The Duty of War
Chapter 10
Autumn, 1236 - Toshi Ranbo
They were quiet on the way back, Harun’s presence on the boat did cause a few curious stares among the Mantis but no questions. Kenji helped Harun walk, supporting the Kakita’s weight right up until they got to the Emerald Champion’s tent. Senzo quickly let them in, finding the healing supplies and then running off to fetch a shugenja.
Carefully, Kenji helped Harun remove his armour. This seemed to open the wound further so the Utaku worked quickly to stop the bleeding. It was painful, but Harun didn’t make a sound.
“I don’t understand,” Kenji said as he secured the bandages. “Why would the Crane do that? Why would treat you like that when you killed Shimekiri, their biggest problem?”
“I don’t know,” Harun said. Then he remembered something. “Shimekiri said that they would do something like that, before I killed him.”
“He knew?” Kenji said, satisfied with the bandages.
Harun nodded. “He was a Crane first.”
Senzo came back with the shugenja who checked Harun over. While the shugenja was checking him, Senzo found a spare yukata for Harun to wear and made tea. When the shugenja was done, Harun told them all to leave. Sitting by himself in the silence he started to clean his armour, thinking.
It was evening when Kakita Karasu made it back to the siege camp. By then it was full of people celebrating the victory. Karasu knew he had to at least show himself among them. But not now, now he had a far more serious duty that awaited in his tent.
Harun. His son. Who had done this terrible thing to disgrace the entire Crane Clan.
Harun, what have you done?
Senzo bowed as Karasu entered his tent where Harun was sitting silently, bandages around his middle, wiping the blood off his armour. He put down his cleaning cloth when Karasu entered, trying to get up.
“Father…I need you to listen…”
Karasu ignored Harun. He started to remove the Emerald Armour, cleaning each piece as he did and putting it on the stand where it lived. He did not turn, he did not look at Harun.
“Father…please!”
Karasu put the Emerald Blade on the daisho stand, placing his own wakizashi next to it. His hands shook, with anger that seemed to be spilling out.
“Father…please…listen to me…”
Karasu disappeared behind the painted shoji screen that hid his sleeping area. Changing into a simple blue juban and black hakama. Like he would wear back home at Rokugan Yogasha Shiro. Then, taking a deep breath in, he stepped out.
Harun sat there at the table, holding his side where it clearly still pained him, but facing Karasu. Looking straight at him, no sign of humility or repentance in him at all. Defiant.
“Father,” Harun said. “I know what I did today looked bad, but…”
“No!” thundered Karasu, with a fury that made Harun startle. “You don’t get to say that. Not today, not ever, not after you’ve just disgraced the Crane and all our traditions.” He made a dismissive gesture. “Twelve hundred years of the tradition of Iaijutsu, and you threw it all away in one moment. Like it didn’t matter at all. My own son! Have I taught you nothing?!”
“I saved all those people, father!” Harun shouted back. “All of them! Including Kakita Rakuto-ue! I stopped that, so they all didn’t have to die to kill Shimekiri. I did what you would have done!”
Karasu whirled on him, knocking the tea set and everything else off the table with a crash and breaking of china. “You don’t think I had a plan? That I was going to handle it? You didn’t, did you? You had to go in and be the hero, didn’t you?”
“Like you!” Harun challenged. “Shimekiri would have killed you just as well as he killed me. He told me! I did this so that no one else needed to die! Why…why can’t you see that I was right about this?”
“Because you cheated, Harun!” Karasu shouted. “You betrayed the traditions of Kakita! Right then, right there! How many others do you think will try and do what you did? Did you think of that?”
Harun winced. He looked past Karasu, behind him where the Emerald Champion’s armour and sword were. Kakita’s own, forged for him at the dawn of the empire. Almost like Kakita himself was standing there, judging him silently for his crimes. For his betrayal. For his disgrace.
