The young samurai gazed around the now barren room, his eyes flitting from the small futon in one corner, to the writing desk set against the wall near the door. His eyes searched the once familiar chamber, seeking any sign that these had been his quarters for a better part of the past six years. Shaking his head, the young hohei turned to leave, slinging the light traveling pack over his shoulder. It seemed wrong somehow, that a man's life could be reduced to a parcel small enough to carry on his back.
As he stepped out of the door and into the halls of Shiro no Mirumoto, he paused, some passing sensation standing the hair on the back of his neck on end. He turned to find two finely dressed figures glaring at him from further down the passageway.
Though both were dressed in blue and white, there the similarities ended. The woman was older, her dark hair showing the first hint of gray. She wore her kimono with a quiet, regal dignity, and though her features wore a mask of icy disdain, her eyes screamed the promise of an eternity of burning torment, as they gazed with unmasked hatred in his direction.
The younger man, standing just behind her and to the left, was very obviously her yojimbo. Though as finely dressed as the woman, he wore light armor along with his silk, a helmet held in the crook of one arm. His eyes did not speak of torment, nor fire, nor ice, only simple death.
"You are Tonbo Kojiro," stated the woman, as if she had just bestowed the name upon him.
"I am not," was the bushi's simple reply.
The woman's eyes narrowed, and the yojimbo would have taken a step forward, if she had not raised an arm to forestall him. "You are Tonbo Kojiro," she repeated, "I know this for a fact. Just as I know you are a murderer. And now a liar and a coward as well."
The young bushi shook his head, his voice still calm when he answered, "I am no longer Tonbo Kojiro."
The yojimbo sneered and the courtier glared at him, as if unsure whether or not he was making jest of her. Shaking her head she dismissed her confusion and her features hardened with the resolve of her anger, "I do not care what name you call yourself. You are the man who murdered my son!"
The young bushi nodded, as if to himself, than his gaze rose to meet her hateful glare, "You are Kakita Kojiko-san, mother of Kakita Kirijiwa?" he asked, keeping his voice steady, though his eyes held a hint of sadness.
It was, perhaps, that very touch of understanding glittering in the youth's eyes that stretched Kojiko's restraint to the very edge. For a brief moment, the young bushi half expected the elder courtier to march forward and deliver a resounding slap across his face. Instead, it was the yojimbo, a Daidoji by the family mon tattooed upon his bare wrist, who gave release to the anger seething within him.
"You will address my Lady as Kojiko-sama!" he all but shouted, coming forward to glare down at the shorter bushi, "and the samurai you murdered is Kirijiwa-san! You are as an eta, without honor, and should not even be allowed to speak to them on pain of death. If your Daimyo had any understanding of honor he would see you dead!"
"I believe you should refer to him as our Daimyo-sama, Uji-san," spoke a voice filled with a familiar, arrogant laughter, coming from behind the young bushi. Though the young hohei's eyes never left the Daidoji samurai, he could sense a pair of figures moving to flank him defensively on either side.
"Mirumoto Daini-san, Mirumoto Taki-san," the lady Kojiko bowed a short greeting to the two new arrivals, her strained smile almost successful in hiding her disappointment at the arrival of the two Dragon samurai.
Daidoji Uji said nothing, merely stepping back to stand beside his lady.
"Is there a problem here, Kojiko-san," asked Daini, "I had thought that your party was preparing to leave Shiro Mirumoto and begin your travel to the Phoenix lands?"
"We are, Daini-san," Kojiko replied pleasantly, though her eyes remained focused on the youth who had killed her son, "I merely wished to tell the young Kojiro, here, that I understood what had happened between he and my son. I wanted to be sure he understood exactly how much I was able to forgive him and extend to him an invitation to some day come to the Lands of the Crane, so that he might experience a taste of our own hospitality."
For a long moment silence dominated the corridor as the two groups stood exchanging glares, neither willing to lose face by backing down. The tension began building to a dangerous level, and Kojiko was shocked to realize that soon the young bushi might draw their blades due to some half-perceived insult.
Despite the siren song of anger that still burned through her, Kakita Kojiko was still a Crane courtier and she knew that soon something must be done, or there might very well be more blood spilled between the Dragon and the Crane. And this time it might not stop until all of their houses were embroiled in an open, meaningless war.
