The Retainer

 

     On general Masuro's summons, the fusuma wall opened and a beautiful young geisha bowed and entered the shadowed room, bidding them good evening. Floral designs were embroidered in her purple kimono; and the white makeup she wore contrasted vividly with her rose lips, as did her dark, silken hair, done with an ornamentation of pink wisteria petals hanging over one side. On the tray the geisha transported were balanced a teapot, flask, and three cups.

            "So good of you, Reika-san," said Masuro. "Please, serve Kenjin-san some sake."

            With subtle grace, the geisha poured the warmed rice wine for the sword-ranger. A scent of fresh of flowers accompanied her.

            "For you, master?" Kenjin inquired.

            "Not yet. For now I require a clear mind, to fully appreciate the rest of your report." He addressed Reika. "A cup of the jasmine-green tea for me."

            After serving the tea, the young geisha placed the tray between Masuro and the sword-ranger, and withdrew from the room, gently closing the partition behind her.

            Masuro waited for the steaming liquid to cool. Save for the drumming from the festival, muted by distance and the room's walls, silence held. He had trouble wrapping his head around the last of what Kenjin had recounted. During nearly forty years in this world, Masuro had never seen one of the forest goblins, ghosts, river kappa, or magical fox girls, which so many nomin swore populated the wilderness. Nevertheless, the young sword-ranger was among Shenobi's most trusted retainers. He never told so much as a half-truth. Surely under the distress of circumstances he thought he saw Akuma, ... then again ...

            Masuro blew at the tea's vapor. "So, how did you escape them?" he asked. "I wager there's a tale in that."

            Solemn again, Kenjin nodded, and methodically narrated the events. "At least thirty of the devils hunted me. I did my best to lose them in the marchland forests north of Shinrin. Not even mountain wolves are as relentless as that pack. I spent all my arrows trying to dissuade them, and can't say if a single shot brought one aground. The Akuma's armor is strong, and their hide tougher than wild boar's. ... I must've run for hours before entering a region of many streams. The fog thickened, and it was damned difficult to know which way to go, or where they were."

            The young sword-ranger's attempts to make light of the experience failed, his smile dying away. When raising the cup of sake, there was a hint of unsteadiness in his grasp. Kenjin knocked the contents back. With a nod, Masuro encouraged him to fill his vessel anew if he wished, and Kenjin did. Outside, the pulse of drums quickened, growing louder.

            "The Silver Samurai aren't just a tavern tale," Kenjin begun again. "One of them, a giant b*****d of steel, tracked me far into the swamps. And he got real close to sniffing me out, but I swam deep into the waters and sank between the reeds, where I prayed to Kyuseishu and held my breath." The young sword-ranger managed an uneven chuckle. "I always avoided those swamps, never liked a single thing about them. Looking back, they've got to be my favorite spot in Isodoro. The blessed murkiness of those waters concealed me. All the mud and streams must've thrown the Akuma off too, because they spread their numbers. And that's when I threw in my gamble and struck south with everything I had left, for Sabishi-iwa."

            Kenjin took a light draught of sake, and closed his eyes, conjuring the scene. "I'd left them stumbling in my wake, and didn't slacken. When it started darkening I knew I was close to the outpost. But blazing hell. That's when the sons-of-a-thousand-w****s found me again."

            Listening keenly, Masuro leaned forward, chin on his fist. He had been trained to discern when someone told fabrications. By the single-minded manner Kenjin recounted events, Masuro knew it was the truth; for it rang in his voice, and in the very air. Closing his eyes, Masuro envisioned the onslaught of bestial shadows in the forest deeps. Several blocks away, the pounding of drums grew fiercer, and intermittent firecrackers shrieked, severing the night.

            "They were howling, and rapidly eating up the gap. I feared they came from everywhere. Of all the destinations I've journeyed to, I've never been as out of breath as when I reached Sabishi-iwa's gates. I was so bedraggled the guards disregarded me a madman, or worse. Luckily one of them finally recognized me." Kenjin exhaled. "Soon as they let me through, I collapsed, dead as a wagon-rolled dog."

            Though telling the ordeal had taxed the young man's nerves, Masuro was eager to hear the rest. "And the enemy?"

           Kenjin forced himself to trudge on with the report, "They held back in the forests. Must've known they weren't going break Sabishi-iwa's walls. Several of the guardsmen heard the Akuma, and I told them everything."

            Kenjin fell quiet, sullen among the bars of shadow and dusky light.

             "And then, what happened?" Masuro prodded.

