(L5R - The Spoils of War) Hasso-no-Kamae: Asano's Story

[truemane]

HASSO-NO-KAMAE: THE SHADOW GUARD
BAYUSHI ASANO'S STORY

"To stand Hasso, one places one foot forward. The katana is held up, over the shoulder,
sloping slightly to the rear. Hands are separate on the hilt,
ready to attack or defend, as the situation requires."

The strangest thing about the heimin, Asano often thought, was that you could never really know them. You could learn to notice them (as she had) and you could teach yourself to recognize them by sight (as she did) and you could even perform small unobtrusive things to make their lives easier (as she tried to do), but ultimately their world was so distant from hers that they were almost a different nation entirely.

Take the woman with the harelip who tended the flowers in the western gardens, for example. Asano had never seen her until the Bushi knocked her down. Was she new? Someone's relative? Someone's child? A visitor? Or had she lived here her whole life and just never come to Asano's attention before she wound up face first in the cobblestones with a bruised face and a broken nose?

Not only did she not know, but there was virtually no way for her to find out. She couldn't ask around. Couldn't ever reveal that she took more than the most passing notice of her. Certainly couldn't find out how she came to work here or why or when.

All she could do is watch.

Watch, first as the young woman made her careful and skilled way around the garden, pruning and caring for the flowers that grew there. Watch as Onna-san, the sullen Bushi who liked her Sake a little too much for her own good, came barreling up the road, late for her watch again, her face a clouded, hung-over shadowy map of misery. Watch as Onna came across the small cart of supplies the heimin had parked on the cobblestone near the garden. Watch as Onna slowed and, with a single malevolent gaze at the woman, kicked the cart over with a grunt and a grin. Watch as the heimin turned in surprise at the noise. Watch as a weeding instrument few up, up, over, and down and striking Onna's brilliant red kimono and marking it with a deep black spot.

Watch as the heimin dropped to her knees and began crawling toward the samurai, begging apologies and forgiveness. Watch as Onna began berating the woman. Hissing at her in anger. Pointing to her kimono. Grabbing her by the hair and shoving her face into the soiled kimono and then shoving her down onto the cobblestones once, twice, three times, before leaving the woman lying there, bruised and bloodied, groveling, her shoulders wracking with sobbing she would not dare to voice.

Watch as Onna spat on the woman's back and growled at her to stay out of her way next time and watch where she put her filthy tools, and stride away.

All she could do was watch.

She couldn't do anything. Who would listen? Who would believe her? Who would even care? And Asano was still years from her gempukku. And Onna, while low-born and not well-regarded, was still a samurai, and she was still a child, and the young woman with the harelip still a heimin.

All she could do was watch.

Spoiler

Show

Welcome to your Prologue! So, as I explained in the Chargen thread, what I want you to is complete the scene. You can invent, write, create, do anything you want. Shift places, times, locations. Speak for any other character you wish. All of this has 'already' happened in the world of the game so there are no roles and nothing you try will fail.

What I want here is a look at Asano's belief system and her drive to action. Does she shrug her shoulders and move on? Does she concoct some manner of punishment? Does she pursue official channels? Or unofficial? Does any of it work? What does she gain? What does she lose? How does she feel about it all?

Questions? You know where I am.

[Ezeze]

The Western garden was Asano’s favorite. It wasn’t the largest or most ornate garden on her family’s estate; the Entry Garden, which sat between the front gate and the main compound, beat it on both counts.

The larger garden had a big koi pond bisected by a well-crafted stone bridge. It had a gazebo, and secluded seating, and flowers in many different colors that would bloom during many different times of year. Her father always ensured that important visitors saw that garden and passed over that bridge. Asano feared that if she lingered there too long she'd turn into another decoration to be displayed for distinguished guests.

The Western garden did not fare well by comparison. It was less than a third the size of the Entry Garden. It did not have a koi pond. The only people to pass through this garden were the merchants and servants who used the side entrance (and those unfortunates like Onna-san assigned to guard duty there), but despite the relative unimportance of its guests the Western garden was full of beautiful red hydrangeas that filled the air with sweet perfume. The main path was straight, well-worn and kept clear, but numerous subsidiary paths branched off in wandering, nonsensical twists and turns that hid behind the giant flower bushes and lent themselves to feeling many miles away even if the reality was that a well-thrown stone could hit the castle’s doors.

To Asano’s mind the garden's defining feature was the huge plum tree that had dominated its back-right quadrant since before she was born. Such a practical plant would have been an embarrassment in a prominent garden regardless of its beauty, but it was allowed for this little side-patch of land. At her age she was no longer allowed to climb that tree, nor to pluck plumbs from its high branches. It would have been inappropriate for a young lady. She still had the memories of doing so from when she was younger, though, and she appreciated the relative privacy that came with the less prominent location.

