War of the Heavens
by Kakita Kaori
Written for Terry Madden and Niel Canuel for their Great deeds at GenCon 98
The forces of Shinjo were arrayed across the hillside on the approach to Otosan Uchi. Night clung to the Golden City like a poison mist filling each window and street with its seeping darkness. The Unicorn surrounded the shining Kami with holy fervor in their eyes, and the spears of the Scorpion’s gaijin army glittered in her radiance. The light warmed to a golden glow, a halo on the mighty Matsu forces, small, but once the world shook when the Lion roared. Their allies, the Crab, formed twenty hard-edged shadows against the light. Above, the Isawa shugenja brightened the sky on fiery wings of flame, and below, the Ise Zume chanted the name of Hitomi as invocation across the darkness.
Observers. Ten masters of the blade. One hundred students, some little more than children. This night was their gempukku.
Once, the Empire danced smoothly across the stage of time. All profited in the abundance of the heavens invoked by its gently twirling fans. Once, it was the Crane who played the music, against the measure of the ages and the changing rhythm of political power. Once, the Emperor was a Hantei, and no dark evil clung to the walls of Otosan Uchi.
Once was long ago.
The word had come through an unknown messenger, but the Masters of the Academy had known the mark.
Shinjo requests the aid of the children of Doji. Send whom you can.
Did the Gray Crane know how few that would be? How many dead lay slaughtered on the Doji Plains? How many were lost in the Bayushi provinces? Wives waited for their husbands, mothers for sons that would never come, all across the lands of the Crane. The Crab, the Lion, the dark army of the False Hoturi, and the forces of Fu Leng reborn in the body of the last Hantei, these enemies did not spare the children of Doji for the virtue of their innocence. And Crane spilled more Crane blood on matters of honor, fearing the Shadow growing in Otosan Uchi, not knowing its source or its resolution. Still not understanding., but here.
Ten masters. And their hundred students. Few enough, but even here, the civil war’s wounds were felt.
*****************
“Master, I cannot. I cannot be matched with him. His uncle killed my brother at Lost Maiden Pass.”
“You have no choice. This is your gempukku. If you fail this, you fail all of the Crane, and your Empire also. There are things more important than revenge.”
“But....”
The look from his sensei brooked no further argument. The young Doji student went to his assigned partner.
The Daidoji looked up, and anger flared in his eyes. “You. You are the brother of Doji Soramatsu, are you not?” His voice hissed in the darkness, nearly drowned by the drums signaling the advance.
“Hai,” The Doji hissed back.
“Your brother cut down my father. I have no love for you. I will fight beside you for this battle but only because my sensei commands it. Just stay out of my way.”
The Doji glared back, but said nothing. Already, the drums signaling the advance were beginning to sound, and the shadow reared. Both students of the Iaijitsu masters put their hands on their swords as they moved forward into battle.
********
"This is not a war to win an Empire, but to destroy a God!"
The Togashi’s bellow could be heard from Far Traveler City to Garden under Shadow, it seemed, and at his cry, the drums lit the hearts of those bred to war from coals into hot flame. But not for all...
*******
Sweat was running down his forehead by the time he reached the wall. No blood touched him, and it seemed that he was fighting only the empty air for the lack of satisfaction that he felt as they fell before him. But he had seen far too many of his own fall before he’d reached the wall.
At his side, the Doji fought, and his heart filled with anger, again. He knew his ancestral duty. . . .he should protect the young man in rich armors, but after the blood of his family. . . how could he? The Nothing slid off his blade, and he heard a Phoenix shout an evil chant, as the gate exploded and shattered before him. The Phoenix said something more too, but the words were lost in the kai the Crane shouted as they broke through the gate.
He heard the energy and enthusiasm in the young Doji’s voice as they rushed through, though he was sure he sounded hoarse and tired from battle. There was a whistle, and several clinks to one side, and finally he stopped in his path of destruction. He saw the Doji holding his katana up, and three sherikin dropping to the ground. Sherikin dripping with poison, that would have struck him if the Doji had not interfered. He opened his mouth.
The Doji cut him off, sneering. “My katana just happened to be in the way. It means nothing.”
Then a new wave of shadows overwhelmed them both.
