The sound of a samisen played gently eased into Kesuan's thoughts, breaking through the screaming of birds within his mind with slow, persistent tendrils. He heard the notes played before he listened for the melody, then listened to the melody before he identified the source. In him, the fire in his blood slowly cooled; the quick, frenzied movements of the birds on his skin eased, settled back into their places, and left him cold and weary.
He stared at the stars without seeing them, listening to the voice of the samisen tell him riddles without answers, and straining always to resolve their questioning. When the dark form of an owl blotted the moon for a moment, he stirred, and found a small, lean man leaned over the samisen, playing it with flawless fingering, his face empty of everything but the effortlessness of his playing.
Kesuan listened to the voice of the samisen, and his heart filled with the wordless language of music played for its own sake. This was no ballad, no story embedded with a tale of history or glory; it was a simple, quiet tune which seemed to draw on the night air and condense peace like dew from the chilly winds. Kesuan drew greedily on the peace of that wordless language, and it sustained him.
With a slow inevitability, the melody ended, and the man looked to Kesuan, his eyes holding Kesuan's. To Kesuan's surprise, the man bowed as though to a lord, and said humbly, "Your pardon."
Kesuan, jarred from silence, protested, "It is I who should beg pardon, friend. Your playing is skilled; of too great excellence for such a humble acolyte as I."
The man's eyes remained lowered, but he smiled. "Music is free, lord. It surrounds us always. Sleep and peace, however, are objects to be treasured, and not squandered in the night. I played that I might not slumber in my watch over you; it would bring shame to sleep when the soul-wounded need attending."
The young monk looked at the man with a curious gaze. "I am Kesuan, of the order of Togashi."
The man raised his eyes. "I am Morito Tokei, a wave-man." His eyes hardened a little as he announced his station, but pride still lingered somewhere there. "I am a shugenja of little worth who has been brought to look after you." He lowered his eyes once more. "The fever has left you, for now, but may return. If it does, I shall intercede with the spirits once more to aid you, if I may."
Kesuan lay back. "It is not a fever which ails me. It is the spirit of the birds, which assails me always. How can a thing which brings such joy cause such harm?"
Tokei set aside his samisen, and settled on his knees. "Joy and Pain are twins, born of the union between Desire and Need. Joy is born when Desire is met, Need arises when Need is denied. When Desire partakes of Need, then discord in the union arises, and Joy and Pain become rivals.
"It is because of this, that Shinsei says that Joy is an ill, as much as Pain, for both blind the spirit to the Way of Enlightenment. When the spirit turns to the pursuit of Joy, Joy itself becomes transformed by the jealousy of Pain; the goodness partakes of evil, and is corrupted by it. Enlightenment comes when the spirit may not be moved by joy nor pain."
Kesuan heard the young shugenja's words with a troubled heart. "If Joy then is an ill, what satisfaction can there be in becoming Enlightened? We yearn towards enlightenment, and that itself is born of Desire. Accomplishing this, of what use is Enlightenment, if it brings Joy?"
Tokei's mouth quirked. "This I have pondered, and I have no answer. Shinsei's wisdom transcends my own, and the words are his. I know that the playing of the samisen brings me peace, which is the Desire of my heart. But even the Fortunes tell us that Desire is an ill, and the meeting of desire brought forth the world, which is an ill. Perhaps that Shinsei's way was joyless, and his enlightenment different than that I will find."
Kesuan settled back, his mind too filled with the peace of the still night to wrangle with Shinsei's puzzle. "Where are we?"
"We are far from your home, still wandering the empty lands west of the Dragonfly lands, looking for a sign to follow. The commander of the force, the lord Mirumoto Daini, says that we are to continue our march until he receives the sign, though he is uncertain as to what the sign will be. It is strange to me that the Dragon go to war, but stranger still that you have no enemy to strike with this army." His words were more question than answer, but Kesuan could only reply, "We follow the will of our Daimyo."
Perhaps drawn by the sound of voices, or because his vision had revealed Kesuan's awakening to him, Mikoto strode out from the darkness to enter the ring of light surrounding the fire between the shugenja and the young ise zumi. He crouched by Kesuan and felt his skin with an expert hand. Kesuan noted that his arm was bandaged, and that he wore the wakizashi on his left hip.
"You have chosen once more to reason as a man." he said, smiling.
Kesuan could only stare at him. He saw in his memory the image of this monk, a predator, a land-beast with hunger in his belly and anger in his eyes. He felt himself rising in the air as he sprang, and the predatory, fierce thrill race through him as he battled the land-thing. Mikoto felt the boy tense, but misunderstood the cause. "I wear the wakizashi, but it is not for you. We have entered the northern lands of the Crane, and we now go armed. We do not know whom we shall encounter."
"Mikoto." the boy said, his voice breaking on the name. "I do not know what happened. The birds seemed to call to me, and I succumbed to madness..."
"Rest." Mikoto said, rising abruptly. "It is the Raving, and each ise zumi must face it. It is the test of our manhood, the test of our worth. The tattoos of your body are the print of your soul made manifest on your skin; the power which you gain may cause madness, or it can transcend understanding to reveal deeper truths. Some ise zumi Rave periodically; others Rave but once at their tattooing, and remain sane all other times.
"Each ise zumi must find his own answer to the Raving."
Mikoto walked around the fire, and sat beside the shugenja, who had lowered his gaze farther. Mikoto did not look to him when he said, "Rest, shugenja, and I will watch over the youth."
Kesuan lay back down and watched the stars cross over his head once more, and the sound of the samisen lulled him to sleep some time later.