Go Not Gently
by Kakita Kaori
A 1000 Years of Darkness Story for the Crane Clan
The shadows were thick all around, pressing in on all sides. There were no stars in the heavens above; heavy clouds blanketed the moon. But Ikoma Karasu needed no light to see in the darkness any more. A gift of the Emperor, perhaps, that slit his golden eyes like a cat's, allowing him to see through the gibbering darkness all around. It suited him well here, for this keep was kept in constant darkness at Champion Hoturi's command.
He looked across the empty field of slaughter. Once...a year ago, shining samurai in silver and blue made a last, desperate stand in this place. Once, they had fallen like sheaves of wheat to the sickle. Once their women and children had been dragged out to see their dead bodies before being torn apart by the oni that consumed. Now, it was a field of bleached white bones, and nothing more. Once this had been the strongest of the defenses of the Crane Clan. But the days of Kosaten Shiro were long past. Now it served as yet another fine castle to house the Emperor's oni hoardes. And it was under his command. His footsteps rang against the cold stone of its battlements as the night wailed and howled around him.
Out of the darkness on the edge of the clearing, a light flickered, like the spirit of a wailing ghost. Karasu's cat's eyes saw it immediately, and gestured for some of his...followers...to come to his side. His immediate impulse was to send them out to destroy whoever dared come near. But, as the figure resolved itself out of the darkness, he held them back. It was clear there was no need.
A single, flickering red torch illuminated the form that held it aloft, and little more in the inky blackness. A woman. Narumi Her robes were once rich, and the torchlight caught on tiny stitches of silver embroidery. But they were dirty now, and torn with wear and much sorrow. Her face was not beautiful, but passionate and proud in the ruddy light, and her hair was carefully coifed upwards, the sign of a noble woman. In one hand, she held up the torch to light her way, and in the other, she carried a bundle.
"Who goes there?!" the Ikoma shouted down to the woman. There were rumors that one or two of the Crane lived, scattered, desperate, fighting for their lives. Hoturi hunted them for his pleasure. There was no place for them to run. It was surprising this one had lived this long. She would not live much longer. "Speak and it may be the will of the Emperor that you will live."
The woman walked slowly across the battlefield, picking her way carefully among the strewn bones. The oni near Karsu licked their chops hungrily, but Karasu kept them at bay. He was curious.
When the woman had gotten within twenty feet of the wall, she stopped, and called up.
"My name is Narumi . You have been searching for me. I have come."
Narumi . He had heard the name. The Obsidian Champion had given orders regarding this Crane.
"You! You are the woman of Doji Kuwanan?" he called back.
The woman's eyes glittered defiantly. "I am...was...his...." she stiffened. "I was his lover. He was the greatest man I have ever known. I bear that title with honor."
Karasu chucked grimly at her foolish attempt to cover her pride, and then heard a wail out of the darkness. The woman pulled back the blanket covering the bundle. Karasu's eyes widened. "A babe? Kuwanan had a child?!"
The woman's words were bitter. "Kuwanan-sama had a son. Your lords would have found out soon enough. He was born three months ago, amidst the squalor of a peasant's hut. Six months after his father's death. I bore him and protected him and fled with him. From Hoturi" she almost spat in her rage. "From you all."
Karasu laughed out loud. "And then, woman, why are you here, now? Have you come to offer your son up for mercy for you? Or do you hope Lord Hoturi shows mercy to his own nephew? The Dark Emperor will likely hold him back, to have the last living heir of the Crane in his grasp. I am certain he would be generous."
The woman held the torch higher. "I know what the Emperor would do. One day his shugenja would learn that Kuwanan had a son. Hoturi would never rest until the boy was his. Should he live, he would be hunted, starving, forced to live like an animal. And, one day, Hoturi would find him. He would take my son back to his Dark Master." She shook with anger. "And the Emperor would either allow Hoturi to kill him for his amusement, or he would take the child. Watch him grow. Raise him to be a mockery of everything it is to be a Crane."
