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.