Test of the Topaz Champion
by Shawn Carman
Yoritomo Satako
prided herself on her cautious mind. It was not something commonly considered a
trait of her family, but ever since childhood she had always taken a moment to
fully consider every decision, every outcome, weighing all the factors and
fully appreciating the situation beforehand. Now, after several days, she felt
confident in her decision.
She
hated Tsuma.
It
had been a difficult decision to make. She had dreamed of competing in the
Topaz Championship for years, and worked hard to make her goal a reality. Her
sensei lauded her with praise for her style, and he had helped her reach her
goal in more ways than one. Now that she had been among the Crane for a few
days, however, Satako could not wait to escape.
Tsuma was not a particularly large city, certainly smaller
than Kyuden Gotei, the city where she had been born,
raised, and trained. The streets were slightly wider because of more
accommodating geography, but the crowd that had gathered for the Topaz
Championship clogged every street, every alley. It was suffocating, and there
was no way to get away from it. At home, during the busy season when the
streets seemed paved with travelers, Satako could
leave and go sit on the shore, gazing out into the vast empty sea. Tsuma offered no such escape.
Unfortunately,
Satako could not claim that the unpleasant
environment had not affected her performance. Her lack of focus had impacted
her more than she imagined, and the first day of competition had gone badly.
She wondered idly if this is why so many had warned her against trying to
compete in the first place. Were the Yoritomo not meant for such a competition?
It certainly did not call upon the skills they learned during training.
The
first day had seen the competitions for sumai,
heraldry, athletics, horsemanship, and finally a discussion on law, bushido,
and etiquette. The wrestling had set an unpleasant tone for the day after she
had been soundly beaten by a brutish Daidoji samurai-ko.
Then she had come within a breath of incorrectly identifying the mon of a prominent Lion family
branch as that belonging to a Shosuro acting troupe.
She had caught herself at the last moment, but she had still performed only
passably. The athletics competition had been a relief, as she came in third
overall, but the horsemanship and etiquette tests had been mediocre at best.
All things considered, the Topaz Championship was not progressing as she had
hoped.
Satako tried to concentrate on more pressing matters,
tightening the straps on her armor as she prepared for the first test of the
second day, the weapons competition. A night’s rest had helped her regain her
center somewhat, but she would need her wits if she were to win here today. She
was still mentally rehearsing the basic kata of her
sensei’s favored style when someone came up and sat beside her, breaking her
reverie. “Hello,” a young man in Crane colors said with a pleasant smile. “How
are you feeling today?”
“Fine,
thank you,” she answered tersely, instantly defensive. She returned her
attention immediately to her armor.
“Good,”
he said with a nod. “I saw that Ayame had given you
some difficulty in the sumai contest yesterday. I was
worried you might be stiff.”
Satako shrugged. “Ayame?” she
replied. “He has quite a feminine name.”
She
thought she heard the Crane snicker.
“When
I was eight summers old,” she continued, “I was run down by a mule in the
street. This was not much different.” She paused for a moment, wondering if the
Crane would take offense, then returned to inspecting the laces on her do-maru.
“Interesting.” The Crane had a thoughtful look. “No doubt Ayame’s family has been hunting you for years since you
encountered her mother in that street. How flattered you must be.”
A
laugh slipped from Satako’s mouth before she could
stop herself, although she clapped a hand over her lips instantly to keep
anyone else from hearing. The young man did not laugh, but he could not hide a
wide, mirthful grin. “But I do her injustice. She really is quite nice once you
get to know her,” he assured Satako.
“I’m
sure she is,” the Mantis responded. “When she threw me eight feet, I’m certain
I heard her say thank you.”
“She
does take competition a bit seriously,” the boy admitted. “I am Kakita Chujiro.” He bowed from where he sat.
She
smiled slightly. “Yoritomo Satako.” She felt
strangely awkward in the boy’s presence, and suddenly blurted out “Tsuma is very lovely.”
“It
does have its moments,” he acknowledged. “To appreciate it, you have to be here
at some other time, though. During the contest the crowds can be a bit
unbearable.” He regarded the other contestants throughout the dojo. “Do you
think you will win?” he asked.
