Path of Honour, part 1

  
 
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1105, Nadani Mura [a small village on the Lion-Crane border]
The party of Crane samurai rode into the village, their banner fluttering merrily in the breeze. In the middle of the road stood a Lion samurai, his hand resting lightly on the katana at his side. To one side, almost hidden in the shadows, an unarmed woman dressed in the formal garb of a samurai wife watched silently.
"I am Akodo Matasado, magistrate of the Lion Clan, and this village belongs to the Lion. Turn your horses and leave." The man's voice rang out over the village, the voice of a man used to command. Those peasants who hadn't done so already found a reason to be elsewhere, none brave enough to stand and watch the drama unfold. The party of Crane stopped as one, and the leading rider spoke.
"I am Doji Benoda, magistrate of the Crane Clan, and I claim this village in the name of the Crane. Step aside, Akodo, or we will be forced to cut you down." The Doji spoke with the voice of an orator rather than a general, a man used to addressing crowds.
"Nadani mura has been the seat of my family for generations, Crane. Leave." "Since your family stole it from my Clan. We are here, Lion, to retrieve what is rightfully ours." The Crane dismounted and took a few steps towards Matasado. "We did not ride here just to return home." The two were now face to face, staring into each other's eyes.
"You bring six Crane to force a single Akodo from his home?" Matasado sneered. "Such bravery. You do the honour of your Clan great credit, Doji-san."
"I bring six Crane to ensure that the matter is witnessed, Akodo-san. I myself will force you to yield, if you do not see fit to return my Clan's property."
"You wish to fight me alone?" Matasado gave the other a calculating look. He was young and probably inexperienced, but the Kakita mon showed that he had been trained by the foremost duelling school in the Empire. "Hai." The Doji bowed, and adopted an iaijutsu stance. Matasado followed suit, adopting one of the more unusual stances he knew. A man this young probably wouldn't have seen it, he thought to himself, and prepared for the strike...
1121, a few miles to the west...
Kuto watched silently from his hiding place. Seventeen years of age, he was a thin, almost gangly young man with wispy stubble beginning to form on his chin. His dark eyes held a hint of nervousness as he gripped his sword tightly and watched the road below in silence. A palanquin marked with the mon of the Crane was making its way sedately towards him, a blue-garbed samurai bodyguard walking alongside and a saddled horse following. An easy target for the group. He glanced sideways to see Nukinu, hiding with Diruga behind an adjacent bush. The rest of the bandits were scattered among the vegetation nearby. The older man gave the signal, and the entire gang broke cover and moved to block the road.
The palanquin stopped and the samurai drew his sword. Diruga and Nedo raised their bows, and the Crane froze, sword held before him. Nukinu addressed the samurai, as a figure emerged from the palanquin. "Throw down your weapons. Surrender yourselves and we will let you live."
The figure in the palanquin appeared to be another samurai, perhaps slightly younger than his guard. He looked at the roadblock in confusion, clearly shocked at this turn of events. His guard didn't move, but spoke in a language that the bandits didn't understand. His ward nodded, eyes widening, and glanced at the horse.
"We will not surrender to scum." The guard's voice was proud, defiant and confident. "We are the Crane." The reflection of the sunlight on the steel of his blade was mirrored by the burning pride in his eyes.
Kuto wondered what this man was planning. There was no way the two Crane could take on all ten of them, was there? The palanquin's carriers didn't look like fighters, either. Nervously he turned to look behind him. Maybe there was some cunning ambush? But he could see nothing. This was a quiet stretch of road, with very few travellers. Finding a pair of samurai was a stroke of luck. Samurai were rich. Especially Crane ones.
Anger rose in Kuto's heart. Would this man really rather die than give his group the food that they needed to live? And would he dare to stand before them as if they meant nothing? As if their swords and arrows could not harm him? Nukinu's group had met many men like this, all with the same arrogance. That didn't stop him resenting it, of course. And anger made him strong, he knew.
Spring, 1115
The small boy looked across the clearing to where his father was cleaning his weapons. A question rose unbidden in his mind, as it had done a thousand times before. Today, he decided, he would get it answered. He wandered over to watch, and waited for the man to respond. Nukinu didn't acknowledge him, he seemed to be concentrating on his weapons.
