Death to the Jitō (Gunner & Fates)

[Fates.Gamble]

A beautiful day, Kaen thought to himself, drinking in the scene. There was a stunning view of the prefecture from his place atop the central keep’s balcony, Chikuzen’s colorful plains stretching out endlessly before the castle. But the samurai kept his earthy hue’s towards the north, the cool sea breeze teasing at a few loose strands of ebony hair as he gazed upon the ocean. The surface of the water was kissed by the warmth and light of the late-afternoon sun, which rendered it a sapphire expanse glittering with specks of gold. The water was calm; peaceful, even. Kaen might have been able to lose himself in the tranquility of such a view, had the numerous atakebune not been there to shatter the illusion of it.

No matter how beautiful a day, the signs of war were all around them, from the ships in their harbor to the smoldering forges of the castle town upon it. Even if he could ignore the signs, Kaen could not escape the mounting tension; nor the frightened, and often pleading looks of the townsfolk as the samurai passed them by. What he wouldn’t give for a chance to answer that call; a chance to slay the embodiment of their fears and desperation with a swing of his katana. Soon, the Daimyō would send his forces south in the hopes of achieving this very goal, but Kaen would not be among them…

But perhaps that is to change, the samurai mused, wrapping his fingers around the smooth wood of the guard rail. Surely Lord Okana wouldn’t have summoned him in such a manner if it wasn’t a matter of important. Yet, as he continued to gaze upon the atakebune crowding the harbor, Kaen grew doubtful. If this was about the war, then why was he not invited to the meeting with the other samurai? Even now, the Daimyō and his generals kept council, discussing strategies that Kaen was not privy to. Meanwhile, he was left to wait in the his lord and sensei’s private chambers.

Like a child, Kaen grumbled inwardly, a frown taking his face. While it was true he wasn’t as seasoned as some of the other samurai in the Daimyō’s service, Kaen was no mere youth with no taste of war; Lord Okana had taken that boy and forged him in the very heart of it.

So why does he insist on keeping me out of this one?

Kaen pondered the Daimyō’s reasoning, his thoughts getting the better of him as he pushed away from the balcony and retreated back inside. The root of this summons likewise plagued his mind. It wasn’t like Lord Okana to keep a man waiting, let alone schedule a meeting that conflicted with one of his war councils. It left Kaen all the more curious as to what this was about, though he couldn’t stop himself from jumping to conclusions. No doubt, this would be the Daimyō’s way of pacifying him; of explaining why the other samurai would be riding out into uncertain battle, while Kaen would be left behind to write haiku and sharpen his sword. As if he hadn’t spent enough time on that already… Any sharper and his sword was liable to fell a tree in a single blow. Yet, an even darker cloud than the idea of exclusion blanketed the samurai’s mind.


How many will die? He wondered of the upcoming skirmish. And how many more because I am not there to aid them? Their numbers were inferior compared to those garnered by the traitorous Jitō. Those who did not join his ranks willingly often did so out of fear or desperation, as the Jitō continued to raze his bloody path across Kyushu. If they couldn’t stop him soon then control of the island would be wrested away from them; and after that, who could say how far their enemy’s treacherous ambition might reach?

All of these thoughts were swept away once the door slid open, the Daimyō quickly slipping in and closing it in his wake. Kaen came to attention at once, greeting the lord with a bow once he arrived.

“Lord Okana.”

“My apologies for the wait, Kaen,” the Daimyō excused himself, though the samurai was more interested in the man’s appearance. Like Kaen himself, Lord Okana was donned in a dark gray hitatare and hakama. Just earlier today he’d spied the lord dressed in his usual scarlet kimono and eboshi; garb more befitting a meeting of his samurai. Now a simple headband had taken the place of the stiff, formal hat, revealing his salt and pepper hair which was done up in a top knot. At his hip rested his katana in its sheathe, and unfamiliar sight when the lord was in the safety of his castle.

“There is no need to apologize,” Kaen replied, pulling his eyes away from the brightly colored hilt of the Lord Okana’s sword and resisting the urge to question him on it. But the look in the samurai’s eye was not lost on the Daimyō. After all, no one understood Kaen’s curious, and impatient nature better than the man who’d tempered it.

“You wonder at my appearance,” the Daimyō said, sizing up his pupil with a calculated look. Yet, there was an even bigger question brewing in his student’s dark eyes, one that took precedence. “And at why I’ve summoned you here, instead of inviting you to join me with the other samurai.”