This morning she had been playing shogi with her twin brother Aramono. Both were seated on pillows on either end of the board in a clear patch a few feet from the path. Neither was particularly good at the game, but that was hardly the point; it served as a distraction for their hands and minds while they enjoyed each other’s company. The two were closer to each other than to their parents or any of their siblings, but time together was going to be rare soon; both had marriage prospects which would take them away from their father’s compound. Aramano was to marry Horiuchi Shoan, Asano was to marry Daidoji Daigo. Neither knew anything about their future spouse save their name.

Asano did not think she’d reacted when Onna pushed the heinin down – already the concept of On was carved into her very soul - but Aramono’s back was to the scene and he hadn’t turned, so it must have been something on her face that prompted him to quietly warn “leave it.”

She didn’t intend to, but now was not the time. Being noticed by a samurai was never good news for a heimin. It was an act of compassion not to remember the woman with the hairlip, so Asano did not. She chose to remember Onna-san instead. She and Aramono went back to their game. Asano lost.

She spent the next two days watching Onna. Trailing her was easy; the bushi had none of the healthy paranoia harbored by so many scorpion. Little wonder that she was so poorly thought of. The larger difficulty lay in finding the time to track her movements. Her tutors had their classes; she was expected to study etiquette and calligraphy and heraldry and philosophy and poetry and history. There were inevitably, though, moments when she could disappear between tutors, or when she was expected to take her meals and rest.

Onna had a predictable routine. She'd stand her watch, retire to a drinking establishment which only barely suited someone of her station, imbibe sake until late hours then stagger back to the barracks to collapse into bed. If she had been as smart as she liked to pretend Asano would have watched a few days longer. She would have given it a week, at least, to ensure that Onna’s watches didn’t rotate.

She did not.

It was simple for Asano to 'acquire' a vial of ink. Easier still to wait for the barracks to be sparsely populated and slink in through a side door. The floorboards squeaked by design, a calculated effect intended to warn inhabitants of danger. It made Asano’s heart jump into her throat on more than one occasion but by luck or the will of the kami there was no one there to alert. She snuck to Onna's wardrobe and deliberately, maliciously, dripped a few splotches of ink onto each and every one of Onna's kimonos - exactly on the spot where the heimin's mud had splattered her when she’d first come to Asano’s attention.

It was possible the bushi didn't even remember her encounter with the heimin. Certainly the heimin would never know that she had been avenged. This act served no purpose other than to balance universe's scales, and to allow Asano to rail against her powerlessness.

[truemane]

"Hasso is the Stance of Wood. Like a tree the samurai must be
rooted to the ground. Like a tree the samurai's awareness must be spread
in all directions. Like a tree the samurai must be both strong and supple."

Yogo Ghenji was everything a samurai should be. He was tall and broad. He was a powerful warrior. He was beautiful. He was charming. He was brave and just and witty.

Asano hated him.

She was only months out of her gempukku and still getting used to the way the world worked when you were a samurai in truth and not only in potential. It was much more... delicate... that she had imagined. All the years of her youth she had been focused on the things she wanted to do or say that propriety and her youth prevented from doing or saying. Her youth had been a burden to her that she was anxious to discard.

But she was not expecting that the responsibility of adulthood would be an equal burden. No longer able to just hide behind the silence of youth, her words now held the weight of a samurai and were judged accordingly. She needed to be responsible for them. Careful of them. They needed to be managed and tended like rice, like currency. Every word was carved on the stone tablet of her reputation. And every new word could command only as much regard as every previous word had earned.

But now that she was home, her father's court was abuzz with the talk of the handsome samurai from the north who'd been called here to command the castle's guardsmen. So young for such a duty! They said. So wise beyond his years! Such wit! Such humour! Such wisdom!

Asano could not, could not, understand why she seemed to be the only one who saw for what he was: an opportunistic bully with no more intelligence than the length of steel he carried everywhere.

She'd watched him when he arrived. She was as fond of a finely turned calf and a pretty face as anyone. But what she saw dismayed her even as it delighted everyone else. Within a week of his arrival, Ghenji 'let slip' his skill and talent at iaijutsu at every possible moment. And he was never shy about delivering veiled threats of duels to anyone who disagreed with him.

He hadn't been in the castle for two weeks before he put himself in the path of Bayushi Urata, an old, valued retainer of her father's. He managed to disagree with the old campaigner several times, publicly, aggressively, just a shade shy of rudely, on several matters that didn't even concern him. He progressed from disagreements to criticisms. Carefully worded, true, but enough to shame and anger the elder man.

And then, the inevitable. A duel was called. Accepted. To first blood? No, old man, let us put our lives in the hands of the kami. And so it was. And moments later the old man was dead and Ghenji had made his point: my speed with my sword means I can do, say, feel, think whatever I please whenever I please.