"Father."
Nukinu stopped what he was doing and turned to face his son. "Yes, Kuto?" "Why do we kill samurai?"
Nukinu seemed surprised by the question. "Because we need the things they have, Kuto-chan. We need money to get food to live."
"Why do they not give us the food? Why do we have to kill them?"
Nukinu's face hardened. "They do not give us food because they do not respect us. So we kill them, and teach them that they should respect us."
Kuto nodded. It made sense. Around him he noticed some of the other bandits nodding in agreement. They were all like fathers to him, in a way. Well, all except one.
Kuto was always wary about approaching Jizo. He didn't seem to share the camaraderie of the group, for one thing. And he never ever bathed, even when they were camped by a stream. And he wore a mask all the time, a large bamboo thing that covered almost all of his face. And he could create fire from his fingertips and blast their enemies. But Kuto had wanted to know something for many years, and today seemed a good day for getting his questions answered.
"Jizo-sama?"
The shugenja turned to face him. Behind the mask were a pair of irritated eyes, clearly not happy at being interrupted from his meditations. "Yes?" "How do you make fire?"
The shugenja paused. "Anger. My anger makes me strong, makes me powerful. The others kill to live. I kill because I want to. My anger burns inside me, and all I have to do is direct the flames outward to my enemies. Then I watch them as they writhe in agony, and scream for mercy." Jizo's voice was frighteningly intense, while his eyes seemed to carry more menace than a raging bushfire. And yet Kuto couldn't tear his gaze away... he felt trapped in that glare.
In panic, Kuto chose to retreat rather than ask any more questions. He decided that he would learn to be as angry as Jizo, and hope that he too would be able to throw fire at his enemies.
1121
Jizo was dead now, killed by an arrow in a previous raid. Nukinu had been angry, for his fire had been very useful to the group. But nobody seemed to really miss him around the camp. Still, Kuto sometimes wished he was still there. He knew things that the rest of the group didn't, and Kuto was always full of questions. Sometimes it seemed that a voice was whispering them to him, other times that questions just appeared in his mind. He wanted to know about samurai, about the world, about the Clans, about the other members of the group, about their pasts. They answered his questions as best they could, except that few seemed to want to talk about their pasts. It felt very awkward to ask them, and most ignored the question. Diruga was the only one who seemed happy to talk about it: he had been born to this life, the son of a bandit. "Like me?" Kuto had asked. "Sort of," had been Diruga's mumbled reply, and he'd stopped talking about it soon afterwards. Kuto never got around to finding out what the others had been before.
Now Diruga looked far from awkward, the expert marksman waiting for Nukinu's signal to fire. As the Crane stood defiantly on the road, the command was given. Two arrows flew out, one towards the guard and the other towards his ward. Faster than a striking snake the samurai's sword moved to cut the latter arrow from the air, while Diruga's arrow caught his thigh. The ward leapt up onto the horse, severing its rope with his wakazashi, and fled from the scene. The two servants also ran while the samurai charged, ignoring the arrow in his leg as if it were inconsequential. Hobunike met his charge, the large man raising his staff to block the Crane's strike. The blade sliced through the staff like paper, and opened a vicious wound on the big man's torso. He fell to one side as Nukinu stepped up, wielding his two katanas, with Kuruni in support.
Kuto moved in behind the Crane, his sword poised to strike at the man's unguarded back.
Spotting him just in time the samurai spun, and Kuto's blade went flying from his hands. But the disarm left the Crane a little too far out of position as Nukinu's first blade swung round, and he was only able to deflect the strike onto his other leg. The steel bit deep, and the Crane gasped with pain. Raising his sword to block Nukinu's second blade, he had no way of stopping Kuruni's powerful yari thrust. He sagged to the ground, blood everywhere, as Nukinu brought one of his swords down across the man's neck.
While Diruga, who doubled as the group's healer, attempted to deal with Hobunike's wound and most of the others went to loot the palanquin or the corpse, Kuto stood in shock. Why had that man given his life to allow the other to escape? Without pause or argument? Why had he not tried to flee as well, to give himself a slim chance to live?