“It
is possible,” Satako said. “It is also possible I
will drown while crossing the Burning Sands, but I find that somewhat
unlikely.”
Chujiro raised his eyebrows in surprise. “That seems an odd
mindset. How can you continue if you do not believe you will succeed?”
Satako smiled wryly. “It is different for you, Crane. Every
Kakita believes he is the best. We Yoritomo are more realistic.” Her smile
faltered somewhat. “No offense intended, of course.”
Again,
Chujiro only raised his eyebrows. “Why would I take
offense? What you say is true.”
Satako sighed. “I suppose I imagined all Crane were… delicate.”
Chujiro laughed. “You met Ayame,
did you not?” He rose and bowed quickly. “I must go prepare. Good fortune to
you in your match, Satako-san.”
She
returned the bow. “And to you.”
•
By
the time she was summoned to the mat for her first match, Satako
had almost recovered the confidence she had when she had arrived days before.
She had assessed her situation and found her center. Now all she had to do was maintain it and achieve her goal. Perhaps victory was out of
her reach, and perhaps it was not. It was all a matter of perspective.
Her
opponent was a Scorpion whose features were completely obscured by a heavy mempo. The mask had been polished to an almost mirror-like
sheen, and Satako could see a twisted reflection of herself dancing about with the Scorpion’s every movement.
Her opponent had selected a blunted katana as his weapon, and she had chosen a
matched pair of tonfa. She had ignored the murmurs
from the crowd at her weapon selection. She knew full well what many samurai
thought of her family’s choice of weaponry, but she cared little. Her sensei
had taught her versatility, and she was banking on the fact that her opponent
was likely unfamiliar with the basic elements of tonfajutsu.
The
sensei signaled for the match to begin. The Scorpion dropped into an almost
casual stance, radiating cool confidence. She suspected he was as nervous as
she; it was a tactic her sensei had taught her as well, to weaken your opponent
through sheer bravado, but this Scorpion seemed to have mastered the art. She could
feel his unassailable confidence battering at her resolve, whittling her nerve.
She ground her teeth and adopted her own fighting stance.
The
Scorpion seemed content to wait for her to attack, but she refused to play to
his strengths. She feinted once or twice, but held back. The Scorpion moved
about cautiously, presenting a narrow profile for attack. Finally, he feinted
left and then darted in for a lightning-fast strike along her right side.
Satako was prepared, and blocked the strike with the tonfa in her right hand. The left she held aside. As she
had expected, the strike on her right was far lighter than it should have been,
and the Scorpion redoubled his attack on her left. She blocked that blow as
well, but the strike was vicious, and she grunted from the effort of pushing
the blade away.
The
Scorpion bushi launched a series of probing strokes,
each faster than the last. Satako felt her forearms
aching despite the tonfa’s protection. She weathered
the assault as best she could, waiting for an opening
to return the favor.
She
did not wait long. One of her opponent’s strikes came a second too late,
breaking his constant rhythm. She twirled her tonfa
to strike the blade down and away from her body, sliding it along the blade’s
length to impact the tsuba sharply. There was a sharp
crack, and the blade fell from the Scorpion’s hand. Satako
felt a rush of victory and lunged in for the final strike.
She
quickly discovered her opponent had feinted once more. The Scorpion stepped
away from her double-strike, moving with that same confident, casual speed,
telling her that he had expected her strike the entire time. She cursed
inwardly as he deftly grabbed the tonfa and wrenched
them out of her hands, landing a knee to her midsection in the process.
Satako gasped for breath and hurled herself backwards,
narrowly missing what would have been a devastating strike to the ribs. She
ground her teeth again, this time in anger rather than frustration; that blow
would have taken her out of the contest for good if it had landed. She landed
on her back and reached out, grabbing the Scorpion’s fallen blade and rolling
to the side as fast as she could, dodging another strike.
