Near the end of
the twelfth century, just a day before the month of the Hare, the Obsidian Moon
started, for yet another night, its departure for Tengoku as his Eternal
Brother was calmly taking his place in heavens.
As the Jade Sun
started rising slowly but gloriously in the late night sky, its first rays
bathe in light the outskirts of a lonely, almost forgotten shrine, near the
Haisho Province.
It was located
at the side of a big hill, which was stretching onwards, giving the idea that a
mountain would follow. But if one would ever were to follow the passage that
lied around it, the only thing that he would face, would be an endless sea of
sand touching the horizon. The shrine itself was very humble and, at first sight,
seemed almost completely abandoned and neglected.
Its Torii, which
was at the foot of the hill, was partially broken not from Gaijin bandits, but
from the passage of time in which it was being left at the mercy and the fury
of the elements. The ropes of straw on top of it, which were marking that one
was entering a holy area, were worn off from the constant heat, and the
frequent sandstorms had almost wipe completely all the features off of the
Komainu – the stone-dog protectors of the shrines. Where once there stood
vigilant guards, now only a pair of stone lumps was left in their place,
reminding to everyone that even the Fortunes will forget anyone who would be
dishonorable enough, to be sent down that hellish road.
Because even the
Seven Fortunes, in all their glory and wisdom, would give only just a small,
quick glance, to those on the road to Exile…
Wild trees – the
last of them prior to the hungry desert that awaited ahead – and parched weeds
were emerging beneath and around the stone steps of the shrine as you entered
it, with the steps themselves being broken and covered by sand and leaves. Some
of them were greatly dislocated from the roots that were running under them
making the ascent to the shrine, for those who wanted to pray in Rokugani soil
for the last time, to be even more difficult. It almost seemed as the Kami
themselves, feeling the extent of shame that followed those who had crossed
that path, slowly coined the terrain like that so that whoever would found
himself in that place again, would also have a physical as much as an emotional
burden to carry.
As the light of
the day started becoming clearer, giving a deep blue tone to the dark veil of
the night sky, it revealed that the path onwards was a rough, long, uphill road
– mostly because of the dense vegetation that was making it hard to get through
or see far. At the end of it stood a, poorly fenced and obviously uncared for,
yard containing a small purification trough and the main and offering halls.
To the nearby
village of Egami Mura, among the noble samurai and Battle Maidens of the
Unicorn Clan, it was commonly known that the shrine was empty and deserted long
ago, but for the regulars of the local, small sake houses, the wives of the simple
peasants and farmers who were gossiping here and there or from the whispered
rumors, one could overhear at the alleys, far away from the Red Eagle Stables,
another tale was known for truth.
It was a story
passed from mouth to ear, backyard to backyard and table to table. About a
single monk, who was the sole one living to and looking after the shrine all
these years. The monk – they were saying – was around his seventies, being in
the shrine for over forty years, almost blind now, but bearing proudly on his
robes the symbol of the Brotherhood of Shinsei. It was said that it even wasn’t
the Brotherhood that had him stationed there, but that he alone had volunteered
to go and live to this most secluded and forgotten of places in the whole
Empire, out of kindness to those who were about to leave forever and of such
devotion to the Fortunes, that he couldn’t let even that sorrowful corner of
the world being without their blessings.
Since the
Brotherhood was being mentioned in the tale, the Unicorn regents were
considering it rude and blasphemous, thus had informally forbid the villagers
from telling it out in the open, as an act of regulating strange rumors that
could be spawned from it, believing it to be nothing more than the low-life’s
way to escape the harsh, everyday life, creating a minor local Fortune from
myth.
Since Egami Mura
was mostly a breeding ground for Shinjo steeds, the chance of that happening
was being extremely low, but the sons and daughters of Shinjo would not
tolerate any dishonor that could befall in their heads, because of some drunken
nobody tarnishing the name of the Brotherhood in the wrong ears.
Especially in
that god-forsaken place, that was just a breath away from the Mountains of
Exile…
But the
villagers didn’t think like that. They truly believed in the existence of that
man, so much so that they had exalted him in the position of the village’s
protector. It had become such a deep part of their lives, that if you left a
small ball of rice outside your door before you went to sleep, it was
considered as a protection from the evil spirits. And if someone’s bowl had
been taken or the rice had been eaten, they said it was a sign of luck for the
rest of the day.
They didn’t even
consider him to be a myth. Everyone seemed to have their own story about a
kind, old monk, going through the village, helping people with their needs,
buying a few supplies, or even sitting with them to eat or drink something,
sharing his wisdom with everyone.