            "I warned them against it, but they opened the gates and sent out a company of riders anyways. They galloped into the forests, to see for themselves." Kenjin was staring fixedly at the painting on the back wall, of the kyojin phoenix and the dragon writhing in combat. "Sabishi-iwa's samurai and ashigaru gave the Akuma battle. Two riders were gravely wounded before the demons retreated into the woods. Three men were killed engaging the Silver Samurai, and one of their horses nearly sundered in half before the metal-covered son-of-a-dog broke free. They tried stopping it, but the hail of arrows and spears proved useless against that armor. With the Akuma pulling back, it was too dark to give chase. The men said it was like hunting shadows within shadows."

            Masuro cleared the unease from his throat. "Are you telling me all the enemy escaped?

            Kenjin momentarily held back, a gleam of that familiar sly, somehow joking look in the young man's eyes. "A samurai's naginata took a hand. Last I saw they'd hung that thing above Sabashi-iwa's gates. And, by force of many arrows and a spear, one of the Akuma was slain." He paused for a couple breaths before divulging what Masuro was most eager to learn. "The body was sent to Shinrin-oka, for lord Ryudono and his council to behold. I got an eyefull before they lugged it off though. An ugly gray thing, more abomination than man."

            Despite being renowned as Shenobi's most imperturbable commander, a cryptic chill affected Masuro. Now that the worse had been told, Kenjin raised his cup and drank, surely to dilute the memory.

            "Next dawn, Sabishi-iwa's commander dispatched three hundred mounted samurai and ashigaru to verify the location of the death-camp, and obliterate it. It was abandoned when they got there. Not a trace except burnt trees, shards of prisoners' armor, and a scattering of bones." Kenjin faltered. Masuro knew it was the guilt weighing on him for not acting when he thought he could have, even if it would've been suicide. "That was the last I heard before I joined up with lord Daisuken and the Hiryu at Emerald Stream. I rode back with them all the way here. Lord Daisuken sent me into the city ahead of the regiment, to deliver this report."

            The hushed spell the two men shared was trespassed solely by the muffled din of the festival; laughter far off, scattered shouts of revelry, and the steady, void beat of the drums. Masuro felt a thousand ri away from all of it.

            Refocusing on the present, he said to Kenjin, "Now that is what I call a report." Masuro managed a grin, surprised that his reliable aplomb took charge again. "Quite the feat to run that long. You're lucky to have made it back in one piece. To avoid any mishap like that in the future, what about taking a horse, neh?"

            Kenjin returned a shade of a grin. "I've always liked footing it. Not a luxurious mode of travel, I'll grant, but it allows me to go places I wouldn't otherwise be able to. And my trustworthy legs haven't failed me yet."

            "True. However, that is only because you're the fastest ranger in the South," Masuro pointed out. "Perhaps in all Isodoro. Any other mortal man would've been overtaken. If the Akuma had gotten you, yours would have been a grisly fate indeed, and that nest of vermin would've never been detected." Masuro drank the last of his tea. "In any case, you're alive. Well done, Kenjin-san."

            Masuro called upon Reika, and she promptly reentered the room. Just as the geisha was about to pour for Masruro, he changed his mind. "To Jigoku with tea. Give me sake, Reika-san. The damned festival only comes once a year."

            Reika brought another flask of rice wine and graciously filled the cup. After she left the room, Masuro shook his head wryly. "Kage-maru, the filthy dog, he must think we are imbeciles."

            "I doubt he holds us in high esteem," said Kenjin, "but there's no definite proof the Akuma serve the Shogunate."

            "What do you believe? It has been the same with all the conspirators and tactics he has unleashed to undermine the Southern Kingdoms. The Okami-hitobito clans, the renegade ronin, and the daiymo assassinations. Are we supposed to believe there is no link? Preposterous. When a master knowingly sets his rabid hounds loose, who is to blame if they devour the village flocks?"

            "Yes. The camp's location, the prisoners, all points to eastern involvement." Kenjin nodded, and brooded for a lapse, as if battling with a distasteful quandary. "What bothers me most is the Akuma could've challenged Sabishi-iwa's riders. Instead they fled, and hid every trace of their camp. Why? The Akuma have been lurking away from the realms of men for years. The way they're behaving now, indicates they've organized for a purpose." Kenjin met Masuro's gaze, a cold glint in his eyes. "That's why I believe Shogun Kage-waru commands the Akuma, ... and who can say how many they number?"

            Masuro fingered his beard. "Then the death-camp is a blatant violation of Fumei-noyorou and Shinrin's former treaty. No military force is to trespass the divisory no-man's land - yet an entire host was stationed west of the Silver River."

            Kenjin warily measured his question, "What will Shenobi's response be?"