“Yes,” Kaen spoke plainly, his body growing stiff as a board in the Daimyō’s presence. Lord Okana had always been a perceptive man, able to see right through any facade Kaen might employ to hide his feelings. It could prove frustrating at times, but for the present the samurai was almost grateful for his sensei’s insight. He wanted to bring up the issue but hadn’t been sure of the proper course in doing so. Now that it was on the table, however, the samurai no longer bothered to hide his frustration.

“Why do you continue to keep me in the dark, Okana-Sensei? Kyushu is my home, I should have the honor of defending it as well. But it seems as though you do not trust me with my own katana, let alone your council.”

A look of displeasure crossed his sensei’s face, but that was not enough to quell Kaen’s own vexation. The resulting silence that followed, however…

The quiet was palpable as his Lord and Sensei crossed the room, moving past Kaen to stand within the open threshold of the balcony instead. He stood motionless, seeming as tall as a mountain to Kaen, he lingered in his shadow. Kaen was caught feeling somewhere between guilty and justified, but the silence won him over in the end.

“Forgive me, Sensei. I--”

“You are rash,” Lord Okana interrupted him. “Your passion burns hots, like the fire for which you are named. But you allow your emotions to cloud your judgement. And that is why I am hesitant to throw you into the jaws of this war.” Lord Okana sighed, turning away from the ocean-side view to face his pupil once more. “You know our code. A samurai must have self-control at all times. War can bring out the demons even in the best of men. You have been in many fights and you wield your sword with the mastery of a true samurai… But you have not seen war like this. After all these years… You are like a son to me, Kaen, and I would shield you from its horrors for as long as I can.”

“Thank you, Sensei…” Kaen stammered, finding himself caught off guard by the unexpected praise and words of affection. But it only brought the fire in the young samurai down to a simmer. “But I am a child to be coddled no longer. I am a samurai, like the rest of them. It is my duty to fight for you, and for my homeland.”

“You are right,” Lord Okana said, conceding. “The time for waiting is passed; now is the time for action. The truth is, I did not invite you to join us because there is a different meeting I would have you attend.”

“A different meeting?” Kaen repeated, his brow knitting with uncertainty.

“Yes. But I’m afraid we must wait until nightfall to attend. Come, let us work on our haiku until then. For this, it would serve well for our minds to be as sharp as our katana.”

~

“Deception is not like you, Sensei,” Kaen said, keeping his voice low and quiet, as requested. This mystery meeting had the samurai’s curiosity piqued from the first, and it only grew as Lord Okana dodged every inquiry he made about the other party in question. But once the time came, and the Daimyō revealed that they would be using the cover of darkness to bypass the guards and sneak out of his own castle, Kaen’s curiosity quickly turned to suspicion.

“It is best if no one realizes this meeting took place,” explained his lord and master.

Save the one you conspired with, Kaen thought to himself, not daring to give voice to the thought. A pair of fresh horses would be waiting for them beyond the castle grounds, or so the Daimyō told him. Taking their usual mounts would give the game away. Someone would have prepared them, meaning at least one other was aware of this ‘secret meeting’ they would be attending.

Who are we to meet, Kaen wondered, That would make Lord Okana risk his honor by acting as a sneak-thief?

He wished to press his sensei on the matter, but he knew better than to do so; least of all now, whilst hiding and the shadows and waiting for a nearby sentry to cross to the other side of the courtyard. Once he did, the two samurai darted across the courtyard, as fast and quiet as a pair of snakes. It felt unsettling to be treating the men who protected them as though they were the enemy, but Kaen buried those feelings, putting his focus on the task at hand as they used similar tactics to navigate the rest of the grounds. None were the wiser by the time the two of them had escaped the fortress, their dark grey clothes helping them to melt into the obscurity. As they reached the horses, both tied and waiting as Lord Okana promised, Kaen passed a dubious look back towards the castle and its flickering torchlight.

“Will you tell me who we’re going through all this trouble for, now?” Kaen inquired as he mounted up the chestnut mare which had been chosen for him.

“All will soon be clear,” Lord Okana assured him, remaining as cryptic as ever.

Kaen was far from satisfied with that answer, but he fell silent after that, focusing on the road once the two of them took their leave. While he still could not say who awaited them at the end of the journey, he soon came to realize where they would be meeting them. He and Lord Okana had made this ride many times throughout his life, though it usually meant Kaen was in for a hard lesson in the ways of the sword. Never had they traveled to the grove for such conspicuous reasons…

It was no more than an hour before they found themselves in the shadow of the reaching trees, guided by the sound of the stream and the rushing falls some distance up ahead. Kaen had spent many hours locking swords with his sensei in this copse, yet the place had a different feel to it at night. Beneath the cloak of darkness, the colorful foliage was no where to be found. Everything appeared inky in the night, the reaching shadows more ominous than ever as they traveled the narrow path beneath the boughs. Luckily, they knew the way by heart, needing no more than the faint moonlight to travel safely to their age old sparring ring. However, once they finally reached solitary cherry blossom tree, centered in a clearing banked by tree and cliff alike, it appeared empty.

