Lion and Crab
Matsu Itagi, the Lion champion about six-hundred years ago, was a giant bull of a man, proud of his strength and his military prowess. He could claim a hundred victories on the battlefield, and had survived no less than two dozen Iaijutsu duels unscathed. He had long been considered one of the most powerful heroes in the Empire, approaching the strength of the first Akodo himself.
The Crab’s unending fight with the Shadowlands, however, was something of a thorn in Itagi’s side. His achievements were great and his valor unquestioned, but he had never faced an inhuman foe – had never challenged the might of Fu Leng as the Crab did every day. “How can the Lion claim greatness when the fiercest battle is fought for them?” he asked himself. “How can the Emperor’s Right Hand fail to act while his oldest foe is still a threat?” He pondered the perceived inadequacy for weeks, debating how he could overcome it. Finally he hit upon a plan, one which he announced the next day to a stunned assemblage at the Emperor’s feast hall: he would go into the Shadowlands himself, alone, and close the Festering Pit of Fu Leng. With the pit blocked, Rokugan’s greatest foe would be trapped in the underworld forever. He then knelt at the Emperor’s feet and begged his lord for permission to undertake this quest. The Emperor looked down at Itagi, saw the intensity and desire on his face, and quietly nodded his consent.
The Imperial court flew with hushed whispers at the audacity of the announcement, but none dared suggest that he was being foolhardy. Many praised his bravery, and a few even volunteered to go with him, knowing that he would turn them down. He went alone from Otosan Uchi to the lands of the Phoenix, asking them for protection from the corrupting elements of the Pit and the Shadowlands.
The Lion Champion arrived at the gates of Hida Castle some three weeks later, armed for battle and protected with all the sigils and wards the Phoenix could place on him. The Crab daimyo, Hida Tadaka, admitted Itagi and his entourage with as much pomp as his utilitarian palace could muster. The courtiers sneered at the drab decorations and lifeless food that had been prepared, but Itagi seemed undisturbed. He had not come here for a banquet.
At dinner that night, Hida Tadaka finally voiced what no one else was willing to do. As delicately as he could, he suggested that Itagi’s quest was a foolish one, which could only result in the loss of one of the Empire’s greatest heroes. Itagi stopped short at the remark, the blood rushing to his face.
“Are you suggesting that I am incapable of completing this task?”
“I am saying that none are capable of doing what you propose,” Tadaka replied. “Not even the greatest hurricane can put out the sun.”
“But I can,” the Lion retorted, his gaze narrowing. “If we are to be free of the scourge of He Who Must Not Be Named, it will take men like you and I – men with the blood of gods in our veins – to do it. If I am incapable of sealing the pit, Hida-san, then no one is.”
Tadaka looked at the Lion for a long time. Finally he spoke. “Go, then. The consequences will be on your head.”
The next day, Itagi set out from Hida Palace, with only weapons, jade protection and a small stock of food and water. He stopped at Hiruma Castle to resupply, then vanished into the unending grey of Fu Leng’s realm.
A day passed, then a week, with no sign of the Lion’s return. Hiruma scouts reported finding his tracks, but that they vanished near the Black Finger River. Another week passed. The food Itagi had taken with him would have long since been depleted, and the Champion’s followers – still stationed at Hida castle – began to despair of ever seeing him again. A third week passed and there seemed to be no question of Itagi’s fate. Word was sent back to the Lion lands that their Champion had died.
Itagi’s younger sister, however, was unwilling to let the issue rest. Matsu Oki had idolized her brother from a very early age, and refused to believe that the Shadowlands could swallow him up. After hearing of the exchange between Itagi and Tadaka on the night before he vanished, she became convinced that the Crab had orchestrated his death out of jealousy. She organized an army and marched towards the Crab lands to exact vengeance.
Tadaka could scarcely believe it when he heard of the approaching army. His own forces were committed to the Shadowlands defense, and he lacked the resources to make an effective counterattack. So when Oki approached her army, he asked for a parlay and rode out to meet with her. She wasted little time with pleasantries.
“Produce my brother, Crab. Produce him or I will take your castle as restitution.”
“He went into the Shadowlands, as he vowed.”
“After you had threatened him at your own table!” The anger was barely concealed on her face.
“After I had warned him about what he faced. Are you so thick-headed that you cannot tell the difference?”
Oki hissed and drew her sword from its sheath. Before she could strike, Tadaka held up his hands.
“Hold, Lion. I have no quarrel with you. If my blood will pay for his, I give it to you gladly. But strike me down and you must accept that he is gone forever.”
She paused, her sword above her head.
“What are you saying?”