And so he did. Most of what he did was petty thuggery: insisting on better quarters. Rotating schedules. Making sure samurai he disliked were miserable. But some of what he did was more than petty, more than thuggery. There were rumours that he made pains to be alone with the peasant boys more often than he should. The servants whispered of noises in the night. Scorpion samurai did not hear these rumours, but Asano made sure she did. Scorpion samurai did not hear, and would not care if they did.

Asano tried to gainsay him at court. Tried to carefully speak out against him. But she'd been a courtier long enough to know that the logical endpoint of anything she might try was a duel. And neither she, nor her yojimbo, were a match for him. And so her plans and her schemes died on the vine.

And then he started to make a special point to disagree with her whenever he could. To speak out against her opinions and ideas at every opportunity. Always careful, always polite, always courteous. But every time she turned around he was there, right there, stopping her dead in her tracks with the ever-present threat of the four feet of steel that stupidly declared him correct before anything had even been said.

She went to bed each night with her teeth clenched. And she woke up every morning her neck stiff and her head pounding. But she could do nothing.

And then one evening she walked past her brother's room and heard the sounds of a struggle...

Spoiler

Show

Scandalous! I wanted to have a look at young Asano handling a rather brute force problem. And to give her an emotional reason to do so.

So. What's happening in that room? Is it what she thinks? Does she get into it? And then what happens? Is she able to manage this guy, young and untested as she is? And what does her brother think? And how does it all turn out?

[Ezeze]

The mind can be a foreign animal. Even moments after it happened Asano could not tell you what was behind Aramono's screen door when she slid it open. It was as if her eyes had simply refused to register it.

What cruel irony, then, that the wet 'thud' of her tanto between Ghenji's shoulder blades and the warmth of his blood on her hands are permanently emblazoned into her memory. All of Ghenji's skill at iaijutsu, his practice with his katana, did not protect him from Asano's knife - a small one, carried more for its utility as a tool than as a weapon - stabbed into his back without warning.

The first attack was not honorable, but it may have been excused. Aramono and Asano were close; they had shared a womb, they had been raised together, if superstition were to be believed their connection stretched back into their previous life, and the Scorpion value chūgi, Loyalty, above all of Bushido's other tenants. There was a great deal a Scorpion magistrate would forgive in the name of protecting such a family member.

It was Asano's second attack, when she pulled the knife from Ghenji's back just to bring it back down again, causing the man to howl in pain (he hadn't the first time, Asano remembered that; he was either too shocked, or hadn't had the air in his lungs or both), which should have damned her. That attack had nothing to do with loyalty and everything to do with rage. The same for the third, the fourth, all the way through the ninth, which occurred several seconds after Ghenji had stopped howling, or trying to defend himself, or in fact doing anything at all.

---

When everything was settled the official story was that Ghenji had attacked Aramono when he'd refused his advances (that was true), but hadn't realized that Aramono had been carrying his own katana (that was a lie. Aramono's sword had been put up for the evening, which Asano considered a turn of good luck. If he had drawn it to defend himself Ghenji would have killed him and been exonerated for doing so). So Aramono slew Ghenji, face to face, the way a bushi should.

Asano corroborated Aramono's story, their father was influential and one unfortunate peasant boy was brought forth to state that, yes, Ghenji could turn violent if refused. The dead samurai could not speak in his own defense.

In the face of so much testimony the Magistrate brought in to judge whether the Emperor's Laws had been broken neglected to question whether Ghenji would have been foolish enough to attack Aramono with his sister in the room, how a young bushi fresh from his gempukku bested one of Scorpion's most hailed rising stars or why Ghenji's wounds had been all along his back. That may have been because he took pity on the young twins, but he could also claim that his thinking was muddled by mourning for his old friend Bayushi Urata.

In Asano's opinion the most perverse part of the whole ordeal was the spike in Aramono's popularity. Ghenji had been admired for his swordsmanship, now Aramono was admired for having bested him. He was invited off to a foreign court for a season. Asano was not. They were apart for the first time in their lives.

The following spring Aramono was married to Horiuchi Shoan. Of course Asano attended, her entire family did. Scorpion weddings are important. Asano found that Horiuchi Aramono was a very different man from Bayushi Aramono. She could not hear the hint of laughter in his voice when they spoke together. He refused a game of shogi (he didn't want to embarrass himself. As if being good at the game had ever mattered between the two of them!). His posture was different, more distant. Worst of all he had removed his mask. It was not unheard of for a former scorpion to stop wearing one if they married into a different clan, but for Asano the fact that Aramono was showing the world his face felt like an intimate betrayal; it was so much like her own.

Aramono enjoyed his popularity, perhaps too much. He changed to keep ahold of it, altered his mannerisms and speech to be more pleasant. To someone who knew him all of his life, to Asano, his words sounded brittle and insincere. Asano resented him for changing. Aramono resented her for knowing the truth about his 'heroic battle' with Ghenji (at court the story had been elaborated slightly with each retelling. Whatever passing resemblance it once had to the truth was long gone).