“There’s no one here,” Kaen complained, reining in his mount.

Lord Okana narrowed his eyes and extended his gaze to the dark faces of stone rising above them.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” the Daimyō told him, eyes jumping from one place to the next. “We might not be able to see them, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t here. Keep your wits about you.”

“More riddles,” Kaen grumbled, straining his eyes as he peered through the darkness in search of these invisible men.

 

[LilGunner]

Ankoku Nakayama, Daimyo of the Buzen prefecture, arrived in the shady little copse near the end of the day. The sun sank to the west, swallowed by the sea. He was alone, strange for a man of his standing, but he had worn a simple and old clothing to pass as a commoner. A bundle was lashed securely to the saddle of his horse, an old and bedraggled nag, with his Katana hidden but reachable in the bundle. Luckily he’d had no cause to take up the weapon. Yet all the disguise in the world failed to hide the tall, unyielding way he rode and carried himself. His once all inky black hair, now streaked with grey, was caught up into a top knot. He heaved a gentle sigh, taking in the peaceful sights and more than ready to stretch his legs.

“You are late master,” a voice hissed from above. Ankoku raised his dark eye upwards. Even hearing the voice he could not see its owner though he knew that voice well.

“I did not begin my journey here yesterday, Harue,” he said in a mingled tone of exasperation and amusement. “Have you eaten?”

“No, I was waiting for you,” the voice said with no annoyance. “I have a nice fat rabbit skinned and ready to be cooked.”

“Well come down from there and let us cook this creature. I have brought some rice and vegetables, we shall have a good meal,” he said with a light laugh. His strange little protégé had always preferred the flesh of animals for a meal.

The boughs of the cherry blossom tree barely wiggled when a little figure rolled and dropped from them. A blur of black and brown hit the ground with only the whisper of disturbed grass. Harue Sakurai rose up, standing as tall as she could. Even for their people she was tiny. With her face hidden beneath a dark cowl and mask, and with such an unimposing stature, one might mistake her for a child. Her unusually large eyes almost calf-like. Even the closer fitting clothing she wore hardly belied anything. At her waist she wore a short, straight bladed weapon, typical for her ilk. The hilt more square and a bit longer than the hilt of a katana or wakizashi, the scabbard longer than the blade with a false bottom to store makibishi or removed all together to hide in the water and used as a snorkel.

Ankoku looked down at the small woman and gave an amused grin before sliding off his horse. Harue was quick to take the horse’s reins and lead it away from the clearing to conceal the beast. She didn’t like horses, noisy and flighty beasts. Better to eat one than ride it in her opinion. When she returned she carried the gutted and skinned rabbit. She and Ankoku set about making a small fire to roast the rabbit and settle in for a meal.

“You are certain this friend is trust worthy?” She finally asked as she lowered her cowel and mask the eat. For someone born lower than the average commoner she had fine, smooth skin with a tiny round nose. Her black hair was scraped back into a single tail, wound and pinned around the back of her head.

“He is a man of superior honor,” Ankoku said with a serious nod as he dished out some rice. “We have our differences but I would trust him with my life. Soon I just may have to,” he said with a light chuckle. “He is bringing another, a young samurai I believe. Perhaps you may learn some manners finally.”

Harue raised her brows a moment before frowning and making a rude noise with her upper lip. “Learn to be as rigid as day old porridge you mean.”

Akoku laughed good naturedly. “Just try to mind your manners around these men, will you?”

Harue stared at him for a moment before giving a sharp nod. “As you wish, master.”

They shared their meal and were quick to clean up the evidence. Night fell and Ankoku changed in attire similar to Harue. He blended in with the shadows of the grove, taking up a spot just to the right of the cherry tree. Harue climbed with the ease of the nihonzaru back into the trees to wait for their guests.

The smell of the campfire had long since left the grove. It was silent but for the gentle whisper of wind through the leaves. Harue laid along a branch on her belly, watching and listening. The rhythmic clopping of hooves alerted them to company. Horses were just so damn noisy, why anyone would want to give themselves away like that was beyond her. The pair rode into the clearing bold as brass. She had never seen her master’s old friend before. They seemed somehow so alike and yet so different. The man carried himself tall and straight as bamboo just as her master did, they had that air of authority. Yet this man was more like a sturdy oak while her master was more like the willow. Her eyes darted over to the young samurai, perhaps a couple years her senior.