When Daidoji Uji's hand began inching towards his katana, Kojiko knew she could wait no longer, she began to move forward, prepared to offer an apology to Mirumoto Daini for her rudeness. She knew that it was better she lose face, than allow her arrogance to start a war. But, if she must make an apology, she intended to only do so to someone she considered an equal and Daini was the brother of the Mirumoto family daimyo.
Before Kojiko could do more than take a half step forward, however, the ever mounting tension was broken by a single, softly spoken word, "Giri."
Such a simple word, but in the midst of the all but open hostility between Uji and the Dragon bushi, that one word managed to break their heated glares, bringing them back from the brink of madness.
"What was that, Tonbo?" Uji demanded, only now realizing how close the confrontation had come to drawn blades and crimson stains.
"My name is Giri," was the hohei's reply, "Not Tonbo Giri, nor Mirumoto Giri, but simply Giri," his eyes looked into Kojiko's own and she knew that this young samurai had somehow guessed at the sacrifice she had been willing to make. And had, for some unfathomable reason, chosen to spare her from it.
"I do not know if you can understand this, Kojiko-san, but the day your son died, so too did Tonbo Kojiro. Vengeance is a seductive mistress, Kakita-san, but it comes with a high price- As long as you keep vengeance in your heart, you can never put to rest the pain from which it draws it's strength. Know, then, that Kojiro is dead and let your heart move on," the samurai's eyes, Giri's eyes, searched Kojiko's, begging for her to understand the gift he offered.
"Such pretty words serve only to hide your cowardice, boy!" spat the Daidoji, his face drawn into a sneer of contempt, "No matter what name you call yourself, you are still responsible for your actions. And if ever we meet again, I will insure that you pay the full price for what you have done."
Giri's raised arms served to prevent Daini and Taki from charging forward, though both samurai kept their hands to the hilts of their swords. His eyes remained on the Kakita, as if through eye contact and sheer will alone, he could make her see the truth in his words.
Finally, Kojiko turned away, retreating from the intensity of his gaze. She began to walk down the hall, and without turning back she called behind her to the Daidoji, "Come, Uji-san, we still have much to pack and we must be leaving within the hour."
"Giri," Uji repeated, a look of concentration upon his features, as if he were engraving the name into his heart, "I will remember it," with that he turned and followed his lady down the hall and out of sight.
For several moments after the Crane had disappeared around a corner, the trio of samurai stood motionless. Then, with a deep exhalation of breath, Mirumoto Taki slumped against the wall, head bowed, as his body slowly relearned to breathe. "For a second there, I thought the Daidoji was going to draw his sword," managed the youth.
With a slightly shaky grin Daini nodded, leaning against the far wall, his own breathing a little ragged, "Hey, how about that courtier, Kakita Kojiko? She may have been a Crane, but all those half veiled threats sure made her sound a lot like a Scorpion."
Taki managed a weak grin, though Giri only gave a disinterested shrug. Daini cocked his head, an all-too-familiar mischievous grin spreading across his face, "And what was up with that Daidoji, anyway," he demanded, doing a poor imitation of Uji's sonorous tones, " 'Such pretty words serve only to hide your cowardice, boy!' What, by the Seven Fortunes, was that?!" Daini asked, his expression one of exaggerated disbelief, "Did a Crane say that!? Amaterasu's light, next we'll be hearing a Scorpion accuse us of being deceptive, or a Unicorn say we have bad grooming habits!"
The trio broke into laughter, the recent stress only serving to heighten their humor, until they were all leaning against a wall, or just sitting on the floor laughing.
Finally, as the laughter died down, Giri sat in the center of the hallway examining his companions, "Mirumoto Taki-san and Mirumoto Daini-san?" he asked, glancing from one to the other.
Daini grinned, "Yeah, those are the names we chose after our gempukku ceremonies. And, actually, that's Daini-sama, to you, worthless ronin dog."
Daini frowned in confusion as Taki threw him a furious glare. Then, blinking with sudden comprehension he turned to see Giri sitting at the foot of the far wall, his head hanging low, staring at the ground.
"Seven Fortunes, I'm a fool, Giri," Daini said coming to kneel besides the samurai.
"That's rather self evident," muttered Taki. Daini gave him a glare of his own, as Taki moved to join them.
"Are you really leaving the Dragon Clan, Giri?" Taki asked, ignoring Daini's glare.
The youth only nodded, not looking up from his contemplation of the ground at his feet. Daini's brow furrowed in confusion, "And you're giving up the name, Tonbo? You're severing your ties with the Dragonfly Clan?" Again the silent nod.
