He would never voice his reservations, no matter how grave. And he would never shirk his duties, no matter how unpleasant. Today, for instance, the first task set before him by his lord and lady was to speak with a Mantis representative on behalf of the Phoenix. Shiba Yoma was having little success with Yoritomo Yoyonagi, apparently, and the thought was that perhaps a more military mind might find some common ground with another member of the Yoritomo’s delegation.

It was mid-morning by the time Seishiro managed to free himself from the inevitable entanglements and distractions and locate his intended contact. Strangely enough, the man had left the court and was sitting in a quiet corner of a garden in the palace’s courtyard. It was somewhat out of character, at least from what he had heard. The Crane approached the Mantis carefully and stood, waiting to be recognized.

The Yoritomo drew lazily on a strange pipe and blew a ring of smoke. He was a large, swarthy man, dressed in an ill-fitting silk kimono. He glanced absently over his shoulder at Seishiro. “Is there something I can help you with, Crane?”

Seishiro did not care for the Mantis’s tone, nor his refusal to recognize Seishiro despite his prominence in the court, but did not rise to the baiting. “Perhaps, and perhaps not, Katoa-san,” he said calmly. “I thought I might join you for a moment if you had no objection.”

Katoa shrugged. “Why would I mind?”

Seishiro nodded and took a seat across from the grizzled sailor. He could see the thick calluses on Katoa’s hands, earned from spending a lifetime at sea before coming to court. Even after years here, the Mantis returned to the seas just often enough so that the marks did not fade. They were, perhaps, something like battle scars to his clan. “How fare the Mantis this season?”

“I have no idea,” Katoa said flatly. “I am trapped here, and I find that I trust little of what comes through correspondence from my comrades back on the islands. The truth is too important to risk interception by one’s enemies. Presumably all is well or Kumiko would send for me personally.”

“An unfortunate problem,” the Crane answered. “I consider myself quite lucky to be so close to home. You have my sympathies for being so far away from yours.”

“Your sympathies are extremely comforting,” Katoa said flatly. His tone was not sarcastic, but his intent clearly was. “What is it you wish of me, Crane?”

“You may call me Seishiro,” he answered, trying to keep his tone neutral.

“Ah, of course. Thank you,” Katoa said with an obviously forced smile. “What is it you wish of me, Crane?”

Seishiro drew a deep breath to calm himself. “My lady Akiko-sama is great friends with her former clan, the Phoenix. She and the venerable Shiba Yoma are meeting with your associate Yoyonagi-san to discuss some means of restoring peace between your peoples. I thought perhaps you and I could find some common ground on the matter.”

Katoa raised an eyebrow. “Why would you think that?” Smirking at Seishiro’s discomfort, he continued. “The Phoenix have been very cool in their relations with the Mantis ever since the unpleasantness that followed the Rain of Blood. They unjustly blame us for the actions of a few corrupted madmen, and have failed to follow through on several pre-existing trade negotiations. Kumiko has merely taken away favors that were always rightfully ours to grant.”

“The Phoenix have lost a major trade center, which they are trying to rebuild,” Seishiro countered. “Surely Kumiko-sama must understand their shortage of materials in such a situation.”

“There was an agreement,” Katoa said. “They have failed to fulfill their end of the bargain, although we have not. Theirs is a petty larceny that we are simply correcting. If they will blame the Mantis for their inability to protect their own cities, then they shall not prosper from the fruits of Mantis labor.”

“Seven ships destroyed by Kitao and her corrupted pirates so far, and the Phoenix are unable to muster the military forces needed to stop them,” Seishiro said through gritted teeth. “Dozens of lives lost, and the Mantis do nothing to help. The Phoenix have already made it clear they will gladly fulfill their obligations once the reconstruction is complete.”

“Nothing?” Katoa said after a long puff on his strange pipe. “The Phoenix believe we do nothing? We do all we can. We simply do not need the Phoenix’s help. We know the enemy better than they do.”

“I imagine you do,” Seishiro replied bitterly. “You served her once, did you not? When she usurped the rule of your clan you were one of her greatest supporters. When Kumiko ousted her you were assigned here, where you would be out of the way. And so you stir up troubles where none existed. How much of this is because of your interference?”

“I would find your question highly insulting if I cared one whit what you think about me,” Katoa said, blowing another ring of smoke toward Seishiro. “I serve the Daughter of Storms, to the best of my ability. And for the moment, I consider her course of action against the Phoenix to be in the best interest of my clan. We need do nothing to aid them. If they will blame us for their difficulties, then they are inviting trouble they are not prepared to deal with.”

