L5r - scroll 05 - The Crab Page 3

  During most Crab samurai's training they remained sequestered from interactions with members of the other clans. Unless all of a student's energy was focused on his lessons, he would not be prepared for the overwhelming, never-ending responsibility that was every Crab's birthright. Too much contact with the less-disciplined clans could lead a young Crab to place undue importance on etiquette or decorum. The Crab mission was to hold the Great Wall of Kaiu by any means, and adherence to the foppish niceties could be deadly.

  By the time Crab reached their final year of training, though, the relative value of gentility had been burned into their brains. It then was time to take them out into the world and allow them to test themselves against their counterparts in the other clans. In the spring of the year, tournaments were arranged with the training schools of the Crane, Lion, and Unicorn (with visits to other clan training facilities if they were possible). This afforded the students opportunities to observe and compete against different fighting techniques. It also allowed them to learn something about their own weaknesses—a vital element of every samurai's training.

  When it came time to make the pilgrimage, Hida Yakamo was more excited than anyone in his class. He had been waiting all his life for a chance to prove himself against real opponents.

  The experience did not live up to young Yakamo's expectations.

  At each school a different set of rules applied. Often particular rituals of attack and defense were prescribed—the students had to fight a certain way. Most schools banned the use of the larger heavier weapons, Yakamo's specialty. "We are here to test the keenness of your mind and the sharpness of your skills," a Crane sensei told him, "not the depth of your brawn."

  As a result, Yakamo found himself losing duel after duel. He had practiced with the katana and mastered the basic stances of competitive fighting, but then his training had taken a more practical approach. Emphasis had been placed on learning to read what your opponent expected you to do next and constantly surprising him. He was no good at this formalized, artistic form of fighting. His size and bulk, which served him so well in duels with other Crab, seemed to work against him at inter-clan tournaments. More often than not, Yakamo was knocked out of competition in the very first round.

  He could hear the students, sensei, and onlookers whispering.

  "Is that the son of the Great Bear? How can he be such a failure?"

  "Can Kisada's son really be useless with a sword? Look how much he seems like his father? Where did all the skill go?"

  "Perhaps this means that the Crab are not as mighty as they claim. If this is the son of their greatest warrior, perhaps they are all bumbling idiots dancing around on that wall like drunken monkeys."

  This last comment hurt the most. The one thing that Yakamo feared above anything else was being unworthy of his legacy.

  Yakamo began to feel haunted. Soon, whatever castle or dojo they visited, everyone already knew about his problems. They talked behind his back before he even arrived. Nowhere did he feel this more keenly than at Kyuden Bayushi—the castle of the Scorpion daimyo.

  As a symbol to their clan's dedication to secrecy and subterfuge, Scorpion samurai all wore masks of one description or another. Some were beautiful, others grotesque. They all obscured the faces of their owners, leaving only their emotionless eyes for the world to see. Those eyes—as near as young Yakamo could tell— were all trained on him.

  That night, he visited his sensei. "In our dojo I was the strongest of our class, but here I cannot even win a single match. Why have my skills deserted me?"

  Yakamo's sensei looked him dead in the eye and said, "They have not, Young Bear." This sensei was the only one who could call him by that name and not risk his anger. "You are learning exactly the lesson this trip is intended to teach. It is most important that you learn it better than any of your fellows. As the future ruler of the clan, you will be called upon to use this lesson every day of your life."

  "But what is the lesson, Sensei?" Yakamo was desperate. So far the only lesson he'd learned was that he was a failure.

  "If you play the game by your opponent's rules, he has already won half the battle," said the sensei. "In the dojo, you can win a fight but lose the match. But when you fight for real, whether it is on the Wall or anywhere else, remember that the only thing that matters is who walks away from the contest and who is dead. Do not let your opponent goad you into limiting yourself. You have the skills to beat these opponents, but they will not let you use your skills."

  Yakamo considered these words long into the night. The next day he would duel for the entertainment of Bayushi Shoju, the Scorpion daimyo himself. Yakamo planned to put this lesson to the test.