            "Nothing, for now. It's not likely we will unravel the Shogun's web overnight. However, if a link can be proven, the Southern Kingdoms will know Kage-maru spat on the Silver River Treaty. At the same time we need not tell the populace of the Akuma, lest our aim is fomenting widespread panic. These matters should only be given voice with Daisuken and his chosen circle of commanders."

            Kenjin-san had quaffed his second cup of sake, and Masuro urged him to begin with the next Reika had left for him. Though Masuro had dried his cup as well, it'd done little to ease the harshness of his ponderings. The air felt heavy, laden with unseen storm clouds.

            "What do you think the Akuma are?" asked Masuro.

            "Hmm. There are tales aplenty, but it's hard to say. Most people don't even believe they exist. I bet part of the reason for that is most who've had the awful luck of encountering an Akuma have promptly had their stay in this world ended." Kenjin furrowed his brow. "From the times I've crossed paths with them, all I know is that they're a hellish form of creation - something not meant to be."

            "Sounds close to the mark," said Masuro. "Fumio never told you the legend - or history - of the Akuma's origins?"

            "I'm afraid my memory's fogged on that reckoning."

            Masuro dredged up what he could from memory, and proceeded, "According to the old starseer, over two thousand years ago, during the Age of Heroes, there was a malevolent kōreijutsu-shi sorcerer. Akuma-monsuta was his name, I think. This wretched individual conspired with the nether gods of Jigoku. I don't recall the specifics, but by occult means a portal was opened, in a cavern in the Black Tors, maybe it was. The portal merged Jigoku to the earthly circle." Masuro took a draught of the sake; with the grim thoughts like a cloud around him however, he tasted nothing. "Akuma-monsuta somehow succeeded in warping the Wheel of Transmigrations, and summoned the most brutalized lost souls from the Void. Whatever was left of the Akuma after the Age of Heroes have been roaming the desolations for centuries, ... and now they muster. I never believed Fumio's arcane tellings. How ignorant one can be, neh, and how unknown and perilous the world."

            "The Akuma returning are grave tidings for certain. Definitely not the kind of news you want to kick off the spring with."

            Masuro rubbed at his chin, considering the ramifications. "You will speak with Fumio about this. The starseer has more wisdom on these matters than anyone in the South. I doubted him, and he was right, as I assume he was on other matters. Let's pray his omens about the coming winter are not true as well." Masuro shook his head. "I can't say what is more troubling between the Akuma and the other events bedeviling the South. Veiled assassins capable of infiltrating castles and murdering leaders in their very beds, reported troop movements, influx of mercenaries, and now this. I warrant it can all be tracked to Kage-maru's door." He rested his calloused hands over his knees, then tightening his sword hand. "Things are in motion. There is much which is now inevitable."

            Though the words troubled Kenjin, he did not flinch away. "We can't sit idle. If the Shogun doesn't intend to honor the treaties, we've got to counter him at every turn."

            "We shall. However, we are not prepared to oppose him on all fronts, not yet."

            Tentative with frustration, Kenjin ventured, "What will happen while we go on waiting?"

            Masuro had set his cup of sake down and placed his hand over his fist, resting his chin over both, peering through the room's shadows as if espying vast, unknown vistas. "Kage-maru will continue attempting to sow strife in the South. So the assassinations will increase. During the interval he will also turn against a lesser adversaries, not southern allies, therefore making military intervention on our part improbable. My guess is he will march on the House of Chisan-mori. Perhaps he will take Katakana Castle."

            Kenjin tried to temper his incredulity. "And we're not going to do anything?"

            Outside, the drumming sounded fainter, but also as if it had come to suffuse everything, becoming the latent heartbeat of a slumbering titan. The sporadic, bursts of firecrackers, punctuated the depths of Shenobi. These impressions which Masuro sensed were faraway however, like a part of him had become disembodied.

            "Make no mistake, we shall do everything in our power to stop the Shogun. There are members among the Council of Regents who say it is past time to declare war." Masuro leaned closer, looking pointedly at the young man to impart his confidence. "But I tell you, Kenjin-san, for your ears alone, that conflict, though unavoidable, must be delayed for the time being. Months, years if possible, though I doubt we have that long. Fumei-noyorou is more powerful than most estimate. In the method he has veiled his intentions, we always knew Kage-maru has downplayed his strength. The Shogun currently commands an army as numerous as Shenobi's, and half as much again, perhaps more. There are also reports of substantial recruitment from other kingdoms."

            "That could be two hundred thousand," the sword-ranger muttered, the stark weight of the numbers sinking in. Masuro felt a little bad to have told him the daunting truth.