“I see.” Seishiro rose from his seat. “Perhaps it was a mistake to seek you out. I think you and I have far less in common than even I suspected.”

“I should hope so,” he heard Katoa mutter as he left the Mantis sitting in the garden.

Hours had passed, and little had taken place to improve the Seishiro’s dark mood. His disastrous meeting with Katoa had done little to fulfill his duty as given him by Lady Akiko. The Phoenix were Crane’s allies, and were on relatively good terms with the Mantis. If he could not resolve this problem, what recourse did that leave?

He turned his mind to other matters. He had attempted to gain an audience with Bayushi Kaukatsu to discuss changes the Crane wished to be made in the placement of Seppun guardsmen throughout the city provinces under their control. Again, he had been foiled, this time by a lengthy verbal sparring match between Kaukatsu and Kitsu Juri. On some level, he should have enjoyed watching his clan’s two traditional enemies picking one another apart in court, even if the Lion was receiving the worst of it. He did not. Taking any pleasure in the disharmony of the court seemed wasteful to him.

The aborted meeting with Kaukatsu had been followed by a mercifully brief encounter with Hitomi Vedau and Bayushi Kwanchai. The two men were vehemently debating the merits of two ancient forms of martial arts, one utilizing the no-dachi and the other an unarmed discipline, neither of which Seishiro had ever heard of. This had not prevented the two from seeking his arbitration on the matter, and he only managed to extricate himself from the discussion after nearly an hour’s time, when the Nezumi “ambassador” Zin’tch slyly took a bite from Vedau’s fish roll. The man’s booming laughter was still ringing in Seishiro’s ears. He winced at the memory, glancing up sharply at the sight of a man dressed in Dragon green and gold. It was not the tattooed man, but Mirumoto Tsuge.

Tsuge was a powerful warrior, though nothing close to Vedau in sheer size. Together, he and the large monk made a formidable presence in the court chambers. Seishiro had only spoken to Tsuge on a few occasions, and rarely about anything of significant importance. The Dragon simply had little to offer the Dragon politically – they minded their own business for the most part and Seishiro preferred things that way. Now, however, Tsuge’s look of urgency warned Seishiro that matters had changed. “Good fortune, Tsuge-san,” Seishiro said with a slight bow.

“Good fortunes, Seishiro-san,” the Dragon returned. “I wondered if I might have a moment of your time.”

“My schedule is quite difficult today,” Seishiro answered, “but if your concerns are brief then walk with me and we shall speak of them.”

The two men walked together for a few moments without speaking, their green and blue kimonos contrasting sharply, as did the position of their blades in their obi. “You are aware of the duty charged to my lords Rosanjin and Satsu after the Rain,” Tsuge said.

“I am,” Seishiro answered. “The Emperor bade you hunt destroy the Bloodspeakers, just as he has commanded his brother Sezaru to find them.”

“Indeed,” Tsuge agreed. “Sezaru and his forces hunt the hidden threats and most powerful among the cult, whereas we have hunted those foolish enough to assemble in any significant number. Rosanjin-sama’s armies have already put nearly three dozens cells to the torch for the Righteous Emperor.” There was no arrogance in the Dragon’s voice, merely a statement of facts.

“Impressive,” the Crane answered sincerely. He found it comforting, for once, to hear of someone actually accomplishing something constructive on the Empire’s behalf. “Your lord serves the Emperor well.”

“But there is a problem,” Tsuge confessed. “With Sezaru’s connections among our clan, he has drafted many of our finest Kitsuki magistrates into his forces to assist the Asako inquisitors and Kuni witch hunters. We have suffered numerous setbacks as a result.”

“Lord Sezaru is a Phoenix,” Seishiro countered. “You could politely decline, of course. He has not true authority over your clan.”

“He trained with the Dragon as well as the Phoenix,” Tsuge explained, “and he remains the Emperor’s brother despite his allegiance. Declining his request would be unacceptable. We cannot interfere with his objectives, no matter how much his actions interfere with our own duty.”

“I understand. What is it you would have me do?”

Tsuge nodded slowly. “Lord Rosanjin wishes to enlist the services of your family’s renowned magistrates to compensate for the reduction in numbers we have experienced.” He paused for a moment. “The Shinjo family would also be an option, of course, but their Khan seems somewhat… unwilling to aid us, considering our involvement in Kaeru Toshi.”

Seishiro considered it for a moment, then took a look around for a moment to see if anyone was listening. “You have doubtless heard the rumors of Scorpion military activity,” he said in a low voice. “The Crane have been preparing in the event that the Bayushi move against us, using the war at Kaeru Toshi as a screen to distract us from their intentions. With the Lion, Unicorn, and Dragon so occupied now would be an excellent time for them to weaken our own position in the court.”