“If your brother somehow lives, then someone will have to go into the Shadowlands to find him. You cannot, and I will not risk any of my men on such an errand. So I will go. Myself. Alone into the Dark Lord’s Realm to retrieve Itagi whether alive or dead. This I swear to you on the blood of my ancestors.”
Oki looked skeptical. “And what if you return without him?”
“Then you may take my head in retribution, and leave my lands in peace.”
Oki considered this carefully.
“I accept your proposal,” she said at last. “My brother has been gone for five and twenty days. I give you that much time to make good on your word.”
That very day, Tadaka set out for the Shadowlands. He carried no weapons save his katana. A piece of jade with strange sigils was wrapped around his neck, and a pouch of colored glass beads was tied around his belt. He moved with stealth, yet purpose, keeping to the shadows and making no more sound than a mouse.
------------------------------
It took two days to locate the nest. Built crudely of sticks and hide, it crept out of a copse of twisted trees like a tendril. It was tall and round, like a giant gopher warren, and a dark opening gaped from its nearest end. It was difficult to see in the shaded half-light of the Shadowlands; had he not known where to look, he might have passed it completely.
Crouching beside the dark opening, Tadaka uttered a sharp chittering noise, like an animal’s cry marked with strange intelligence.
A face shot out of the warren, pointed and whiskered, framed by a tattered pair of ears. The Nezumi held a spear in its paw-like hands as it hissed at the Crab in the same chittering tongue.
“Why you come here, man-man? We kill you, eat your bones for food!”
“I am Hida Tadaka, Nezumi, and I am here to bargain with you.”
The ratling continued to hiss.
“What you have that we want-want?”
Tadaka held up a single glass bead, its surface gleaming in the half-light. He shook the pouch at his belt, rattling the other beads inside. The ratling’s eyes widened at the sound.
“A man passed near here, a man like me,” Tadaka continued. “He came through your tribe’s scrounging territory. Did you see where he went?”
The furry face regarded him for a moment, then vanished into the hole. It reappeared an instant later, the spear no longer in its hand.
“Yes, we see man-man. He go-go where bad things are. Why you want find him so bad-bad?”
“He can stop a war. Do you know if he is still alive?”
“Maybe yes, maybe no. Why we tell you such things as we know-know?”
Tadaka held up the pouch. “All of it. Yours if you tell me where he is.”
That was enough for the ratling.
“Yes. Man-man come by many day ago. Tell us he kill-kill great evil. We laugh at him, but his sword sharp, so not laugh too long. He go-go that way.” The ratling pointed towards a low set of hills, visible in the distance.
“You are certain of this?”
“Yes-Yes! Taktak, great hunter, follow him to see what he do-do. I tell you, man-man go into hills and not come out!”
Tadaka tossed the bag to the ratling, who snatched it greedily out of the air.
“You have the thanks of the Crab clan, Nezumi,” he spoke gruffly.
The ratling greedily shook the multi-colored baubles into its outstretched paw. As it stroked them, it looked back at Tadaka, its eyes narrowing with menace. “Hey man-man. Tell us why we no kill you now?”
In a flash the Crab’s katana was out, arcing towards the rodent-like visage. The ratling let out a panicked squeak and disappeared into the nest, beads flying in its wake. Tadaka chuckled to himself, then sheathed his sword and moved on.
It took Tadaka another day to reach the hills, trudging through the dough-like sludge that passed for ground here. “Hills” was actually an inexact term; they seemed little more than great rocks poking up through the swampland. Tadaka stopped at their base, and knelt down slowly. With a tug, he pulled the jade amulet around his neck free, and hung it in front of his eyes. It swung back and forth like a pendulum, then suddenly stopped, mid flight, and shot to the right, towards the hills. It remained in that position, tugging like a dog against a leash. Tadaka smiled ruefully – the Shadowlands had not yet claimed Itagi’s soul.
The pendant led him like a compass into the jutting rocks. He picked his way carefully over rises and dips, staying as close to the amulet’s path as he could. As the hills grew larger and divided amongst themselves, finally, the Crab found what he was looking for.
He was wedged into a narrow pass and leaning against the rock face for support. His armor was ripped like paper, his body cut in a thousand places. Dirt and mud caked his face, as did bursts of pain that came from every movement. And his left arm had been shorn off just above the elbow. A crude tourniquet had stopped the bleeding, and a blackened burn marked how he had seared the wound closed. His shortened limb shivered and twitched like a snake.
Yet still he was the Champion. His eyes blazed with ferocity and the katana in his remaining hand looked no less dangerous for the blood and ichor that stained it. He swung around in challenge to Tadaka, but lowered his sword when he saw who it was.