**********
The shout had come up from behind them, over the roar of battle. “The Crane have taken the South Wall!!” But the two students were deep into the city of Otosan Uchi by this time. Delicate bridges and tiny twisting streams, lovely statues and carefully sculpted plants, all warped and diseased by the Shadows that had infected them.
The Doji was exhausted. His arms trembled and his sword felt heavy in his hand. For much of the day and into the evening hours they had fought, and the Shadows showed no signs of abating. They had lost most of the other Kakita Academy students. Some had stayed to defend the wall, and he had heard the shout go up. But most had fallen before the blades of his enemy. He was soaked in blood. . . not all of those he had fought disappeared into vapor. They had traces of a soul left, perhaps.
All he knew was that he had to rest. . . .and that the Daidoji never stopped. Never slowed down as they moved forward through the streets of the city. It was almost maddening. The other student never showed the least sign of exhaustion as they fought, endlessly. He wasn’t entirely sure he even needed to block the sherikin that had been about to strike the Daidoji. He doubted even that poison would have stopped the killing machine that was his clansman’s blade. He wasn’t entirely sure why he did.
The street seemed empty, and he stopped to run his sleeve across his forehead. “Daidoji. . . a moment to clean my swo. . . .” Suddenly there was the sound of a grunt as he was knocked aside, and a wet slice. A head tumbled across the ground to land before him, a head with no eyes that dissolved to dust. As he stood, he saw the Daidoji crumble to his knees. The Doji went over, hand on sword in case of another ambush. Blood was spreading across the Daidoji’s chest. On the ground lay the crumbled ninja garb and the short sword that had been about to take his life while he was off his guard, the short sword the Daidoji took in his place. “Th. . . ”
The Daidoji stopped him. “I just happened to be in the way,” he said roughly. “It means nothing.”
*******
He saw two students in the street, alone. A young Doji trembling with exhaustion stood over a fallen Daidoji with a make-shift bandage over his chest. They had fight in them, he could see, but the Daidoji needed healing, and the Shadows were closing in. They would not last where they stood.
He sauntered forward. “Lost your way, students?” he asked. “This isn’t a good place to rest.” They looked at him with unknowing eyes. Well, it had been a long time since he had been at the Kakita Academy. “Here.”
The Doji stepped forward cautiously. The Shadows here had used many illusions to hide their treachery, and disguising themselves as a scruffy, ancient ronin was obviously possible, however unlikely. The Ronin grinned, and held out the white grain of wheat. “Give this to your friend. It’ll heal his wounds. Then you both can come with me. I’ll make sure you get to someplace reasonably safe.”
The Doji looked suspiciously at the grain, then brought it over to the wounded Daidoji. The old man gestured. “Eat it. It’s from the Asahina.”
The Daidoji put it in his mouth and chewed cautiously. As its healing power went to work, the Daidoji tightened his own bandage, and climbed to his feet. “Thank you, Old One. But we don’t want to be safe. At Shinjo’s behest, we must fight the Shadows, and we will do so.”
The Doji agreed, putting his hand on his sword. “I can still fight. Just because we have been cut off, doesn’t mean that we have been defeated.”
The Ronin grinned, teeth flashing as white as their dyed hair. “Very well. Come with me anyway. We will head for the Imperial Palace.”
They straightened, weary, but ready to fight once more. Doji and Daidoji fighting together, not against each other. It did his old heart good to see it.
**********
They moved through the Imperial Gardens, haunted pale at the nearness of the moon, a cold death-light hanging over everything. Perhaps some ancient blessing of the Hantei hung over the place because, although the fight was bitter to pass the palace walls, the Gardens were empty safe for the tattered ghosts that drifted, impotent, between the shadows. The old ronin found a panel in the wall, concealed by drooping jasmine, and pushed it aside.
“This is where your road ends. You will not be able to go further. Watch the entrance for me, and don’t let any shadows come down behind me. I’ve got a greater enemy to slay.”
The two nodded. Though courage and endurance had carried them to this place, they knew that, outside of the light of the old swordmaster, they would never be able to penetrate the walls of the palace itself.
“We will stay,” said the Daidoji.
“We will guard you,” said the Doji.
“But. . . ” the Doji added, “Who is can we say we guarded, Swordmaster?”
Sparkling eyes gleamed in the shadows of the tunnel entrance. “My name is Kakita Toshimoko, son. And I am glad to be a Crane!” He disappeared into the darkness.