  When he arrived at court, Yakamo discovered that Bayushi had arranged a special match, not against a student from another clan's school, but rather with Mirumoto Satsu, heir of the Dragon Clan daimyo. Mirumoto was roughly ten years older than Yakamo and had spent those years building up a reputation as one of the most deadly swordsmen in the empire. The Young Bear did not find that hard to believe. Just watching him warm up, he could see Satsu's incredible balance and skill.

  The court was host to visitors from all the major clans and several of the minor ones. Everyone whispered about the equity of pairing a student against a seasoned warrior. Still, they all agreed there was a certain excitement about seeing two future daimyo facing one another on the field of battle. Through it all, Bayushi Shoju remained silent and unreadable behind his mask.

  The duel, like most on Yakamo's journey, was to be fought with bokken—wooden practice swords. The purpose was to test one's skills, not deprive the empire of the services of its brightest students. A sensei from the Crane clan was chosen as a referee, and he reviewed the very strict list of maneuvers that would be considered legal.

  Crab and Dragon bowed to each other, then to the Crane sensei, and finally—and most deeply—-to their host. The Scorpion daimyo nodded curtly, and the match began.

  Satsu took a classic ready stance holding his bokken directly between him and Yakamo, the blade nearly perpendicular to the ground. Yakamo abandoned the standard dueling pose and held his bokken loosely in one hand flipping it to and fro in a relaxed manner. The onlookers might have thought he was delaying the start of the match except for the fact that the Crab held the Dragon fast in his steely gaze.

  Tense moment's passed as Satsu waited for Yakamo to adopt some accepted fighting posture. Finally the Mirumoto could wait no longer. With a thunderous "Kiii-aiiii!" he charged his opponent.

  Yakamo reacted by swinging his weapon not like a sword but like a club—as though the bokken were a greatly shortened tetsubo. He deflected Satsu's blow but left his rear unguarded as the Dragon moved past on his follow-through.

  Satsu's eyes widened. The entire gallery gasped. Yakamo would never be able to recover from that swing quickly enough to block a reverse slash from the Dragon samurai.

  The young Crab had no intention of defending against the blow. As his opponent moved by, Yakamo did not even attempt to recover his fighting position. Instead he pivoted on his front heel and slammed his foot into the small of Satsu's back, sending the Dragon flying face first to the ground.

  "Foul!" cried the Crane sensei.

  Yakamo was not listening. He followed his kick by bringing his club—that was what he now considered the bokken—down hard across Satsu's shoulder blades.

  "Forfeit!" yelled the Crane sensei. He threw his body over Mirumoto in a protective and quite embarrassing manner. "Hida Yakamo used a banned technique and struck with a weapon other than the bokken. He is disqualified. Mirumoto Satsu is the winner."

  A restrained cheer went up from the crowd while a wild roar came from the Crab contingent.

  Yakamo stood there grinning a foolish grin. He had lost the match but won the fight.

  Seating himself beside his sensei, he said, "I now understand your lesson."

  "No, Young Bear, you do not," his sensei replied. "But very soon you will."


  Yakamo pondered the matter as he sat through the rest of the matches. His reverie was interrupted occasionally as friends congratulated him and detractors berated him. All eyes were on him again, but this time the young Hida didn't mind at all.

  When the day's matches were through, Yakamo's fellow students convinced him to go drinking with them. Though he ate twice what his teachers usually allowed on a training regimen, and though his sake cup never seemed to be less than half-full, Yakamo still felt empty inside. Nothing about the evening seemed real to him. He drank and caroused till late in the night and knew he would remember none of it.

  The next morning Yakamo awoke earlier than anyone else in his group. The sensei's words still rang in his ears. He wandered off to the castle's garden and tried to clear his mind—they still had one more day of duels in the Bayushi court before they left for home. Despite his victory the day before, Yakamo wanted to leave this place as soon as possible. No peace of mind was to be found in the garden, so he made his way slowly to the main court.

  The day's matches were already underway. Two students, one Crane and the other Lion, battled.

  Yakamo entered eating an apple he'd plucked from the garden. He swaggered toward his friends, his tetsubo slung casually across his shoulder. Since he was not scheduled to fight today, he was free to carry his real weapon instead of his training bokken.