“I take it you did not reach the Festering Pit,” Tadaka greeted him.
“You’ve come to gloat then,” the Lion whispered.
“No, to take you back. Your dream is over, Matsu Itagi; it is time to awaken.”
Itagi’s eyes squeezed shut.”
“I cannot go back like this. Not before I reach the pit.”
“You will never reach the pit. No man ever has.”
“Then I will die trying!” he hissed. The Crab remained unchanged.
“And that is what you are doing here? Waiting to die?”
“I am waiting to meet my ancestors, Hida. There are…things out there, coming for me. They said they would hunt me down like a dog. I will not run.”
“Running and retreating are two different things. Are you so foolish that you cannot see the difference?”
“Leave me, Crab,” the Lion whispered. “This fate is mine alone.”
“I beg to differ, Itagi. Even as we speak, your sister is preparing to make war upon my lands. Only your return will deter her. You must remember your oath, Lion. And a war between our peoples will only strengthen the Emperor’s enemies. Come with me. Return to your duties and remember the lessons you have learned here. There are others who need to hear them.”
“I…WILL…NOT…LEAVE.”
Tadaka saw the iron flare in the Lion’s eyes and slowly nodded.
“Then I will stay with you. We will defend this pass together.”
Itagi lowered his head, hiding the tears of pain that welled up in his eyes.
“We cannot defeat these, Crab. They are horrors such as I have never seen.”
“I know.” Tadaka drew his katana and offered his shoulder for the Lion Champion to lean on.
Three days later, a Hiruma scout spotted an oversized figure staggering through the fog. Notching his bow, he aimed his shaft at the approaching thing before Tadaka’s hoarse shout stayed his hand.
The Crab Champion closed the distance between him and the scout, hauling Itagi’s unmoving form on his shoulders. Both men were drenched in blood, their weapons dangling uselessly from their hands. Tadaka collapsed to his knees before the scout, lowering the still-breathing Itagi to the ground.
A squad of bushi was assembled to take them back to Hiruma castle. Matsu Oki received the message and had an escort to the castle as rapidly as one could be arranged. She arrived just as they were brought into the courtyard, the stretchers stained red.
Itagi motioned with his remaining hand for his sister to come close. She leaned over him, near enough to feel his dying breaths against her cheek.
“We were not defeated,” the Lion smiled quietly.
The pair were buried with full honors together at Otosan Uchi. Their example has been enough to keep the two Clans from full-scale war for over six centuries.
The Crab’s unending fight with the Shadowlands, however, was something of a thorn in Itagi’s side. His achievements were great and his valor unquestioned, but he had never faced an inhuman foe – had never challenged the might of Fu Leng as the Crab did every day. “How can the Lion claim greatness when the fiercest battle is fought for them?” he asked himself. “How can the Emperor’s Right Hand fail to act while his oldest foe is still a threat?” He pondered the perceived inadequacy for weeks, debating how he could overcome it. Finally he hit upon a plan, one which he announced the next day to a stunned assemblage at the Emperor’s feast hall: he would go into the Shadowlands himself, alone, and close the Festering Pit of Fu Leng. With the pit blocked, Rokugan’s greatest foe would be trapped in the underworld forever. He then knelt at the Emperor’s feet and begged his lord for permission to undertake this quest. The Emperor looked down at Itagi, saw the intensity and desire on his face, and quietly nodded his consent.
The Imperial court flew with hushed whispers at the audacity of the announcement, but none dared suggest that he was being foolhardy. Many praised his bravery, and a few even volunteered to go with him, knowing that he would turn them down. He went alone from Otosan Uchi to the lands of the Phoenix, asking them for protection from the corrupting elements of the Pit and the Shadowlands.
The Lion Champion arrived at the gates of Hida Castle some three weeks later, armed for battle and protected with all the sigils and wards the Phoenix could place on him. The Crab daimyo, Hida Tadaka, admitted Itagi and his entourage with as much pomp as his utilitarian palace could muster. The courtiers sneered at the drab decorations and lifeless food that had been prepared, but Itagi seemed undisturbed. He had not come here for a banquet.
At dinner that night, Hida Tadaka finally voiced what no one else was willing to do. As delicately as he could, he suggested that Itagi’s quest was a foolish one, which could only result in the loss of one of the Empire’s greatest heroes. Itagi stopped short at the remark, the blood rushing to his face.
“Are you suggesting that I am incapable of completing this task?”
“I am saying that none are capable of doing what you propose,” Tadaka replied. “Not even the greatest hurricane can put out the sun.”
