There was a time once, long ago, when I would no doubt have found joy in my work. Vengeance is a fine thing, my father once told me. It is the spirit of justice itself.
My father killed many in the name of vengeance. My brother last among them. Were I shugenja, I would have seen that omen. Were I a courtier or an actor, I could have wrought vengeance with near impunity. Were I a ninja, I would have murdered and the Crane's own lies would save me.
But I am a bushi, and my vengeance must be along a different river to my foes. No matter the price, I said.
The fire is dying, ever so slowly. My own voice, from within, says that everything I have done, I have done in the name of honor and vengeance. As the fires die, the shadows cease to dance and return to lurking. Between the peasants' huts, shapes lurch forward; some are the illusions of my curse, but one is not.
A dim breeze rattles the air, bringing the copper-scent of heimen blood even as it clatters my spare fingers of jade. A thick, solid figure sits on the other side of my small campfire in the center of the village, and briefly I see him-myself through my-its eyes. My mind shivers, and I remove one of the sharpened slivers of the jade and jab it into my fist. A year ago, it would have bled. A month ago, it would have rent healthy flesh. A week ago, it would have hurt. All it does now is stave off my other self's advances.
I look to the heavens, where the kami once fell so long ago. Lord Moon has waxed fully obsidian, and only the stars glare at me. They have seen what happened here, I know. Their spirit-servants in the air will carry warning to the beast-shugenja, who will hunt me in the name of the lost emperor. The wind will warn the Crane of my approach. I have little time left, and yet I sit here amid my carnage. Idly, I draw my grandfather's soul. It flashes in the pale light.
My grandfather was, I am told, a true Scorpion. Humble. Dutiful. Valiant. Now, I am but corruptions of these. I should, I know, join my brethren in the search for Toturi. I do not. It has been seven years since I met Togashi, and four since she freed me, but I have not forgotten her words to me:
The Son of Heaven is dead, and the Fortunes look away from Rokugan. You have a destiny, little Scorpion, and no kami alive will ever know it.
She was wrong, of course. I saw the evidence on her right hand.
One of the peasants in the nearby pile is still breathing. She thinks I do not know. She whimpers as I walk to her, my grandfather's soul in hand. I see the dying fire reflect in her eyes, and I do not hesitate.
She was, perhaps, three.
There was a time, I recall, when I could have been a father. Kazuko was tall, calm, and wonderous. Even I was humbled by her. I thought she knew nothing of my father's death at my hands; she thought I knew nothing of secrets. Even now, I can see myself smile as I tell my eldest son of the Scorpion and the Crab, or watch my daughter in one of Shindoku's plays. In another life, I would have been happy. With another destiny, I would be whole. Sixteen days after Togashi jailed me, Kazuko married a Crane as part of a plan to break the Scorpion line. Her children are beautiful, and I am a killer of helpless peasants.
I lift my grandfather's soul up, watching. There is some fascination, I suppose, as the blood dissolves into the steel. Aramoro could not convince me to avoid my quest, but gave me a shard of a broken sword to forge into my own. I have polluted my grandfather's spirit with the deaths of half-men and cowards. I have done this so that I will be strong enough tomorrow. I wonder at the honor involved in my actions. Yama Ue No Ho Ni Umi Mura was a small village, but it will attract the attention of a legion of Kuwanan's troops. A Crane killer for every star in the sky.
I walk to the edge of town, wrapping myself in a cloak bearing the mon of the men I hate. The hate is good, it makes me strong, it makes me forget.
Mura Sabishii Toshi is a day's travel from here, and I leave this saddened place behind. The form of my other me remains behind, perhaps chuckling quietly to myself at the carnage I have done in the name of honor. Along the way, I cast away the jade finger, black and soft with my corruption, and draw a new one. Let the Crane find it. Let them know what comes for them. They have armies, but an army cannot stop a single man any more than a single man can stop the stars' flickerings. Tonight, I walk clad in white and blue, and the stars laugh as they watch.
Togashi was wrong, I know. Even she cannot guess at me now. I am a bushi, but so, too, am I Scorpion. Kuni Yori thought I would be his agent, but he was mine. Above me, my truest siblings laugh. The Fortunes know more of my plans than any of my would-be masters do, but even they know nothing of me. To all the kami and gods of this world or any other, I am a man of revenge. It is the most cunning lie of my life.