Never anyone saw
him but the villagers though. Not even a single visitor or Unicorn member had
ever seen or heard of him while traveling through the area. If any outsider
would try to find any information about this mysterious man, anything from his
whereabouts down to his looks, would be vague or controversial. Everyone seem
to remember him with different features, different traits, all but his name. The
name of the one who was searching for Enlightenment at the darkest corner of
the world.
With the
Festival of New Year’s Day being just around the corner, throughout the whole
Emerald Empire the preparations for the festivities were in top priority. It
was a great celebration, not only for the beginning of the New Year, but for
the fall of the Kami and the dawn of the Great Clans and the empire as well! So
naturally everyone was in a frenzy of work. From the highest officials and
Daimyos who wanted the names of their clan – as well as their own – to shine at
the feasts, down to the lowest of servants, doing all the manual jobs, trying
their best to make everything perfect for the one holiday that everyone
celebrated as equal!
Even a village
as unimportant as Egami Mura could not be forgotten at days like these, so even
there the day passed quickly, filled with the sounds from the local temple’s
bells, the voices of various merchants who were selling large talismans which
were considered to bring great fortune, or from the farmers doing every kind of
job, as the first day of spring was also approaching fast.
As the sun was
finally setting, even the most secluded of the shrines could not be left out on
a day like this, and so a small, dull light lit, giving shadows – and a bit of
life – to the ears that were sprouting everywhere in the yarn with the, empty
for years now, purification trout. Inside the Main hall a single, quiet, old
monk was bowing deeply – his lips only slightly moving – in front a statue of
Kamashi-okara, the Fortune of Sorrow, who was considered to be the protector of
the shrine, weeping for the souls of those who would never come back. The monk
was silently saying his prayers to the Kami and the Fortunes, between a pair of
small, incense burners which, as they burned, were purifying the place, giving
it a soft scent of sandalwood. The dim light of the few candles that were
around him was making the scene almost ecstatic.
Suddenly a, quickly
faded, crackling noise shook him out of his concentration. Even though it was
just slightly above the human capacity to be heard, it felt as if it had
violently pushed him out of his private world. His whole body moved without him
even thinking. Before he could realize it, he was standing, searching, more
with his intuition than his senses, for the place that the sound could have been
emanated from. It didn’t took him over a few seconds to locate that it was
coming from outside, behind the hallway of the Main Hall.
For a man of his
age – and especially a monk – he was strangely quick both with his body as well
as with his mind. He moved at a relatively fast pace, but with a lot of caution
and stealth in his footsteps, outside of the Main Hall, going carefully from
its side to the back. Behind it was just a small cabin, where he lived, being
separated from the main Sanctuary with just a stone-made pathway. Very
carefully, he tilted slightly his head over the corner, in order to get a sneak
peek, of what he was up with.
No one could
tell what was going through the old monk’s head at that moment, but the sudden
surprise in his, almost white, eyes mixed with the obvious relaxation of his
guard, showed that whatever it may have been, it had not prepared him for what
he saw.
A beautiful,
young woman was standing on the other end of the path, watching over the corner
for anyone who could come and find her, obviously oblivious that the monk was
standing right behind her. He fixed his posture and walked calmly towards her,
taping her kindly in the back. She screamed as she turned frightened, ready to
attack whoever might be in front of her, but the instant she saw him, she fell
on her knees, trembling, bowing as deeply as she could.
“Stand up
child.” He said with a soothing voice “Don’t be afraid. I can’t hurt you.”
She stood up
slowly, without looking him in the eyes, or more like trying to avoid his
glance. Her kimono was wet and dirty beyond repair and a bit torn in some
places. Her long black hair may have been neatly tied up, but random hair
escaping from here and there, were showing clear signs of a recent struggle.
She was looking so fragile…
“Come” he said with clear worry in his tone
“let’s get you somewhere warm”
Inside the
warmth of his small cabin, the two strangers found themselves looking deeply
into the small fire that was burning in the center. After a moment that seemed
like eons long, a scared voice broke the silence.
“Are you Yuushoku?”
the little girl asked, still not looking directly at him.
“I see…” the
monk replied. After a few more seconds passed he took a deep breath and said
“This was rather blatantly asked, but I suppose I couldn’t ask for much
courtesy in such a situation… yes I am.”
The girl gasped.
“So the tales WERE true! You truly exist!”
“Why wouldn’t
I?” he replied “If I didn’t, who would take care of that shrine and the very
unfortunate people who cross it?” he said kindly “But what is your story
child?”
“My father fell
in love with my mother at first sight, but when he found out that she was
pregnant he was enraged. He couldn’t let such a thing dishonor his, or his
family’s name. So born fatherless, I had nothing. No legacy, no home, no
family. I am an outcast.” She said with sorrow “Nobody must find that I am
here.”