The
young Mantis was on her feet at once, holding the blunted blade along her body
in a traditional iaijutsu posture. Now she would see
if he could wield tonfa as well as a sword. The
Scorpion cocked his head slightly, regarding her with amusement, then spun both tonfa in a
surprising display of skill. Satako cursed inwardly
again. Her sensei had always warned her against underestimating an opponent,
and yet she had done exactly that. Hopefully, he had underestimated her as
well.
The
Scorpion moved in quickly, ready for the final blow. Satako
shouted a powerful kiai and executed a flawless iaijutsi draw, stepping into the Scorpion’s approach and
striking him squarely across the face. Caught off guard by both her technique
and her skill, the Scorpion did not even attempt to parry the strike.
Her
opponent’s mask shattered, falling in two pieces. He staggered backward and
fell to the mat, lying there for a moment before rising slowly. He looked at
her without any noticeable emotion, his beautiful face marred slightly be a
thin line of red where a shard from his mask had cut him. “I am Yoritomo Satako,” she told him proudly, “student of the great sensei
Yoritomo Sen. Never forget my master’s skill with the blade, or the skill of
his students.”
The young man’s expression did
not change in the slightest. “I am Bayushi Eisaku,”
he said in a soft, almost musical voice. “One day, you will regret this
insult.” With that, he rose, bowed, and left.
Satako twirled the blade and tucked it deftly into her obi,
bending to retrieve the tonfa her opponent had cast
aside. She barely even heard the judge formally declare her the winner, intent
as she was studying the young Moshi across the
chamber. His competition was not going as well as hers had.
But
then he would not need to win.
•
The
formal gempukku ceremony was truly magnificent, far
beyond any of those in the Mantis islands that Satako
had attended. For a moment, she was happy to be in Crane lands, as the
fireworks display the Dragon emissaries prepared was unlike anything she had
ever seen.
Once
the ceremony was over and the young Mantis girl had bowed to everyone in an
endless line of dignitaries and ambassadors, she left to return to her inn with
a sense of relief. The elder Mantis samurai that had accompanied her would be
busy with the celebration, of course, but she preferred to recover from the
exertion of three days. She had expected some sort of reprisal from the
Scorpion after yesterday’s victory, but none had been forthcoming. She would
not forget, however, and she was certain he would not.
“You
are an unusual young woman,” a voice said from the alleyway outside her inn.
She
stopped short, her hand drifting to her weapon after a few seconds of surprise.
“Who’s there?” she demanded, her voice more forceful than she expected. Perhaps
the Scorpion would not wait so long after all.
“Your
reflexes are yet a bit slow,” the voice commented. “I expect they will improve
with time, or else your life as a samurai will be short indeed.” The voice was
given form as a man stepped forward from the shadows, his green attire catching
the light of city lamps just enough for her to recognize him. He was a tall,
muscular man who moved with the eerie grace of a predator.
“My
lord Naizen-sama,” she said breathlessly, bowing
deeply. “I apologize for my disrespect.”
“Don’t
be foolish,” Naizen said. He regarded her strangely.
“You did not stay to congratulate Moshi Kiyomori,” he observed. “A shugenja has not won the Topaz
Championship in ten years, and a Mantis at that. Yet you did not stay.
Curious.”
She
looked down. “I do not know him, my lord. I offered him congratulations, but I
preferred to leave him to enjoy his family and friends.”
“That
was most generous of you,” Naizen said. He rubbed his
chin thoughtfully. “Particularly since we both know he
only won because of you.”
She
continued looking down. “I don’t understand.”
“What
is this?” Naizen said with a disgusted expression. “Modesty? I have gained tremendous respect for you over the
past few days. Do not ruin it now.”
She
considered it for a moment, then shrugged. “After the
first day, I knew I could not win. So if I could not win, then I would ensure a
Mantis would.”
Naizen’s face split into a wide smile. “Magnificent. And
how did you do that, exactly?”
“I
watched the others to see who was in the lead. Kiyomori
was close after the first day, so whenever I was matched with another of the
leaders, I did everything I could to hamper them. It didn’t matter if I won,
only that they lost. It was much easier than attempting to win myself.”