  The crowd recognized the young Hida. Hushed conversations sprang up across the court. Soon even the duel stopped. Everyone turned to look at Yakamo.

  "There! That is the man!" said a maiden from the Dragon Clan as she stood and pointed squarely at Yakamo.

  He laughed.

  "Surely, I am a man," he joked, but no one laughed.

  Mirumoto Satsu stood, fire in his eyes.

  "I should have known," Satsu growled. "It's true, isn't it?"

  Yakamo disliked the tone in the Dragon's voice.

  "What?" was all he said.

  "My bride-to-be tells me that last night you—" Satsu looked around the court, and his cheeks flushed. "Drunk on sake and some misplaced sense of victory after our duel yesterday, you impugned her honor ... hers and that of her handmaidens."

  Yakamo laughed.

  "Dragon women are too delicate for a Crab samurai," he finally said. "And why would I risk your anger, Mirumoto-san, when you so roundly 'beat' me yesterday?"

  "You mock the seriousness of these accusations?" Satsu said incredulously.

  "No," Yakamo answered. "I dismiss the accusations—I mock you."

  "I challenge you!" the Dragon screamed. "Hida Yakamo I challenge you to a duel of honor, if you have any. I will leave you with a scar more permanent than the bruise you placed on my back—and my honor."

  "Very well," said Yakamo. He might have been in a contemplative mood before, but this Mirumoto was now quite annoying. "I will be glad to put an end to your dishonor."

  Only then did Satsu noticed he had no swords tucked into the obi of his kimono. The only weapon he carried was the tremendous tetsubo slung over his shoulder.

  "Someone fetch the Bear Cub's swords," laughed Satsu. "I want everyone to know I beat you in a fair duel, not because you used a weapon too big for you to swing!"

  "This is the only weapon I will wield," Yakamo said calmly. "If you will not face me using this, then we have nothing more to discuss."

  Satsu laughed even louder. "I fear I won't be able to stop myself from killing you if you cannot parry my blows."

  "Then kill me, little Dragon," Yakamo said dismissively. "Kill me or go home. Or is your honor only worth defending when you set the rules?"

  "Very well," Satsu snarled. "I just wanted to give you the chance to save your life—if not your honor."

  Yakamo tossed his half-eaten apple to another Crab student. "I'll want that back when we're done."

  The Dragon and the Crab faced one another. Satsu adopted the same pose he had in their practice duel. Yakamo held the tetsubo with one hand, arm extended straight out to his right side. Satsu shifted his stance so that both hands held his katana parallel to the ground at about chest height. Yakamo did not move.

  Long moments passed.

  Finally, just as he had the day before, Satsu gave a mighty "Kiiii-aiii!" and charged his opponent. This time, instead of trying to strike on a passing run, the Dragon stopped short of Yakamo and swung directly at the tetsubo. Obviously he planned to take advantage of the Crab's one-handed form to knock the weapon free.

  Yakamo stepped into the wind behind Satsu's swing closing the distance between them. He did nothing to block the Dragon's mighty blow. The tetsubo twisted in his hand and appeared as if it were going to fall. At the last instant, Yakamo reversed his grip and pivoted his entire body. He was now standing next to a startled Satsu, who had nothing—not a weapon or even a semblance of armor—between him and the blurred wood-and-iron club. It streaked toward his chest.

  Yakamo's blow hit with the sound of overripe oranges thrown against a stone wall. Satsu flew through the air and landed in a bloody heap fifteen feet from where he'd started. He did not move. No one there had any illusion that he ever would again.

  The students of both clans let out a shocked gasp. The woman who earlier had stood and pointed at Yakamo fainted dead away.

  Yakamo went to his compatriot and retrieved his half-eaten apple.

  "You cheated!" came a cry from the Dragon ranks.

  Yakamo turned to see a girl charge toward him, brandishing a wakizashi.

  "Satsu was my brother, and you cheated!" the girl screamed as she struck at her enemy. "You don't fight duels with tetsubo. Everybody knows that! Now my brother is dead, and it's all your fault."