“But I can,” the Lion retorted, his gaze narrowing. “If we are to be free of the scourge of He Who Must Not Be Named, it will take men like you and I – men with the blood of gods in our veins – to do it. If I am incapable of sealing the pit, Hida-san, then no one is.”
Tadaka looked at the Lion for a long time. Finally he spoke. “Go, then. The consequences will be on your head.”
The next day, Itagi set out from Hida Palace, with only weapons, jade protection and a small stock of food and water. He stopped at Hiruma Castle to resupply, then vanished into the unending grey of Fu Leng’s realm.
A day passed, then a week, with no sign of the Lion’s return. Hiruma scouts reported finding his tracks, but that they vanished near the Black Finger River. Another week passed. The food Itagi had taken with him would have long since been depleted, and the Champion’s followers – still stationed at Hida castle – began to despair of ever seeing him again. A third week passed and there seemed to be no question of Itagi’s fate. Word was sent back to the Lion lands that their Champion had died.
Itagi’s younger sister, however, was unwilling to let the issue rest. Matsu Oki had idolized her brother from a very early age, and refused to believe that the Shadowlands could swallow him up. After hearing of the exchange between Itagi and Tadaka on the night before he vanished, she became convinced that the Crab had orchestrated his death out of jealousy. She organized an army and marched towards the Crab lands to exact vengeance.
Tadaka could scarcely believe it when he heard of the approaching army. His own forces were committed to the Shadowlands defense, and he lacked the resources to make an effective counterattack. So when Oki approached her army, he asked for a parlay and rode out to meet with her. She wasted little time with pleasantries.
“Produce my brother, Crab. Produce him or I will take your castle as restitution.”
“He went into the Shadowlands, as he vowed.”
“After you had threatened him at your own table!” The anger was barely concealed on her face.
“After I had warned him about what he faced. Are you so thick-headed that you cannot tell the difference?”
Oki hissed and drew her sword from its sheath. Before she could strike, Tadaka held up his hands.
“Hold, Lion. I have no quarrel with you. If my blood will pay for his, I give it to you gladly. But strike me down and you must accept that he is gone forever.”
She paused, her sword above her head.
“What are you saying?”
“If your brother somehow lives, then someone will have to go into the Shadowlands to find him. You cannot, and I will not risk any of my men on such an errand. So I will go. Myself. Alone into the Dark Lord’s Realm to retrieve Itagi whether alive or dead. This I swear to you on the blood of my ancestors.”
Oki looked skeptical. “And what if you return without him?”
“Then you may take my head in retribution, and leave my lands in peace.”
Oki considered this carefully.
“I accept your proposal,” she said at last. “My brother has been gone for five and twenty days. I give you that much time to make good on your word.”
That very day, Tadaka set out for the Shadowlands. He carried no weapons save his katana. A piece of jade with strange sigils was wrapped around his neck, and a pouch of colored glass beads was tied around his belt. He moved with stealth, yet purpose, keeping to the shadows and making no more sound than a mouse.
------------------------------
It took two days to locate the nest. Built crudely of sticks and hide, it crept out of a copse of twisted trees like a tendril. It was tall and round, like a giant gopher warren, and a dark opening gaped from its nearest end. It was difficult to see in the shaded half-light of the Shadowlands; had he not known where to look, he might have passed it completely.
Crouching beside the dark opening, Tadaka uttered a sharp chittering noise, like an animal’s cry marked with strange intelligence.
A face shot out of the warren, pointed and whiskered, framed by a tattered pair of ears. The Nezumi held a spear in its paw-like hands as it hissed at the Crab in the same chittering tongue.
“Why you come here, man-man? We kill you, eat your bones for food!”
“I am Hida Tadaka, Nezumi, and I am here to bargain with you.”
The ratling continued to hiss.
“What you have that we want-want?”
Tadaka held up a single glass bead, its surface gleaming in the half-light. He shook the pouch at his belt, rattling the other beads inside. The ratling’s eyes widened at the sound.
“A man passed near here, a man like me,” Tadaka continued. “He came through your tribe’s scrounging territory. Did you see where he went?”
The furry face regarded him for a moment, then vanished into the hole. It reappeared an instant later, the spear no longer in its hand.
“Yes, we see man-man. He go-go where bad things are. Why you want find him so bad-bad?”
“He can stop a war. Do you know if he is still alive?”
“Maybe yes, maybe no. Why we tell you such things as we know-know?”
Tadaka held up the pouch. “All of it. Yours if you tell me where he is.”
That was enough for the ratling.
“Yes. Man-man come by many day ago. Tell us he kill-kill great evil. We laugh at him, but his sword sharp, so not laugh too long. He go-go that way.” The ratling pointed towards a low set of hills, visible in the distance.