When Harun spoke, his voice was quiet but with an edge to it. “I did my duty, father. I saw enemy I could kill and how to kill him. That is what I did.”
“And by doing this, you have thrown away everything I have hoped for you,” Karasu said. “Did you know Kenshin-sensei saw it in you to become a Kenshinzen? He noticed that the first day I took you to the Kakita Academy! That was what was next for you, it’s all gone now.” He signed. “Now, I am going to get half the Crane Clan as well a few others from the Lion and Dragon beat a path to my door demanding either your seppuku or that I take your daisho and send you out as a ronin or monk.”
“Will you?” Harun asked, quietly.
“I don’t know,” said Karasu. “I am still trying to comprehend it myself.” He sat down, putting his head in his hands.
“I did this as I saw it the only path forward,” Harun said.
“And you stand by it?” Karasu asked, looking up.
“I do,” said Harun.
“Fine,” Karasu said, with the finality of pronouncing judgement. “Kakita-Chui, you are being placed on indefinite leave until I can find a fitting punishment for your actions. You will leave first thing in the morning. Gather your things, your going home.”
“As you wish, Champion,” Harun said. He bowed and went to get his armour.
“Leave it,” Karasu said. “You have lost the right to wear it.”
Harun left the tent, saying nothing further.
Karasu sat there a long time after Harun was gone.
Harun, what have you done? I can’t protect you from something like this!
And it wasn’t just that he had done this disgraceful thing, Harun also stood by it. Defending his actions, defiantly arguing that they had been right. Harun had first learned his lessons of honour, tradition and bushido at Karasu’s knee…but now, his son was a stranger.
Where did I go so wrong with him? Karasu wondered, Yamada, I’m sorry, I failed you…
Harun walked back to the Takano camp, anger rising from like a wave. His father, he didn’t understand. By doing what he did, Harun had saved all of those people but he got no gratitude or recognition from the Crane. This was a war after all, Shimekiri an enemy commander he had dealt with accordingly.
The fact his wound still smarted as he walked did not help matters at all.
He was still feeling like this when he arrived at the Takano camp, but then seeing what they did next that made all that anger melt away. They all stopped in what they were doing, sank down into seiza position and bowed. Harun was stunned, standing among them amid the utter silence. He was touched, and didn’t know what to say.
Utaku Kenji approached him and bowed. “Chui, every one of us here, man and woman, samurai and ashigaru stands by you and what you did this day.”
“Thank you,” Harun said, turning to the rest of Takano Unit. “Thank you, all of you.” He cleared his throat. “But we must not forget the ones who have fallen today. We must honour their sacrifice. It could have easily been any of us.”
They all straightened and nodded, listening. Harun stood there awkwardly for a few moments.
“But I must tell you all…that this is the last time I will see many of you,” Harun said, a few murmurs of confusion as he spoke. “I…have been given new orders and will be leaving in the morning. Utaku Kenji will be serving as acting Chui until a new one is appointed.” He paused, feeling the well of emotion swell up inside you. “It was an honour and pleasure to lead you, I will not forget this time. Thank you.”
He left abruptly. Kenji stared after him for a moment. “Chui?” He waved at the men to disperse then followed Harun into his tent. “You’re leaving us? Why?”
Harun started packing up his things together, putting them inside the wicker backpack. “Like I said, new orders.”
“Your father?” Kenji asked.
Harun didn’t answer.
“Where the Champion sending you?” Kenji asked.
“Home,” answered Harun. “And after that, I don’t know.” He picked up the pouch that contained his soldier’s pay. He had hardly spent any. He took out a few koku coins, enough to get him home, then handed the pouch to Kenji. “Take them to Toshiwara Row,” he said. “Get their spirits up.”
“You’re not coming?” Kenji asked.
Harun shook his head. “Let them rest, they’ve earned it,” he said. “I should be gone before you wake up.”
Kenji nodded solemnly. “I…I guess this is goodbye then. I thought it was before, but I guess now it is.” He smiled. “We have gone a long way.”