            "Worry not, Kenjin-san. I have taken every option into account. The Shogun is doubtlessly at work, and so we too will not relent in our preparations. Surely there are eastern spies in Shenobi. They will see our festival and report back to Fumei-noyorou. On the surface, we let Kage-maru believe we celebrate the victory over the Okami-hitobito clans. In this sense, the treaty may grant us further time. And this we shall use to redouble our efforts in fortifying every front and tactic."

            The determined purpose in Masuro's words uplifted the young man, who sat straighter, listened sharper. The conviction with which he spoke girded Masuro's faith also.

            "And you will play an indispensable role in these strategies, Kenjin-san. We cannot yield the borderlands to chaos, and for this we need our best sword-rangers in the field. More importantly, if we are to match Fumei-noyorou sword and spear, we must unite the southern feudal lords. This is key. This is everything. Rifts from generations of strife must be healed, or put aside. We have to secure the alliances swiftly. With enough time, Kage-maru could turn the southern families against one another. When he launches his assault, the divided remnants of the Southern Kingdoms would shatter." Masuro paused, taking a moment to retain his calm, like the even waters of windless lake. "For this purpose, there are letters that must be dispatched, extending invitation and terms of alliance to all southern lords, regardless of previous wrongs or enmities."

            Kenjin nodded. "I agree, wholeheartedly. When will the letters be ready?"

            "They are already written." Masuro grinned. "I have but to pass them by Daisuken and lord Kodai-Otosan for final approval and royal seal."

            Kenjin laughed. "I should've known. You've always been the kind to fill the granaries five summers in advance of winter."      

            Masuro chuckled. They toasted to the plan.

            "I have an important assignment for you, Kenjin-san," said Masuro once the humor settled. "The first of many."

            "Of course master," Kenjin replied without hesitancy, suddenly as sober as cold granite. "Anything."

            The young man's fidelity was impressive, and it reassured Masuro more than anything had in some time. He did not admit this however, lest he reveal his own doubts.

            "The missives are too vital to be sent by wing. Hawks can tear a carrier pigeon apart mid-journey - but no even demons can take you, Kenjin-san." Masuro fixed the young sword-ranger with an authoritative gaze. "Before you return to your duties in the borderlands, you will travel to Mitsubayashi and personally deliver a sealed missive to lord Okata. His father was loyal to Shenobi. Perhaps the right words can persuade him to renew those oaths. We could use a seasoned warlord like Okata."

            Notwithstanding the distance and crucial importance of the mission, Kenjin did not waver. He nodded, lower than before. "It will be an honor to see it done."

            Here was one of the few servants who fully meant such words. It could not help but bring a smile to Masuro's otherwise taciturn countenance.

            "I'm ready to head out this evening, if lord Kodai-Otosan grants his approval."

            "What? Tonight?" Masuro could scarcely believe it. "Are you mad? No. You will not leave tonight, nor tomorrow. You need to rest, Kenjin-san. Kyuseishu's balls, you returned less than two hours ago!"

            "Forgive me master. But I require no repose. I'm ready now."

            Masuro crossed his arms. "You will leave in three nights soonest. That is final."

            "Very well, master." Kenjin acceded with a dip of his brow.

            "I am sorry to delay you. Understand the importance of rest. What use will our messenger be if we allow him to travel so exhausted he knocks himself unconscious against a tree, or falls from a ridge?" Masuro poured himself rice wine. "Besides, tomorrow is the annual spring banquet. You're not going to miss that again, are you?"

            The young man was reluctant to answer. "I'm only a sword-ranger. I wouldn't feel comfortable, ... I mean to say, ... it's not my place, a gathering of such high-ranking daiymo.  Besides, not all the lords are so welcoming of a baseborn outcast."

            Masuro considered ordering the young man to attend regardless, but decided against it. "Since your service has been exemplary, you may spend these three days of rest how best you see fit." At length, he added, "I want to be sure you know how grateful I am for everything you have done."

            "There's no need to thank me, master. I only did my duty."

            Masuro remained thoughtful. "You deserve better than sword-ranger. I wish your position could be improved. Whether or not I adhere to its every tenet, unfortunately, it is hard, nigh impossible to override the old laws. But if I could, I'd make you samurai, or hatamoto - no, to Jigoku with that - I'd make you daiymo. Lord Kenjin Tsubara. How does that sound, neh?"

            The young man did not answer at first, his gaze low and subservient, an air of sadness about him. "You do me great honor to even think it, master. I know I can never aspire to anything higher than what I am. That's alright though. I don't need titles or lands. My rank is more than I could hope for. It is my karma, and I do not begrudge it."