Written for Terry Madden and Niel Canuel for their Great deeds at GenCon 98
The forces of Shinjo were arrayed across the hillside on the approach to Otosan Uchi. Night clung to the Golden City like a poison mist filling each window and street with its seeping darkness. The Unicorn surrounded the shining Kami with holy fervor in their eyes, and the spears of the Scorpion’s gaijin army glittered in her radiance. The light warmed to a golden glow, a halo on the mighty Matsu forces, small, but once the world shook when the Lion roared. Their allies, the Crab, formed twenty hard-edged shadows against the light. Above, the Isawa shugenja brightened the sky on fiery wings of flame, and below, the Ise Zume chanted the name of Hitomi as invocation across the darkness.
Observers. Ten masters of the blade. One hundred students, some little more than children. This night was their gempukku.
Once, the Empire danced smoothly across the stage of time. All profited in the abundance of the heavens invoked by its gently twirling fans. Once, it was the Crane who played the music, against the measure of the ages and the changing rhythm of political power. Once, the Emperor was a Hantei, and no dark evil clung to the walls of Otosan Uchi.
Once was long ago.
The word had come through an unknown messenger, but the Masters of the Academy had known the mark.
Shinjo requests the aid of the children of Doji. Send whom you can.
Did the Gray Crane know how few that would be? How many dead lay slaughtered on the Doji Plains? How many were lost in the Bayushi provinces? Wives waited for their husbands, mothers for sons that would never come, all across the lands of the Crane. The Crab, the Lion, the dark army of the False Hoturi, and the forces of Fu Leng reborn in the body of the last Hantei, these enemies did not spare the children of Doji for the virtue of their innocence. And Crane spilled more Crane blood on matters of honor, fearing the Shadow growing in Otosan Uchi, not knowing its source or its resolution. Still not understanding., but here.
Ten masters. And their hundred students. Few enough, but even here, the civil war’s wounds were felt.
*****************
“Master, I cannot. I cannot be matched with him. His uncle killed my brother at Lost Maiden Pass.”
“You have no choice. This is your gempukku. If you fail this, you fail all of the Crane, and your Empire also. There are things more important than revenge.”
“But....”
The look from his sensei brooked no further argument. The young Doji student went to his assigned partner.
The Daidoji looked up, and anger flared in his eyes. “You. You are the brother of Doji Soramatsu, are you not?” His voice hissed in the darkness, nearly drowned by the drums signaling the advance.
“Hai,” The Doji hissed back.
“Your brother cut down my father. I have no love for you. I will fight beside you for this battle but only because my sensei commands it. Just stay out of my way.”
The Doji glared back, but said nothing. Already, the drums signaling the advance were beginning to sound, and the shadow reared. Both students of the Iaijitsu masters put their hands on their swords as they moved forward into battle.
********
"This is not a war to win an Empire, but to destroy a God!"
The Togashi’s bellow could be heard from Far Traveler City to Garden under Shadow, it seemed, and at his cry, the drums lit the hearts of those bred to war from coals into hot flame. But not for all...
*******
Sweat was running down his forehead by the time he reached the wall. No blood touched him, and it seemed that he was fighting only the empty air for the lack of satisfaction that he felt as they fell before him. But he had seen far too many of his own fall before he’d reached the wall.
At his side, the Doji fought, and his heart filled with anger, again. He knew his ancestral duty. . . .he should protect the young man in rich armors, but after the blood of his family. . . how could he? The Nothing slid off his blade, and he heard a Phoenix shout an evil chant, as the gate exploded and shattered before him. The Phoenix said something more too, but the words were lost in the kai the Crane shouted as they broke through the gate.
He heard the energy and enthusiasm in the young Doji’s voice as they rushed through, though he was sure he sounded hoarse and tired from battle. There was a whistle, and several clinks to one side, and finally he stopped in his path of destruction. He saw the Doji holding his katana up, and three sherikin dropping to the ground. Sherikin dripping with poison, that would have struck him if the Doji had not interfered. He opened his mouth.
The Doji cut him off, sneering. “My katana just happened to be in the way. It means nothing.”
Then a new wave of shadows overwhelmed them both.