“I have heard the rumors, yes,” Tsuge replied. “But the Scorpion are our allies. To take advantage of a conflict such as Kaeru Toshi to begin a new war entirely would be a tremendous dishonor. I do not think they would be so flagrant in their actions.”

“The Scorpion’s actions are rarely predictable. For all their virtues, you cannot deny that they believe victory is the ultimate redemption for dishonor.”

“True,” Tsuge agreed, “but my point remains. In fact, it might be in the Crane’s best interests to aid the Dragon, for in doing so they complicate any plans the Scorpion might have. Should they attack you under such circumstances, Lord Satsu would doubtless consider it a betrayal of our long-standing alliance, an alliance they value greatly.”

Seishiro rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “There may be merit in your words, Tsuge-san. I will present your case to lady Akiko when I next have the opportunity. From there, it will be a decision she must make. However, given the aid you have selflessly provided her allies in the Phoenix, I think she will find your proposal agreeable.”

“Thank you, Seishiro-san,” Tsuge said with a slight bow. “It is always a pleasure to deal with you. Perhaps you would like to join me in the dojo for a sparring match?”

Seishiro forced a smile and raised his hands. “Not today, I’m afraid. I have several meetings I must attend throughout the afternoon and into the evening. Another time.”

“As you like,” Tsuge answered. “Where are you off to now?”

“To see Moto Chen,” he replied. “Nagori wishes to get a full accounting of the war at Kaeru Toshi from the Unicorn’s perspective, and Chen seems the most likely to provide an unbiased viewpoint.”

“Doesn’t Chen live in the Shinomen Mori when not in Toshi Ranbo?” Tsuge inquired. “I fail to see how he would keep abreast of the situation from there.”

“He is the former commander of the Junghar,” Seishiro replied. “I feel somewhat confident he will be following his former command rather closely.”

It was late in the evening when Seishiro finally returned to the garden for a moment of peace. For the hour, the garden was surprisingly empty. The weary Crane bushi sat down heavily near a go board and closed his eyes for a moment. Perhaps he had been wrong about his station at court. For years he had remained silent, saying nothing of his reservations or concerns. Perhaps Handen was right, the court was not what it once was – and he was part of the problem. Perhaps his was a duty better left to someone more qualified. Perhaps it was time to go home. He could prepare the petition in the morning.

“Seishiro-san, you do not look well.”

Seishiro opened his eyes. A familiar form stood before him, regarding him intently. The gold and brown clad samurai gestured to the go board with a questioning look and raised his eyebrows. Seishiro nodded to the Lion. “Thank you for your concern, Setai-san,” he replied. “I was not aware my dismay was obvious.”

“Only to those who know you,” Setai said, taking up a go stone and moving it. “I have heard that Nagori and Atasuke’s games have attracted considerable attention when they play here in the city. Why do you suppose no one pays attention to ours?”

“We both lack Nagori’s dynamic personality, I suppose,” Seishiro answered. “That, and I believe there are many in the city who are afraid of you.”

“Hmm,” Setai said curiously. “Interesting, if true. I wonder why? My career since my appointment here has not been notable.”

“I think it is your former affiliation that causes their apprehension,” Seishiro said, then winced inwardly. Setai’s past was not something they often discussed. Setai had been a Deathseeker, a bushi forced to seek his own end in battle to wash away the shame of his past. He was one of only a handful of Deathseekers ever absolved of his shame while still living.

 “Possibly,” was Setai’s only reply. He did not seem to dwell up on it. “What troubles you, my friend?”

Seishiro hesitated for a moment. It would be unseemly to discuss his concerns with another, and yet he knew that if there was a single soul he could trust not to violate his confidence, it was Setai. The Lion was perhaps the most honorable man he had ever met, an unusual statement to make for a loyal Crane. Their clans had always been rivals, sometimes enemies, but at least they were an honorable enemy. “I am considering leaving the court,” he finally said.

Setai nodded. “I have considered the same thing many times,” he offered. “May I ask what brought about this sudden change of heart? You have been here many years now, ever since the Miya reconvened the court. I cannot imagine this assembly without you.”

Seishiro considered his words for several moments, making several bold moves on the go board in the process. “I have seen no benefit to the court,” he finally confessed. “Nothing takes place here but petty bickering that encompasses entire clans and threatens the lives of thousands. So-called masterminds launch grandiose schemes that amount to little more than belittling their enemies and marshalling personal power for themselves at the cost of others. There is nothing here that I cannot find among a yard full of immature children.” He sat back, surprised at the vehemence of his own words.