            Karma? Masuro reflected on the simplicity, and potentially endless meaning that emanated from the word. "Perhaps your karma is more than you know, Kenjin-san? Perhaps one day, your origins will no longer prove an uncirumventable barrier. And on that day, my hope is, that your rank and destiny will rise higher in renown than ever envisioned."

            Kenjin smiled wanly. "Perhaps. Who can say what the future holds, neh? All I know, with absolute certainty, is that I'm happy to serve Shenobi, for I have no greater wish than to fulfill my duties to the Kasainotora family. I want you to know that I'm eternally grateful to you and prince Daisuken for placing me under the Kyojin-Kasai Phoenix's wings, and for allowing me to be trained on the path of bushido. The South has given me everything." He placed palm over fist, and inclined his brow. "General Masuro, prince Daisuken, and lord Kodai-Otosan. Those are the three men I respect most in the world. The three men I'll never think twice about dying for."

            Masuro allowed a breadth of silence in respect to the words. The young man' resolve was plain to see, like the ripple of steel in an expertly forged blade.

            "Let's pray it never comes to that," Masuro responded. He thought; Here is a paragon of excellence! If only our entire army were made up of such men, then we would have nothing to worry about from the Shogun, not even emperor Godrong or any power from across the Sea of Kodaina Suiro.

            "Yours is the heart of a true samurai," said Masuro. "That is why, among all my retainers, it is you I trust with the realm's most exigent tasks. Regardless of where you're from, you are an exponent of fidelity. Not only are you samurai to me, but brethren also. And Shenobi needs you, Kenjin-san. Never forget that." Masuro raised his cup and they drank to their meeting, to Shenobi, and the reunification of the Southern Kingdoms.

            After downing most of the sake, they sat content, fast comrades. It was easy to have faith in moments such as these.

             "So how will you enjoy your next few days in the city?" Masuro asked.

            "Ah, with the festival there's a lot to choose from. I'll visit some of my favorite taverns. Eat and drink my fill. And before I strike out, I'll make sure to see the sakura blossoms."

            "Of course, the sakura only come once a year, and short-lived. Nothing else? If you won't attend the banquet, there must be some other form of leisure which you fancy, neh?"

            Kenjin did not take the hint, so Masuro advanced with it. "The company of a geisha, perhaps? Surely you haven't pillowed in a long time. One of the drawbacks of trudging through the wilderness months on end."

            "True," Kenjin gave a small cough to mask his chagrin. "Opportunities are few and far between to say the least."

            Masuro savored the last bit of rice wine before summoning the geisha. Moments later the young woman reentered and filled his cup anew.

            "And what do you think of Reika? Is she beautiful?"

            "Of course," Kenjin answered dutifully. "One of the loveliest women I've seen. If not the most."

            "Good. She likes you too. Isn't that right, Reika-san?"

            The geisha smiled shyly and nodded.

            "Perfect. I requested her because I saw the potential for a match. Ha! Behold Kenjin-san, the first of my stratagems already comes to fruition." Satisfied, Masuro slapped his thighs. "Tonight, and as for as many nights as you are here in Shenobi, Reika will accompany you."

            Seeing that Kenjin was unsure of how to accept the offer, Masuro asked. "Is it another woman you prefer? Or, more than one? Either option can be arranged."

            "No, that's not it." Kenjin fumbled for the proper words. "Reika is more than I could ask for. Seeing her is to find a beautiful flower amid the wilderness."

            "Thank you, Kenjin-san," she said, smiling coyly again. If it were not for the white makeup, Masuro could've sworn she blushed.

            "Well then, a hot bath is waiting for you already," said Masuro, businesslike, "and more sake, or whatsoever you're inclined for. Reika will take you there. I have no doubt you will enjoy her company. She is well trained in the arts of the flower and willow world." 

            Kenjin vacillated again before Masuro ordered him sternly, "Now go. This meeting is over. You are dismissed."

            Kenjin retrieved his swords and secured them back in his belt, not as decorously as he had set them down; it was evident the young woman's flower-scented presence had begun to cast its enchantment over him. Rising, he bowed, and took his leave, escorted by Reika. The two were drawn closely together.

            It was all Masuro could do to keep from laughing. However, it was not long after the sword-ranger and the geisha withdrew from the room that Masuro's smile faded, and his thoughts shifted, as colorless as the room's environs. He contemplated the paths of action that stretched before Shenobi. Wherever they ultimately led in the wilderness of the future, he could not say. Shadows obscured the horizon, threatening everything.