**********
The shout had come up from behind them, over the roar of battle. “The Crane have taken the South Wall!!” But the two students were deep into the city of Otosan Uchi by this time. Delicate bridges and tiny twisting streams, lovely statues and carefully sculpted plants, all warped and diseased by the Shadows that had infected them.
The Doji was exhausted. His arms trembled and his sword felt heavy in his hand. For much of the day and into the evening hours they had fought, and the Shadows showed no signs of abating. They had lost most of the other Kakita Academy students. Some had stayed to defend the wall, and he had heard the shout go up. But most had fallen before the blades of his enemy. He was soaked in blood. . . not all of those he had fought disappeared into vapor. They had traces of a soul left, perhaps.
All he knew was that he had to rest. . . .and that the Daidoji never stopped. Never slowed down as they moved forward through the streets of the city. It was almost maddening. The other student never showed the least sign of exhaustion as they fought, endlessly. He wasn’t entirely sure he even needed to block the sherikin that had been about to strike the Daidoji. He doubted even that poison would have stopped the killing machine that was his clansman’s blade. He wasn’t entirely sure why he did.
The street seemed empty, and he stopped to run his sleeve across his forehead. “Daidoji. . . a moment to clean my swo. . . .” Suddenly there was the sound of a grunt as he was knocked aside, and a wet slice. A head tumbled across the ground to land before him, a head with no eyes that dissolved to dust. As he stood, he saw the Daidoji crumble to his knees. The Doji went over, hand on sword in case of another ambush. Blood was spreading across the Daidoji’s chest. On the ground lay the crumbled ninja garb and the short sword that had been about to take his life while he was off his guard, the short sword the Daidoji took in his place. “Th. . . ”
The Daidoji stopped him. “I just happened to be in the way,” he said roughly. “It means nothing.”
*******
He saw two students in the street, alone. A young Doji trembling with exhaustion stood over a fallen Daidoji with a make-shift bandage over his chest. They had fight in them, he could see, but the Daidoji needed healing, and the Shadows were closing in. They would not last where they stood.
He sauntered forward. “Lost your way, students?” he asked. “This isn’t a good place to rest.” They looked at him with unknowing eyes. Well, it had been a long time since he had been at the Kakita Academy. “Here.”
The Doji stepped forward cautiously. The Shadows here had used many illusions to hide their treachery, and disguising themselves as a scruffy, ancient ronin was obviously possible, however unlikely. The Ronin grinned, and held out the white grain of wheat. “Give this to your friend. It’ll heal his wounds. Then you both can come with me. I’ll make sure you get to someplace reasonably safe.”
The Doji looked suspiciously at the grain, then brought it over to the wounded Daidoji. The old man gestured. “Eat it. It’s from the Asahina.”
The Daidoji put it in his mouth and chewed cautiously. As its healing power went to work, the Daidoji tightened his own bandage, and climbed to his feet. “Thank you, Old One. But we don’t want to be safe. At Shinjo’s behest, we must fight the Shadows, and we will do so.”
The Doji agreed, putting his hand on his sword. “I can still fight. Just because we have been cut off, doesn’t mean that we have been defeated.”
The Ronin grinned, teeth flashing as white as their dyed hair. “Very well. Come with me anyway. We will head for the Imperial Palace.”
They straightened, weary, but ready to fight once more. Doji and Daidoji fighting together, not against each other. It did his old heart good to see it.
**********
They moved through the Imperial Gardens, haunted pale at the nearness of the moon, a cold death-light hanging over everything. Perhaps some ancient blessing of the Hantei hung over the place because, although the fight was bitter to pass the palace walls, the Gardens were empty safe for the tattered ghosts that drifted, impotent, between the shadows. The old ronin found a panel in the wall, concealed by drooping jasmine, and pushed it aside.
“This is where your road ends. You will not be able to go further. Watch the entrance for me, and don’t let any shadows come down behind me. I’ve got a greater enemy to slay.”
The two nodded. Though courage and endurance had carried them to this place, they knew that, outside of the light of the old swordmaster, they would never be able to penetrate the walls of the palace itself.
“We will stay,” said the Daidoji.
“We will guard you,” said the Doji.
“But. . . ” the Doji added, “Who is can we say we guarded, Swordmaster?”
Sparkling eyes gleamed in the shadows of the tunnel entrance. “My name is Kakita Toshimoko, son. And I am glad to be a Crane!” He disappeared into the darkness.
