He was all but invisible in the trees. Breathing quietly, as he had been trained, he drew the string taut, imagining the arrow along his arm. Each day he had been doing this, for the past week. Each day, taking his post, waiting until the moment was perfect, until the kill was assured, and then practicing. It had become almost a ritual.
He had learned from the best. His mind became the missing arrow, his eyes became its trajectory, his breath became the fletching. If he let go the thin thread of sinew, his soul would fly the intervening distance, and strike his target dead. Slowly, he loosened the string, gently, so as not to shatter the bow. The target would never even know it was coming.
He waited until his mind left the _zen_, and then vanished back the way he had come.
The Lion lands would never recover. Once, this blasted wasteland
behind them had been the heart of the Emperor's right hand. There was
no Emperor, these days, Chomei reminded himself. Toturi had vanished,
most likely died. It was a painful truth. The "thousand years of
peace" had lasted barely two.
Now this. His two lords were at war, over another Clan's lands. Around him, Daidoji soldiers, their beautiful armour shining in the sun like well-wrought china, foraged in the wasteland, destroying the few farms that the Mantis had spared. Once his Clan had represented all that was noble in the Code, in the soul of Rokugan. No more. No more a Clan of beauty, but a Clan of iron. They had even abandoned the Scorpion lands, simply to pursue a defeated enemy. An enemy which had withdrawn, rather than fight.
Doji Chomei looked around himself at the present, and feared for the future.
He could feel the rough bark of the tree against his back, smell the
green. It was a smell worlds different from the blasted wasteland they
left behind them. Slowly, as the sun crept higher, the ocean of blue
washed into the barren landscape. Birds awoke in the copse of trees in
which he stood. The blue was only one or two Ri away. They would be
here before noon. A dragonfly alighted upon the tip of his bow. An
hour later, it flew off. It had never noticed him. Slowly, the blue
came closer. He raised his bow.
Chomei looked into the fire. True, they had only been heimin, but
had it been necessary to kill them, burn their hovel, simply to take
their rice to feed a soldier or two? He did not know which was worse,
of the two Daimyo to whom he had sworn. Yoritomo must be mad, to lay
waste to the Lion lands like this. Chomei could see no plan in it. Yet
his own Daimyo pursued the Mantis army for what reason? It made no
sense. It was strange that they had not encountered the Lion armies,
already. Perhaps the rumours were true, that the Lion had deserted
their provinces, to make war upon the Crab in their time of weakness.
As the Crane armies settled down to eat, Chomei wandered off towards a nearby stream - something which appeared to have miraculously escaped destruction. It burbled through torn earth, happily meandering its way across the broken terrain towards a small copse of trees a short walk away. Chomei took of his helmet - it was feeling heavier these past days - and bent down for a drink.
The Daimyo's shade had been raised, and guards stood outside the
entrance, their back-banners proudly shouting their allegiance to any
who could see. The gap between the two men was narrow, but he could
faintly see the Crane Daimyo inside. The young man took off his helmet,
and wiped his shaved brow, then knelt to receive tea. Although only one
knew it, the two men were facing each other in similar postures. The
bow came up, slowly, so slowly. The bird beside him, used to his
presence now, continued singing. His breathing became silent. His eyes
focused tight, seeming to bring the Crane Daimyo closer. He pulled the
bow taut.
And in his mind, saw the arrow fly into the chest of the leader of his enemies.
As tea finished, he slowly released the bow-string, and again became invisible.
Chomei stood. Soon it would be time to move on again, bringing more destruction, and to no purpose. The men were saying that Kuwanan-sama had slain the Daimyo of the Unicorn in a duel. Chomei did not believe them. What quarrel did the Crane have with the Unicorn? The magistrates had left the Scorpion lands as swiftly as they had arrived. There was no reason for the two Clans to fight.
Yet it made him uneasy. Only two years ago, he had been privy to the plans and reasons of two Clans, the Crane and the Alliance. He had never questioned, then. He had known that those he served, both Yoritomo-sama and O-Hoturi-sama, had been in the right. He had stood by the Alliance in it's time of trial, and joyed in its success. When the Mantis had offered to barter passage through the Crane lands, he himself had sent word to the Daimyo that acceptance would not only be wise, but be of benefit to all concerned. He had been -- surprised by the decision to attack. Moreso by the lack of a declaration of war.
The supply caravans at the rear of the Mantis army had been taken completely unaware; not that they could have defended themselves against the might of the entire Crane army if they had known. They had been mostly merchants, with only a few samurai to watch over them. They died quickly.
Chomei stretched, rubbed his eyes. He wandered down the stream, away from the sentries, away from his own army. He did not like this war. It still made no sense to him. He arrived at the tree-line with a short surprise. He did not remember walking so far. He must have been lost in thought. He looked over his shoulder. The encampment was picking itself up, shaking off the dust and smoke. The Crane armies were preparing to move on for the afternoon. He was about to turn back, when he heard a noise.
The trees had spoken his name. He looked about him. No one. He was alone beside a copse of trees, and no-one had spoken his -
Again.
He looked closer. There. Movement. He stepped into the brush, and the point of an arrow touched his forehead.
"Chomei."
The brush had closed up behind him, they could not see him from the encampment, he knew that. He had disappeared, and they would assume that he had dishonoured his ancestors, and deserted the Crane.
"Chomei. Chomei-san. I am Mukami of the Wasp Clan. I did not think to see you again."
"Mukami? What is it that you are doing here? Why are you perched in these trees like a Scorpion, waiting to strike?"
The archer leaned forward, appearing from the leaves like smoke from a shugenja's sleeves. "Each day since we entered Beiden Pass, I have killed your Daimyo. He has never known that I am here. Now you have seen me. You serve too many Lords, Doji Chomei." A brief, wry smile twisted the archer's lips. "It will be your death."
"Today? I do not think so. My sword and my ancestors will stand by me."
"Not today, no. If I had come here to kill you, you would be dead, and I would be gone. No.
"Doji Chomei, you stood by the minor Clans on the Day of Thunder. I wish to know. Why did you betray Lord Yoritomo? Did the ... Kuwanan offer you gold? Power?"
"No. Nothing. He is the Daimyo of my Clan. I did not support this war, Mukami-san. It is not my war."
The archer stared into his eyes, for what seemed to be minutes. Then he clicked his tongue, a sound like a cricket makes, and three more archers faded into view, appearing from the trees like the fabled ninja are said to do. "You serve too many lords, Chomei-sama. I believe that the time has come for you to make a choice." The arrow left his brow, the bow loosened. "It is your choice, Chomei-sama, but Lord Yoritomo will hear of your decision."
Chomei's brow furrowed. Clarity spread across his face.
"Take me to Lord Yoritomo, Mukami-san. I need to speak with him again. I need to know."
The archer grinned, nodded, and vanished like smoke.