“We have,” agreed Harun.
They shook hands. Kenji left.
Securing the last of his possessions in the pack, Harun picked up his most treasured ones save his daisho: the letters from his mother and Arahime. One lost to him, one dead. What would they think of what he did? He secured them carefully away.
He knew he should rest, he would have a few days hard riding ahead of him. But there was something he had to do before he left.
The shrine of Hikahime was quiet, yet it had a few petitioners that night. Harun knelt and did the necessary bows and claps, but his words were less a prayer and more an argument.
Is this what you meant? He asked the Minor Fortune in thought. Is this what you meant when you said I was going to take Toshi Ranbo? He bowed his head. Did you know? Did you know this would happen?
Hikahime had been a peasant up until her death, steadfastly refusing to rise above that even though she had been offered the chance. If Hikahime was still alive, would she understand what Harun had done? Why he had done it? Could she have convinced Karasu?
But on that night, Harun had no answers. He looked up, watching the flags of the Imperial Legion fly above the walls of Toshi Ranbo.
The Isawa stayed at the healers’ tents long into the night, doing their utmost that those who came their had a chance. Yet there was one corner they all seemed to avoid, and when it had to be passed it was done quietly with hushed whispers.
It was here that Isawa Koyo sat. Silent, beside the futon where his wife Isawa Akiko lay dying. Several of the shards of wood from when the bridge exploded had mortally wounded her in several places. She was not expected to last until dawn.
Akiko had come with him from Dragon lands, willingly to stand by him. To help him in his work to recover the fortunes of the Phoenix Clan. But Koyo knew her heart was truly in the home they had built together, the family they had made, the children they had left behind.
And now, Koyo would have to tell the children that their mother was not returning. It did not seem fair. He himself had been prepared to die here, to sacrifice himself. But not to lose her.
As the sun rose over Toshi Ranbo, Koyo prayed. He knew the road ahead would be lonely without her, but he still would take it.
Chapter 10
Autumn, 1236 - Toshi Ranbo
They were quiet on the way back, Harun’s presence on the boat did cause a few curious stares among the Mantis but no questions. Kenji helped Harun walk, supporting the Kakita’s weight right up until they got to the Emerald Champion’s tent. Senzo quickly let them in, finding the healing supplies and then running off to fetch a shugenja.
Carefully, Kenji helped Harun remove his armour. This seemed to open the wound further so the Utaku worked quickly to stop the bleeding. It was painful, but Harun didn’t make a sound.
“I don’t understand,” Kenji said as he secured the bandages. “Why would the Crane do that? Why would treat you like that when you killed Shimekiri, their biggest problem?”
“I don’t know,” Harun said. Then he remembered something. “Shimekiri said that they would do something like that, before I killed him.”
“He knew?” Kenji said, satisfied with the bandages.
Harun nodded. “He was a Crane first.”
Senzo came back with the shugenja who checked Harun over. While the shugenja was checking him, Senzo found a spare yukata for Harun to wear and made tea. When the shugenja was done, Harun told them all to leave. Sitting by himself in the silence he started to clean his armour, thinking.
It was evening when Kakita Karasu made it back to the siege camp. By then it was full of people celebrating the victory. Karasu knew he had to at least show himself among them. But not now, now he had a far more serious duty that awaited in his tent.
Harun. His son. Who had done this terrible thing to disgrace the entire Crane Clan.
Harun, what have you done?
Senzo bowed as Karasu entered his tent where Harun was sitting silently, bandages around his middle, wiping the blood off his armour. He put down his cleaning cloth when Karasu entered, trying to get up.
“Father…I need you to listen…”
Karasu ignored Harun. He started to remove the Emerald Armour, cleaning each piece as he did and putting it on the stand where it lived. He did not turn, he did not look at Harun.
“Father…please!”
Karasu put the Emerald Blade on the daisho stand, placing his own wakizashi next to it. His hands shook, with anger that seemed to be spilling out.