  Her blow cut Yakamo's kimono but did not bite skin. He wasn't about to let the tiny Dragon have another shot.

  With a flick of his arm, he struck her blade aside with his tetsubo. Her wrist twisted painfully, and the short sword flew.

  "I will not kill you now, little one, but you will remember that I could have." Yakamo said with no compassion in his voice.

  "I will!" Tears had begun to form in the girl's eyes, but she bravely held them back. "I will remember everything about today.

  My name is Mirumoto Hitomi, and by all the honor of my clan, I swear to avenge my brother's death. I will find you one day, Hida Yakamo. I will find you, and I will kill you!"

  She fell to her knees and wept bitterly.

  "I'll be where all good Crab can be found—on the Great Wall defending the empire!" Yakamo turned and walked back toward the Crab camp. "Seek me there, if you dare."

  "Now you understand my lesson, Young Bear," said Yakamo's sensei placing a hand on his student's massive shoulder.

  "Yes, Sensei," Yakamo said proudly. "Yes, I believe I do."

  xxxxxxxx

  "How long ago was that?" asked Sukune.

  "Nearly ten years ago," answered Yakamo. "She has not forgotten her brother's death. Mirumoto Hitomi has grown into a fine warrior!"

  "Yes," agreed Sukune, "but she still wants your head!"

  "She knows where to find me." Yakamo yawned. "I suppose it doesn't matter whether I die at the hands of a goblin or a Dragon— as long as I die on the Wall."

  FORM AND FUNCTION

  Pitch the daimyo's tent there!" It was an order that Kuni Yori needn't give. These servants followed Hida Kisada as he traveled up and down the length of the Carpenter's Wall. Everywhere he stopped, they turned a local grotto into the Crab Clan strategic headquarters. "Make sure the daimyo has access to both the courtyard and the command tent!" Kuni Yori was well aware the servants knew where everything went, but giving orders, particularly pointless ones, reinforced the distance between Kisada and his servants.

  Workers pounded tall stakes into the hard earth. On them they hung a long single bolt of silk, emblazoned with the Crab Clan mon. An impromptu courtyard and reflecting garden took shape for the daimyo's use.

  Hida Yakamo strode up to where Yori stood. "You waste your time and everyone else's with this cheap theate
r dress courtyard!" As always, he made no effort to hide his disdain for Yori's sense of decorum.

  Kuni Yori was the Great Bear's closest adviser, but no man in the Crab army was more dissimilar to Hida Kisada. Yori was a slight man with a pallid complexion, which he accentuated by painting it spectral white. He was a shugenja, and certain eccentricities were to be expected of magic users, but Yori made himself a mask more complex than many Scorpions wore. He claimed it was a mystic symbol that gave him power over creatures of the Shadowlands. The unnerving symbol, along with Yori's naturally domineering personality, gave him power over nearly everyone.

  "Yori, you are a skilled shugenja and a gifted tactician," said Yakamo. "You could talk a hawk out of the sky, but you are far too taken with polite culture. Why does my father need a courtyard when he spends most of his days actually on the Wall? The power of his office lies in his strong right arm, not in the bowing and scraping of supplicants. Does he look like that weakling who sits on the Emerald Throne?"

  "The daimyo needs a courtyard because of what it represents to the soldiers and commoners around him," said Yori. "The courtyard is a place where life and death decisions are made, Yakamo-san. It is a place of mystery that most of them will never see, but if they do, it will change their lives completely. To generals it is a place where they can show deference in the way befitting their commander. To the other clans it is a place where the daimyo rules absolutely—even the emperor would not dare enter this courtyard and order your father about. It creates the image of a great man and a great leader."

  "Bah!" spat a gruff voice from within the makeshift courtyard. "I do not want to 'create the image of a great man'—I am a great warrior. Let the world think what it will!" The Great Bear pushed his way through the silk barrier—he was still covered in blood and ichor from today's batde. Something about his posture didn't look right.

  "Kisada-sama," Kuni Yori began, bowing deeply, "of what use is might or skill if no one respects them? Yes, the other clans are peacocks strutting gaudy feathers of'culture,' but we can use their fawning traditions against them."