Nukinu was examining the samurai's swords, turning them over in his hands, as Kuto approached him. "Father." The older man looked up. "Why did the Crane do that? Why did he sacrifice himself?"
"Because he was a fool, Kuto. And now he is a dead fool, and we are richer. This is a superb sword, and will be a lot of use to us."
"But if samurai are so selfish that they will not even give us food to live on, why did this one sacrifice his life?" It didn't make sense. Nothing that he had been brought up to believe in explained this man's behaviour.
Nukinu shrugged. "Sometimes men do stupid things. They call it 'honour'." Honour... that word meant something. He could feel that it did. But he couldn't say what.
"And samurai die for this 'honour'?"
"They do. All the time. Why is that important?" His father sounded impatient.
"Honour must be a wonderful thing indeed, if people die for it." Why did this word sound so important to him?
"Honour is an excuse used by fools for foolish actions. It is the excuse samurai use to deny us the right to live. It is a myth, a lie." For something that didn't exist, his father certainly seemed upset about it. "It feels... right, somehow. I don't know why."
Nukinu looked at him as if he's just claimed that Nukinu had ten arms. "Don't get silly ideas in your head. Start thinking silly ideas about honour and you'll get yourself killed. Stick with what we've taught you and you'll get on fine." He seemed concerned, but not just for Kuto. He seemed concerned about him as well. Kuto also noticed that most of the gang were watching them, many of them with unreadable expressions. But he had no idea what this meant: what the secret was about this 'honour.'
That night Kuto was sitting at the edge of the camp, thinking about what had happened and what his father had said. Would he give his life for anyone? His father? But Nukinu had always taught him to survive. He loved and respected Nukinu, and could never see a situation where the old man would allow him to behave as the Crane had. They would flee together, and die together if it came to that. He tried to imagine life without his father there to advise and teach him, without the group that he had come to know and love, the friends and teachers who had given him everything that he had. For some reason, it seemed rather too easy.
Suddenly, he became aware that he was not alone. Diruga settled down next to him, the wiry man's agile movements almost silent. "Got a lot on your mind, boy?" Kuto nodded. "Come with me. Let's go for a walk together." Noting Diruga's quick glance around to ensure that nobody was watching, Kuto followed him out of the clearing where they were camped and into the woods. Neither spoke for a while as they walked, each seemingly lost in their own thoughts. Diruga broke the silence. "What were you thinking about?" "Honour. I've hardly even heard the word, but I feel that I've known it all my life. Father says it's for fools, but to me it seems somehow right. I don't know what to think." Kuto looked towards his companion, leaving the question unspoken.
Diruga didn't reply for several minutes, walking silently alongside him. Kuto waited patiently for him to find the words. Still no response. "Why do samurai not respect us, Diruga? Is that because of honour as well?" "Yes, lad. It is." The elder man still seemed to be wrestling with himself. "Do you know what a samurai is, Kuto?"
"A man. A man with swords and armour and smart clothes and food."
Diruga shook his head. "Try again."
"A man who doesn't like us?"
"A man who is like us, Kuto. We are all samurai. Well, most of us are. Though we gave up all rights to live as samurai long ago." Seeing the look of confusion on his companion's face, he continued. "Samurai are the sons and daughters of samurai, and most of them carry swords. Some serve other samurai, and band into the Clans. Others, like us, serve ourselves and are called 'ronin'. To serve with a Clan is honourable. To live as we do is not. Those of us here lost all our honour a long time ago."
"Father is a samurai? Then why did he choose to live like this?"
"I don't know. Maybe he was forced to. Maybe not - they say that there are problems with living as a Clan samurai. Having to follow orders all the time. Throwing away your life because your daimyo - leader - doesn't like you. Disobey, and you become a ronin."
"What does honour have to do with this?"
"Honour is obeying orders and rules. The Empire is built on rules, and honour is what holds it together. Those of us with no honour are despised, because we don't follow the rules of the Empire. But it's not a bad life, if you're used to it."