“Father…please…listen to me…”
Karasu disappeared behind the painted shoji screen that hid his sleeping area. Changing into a simple blue juban and black hakama. Like he would wear back home at Rokugan Yogasha Shiro. Then, taking a deep breath in, he stepped out.
Harun sat there at the table, holding his side where it clearly still pained him, but facing Karasu. Looking straight at him, no sign of humility or repentance in him at all. Defiant.
“Father,” Harun said. “I know what I did today looked bad, but…”
“No!” thundered Karasu, with a fury that made Harun startle. “You don’t get to say that. Not today, not ever, not after you’ve just disgraced the Crane and all our traditions.” He made a dismissive gesture. “Twelve hundred years of the tradition of Iaijutsu, and you threw it all away in one moment. Like it didn’t matter at all. My own son! Have I taught you nothing?!”
“I saved all those people, father!” Harun shouted back. “All of them! Including Kakita Rakuto-ue! I stopped that, so they all didn’t have to die to kill Shimekiri. I did what you would have done!”
Karasu whirled on him, knocking the tea set and everything else off the table with a crash and breaking of china. “You don’t think I had a plan? That I was going to handle it? You didn’t, did you? You had to go in and be the hero, didn’t you?”
“Like you!” Harun challenged. “Shimekiri would have killed you just as well as he killed me. He told me! I did this so that no one else needed to die! Why…why can’t you see that I was right about this?”
“Because you cheated, Harun!” Karasu shouted. “You betrayed the traditions of Kakita! Right then, right there! How many others do you think will try and do what you did? Did you think of that?”
Harun winced. He looked past Karasu, behind him where the Emerald Champion’s armour and sword were. Kakita’s own, forged for him at the dawn of the empire. Almost like Kakita himself was standing there, judging him silently for his crimes. For his betrayal. For his disgrace.
When Harun spoke, his voice was quiet but with an edge to it. “I did my duty, father. I saw enemy I could kill and how to kill him. That is what I did.”
“And by doing this, you have thrown away everything I have hoped for you,” Karasu said. “Did you know Kenshin-sensei saw it in you to become a Kenshinzen? He noticed that the first day I took you to the Kakita Academy! That was what was next for you, it’s all gone now.” He signed. “Now, I am going to get half the Crane Clan as well a few others from the Lion and Dragon beat a path to my door demanding either your seppuku or that I take your daisho and send you out as a ronin or monk.”
“Will you?” Harun asked, quietly.
“I don’t know,” said Karasu. “I am still trying to comprehend it myself.” He sat down, putting his head in his hands.
“I did this as I saw it the only path forward,” Harun said.
“And you stand by it?” Karasu asked, looking up.
“I do,” said Harun.
“Fine,” Karasu said, with the finality of pronouncing judgement. “Kakita-Chui, you are being placed on indefinite leave until I can find a fitting punishment for your actions. You will leave first thing in the morning. Gather your things, your going home.”
“As you wish, Champion,” Harun said. He bowed and went to get his armour.
“Leave it,” Karasu said. “You have lost the right to wear it.”
Harun left the tent, saying nothing further.
Karasu sat there a long time after Harun was gone.
Harun, what have you done? I can’t protect you from something like this!
And it wasn’t just that he had done this disgraceful thing, Harun also stood by it. Defending his actions, defiantly arguing that they had been right. Harun had first learned his lessons of honour, tradition and bushido at Karasu’s knee…but now, his son was a stranger.
Where did I go so wrong with him? Karasu wondered, Yamada, I’m sorry, I failed you…
Harun walked back to the Takano camp, anger rising from like a wave. His father, he didn’t understand. By doing what he did, Harun had saved all of those people but he got no gratitude or recognition from the Crane. This was a war after all, Shimekiri an enemy commander he had dealt with accordingly.
The fact his wound still smarted as he walked did not help matters at all.