Karasu hesitated, and scowled. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the oni at his side scrambling down the stairs towards the woman to capture her immediately.
The woman lowered her head, her lips moving in some word of comfort to the screaming baby. Then she looked up to the walls of the Kuyden, eyes glittering.
"I would rather we both die than see that come to pass. The Crane will die. But our memory will live forever pure!" Her voice raised to a scream, the woman leaped forward and plunged the torch towards the ground. Its light went out. Darkness enveloped the woman, save for a few stray sparks that scattered in the tangled grass and weeds.
Karasu could see the oni he had sent emerging from the castle gates to seize the woman and the infant. The dim, glowing embers died, save one, which grew brighter. Was it moving?
He could see the woman hold the babe tightly in both arms, head bowed over it. The spark was moving...it raced along a crooked path towards the Kuyden Walls, leaving a small trail of flame behind it.
He could see the oni tear the child from the woman's arms. The spark touched the walls and disappeared. A faint, familiar acrid odor reach his nostrils. NO!!
The night erupted in a monstrous ball of flame.
Kosaten Shiro was no more.
Far away, in a tiny hut beside the ocean, a baby cried. A fisherwoman, worn by years and toil and salt winds, wiped the tears from her eyes to make her way to the side of the crude cradle. She took the crying baby into her arms and knelt, holding him close.
"Hush, little one," she said. "Do not cry for Toshiro. My son is in Yomi with the ancestors. There was no suffering for him, no pain. "
The baby wailed even harder, tiny fists pounding the air.
The fisherwoman rocked him gently. "Do not cry for me, dear child. It was my choice. My family has lived on these shores for many generations. Toshiro was mine to give. I did what I had to do."
The baby's crying softened slightly, but fat teardrops still trickled down the infants thin face. The fisherwoman soothed them away. "If you must cry, little Kurohito, cry for yourself. Cry for your mother and your father. Cry for what you lost. You have been cursed, and I have payed the price. One day you shall find your sword, and I pity you the path it will take you on. But you will survive."
"Cry for yourself, then cry no more. There are no more tears left, for any of us."
A 1000 Years of Darkness Story for the Crane Clan
The shadows were thick all around, pressing in on all sides. There were no stars in the heavens above; heavy clouds blanketed the moon. But Ikoma Karasu needed no light to see in the darkness any more. A gift of the Emperor, perhaps, that slit his golden eyes like a cat's, allowing him to see through the gibbering darkness all around. It suited him well here, for this keep was kept in constant darkness at Champion Hoturi's command.
He looked across the empty field of slaughter. Once...a year ago, shining samurai in silver and blue made a last, desperate stand in this place. Once, they had fallen like sheaves of wheat to the sickle. Once their women and children had been dragged out to see their dead bodies before being torn apart by the oni that consumed. Now, it was a field of bleached white bones, and nothing more. Once this had been the strongest of the defenses of the Crane Clan. But the days of Kosaten Shiro were long past. Now it served as yet another fine castle to house the Emperor's oni hoardes. And it was under his command. His footsteps rang against the cold stone of its battlements as the night wailed and howled around him.
Out of the darkness on the edge of the clearing, a light flickered, like the spirit of a wailing ghost. Karasu's cat's eyes saw it immediately, and gestured for some of his...followers...to come to his side. His immediate impulse was to send them out to destroy whoever dared come near. But, as the figure resolved itself out of the darkness, he held them back. It was clear there was no need.
A single, flickering red torch illuminated the form that held it aloft, and little more in the inky blackness. A woman. Narumi Her robes were once rich, and the torchlight caught on tiny stitches of silver embroidery. But they were dirty now, and torn with wear and much sorrow. Her face was not beautiful, but passionate and proud in the ruddy light, and her hair was carefully coifed upwards, the sign of a noble woman. In one hand, she held up the torch to light her way, and in the other, she carried a bundle.
"Who goes there?!" the Ikoma shouted down to the woman. There were rumors that one or two of the Crane lived, scattered, desperate, fighting for their lives. Hoturi hunted them for his pleasure. There was no place for them to run. It was surprising this one had lived this long. She would not live much longer. "Speak and it may be the will of the Emperor that you will live."