The Lion did not seem taken aback by Seishiro’s outburst. Instead, he was focused intently upon the go board, carefully plotting his next move. “You lack a frame of reference,” he finally said.

Seishiro frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means that you have spent very little time outside your Crane palaces and gardens,” Setai returned. Seeing the Crane frown, he raised his hands in a peaceful gesture. “I do not mean to offend, simply that you have seen little of how the world truly works.”

“If you do not mean to offend, you are doing a poor job,” Seishiro muttered.

“Let me ask you this, then,” Setai answered. “When did you last collect taxes? When were you stationed in anything smaller than a city? When did you last truly move among the common people for more than a few moments?”

Seishiro considered this. “I don’t recall.”

Setai nodded. “You don’t recall because you have never experienced it. I have. In my years as a Deathseeker, I saw… much that I wish I could forget. However, I can say without exaggeration that in my quest for death I lived a life that was full.”

Seishiro waved the comments away. “This has nothing to do with court.”

“It has everything to do with court,” Setai insisted. “Are you aware of what your associate Handen spent the day doing?”

“Bickering with his rival among the Hiruma over numbers,” Seishiro answered. “They argued for hours over how much rice for steel they were going to trade. It was extremely distasteful.”

“Have you ever seen a famine?” Setai asked.

“No,” Seishiro answered.

“That rice,” Setai said firmly, “will feed soldiers upon the Kaiu wall, and the laborers who make their weapons. That rice will save more lives than you know – perhaps even your own. Have you ever seen a farmer bury his children? I have, and I would rather not see it again. The steel will arm magistrates, budoka, and ashigaru. It will protect the Empire from banditry, Bloodspeakers, the Shadowlands… any number of threats. Handen and his friend saved lives today with their bickering, even if they do not realize it.”

There was a moment of silence. “I had not considered that,” Seishiro answered.

“Because you only saw the distasteful side,” the Lion replied. “And perhaps you are right, perhaps it is distasteful for a samurai to consider such matters. Perhaps it is distasteful to bicker like petty merchants over numbers. But sometimes the ends must justify the means. Look at us, for instance.” He held out his hands, gesturing around them.

Seishiro glanced up at Setai with a confused expression. “What do you mean?” he repeated.

Setai sighed and offered a weak smile. “You and I are warriors. We know what will happen at the City of the Rich Frog. Many will die, and in the end perhaps nothing will change besides a new ruler over the same city. One day, our clans will go to war with one another again and we will be enemies once more. We both know this. The day has not yet come, but it will, and likely soon. Why do you think it hasn’t already?”

“I have wondered that myself,” Seishiro confessed. “It seems odd somehow.”

“You once commanded a Crane outpost at Inari Mura, correct?” Setai asked. “And did you and your men long for battle against my clan?”

“We did,” he answered without hesitation. “It was our sincerest wish. The Lion are worthy opponents, even defeat at your hands is worthy of legend.”

Setai smiled. “Legends, yes,” he said. “Yet how many of your men would be dead if that had come to pass?” Setai asked quietly. “How many lives thrown away because of simple pride and arrogance, on both our parts? Would the orphans and widows care about your legends?”

“It is our duty to die,” Seishiro answered.

“It is our duty to die for the Empire,” Setai returned. “Not for pride. The vast majority of conflicts between our two clans have been unnecessary. I would fight you to the death today if ordered to do so, my friend, but I would rather meet you tomorrow for another game of go, and fight beside you to insure that the Empire survives to be a fit place for our descendants. Even if that battle must be here… a battlefield of politics and alliances. This court may have its faults, but for five years Rokugan has known peace. It is not because of fierce warriors, but because of men like Nagori and Atasuke. Because of men like us. Your cousins could very well be alive today because you and I have played dozens of games of go in this very garden.” He leaned in closer. “War is the destiny of a samurai, this is true. Yet that destiny must serve a purpose, or it means nothing.”

“You shame me with your wisdom, Setai-san,” Seishiro said soberly. “Perhaps it was cowardice that drove me to consider leaving.”

“So,” Setai said, leaning back and returning his attention to the go board. “Tell me. What did you do today?”

“I had a very unsuccessful meeting with the Mantis,” Seishiro answered. “A failed attempt to forestall the conflicts they have had with the Phoenix in the past few months.”

“I see. And will you try again tomorrow?”

Seishiro moved a single white stone across the board. “I think perhaps I will.”