“You are certain of this?”
“Yes-Yes! Taktak, great hunter, follow him to see what he do-do. I tell you, man-man go into hills and not come out!”
Tadaka tossed the bag to the ratling, who snatched it greedily out of the air.
“You have the thanks of the Crab clan, Nezumi,” he spoke gruffly.
The ratling greedily shook the multi-colored baubles into its outstretched paw. As it stroked them, it looked back at Tadaka, its eyes narrowing with menace. “Hey man-man. Tell us why we no kill you now?”
In a flash the Crab’s katana was out, arcing towards the rodent-like visage. The ratling let out a panicked squeak and disappeared into the nest, beads flying in its wake. Tadaka chuckled to himself, then sheathed his sword and moved on.
It took Tadaka another day to reach the hills, trudging through the dough-like sludge that passed for ground here. “Hills” was actually an inexact term; they seemed little more than great rocks poking up through the swampland. Tadaka stopped at their base, and knelt down slowly. With a tug, he pulled the jade amulet around his neck free, and hung it in front of his eyes. It swung back and forth like a pendulum, then suddenly stopped, mid flight, and shot to the right, towards the hills. It remained in that position, tugging like a dog against a leash. Tadaka smiled ruefully – the Shadowlands had not yet claimed Itagi’s soul.
The pendant led him like a compass into the jutting rocks. He picked his way carefully over rises and dips, staying as close to the amulet’s path as he could. As the hills grew larger and divided amongst themselves, finally, the Crab found what he was looking for.
He was wedged into a narrow pass and leaning against the rock face for support. His armor was ripped like paper, his body cut in a thousand places. Dirt and mud caked his face, as did bursts of pain that came from every movement. And his left arm had been shorn off just above the elbow. A crude tourniquet had stopped the bleeding, and a blackened burn marked how he had seared the wound closed. His shortened limb shivered and twitched like a snake.
Yet still he was the Champion. His eyes blazed with ferocity and the katana in his remaining hand looked no less dangerous for the blood and ichor that stained it. He swung around in challenge to Tadaka, but lowered his sword when he saw who it was.
“I take it you did not reach the Festering Pit,” Tadaka greeted him.
“You’ve come to gloat then,” the Lion whispered.
“No, to take you back. Your dream is over, Matsu Itagi; it is time to awaken.”
Itagi’s eyes squeezed shut.”
“I cannot go back like this. Not before I reach the pit.”
“You will never reach the pit. No man ever has.”
“Then I will die trying!” he hissed. The Crab remained unchanged.
“And that is what you are doing here? Waiting to die?”
“I am waiting to meet my ancestors, Hida. There are…things out there, coming for me. They said they would hunt me down like a dog. I will not run.”
“Running and retreating are two different things. Are you so foolish that you cannot see the difference?”
“Leave me, Crab,” the Lion whispered. “This fate is mine alone.”
“I beg to differ, Itagi. Even as we speak, your sister is preparing to make war upon my lands. Only your return will deter her. You must remember your oath, Lion. And a war between our peoples will only strengthen the Emperor’s enemies. Come with me. Return to your duties and remember the lessons you have learned here. There are others who need to hear them.”
“I…WILL…NOT…LEAVE.”
Tadaka saw the iron flare in the Lion’s eyes and slowly nodded.
“Then I will stay with you. We will defend this pass together.”
Itagi lowered his head, hiding the tears of pain that welled up in his eyes.
“We cannot defeat these, Crab. They are horrors such as I have never seen.”
“I know.” Tadaka drew his katana and offered his shoulder for the Lion Champion to lean on.
Three days later, a Hiruma scout spotted an oversized figure staggering through the fog. Notching his bow, he aimed his shaft at the approaching thing before Tadaka’s hoarse shout stayed his hand.
The Crab Champion closed the distance between him and the scout, hauling Itagi’s unmoving form on his shoulders. Both men were drenched in blood, their weapons dangling uselessly from their hands. Tadaka collapsed to his knees before the scout, lowering the still-breathing Itagi to the ground.
A squad of bushi was assembled to take them back to Hiruma castle. Matsu Oki received the message and had an escort to the castle as rapidly as one could be arranged. She arrived just as they were brought into the courtyard, the stretchers stained red.
Itagi motioned with his remaining hand for his sister to come close. She leaned over him, near enough to feel his dying breaths against her cheek.
“We were not defeated,” the Lion smiled quietly.
The pair were buried with full honors together at Otosan Uchi. Their example has been enough to keep the two Clans from full-scale war for over six centuries.