Naizen’s smile grew even wider. “You are a treasure, little
one. What name have you chosen now that you are samurai, Satako-chan?”
“I
remain Satako,” she answered. “My mother gave me that
name. I see no reason to take another.”
“Well,
then, Satako,” he continued, “do
you know what will become of your friend, Kiyomori?”
She
shook her head. “He is the Topaz Champion. I imagine he will receive some
illustrious appointment.”
“Perhaps, and perhaps not. For now, he has been invited to
study at Tempest Island alongside the Storm Riders.” Naizen
shrugged. “I think perhaps Kaigen plans to use the
young man as a means of gathering glory for our family’s shugenja tradition. It
matters little to me one way or another.”
Satako frowned. “Do most Topaz Champions not take Imperial
appointments?”
“Most,”
Naizen grunted. “Not all. One of your judges was Moto Najmudin, a former Champion
and a high ranking member of the Imperial Magistrates, favored by the Emperor
himself. Last year’s winner was Doji Kurohito’s
daughter. She trained with the Seppun and is now an
officer with the guardsmen in Toshi Ranbo.” He glanced down at Satako. “How would Kiyomori
accomplish such things? He has martial training, but nothing of that magnitude.
And the Seppun shugenja do not accept outsiders.”
“It
does not matter,” Satako said. “I will return home,
where I belong. His reward is irrelevant to me. Let Kiyomori
find his own path.”
“Return
home?” Naizen said with a curious expression. “No one
has mentioned that just yet, little warrior.”
Satako frowned again. She felt an uneasy feeling. “What do
you mean, Naizen-sama? Have I been appointed a duty
on the mainland?”
“Perhaps
so,” the old pirate mused. “Are you familiar with the Dark Wave?”
“Kitao’s fleet?”
He
nodded. “Yes. They have been more active lately. My patrols have encountered
them all throughout the seas. They have been traveling in smaller groups,
avoiding targets they would have eagerly destroyed only a short time ago.” He
scowled. “Komori thinks they are searching for something.”
“Searching
for what?”
Naizen’s eyes narrowed slightly. “We do not know. Or we did
not know, at least. Two weeks ago, Kumiko encountered
a large force of Dark Wave vessels moving east, near the Sea of Shadows. They
were destroyed, and Kumiko retrieved… something.”
Satako looked at the older man thoughtfully. “You don’t
know what it is either, do you?”
Naizen’s scowl grew more fierce.
“I know what I need to know, girl, and you would do well to remember your
manners.” He drew a deep breath and forced a smile. “The matter is a bit of a
sore spot with me. But yes, she recovered something and no,
I do not know what it is. I know that it is ancient, and very valuable, and
that it once belonged to the Crane.”
Satako nodded wordlessly, eager to avoid angering him
further.
“She
has moved it to the Tsuruchi lands, where it stands
under heavy guard. I am to return to the islands and assist in preparing to
hunt for the Dark Wave’s home port. I am reluctant to leave the… cargo without
a Yoritomo guard, however.” He drew himself up and gave the young woman an
evaluating look. “How would you defend such a treasure?”
“I
would keep it in a secret location and post a heavy guard around a false
cargo,” she answered after a moment’s consideration. “Tell no one of the true
cargo and defend the fake with my life. Perhaps leak the location of a second target,
also false. The enemy would be forced to waste resources hunting shadows, and
if I were to die the real cargo could be moved by the time they realized what
had happened.” She thought a moment further. “If it appeared either of the
false cargos would fall into the wrong hands, I would follow the trail the
thieves left behind and slaughter them to a man.”
Naizen smiled. “Congratulations, Yoritomo Satako. You are now a gunso in
the Mantis fleet and a magistrate of our family. You will be assuming command
of the guard protecting our cargo in Tsuruchi lands.”
Satako smiled. “Will the Tsuruchi
object?”
Naizen waved the comment away. “Perhaps.
If they do, it shall fall to you to bring them in line, magistrate.”
The
two Mantis spoke long into the night, discussing
resources and plans to protect a secret neither understood.