He was still feeling like this when he arrived at the Takano camp, but then seeing what they did next that made all that anger melt away. They all stopped in what they were doing, sank down into seiza position and bowed. Harun was stunned, standing among them amid the utter silence. He was touched, and didn’t know what to say.
Utaku Kenji approached him and bowed. “Chui, every one of us here, man and woman, samurai and ashigaru stands by you and what you did this day.”
“Thank you,” Harun said, turning to the rest of Takano Unit. “Thank you, all of you.” He cleared his throat. “But we must not forget the ones who have fallen today. We must honour their sacrifice. It could have easily been any of us.”
They all straightened and nodded, listening. Harun stood there awkwardly for a few moments.
“But I must tell you all…that this is the last time I will see many of you,” Harun said, a few murmurs of confusion as he spoke. “I…have been given new orders and will be leaving in the morning. Utaku Kenji will be serving as acting Chui until a new one is appointed.” He paused, feeling the well of emotion swell up inside you. “It was an honour and pleasure to lead you, I will not forget this time. Thank you.”
He left abruptly. Kenji stared after him for a moment. “Chui?” He waved at the men to disperse then followed Harun into his tent. “You’re leaving us? Why?”
Harun started packing up his things together, putting them inside the wicker backpack. “Like I said, new orders.”
“Your father?” Kenji asked.
Harun didn’t answer.
“Where the Champion sending you?” Kenji asked.
“Home,” answered Harun. “And after that, I don’t know.” He picked up the pouch that contained his soldier’s pay. He had hardly spent any. He took out a few koku coins, enough to get him home, then handed the pouch to Kenji. “Take them to Toshiwara Row,” he said. “Get their spirits up.”
“You’re not coming?” Kenji asked.
Harun shook his head. “Let them rest, they’ve earned it,” he said. “I should be gone before you wake up.”
Kenji nodded solemnly. “I…I guess this is goodbye then. I thought it was before, but I guess now it is.” He smiled. “We have gone a long way.”
“We have,” agreed Harun.
They shook hands. Kenji left.
Securing the last of his possessions in the pack, Harun picked up his most treasured ones save his daisho: the letters from his mother and Arahime. One lost to him, one dead. What would they think of what he did? He secured them carefully away.
He knew he should rest, he would have a few days hard riding ahead of him. But there was something he had to do before he left.
The shrine of Hikahime was quiet, yet it had a few petitioners that night. Harun knelt and did the necessary bows and claps, but his words were less a prayer and more an argument.
Is this what you meant? He asked the Minor Fortune in thought. Is this what you meant when you said I was going to take Toshi Ranbo? He bowed his head. Did you know? Did you know this would happen?
Hikahime had been a peasant up until her death, steadfastly refusing to rise above that even though she had been offered the chance. If Hikahime was still alive, would she understand what Harun had done? Why he had done it? Could she have convinced Karasu?
But on that night, Harun had no answers. He looked up, watching the flags of the Imperial Legion fly above the walls of Toshi Ranbo.
The Isawa stayed at the healers’ tents long into the night, doing their utmost that those who came their had a chance. Yet there was one corner they all seemed to avoid, and when it had to be passed it was done quietly with hushed whispers.
It was here that Isawa Koyo sat. Silent, beside the futon where his wife Isawa Akiko lay dying. Several of the shards of wood from when the bridge exploded had mortally wounded her in several places. She was not expected to last until dawn.
Akiko had come with him from Dragon lands, willingly to stand by him. To help him in his work to recover the fortunes of the Phoenix Clan. But Koyo knew her heart was truly in the home they had built together, the family they had made, the children they had left behind.
And now, Koyo would have to tell the children that their mother was not returning. It did not seem fair. He himself had been prepared to die here, to sacrifice himself. But not to lose her.
As the sun rose over Toshi Ranbo, Koyo prayed. He knew the road ahead would be lonely without her, but he still would take it.