The young samurai was quick to bemoan the lack of anyone present. Harue sniggered at him, so typical. If it is not in plain sight it must not exist right? His Daimyo corrected him, clearly he knew just what master Nakayama was. Though he had not trained as long as she had with the Iga Shinobi clan he had learned some of their craft. She turned her gaze to where she knew her master was. To her it was plain as day. The unobtrusive bend in the roots of a tree, a little too high and broad. Of course she also had the advantage of see where he had chosen to wait.

Ankoku didn’t wait long to rise up. He seemed a spirit, rising up from the earth. Perhaps a Tsuchigumo. He walked into the clearing and stepped into a beam of moonlight. His arms spread in welcome before he pulled down his cowl and mask.

“Hiroto, my old friend, it has been too long,” he said with a jovial smile before giving a polite bow. “It is good of you to come and with your young charge,” he said as he glanced over to Kaen.

Meanwhile Harue moved. A little shadow that moved with no sound. She slid from her perch and eased herself down. The soft soles of her jikatabi touched the hindquarter’s of Kaen’s steed. The horse twitched and stamped uncomfortably for a moment before going still. Harue released the branch to stand on the beast’s flank right behind the samurai. Ankoku didn’t even raise his eyes up to his protégé’s antics.

“We have a great deal to discuss, you and I. I wish we would meet more under less pressing circumstances. That traitor’s forces are growing ever stronger, cowards bowing to his bloody campaign. I had hoped you might see that now is the time for less…conventional means of war.” Ankoku was quick to get to the point of the meeting. “Oh, and forgive my rudeness, please meet my own young charge. Harue Sakurai,” he said, finally gesturing behind the men.

When both turned they’d be greeted to the tiny, darkly garbed, and masked figure balanced neatly on the back of Kaen’s horse. Even standing behind Kaen she was just over a foot taller than him. She turned and deeply bowed to Lord Okana. Standing back up she fell backwards off the horse, turning over in air to land on her feet like some cat before walking to her master’s side.

“I apologize, Harue has never had the best of manners,” he said with a short laugh and nod. “Also a bit of a show-off,” he added with a sideways glance to the tiny shinobi. “Come, sit, I have brought sake to share and discuss our plans.” He gestured of a soft patch of grass, putting an arm to Harue’s back to lead her over. The pair sat and waited for Hiroto and Kaen to join them.

 

[Fates.Gamble]

Hiroto had been expecting his old friend to reveal himself, yet even he was surprised to find Ankoku rising up from the earth, his lean and regal form shifting through the darkness to step out into the moonlight with arms spread wide in welcome. The stout, formal nature that Kaen was so used to seemed to slip away from his old master, a smile cracking from Lord Okana’s weathered face upon seeing the man from his past.

A shinobi... Kaen realized, his brow furrowing with confusion.

“Far too long, Ankoku,” Hiroto agreed, the warmth of familiarity filling his aged voice. The Daimyo was already dismounting his horse, but his charge remained seated, meeting Ankoku’s bow with a guarded, suspicious expression before inevitably returning it.

“Kaen Yamazaki,” Hiroto introduced him, giving his protégé a sharp look in response to his leery behavior. “Kaen, this is Lord Ankoku Nakayama, Daimyo of the Buzen prefecture.”

Only now did Kaen come to understand the reason behind Lord Okana’s unusual, secretive behavior. So many questions sprang to mind that the samurai wasn’t sure how he managed to hold his tongue. Who was this Ankoku to speak to casually to his Daimyo, even if he did share the title? ‘Old friend?’ Just how long had his sensei been friends with a shinobi? He’d known Lord Okana for most of his life, so why was he only learning of this now?

His curiosity didn’t stop there, but while Ankoku spoke, Kaen hung onto every word, eyes jumping between his lord and the ninja he proclaimed friend. He’d already come to suspect this meeting was in regards to the uprising, but it was no less a sting to his pride to hear the confirmation from Ankoku’s lips. Was this truly Lord Okana’s plan, Kaen wondered; to hide away proven samurai such as himself, and employ shinobi in their place? The samurai was so engrossed by the audacity of it all that he barely noticed the agitation of his horse, nor the deadly, shadow-like form that quietly positioned herself behind him.