The woman walked slowly across the battlefield, picking her way carefully among the strewn bones. The oni near Karsu licked their chops hungrily, but Karasu kept them at bay. He was curious.
When the woman had gotten within twenty feet of the wall, she stopped, and called up.
"My name is Narumi . You have been searching for me. I have come."
Narumi . He had heard the name. The Obsidian Champion had given orders regarding this Crane.
"You! You are the woman of Doji Kuwanan?" he called back.
The woman's eyes glittered defiantly. "I am...was...his...." she stiffened. "I was his lover. He was the greatest man I have ever known. I bear that title with honor."
Karasu chucked grimly at her foolish attempt to cover her pride, and then heard a wail out of the darkness. The woman pulled back the blanket covering the bundle. Karasu's eyes widened. "A babe? Kuwanan had a child?!"
The woman's words were bitter. "Kuwanan-sama had a son. Your lords would have found out soon enough. He was born three months ago, amidst the squalor of a peasant's hut. Six months after his father's death. I bore him and protected him and fled with him. From Hoturi" she almost spat in her rage. "From you all."
Karasu laughed out loud. "And then, woman, why are you here, now? Have you come to offer your son up for mercy for you? Or do you hope Lord Hoturi shows mercy to his own nephew? The Dark Emperor will likely hold him back, to have the last living heir of the Crane in his grasp. I am certain he would be generous."
The woman held the torch higher. "I know what the Emperor would do. One day his shugenja would learn that Kuwanan had a son. Hoturi would never rest until the boy was his. Should he live, he would be hunted, starving, forced to live like an animal. And, one day, Hoturi would find him. He would take my son back to his Dark Master." She shook with anger. "And the Emperor would either allow Hoturi to kill him for his amusement, or he would take the child. Watch him grow. Raise him to be a mockery of everything it is to be a Crane."
Karasu hesitated, and scowled. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the oni at his side scrambling down the stairs towards the woman to capture her immediately.
The woman lowered her head, her lips moving in some word of comfort to the screaming baby. Then she looked up to the walls of the Kuyden, eyes glittering.
"I would rather we both die than see that come to pass. The Crane will die. But our memory will live forever pure!" Her voice raised to a scream, the woman leaped forward and plunged the torch towards the ground. Its light went out. Darkness enveloped the woman, save for a few stray sparks that scattered in the tangled grass and weeds.
Karasu could see the oni he had sent emerging from the castle gates to seize the woman and the infant. The dim, glowing embers died, save one, which grew brighter. Was it moving?
He could see the woman hold the babe tightly in both arms, head bowed over it. The spark was moving...it raced along a crooked path towards the Kuyden Walls, leaving a small trail of flame behind it.
He could see the oni tear the child from the woman's arms. The spark touched the walls and disappeared. A faint, familiar acrid odor reach his nostrils. NO!!
The night erupted in a monstrous ball of flame.
Kosaten Shiro was no more.
Far away, in a tiny hut beside the ocean, a baby cried. A fisherwoman, worn by years and toil and salt winds, wiped the tears from her eyes to make her way to the side of the crude cradle. She took the crying baby into her arms and knelt, holding him close.
"Hush, little one," she said. "Do not cry for Toshiro. My son is in Yomi with the ancestors. There was no suffering for him, no pain. "
The baby wailed even harder, tiny fists pounding the air.
The fisherwoman rocked him gently. "Do not cry for me, dear child. It was my choice. My family has lived on these shores for many generations. Toshiro was mine to give. I did what I had to do."
The baby's crying softened slightly, but fat teardrops still trickled down the infants thin face. The fisherwoman soothed them away. "If you must cry, little Kurohito, cry for yourself. Cry for your mother and your father. Cry for what you lost. You have been cursed, and I have payed the price. One day you shall find your sword, and I pity you the path it will take you on. But you will survive."
"Cry for yourself, then cry no more. There are no more tears left, for any of us."