"What will you do, if you're not staying here and you're not going back to the Dragonfly?" Daini persisted, "Are you going to the Phoenix lands to see your sister?"
Giri sighed, finally looking up at his two friends, they were both shocked to see his eyes red, a moist dampness trailing down his cheek. Taki quickly turned away, hoping to spare his friend the lost of face from having someone witness such an emotional display. Daini merely placed a hand on Giri's shoulder, a look of open concern upon his face.
"Giri-san," Daini said, in a voice that was only just above a whisper, "since the day, six years ago, when you were brought into our house you have been a brother to me. Tell me, please, what is going on?"
Giri managed a faint smile, looking into Daini's eyes, "Hai. Very well, just let me get up, 'little brother'."
Daini grinned and stood, offering a hand to help Giri to his feet. For a moment the two stood, clasping forearms and remembering the six years they had spent growing up, with Giri fostered under Mirumoto Sukune, Daini's uncle. Giri leaned against the wall, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. When he was done he nodded to Daini and Taki, who had returned to listen to his explanation.
"You both know that I am a second son, of a second son. My uncle is the daimyo of the Dragonfly Clan, but it is his son who will succeed him and my older brother who will take my father's place as the daimyo's karo. There was no place for me to earn honor within the Clan. So, they fostered me to the Mirumoto, a political move to strengthen the traditional ties between our clans. It's the same as when they sponsored my sister to the Phoenix," Giri paused and his head lowered until once again he was studying the floor. With an obvious effort he raised his eyes to meet those of his friends and managed to find the strength to continue, "I had hoped that within the Honored House of the Dragon I could find a way to bring honor to my family. But, I was wrong."
Giri pushed himself off from the wall and when next he spoke his voice held the tone of one who had finally accepted a detestable fate, "Togashi Yokuni-sama has ordered me from the Dragon Clan for slaying Kakita Kirijiwa on the day of our gempukku."
Taki only nodded in understanding, but Daini's countenance broke into a look of pure outrage, "What?!" the youth demanded, "Giri-san, that Crane filth was slandering Niten! He called our technique- 'The Coward's Desperate Juggling Act'! He insulted the honor of every Mirumoto at our dojo! If you hadn't dueled him, then I most certainly would have!"
Giri's eyes were hard as they stared at the younger samurai. Sometimes he forgot how young Daini was. He, himself, was sixteen, a little old for his gempukku and Taki was fourteen. Daini was only twelve, and had lived much of his life being spoiled and the rest being ignored. Daini was pomp and flair, he craved attention and honor. He demanded it, he needed it. Having lived almost all of his life in his sister, Hitomi's, shadow, he grasped at every opportunity to find a place of his own to shine.
"Daini-san, it was not Kirijiwa who acted against the Dragon's honor that day, but I. All he did was speak meaningless words. Rhetoric taught to him by his sensei to protect the honor of their own dojo. It was I who disobeyed my Lord's command. I allowed my arrogance to over ride my obedience. I killed on a day of peace. And if it had been you who had done all of this, than it would be you who are ronin and not I."
Daini made to shake his head in denial, but Taki placed a hand on his shoulder, forestalling him. When Daini turned to his friend, a questioning look on his face, Taki only nodded.
Giri sighed, shaking his head, "And what of the two of you. What will Yokuni's newest samurai be doing, now that they are no longer children?"
Daini managed a weak grin, happy for the change in subject, "Well, -I- will be a representative in my Lord's court," he exclaimed, a gleam of pride lighting his young eyes, "This masochistic fool, however," Daini gestured towards Taki, "has decided he hasn't been abused enough in the last five years and has decided he wants to stay in school."
Taki nodded, smiling quietly, "I thought, that now that both you and Giri-san had left, I might have a chance at becoming sempai."
Giri blinked in surprise. Taki had always been a serious student, almost driven in his studies. But, he had never guessed that the young samurai might wish to continue on the path of swordsmanship. Perhaps, even to the point of becoming sensei of the Mirumoto Dojo some day.
Taki nodded to Giri, "And what of you? Have you decided what it is you want to do?"
Giri smiled, his hand rising to trace the Crow tattoo over his left eye, "I think," he said in a quiet voice, "That I will see what destiny has to offer."
'In friendship we pledged
No matter what the future
We will keep the past.'
- Haiku written by Mirumoto Daini shortly after the ronin, Giri, left Shiro Mirumoto.