Questions by Daidoji Gisei
"No wall stands forever. Only duty stands forever."--Kaiu Hosaru, A Perfect Cut
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Questions
by Nancy Sauer/Daidoji Gisei
A samurai seeks answers to bushido within a shrine surrounded by war.
Daidoji Ichiro paused in the darkness, listening carefully. There wasn't supposed to be anyone in the shrine; its caretakers had been instructed long before that if the Steel Chrysanthemum's armies approached, they were to leave--but Ichiro never took an unnecessary chance. That was why he was alive, when so many others were dead. Satisfied that the shrine was as empty as it looked he slid open the door slightly and slipped inside. His companion, as silent and fleet-footed as himself, followed him in and shut the door behind them.
Ichiro bowed slightly to the statue of Lady Doji that graced the shrine's main altar. Formalities observed, he walked over to one of the pillars and knelt before it. Running his fingers around the base he found a section that gave slightly under his touch and carefully lifted it free. Reaching into the compartment he pulled out a flask of lamp oil and three small paper-wrapped bundles. The Asahina would probably be outraged at the idea of using one of Doji's shrines as a supply station, but Ichiro never gave it a thought. Doji-kami had been hiding the Harrier school under one of her shrines for centuries without a hint of complaint, and that was all the approval the Daidoji needed. He carefully tucked the items into his clothing and closed the pillar up again.
He rose to his feet and turned around to find his companion staring towards the door, worry radiating from his posture. Ichiro tensed in response and reflexively checked the knife strapped to his arm. Daidoji Kian was much younger--several lifetimes younger, in their world--but he had great talent at their particular brand of warfare. Anything that alarmed Kian alarmed Ichiro. He listened for a moment, but heard nothing beyond the peaceful song of the sleeping forest that surrounded the shrine. Taking a risk, he clicked his tongue to gain Kian's attention and flashed him a signal. Problem?
Yes/No, was Kian's signal back. Ichiro didn't bother to point out that this answer made no sense. After a pause Kian continued. Problem/Not Here/Complications/Confer?
Ichiro considered the matter. They had seen a Spirit patrol in the area as they approached, but it had been a routine sweep--the soldiers had moved off without giving the shrine more than a cursory look. The shrine itself would muffle their voices, and they were unlikely to find a safer place to talk. "What?" he said.
"Sempai, I don't understand why we are fighting them."
Ichiro frowned. "What is there to understand? They make war upon the Emperor."
Kian looked at him, eyes unreadable in the darkness, and then his gaze dropped. "The Hantei is also an Emperor," he said softly.
"Was an Emperor," Ichiro corrected. "Then he died."
"Toturi died."
"Yes, but..." Ichiro paused for a moment in thought, "but he was still married to Kaede, and she was the Empress. And anyway," he found firmer ground, "Uji commands it."
Kian raised his head, and even in the dark Ichiro could feel the intensity in the younger man's eyes. "And if Uji is wrong?"
"Remember your place," Ichiro snapped. "Your lord is not for you to judge."
"If a retainer feels his lord is acting dishonorably, it his duty to speak. That is why the ancestors gave us kanshi, right?"
Kanshi. Seppuku undertaken to reprove one's lord, and the only acceptable way of doing so. "Are you a Kakita then, to die on a point of honor? Daidoji die over practicalities."
"The honor of the clan is very practical," Kian said softly. "We are the Crane--if we do not uphold honor, who else in the Empire will?"
Ichiro didn't answer. Honor wasn't something he generally worried about: the sensei of his youth had told him that a Harrier's honor lay in killing his lord's enemies, and that had always been enough for him. But the Emperor had been a Hantei then, and the Sun a woman, and maybe things had changed since then. But--"Uji is an honorable man. He would not support Toturi if it were the wrong thing to do."<
"Uji is an honorable man," Kian agreed. "But even an honorable man can be deceived. Who can say what Kaiten has told him? Then too he has Kuwannan's mercy to bear--to rebel against the Doji a second time would seem dishonorable to him. And so it would be--unless the Doji are wrong."
It took a moment for Ichiro to absorb Kian's words: the idea that the Doji could be wrong on a point of bushido was even more fantastic than the idea that Uji was. The Doji defined what it meant to be an honorable samurai--that was their service to clan and Empire. "Impossible," he said. "You are mad to think of it."
"How mad? To think that the Doji would choose the easy thing instead of the right one? But they did it during the cousins war. Toturi ordered it, and they didn't hesitate." Kian's voice was filled with pain, and Ichiro felt his own heart surge with answering bitterness. A Daidoji lived and died to defend their kinsmen, and the memory of the time their kin had refused to defend them still lay like salt on a wound. It was a grief only death could cure, and yet....The Doji had known what it meant, to make war upon the Daidoji. They had known, better than any Lion or Crab could hope to, what the Daidoji did to their enemies. They had known, and they had not hesitated: they had accepted their orders, and went out into the dark, and waited for Ichiro and his brothers to come for them. "No," Ichiro said slowly. "They did not choose the easy course."
"Ichiro--"
"No!" Ichiro hissed, suddenly angry. "No more foolishness!"
Kian hesitated, lowered his head. "I'm sorry, sempai. It's just...it's just so confusing, sometimes, to know what to do."
"We have orders from our lord. That is what we should do."
Kian took a deep breath. "Yes," he said. "Thank you, sempai. I know what to do now."
Ichiro nodded, satisfied. He turned and took two steps towards the door, and then he spun back, mind frantically searching for a why as his knife dropped into his hand and his arm came swinging up. The blade entered his side at an awkward angle, grating against a rib. Ichiro froze for a moment, absorbing the twin shocks of Kian's knife buried in him and his knife buried in Kian.
"For the Empire," Kian whispered, and then he tried to pull his knife out. The blade came slowly, bound up in bone. Ichiro had no such problems. He pulled his knife out of Kian and stabbed him again. The younger man broke free and staggered away. Ichiro pursued and grabbed him, pulling them down to the floor, stabbing all the while. When he finally stopped, the shrine was foul with the coppery scent of blood and his hands and arms were covered with warm sticky liquid."
"Kian," he whispered. "Kian."
After a long while Ichiro struggled to his feet and started to the door. He reached the door and laid a hand on the frame before thought returned to him, and when it did it rendered him immobile. Kian, he wondered, how long ago did they turn you?
It was a practical problem, something that Ichiro knew how to deal with. He gratefully set aside his grief and considered the situation. The Steel Chrysanthemum's men might know about the shrine and its contents, or they might not. In either case they couldn't be allowed to find the supplies stored here, and wounded as he was Ichiro was not able to carry them away to a safe place. Destruction, then, was the answer. And for himself...he gently placed a hand on his side, where his clothes were soaked with his blood, and not Kian's. The wound was not immediately fatal, and with some time to rest he could probably travel far enough to find aid. But somewhere in the darkness outside was a patrol that might be waiting for Kian to deliver a recruit, or a head, as appropriate. Ichiro could not count on having time. Practicalities, he thought.
Ichiro took the flask of oil out and poured it on the floor, leaving a large puddle around the base of the supply pillar. Backing away, he pulled out his fire tools and a length of slow-burning fuse. A moment's work to light the fuse and then he spun it into the darkness. It landed in the oil and a roaring curtain of fire sprang up. Ichiro flinched; not from the sudden heat but from his first sight of Kian's bloody corpse. He quelled his panicked instinct to run from the flames and walked over to the image of Lady Doji. Stiffly he knelt down before her and waited in the light.
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