“But why are you
here? Why all alone?” her tone showing that she started feeling a bit more
trusting with him.
“That’s a very
long and sad story for such a little young lady like you, my dear. But I think
we’re sharing something, and as my name indicates it, I feel so much pain for
those that are left alone in this world, that I wanted them to have someone who
could say them their last friendly prayers.”
That’s when she
noticed that the flames were reflecting on something that was concealed under
his robes, near his waist.
“Is that a blade
that you’re carrying?” she asked frightened once again “Why? And why a monk even
knows how to yield one?”
“Keep your voice
down child. Hold your posture! Haven’t anybody taught you how to behave
properly? Remember to who you’re in front of and his age!” he said with
frustration clear in his voice.
The girl bowed
deeply again. “I’m deeply sorry.” She said ashamed.
Yuushoku looked
at the girl for a few moments and then a kind laugh broke slowly the silence.
“My deepest apologies child.” He said “I shouldn’t be mad at you, you clearly went
through a lot tonight. I got this blade from my father when I passed my
gempukku. It may not seem so but I was born and raised to be as good a man as a
warrior. And I still have it in me. But you haven’t even introduced yourself to
me properly. What brought you into that state?”
She turned and
looked out of the window. “My name is Sakura Kokuten…” she said with a flat
tone.
“From the Sakura
vassal family of the Kitsuki?” Yuushoku asked in surprise.
“Yes, but not
officially. I was never recognized by my father because I was his bastard
daughter with a geisha, who he met when he visited Egami Mura. He told her that
I was a black spot in his honor, so that’s how I got my name.” She continued.
“My father tried to hide my existence from the
world so he sent me to be raised as a Geisha, serving travelers and minor
officials at the local sake houses. Hiding forever the only thing that could
dishonor him. And the best way to hide something is right in front of everyone’s
eyes.” She said as she turned and looked at him, straight in the eyes.
These last two
sentences for some reason made the old monk very nervous. It may have been
because of the very clear and slow pronunciation of them, or because of the
sudden change of tone in the girl’s voice. But she sure wasn’t speaking like
the way she was before.
“Where are you
getting at child?” he asked curiously.
“We are all
actors in our own way in this play of life, don’t you think? Some take up
different roles and costumes, others play with smoke and mirrors.” She said to
him, with a clear, almost playful, tone now.
“Your story… was
it true?” he asked clearly worried by now.
“Why did the
story of a bastard child, whose father was ashamed of it, and tried to hide it behind
a new name would make you feel uneasy Yuushoku-sama?” she asked while clearly faking
an innocent tone as she looked away.
“Or should I
say… Shoshi-sama?”
The monk froze.
“How do you know that name?” he asked almost instantly enraged.
She turned and
looked at him. The cute little girl with the frightened demeanor had clearly
disappeared and in her place now stood a fully grown woman, with nothing but
coldness and determination in her eyes.
“Ow my story is
far too real to be lies. Except that I was fostered to the Crane instead.
Because of your father banishing my Clan!”
Shoshi was left
speechless.
She stood up,
assuming a very commanding pose “So listen to me monk and listen to me well! Your
father is dead and your brother is, long ago, lost to the Nothing! You are the
only thing that’s left from the legacy of the bastard who was called Kitsuki
Yasu! The man who condemned a whole clan to cross that road that you now
protect, by not revealing that our accusers were wrong even though he knew it! And
all just to establish that his investigating methods were the greatest” she
said with furry.
“But learn monk, that the Scorpion are not as
heartless. So I’m here to give you a final choice. You may stay here, and let
the whole Empire know that the great Kitsuki Daimyo had a bastard son,
disgracing his name forever, or you may walk that road that you so much
cherish, before this day’s dawn, letting forever your existence to be lost to
oblivion.”
The old monk
felt the world beneath him crumble.
“But why now?”
he finally asked, with pain clear in his voice, as tears started running down
his wrinkled eyes.
“Because when
the Nothing came, a scorpion statue awoke and left its temple, to protect its
clan! When the Destroyers were ravaging our lands, even the Gaki of our dead
were walking by our side! So I will say it again, listen to me monk and listen
to me well! A Scorpion never forgets! No matter when, no matter where, a
Scorpion will always be coming back, smiting down the dishonored!”
“Tomorrow is the
anniversary of my Mistress’s march to these Burning Sands, and to her nearly
demise! So let tomorrow be also a day of righting what is wrong! Let there be
justice!”
“What do you
know about justice?” he yelled at her, his eyes soaking in tears.
But as he turned
to face her the only thing he saw was just the open door, with no trace of
anyone ever being there. Just the obsidian horizon that was unraveling before
him, slowly swallowing a life of bitter memories.