"Diruga?"
"Yes?"
"Am I a samurai?"
"You are the child of a samurai, so yes you are." Diruga tried to keep his expression controlled.
"So Nukinu is a samurai?"
"Yes, he is."
"Diruga?"
"Yes?"
"Who was my mother?" It had never seemed important before, but just thinking about it he seemed to discover a void that he'd never known existed, deep in his heart. A longing for a person he had never known, and knew nothing about.
He thought he heard Diruga curse under his breath, before the archer replied. "I don't know."
Kuto turned to head back to the camp, without a word. "Where are you going?"
"To ask Father." There was an urgency and purpose in his gait as he strode off. The message to Diruga was clear: I'm going to find out.
Nukinu was sitting outside his tent, still examining the Crane's swords. He looked up as Kuto approached and was slightly surprised at the young man's newfound sense of purpose.
Diruga trailed behind nonchalantly, and Nukinu wondered what was up.
"Father?"
"Yes, Kuto-chan?"
"Who was my mother?"
Nukinu looked at Diruga. The archer nodded almost imperceptibly, his eyes resigned. Kuto's face was blank, but his eyes were filled with longing. Nukinu turned away, unable to face the young man. His mind went back to an ambush, the discovery of a baby, his own desire for a son. Years flooded past him - Kuto's first words, first steps, first ambush. The boy had been everything that he had hoped - strong, smart, obedient, loving. He owed it to Kuto to tell him the truth.
"I don't know." Nukinu forced the words out, slowly and painfully, admitting the dark truth that he and the others had kept hidden for so long. "I... I am not your true father." Suddenly, Nukinu seemed crushed and small, no longer the mighty warrior who had led them to success after success. He became aware of a small audience gathering a discrete distance away. So be it, they should all be present for this.
"Who... who is, then?" Kuto asked, his voice quiet and calm despite the shock in his eyes. No chatter disturbed the clearing: all eyes and ears were on their leader and the man they all considered their son.
"I do not know. Some Crane samurai were carrying you, but your clothing was marked with a Lion mon. We adopted you, and raised you."
Kuto felt lost, adrift. All the truths that he had been brought up to believe were wrong. Samurai weren't evil. Nukinu wasn't his father. He didn't belong here. Turning, he went to his tent. The others watched silently, but as he went in he heard a low buzz of conversation from the audience.
Diruga moved to sit down next to Nukinu. "He had to know some day, Nukinu. We both knew that this day would come."
"That doesn't change things, Diruga. He's leaving."
"What?"
"You know him as well as I do. He won't be satisfied until he has an answer." Nukinu's voice was bitter with loss and guilt. "I just hope he comes back."
"He will, he will. You know there is no place for him anywhere else. I just hope that when he finds that out it doesn't upset him too much. He's a good lad."
"You seem remarkably unconcerned about him going."
"I haven't lived this long by fighting things that can't be fought. If he decides to leave I might go with him. To keep an eye on him."
Nukinu looked up sharply at him. "And to bring him back when he's done." "I will do my best, my friend. Don't travel too far."
"We'll move over to the Odai region and lie low. No sense in hanging around here after that damn Doji got away."
As the last light drained out of the sky above them, Diruga nodded. "We'll come and find you there. I will miss you, Nukinu."
"And I you. Both of you."
Under the canvas a few yards away Kuto listened to their words. Nukinu was right, he did have to leave. He had to know the truth, he had to answer the questions filling his mind. He had to know who his mother was. A part of him wondered why, and added that to the list of questions.
He emerged from his tent a few hours later, his belongings packed up in a bag over his shoulder. His daisho - an old pair of swords the gang had liberated a few years back - he wore at his side. He moved as if to approach Nukinu, sitting alone again, but the old man stopped him. "I know what you're going to do. Come back to us when you're done. Don't do anything stupid." More stupid, he thought to himself. "Diruga's decided to go with you; don't get him killed either."
Kuto didn't know what to say. He nodded, tears in his eyes. "I will return." He found Diruga waiting for him at the edge of the clearing, and the two of them slipped away into the night.
Part 2