A samurai had to be vigilant; completely aware of his surroundings if he hoped to survive in battle. It was for this reason that Lord Okana trained Kaen to trust his ears and nose as well as he did his eyes. The whistle of steel from an unseen enemy; the perfume of a cut throat sneaking up from behind… Such minute perceptions had saved him from untimely demise in the past, instilling him with confidence in his keen senses. But even they were no match for Harue’s subtlety. Had she blade in hand, it would have taken little more than a flick of the wrist for the shinobi to have the samurai completely at her mercy. And just like that, and all those years of rigorous training would have been for naught.

This realization was not lost on Kaen once Ankoku gave away the game, drawing the samurai’s attention to the ninja who’d seem to bloom right out of the cherry blossoms. Kaen’s reflexes weren’t nearly as lacking as his skills of detection, his right hand springing to the hilt off his sword as swift as a fox. Fortunately, Kaen recovered from his surprise before pulling the blade free. One swipe and he would have potentially rendered the girl even shorter than she was now. Neither of the daimyo were likely to be pleased by that outcome, yet Kaen’s hand remained, his grip tightening as he watched Harue display her cheeky athleticism; as though she were taunting him!

Needless to say, Kaen felt a sting to his pride as the girl flipped away and sauntered over to her master’s side. Ankoku was left to apologize for her behavior, but Kaen couldn’t be bothered to pay the lord any mind. His were were locked upon Harue, burning into the young woman with intense frustration. He must have received no less than a thousand welts learning to fend off his sensei’s sparring sword while blindfolded. To think that this honorless mouse of a girl could render such painstaking effort next to useless…

Hiroto noted the displeasure in Kaen’s gaze, recognizing it as more than mere agitation. Harue’s antics found a way to fuel the hot tempered samurai’s already burning frustrations, and worse yet, his insecurity. He could see a mix of both bubbling up from within, leaving the daimyo uncertain of whether or not his ward would draw that katana he clung to. Yet no sooner than he doubted the man did Kaen compose himself, his hand fleeing the hilt of his sword while he moved to dismount his horse instead. Hiroto would have liked to say it put him at ease, but he knew the samurai had only managed to wrestle his temper back down, never truly smothering it. The embers would continue to burn, an ever-present spark waiting for the next powder keg to roll along.

“Never mind all that,” Hiroto said, excusing their two pupils. “Given our manner of flight from the castle, I think we are past the need for proper mannerisms.”

"Not to mention our present company.”

Kaen knew he should have bitten his tongue; that he should have left well enough alone and not test his daimyo’s invitation to drop formality, but the way these shinobi managed to deceive him left the samurai hot blooded, and itching for a fight. It was Lord Okana who appeared the most ready to give him one, however, eyes flashing like daggers as the old swordsman rounded on his student.

“Kaen! You dishonor our guests. Lord Nakayama is a daimyo, and you will show him the proper respect.”

Honor? Respect? Was it not the very man scolding him now who’d taught Kaen that shinobi renounced these customs; customs which they samurai were meant to cherish? Yet here his lord stood, sneaking out of castles and greeting a pair of ninja as though he’d trained among them once. How was he supposed to hold his tongue and respect his teachings when their actions said they were forsaking them all? But Kaen found himself voiceless all the same, the fight draining out of him upon meeting his master’s stern, yet equally disappointed gaze. Worse than dishonoring their shady guests, he’d dishonored the man who’d only just earlier likened him to his son. And for that, he truly was sorry enough to offer them a bow in apology.

“It seems we’ve failed to teach either of them any manners,” Hiroto said, grumbling over their protégés to Ankoku before him in leisure.

Kaen followed suit, settling down upon the cool blades of grass next to Lord Okana. His eyes fell upon the woman seated across from him briefly, a hint of the fire she stoked remaining before his attention fell upon the sake instead. He watched carefully as it was poured, his mistrust getting the better of him. Shinobi were known for cowardly tactics, poison being chief among them. Yet his eyes revealed to him no misdeeds, nor his nose upon giving it as subtle a whiff as he could manage. The daimyo trusted his cup well enough to drink, so far be it from him to deny it. A bit of sake was sure to wash away the frustration he felt, though he’d have to guard his tongue twice as vigilantly. For the time being, he was happy enough to sit, listen, and learn what this was all about.

Hiroto started off, addressing Ankoku: “In your letter you claimed you had a way to topple this rebellion in less than a fortnight.” The daimyo’s eyes flighted briefly to Harue, silently wondering at her purpose here. Were her actions from before simple banter, or were they a demonstration? Whatever Kaen’s temper he still remained one of the daimyo’s keenest samurai, and she’d planted herself behind him as quietly as though she were the man’s shadow itself.

“How do you propose to do it, then?” Hiroto asked, his attention returning to the man who’d come so far to gain his ear.