Their relationship has not recovered.

[truemane]

"Hasso is named the Eight Directions. It is to be prepared to counter threats from any angle. It is named the Shadow Stance. Hasso is the stillness before the storm."

She still had to die, of course.

When someone learned to play Shogi, the initial lessons were, if not easy, at least concrete. These are the pieces. This is how they move. This is how you capture. This is their relative worth. This is the endgame. These are the goals. But as you grow in skill the lessons grow ever more subtle and complex and abstract. Control of the centre. Activation of mobile pieces. Establishment of defensive positions. All of these things are vital to the game, but serve ends so distant and nebulous, represent the acquisition of assets so thin, that high level play can be downright incomprehensible. Advanced players can send hours jockeying for position over nothing, shifting the relative balance of the board this way and that until it was time to strike.

Asano found that the courts were just like that. While it was easy to drop a signed confession in a villain's pocket, there were few such pockets. And even fewer villains. Courtiers, real courtiers, skilled courtiers spend all of their time and energy shifting the complex balance of the court this way and that, striving to look strong where they were weak, and weak where they were strong, until there was enough of a given asset to accomplish a given goal.

In the past year Asano's chief adversary, such as it was, had become Yogo Shinano. And she wasn't even a Yogo, but rather some backward Tansaku from some far flung corner of Scorpion lands, and veritable country mouse.

But oh, how subtle and keen an opponent she was. And her husband, and her hisband's family, served interests in direct opposition to Asano's family's. And Asano had underestimate her. Had, in fact, underestimated her twice now. Once she took her wide-eyed innocence routine to face value only to discover that she had anticipates Asano's entire line of attack and prepared for it.

The second time Asano had spent untold hours carefully letting Shinano think she had a weakness, and laid breadcrumbs for the young woman to follow. And sat back, smiling, as she followed the trail, only to discover that she had seen through Asano's deception all the while.

Asano had been embarrassed. Twice. But this woman. By this Tansaku. This Yogo. This small-town washer-woman in samurai garb.

And Asano had waited. And had finally found her opening.

Shinano's family owned several casinos in the nearby town. One of them had started being frequented by severl wealthy samurai and had become, almost overnight, very popular, very busy, and very profitable. This had lead to some attempts at court to create the impression that the ownership of that casino was in some doubt. Just enough to force a magistrate to hold a hearing on the issue. The right magistrate. And the right hearing.

Shinano had overcome this gambit mostly by treating it with disdain and not getting involved. Asano (who wasn't really involved) watched with some admiration as Shinano's calm contempt for the conspirators' attempts to create a debate out of nothing made them look shrill and foolish. She was very good.

And if Asano couldn't work around her, she would have to go through her. Which means she had to die.

Of course.

But then one of her spies overheard that Shinano was meeting with Bayushi Yanami, one of the lesser courtiers involved in the matter.

If that meeting were to be made public, it would severely weaken Shinano's stance (especially in light of her public dismissal) and shift the balance away from her toward the others. Asano had no interest in the casino. But she had a great deal of interest in having something on Shinano that she would like to hide. Because she and Shinano had far larger wars to wage.

Wheels within wheels within wheels.

But when she made sure she was near enough to the meeting to listen in on what was said, it was not at all what she was expecting.

"The matter is very simple, Yogo-san, when next our agents present the suit, you are to give them just enough attention to attach merit to them in the eyes of the magistrate who will be visiting within the next week. Failure to do so will result in several samurai visiting your home village and slaying every heimin that crosses their path. We know how you feel about them. And we are prepared to ensure they all die slowly and painfully."

There was much before this, and much after. But Asano saw the blood drain from Shinano's face and saw her mouth open slightly and saw her fan flutter in agitation. And it as clear, as clear as day: Shinano cared about the half-people. At least the ones from her home village anyway. And so a threat that any other Scorpion would have laughed at and told stories about over sake for years, made Shinano sit in dark and silence and cry into her sleeve for almost an hour.

Asano sat, hidden, in a daze.

She still had to die, of course.

Of course.

Didn't she?

Spoiler

Show

Okay! You know I had this scene, almost to the word, written in my head for like a week now, but I couldn't think up anything that Asano and Shinano could be fighting over that did the trick for me? So I didn't mention it. Feel free to bring it up or not.

So. Is Shinano's reaction genuine? Does it sway Asano? What does it sway her to do? What happens to the poor heimin?

And, of course, what happens after.

Questions, you know where to find me.

[Ezeze]

Asano had a range of responses to Bayushi Yanami’s words. One of them was embarrassment. Because while being a courtier could be like a game of shogi, Asano wasn’t very good at shogi. She had tried to learn after Aramono refused to play with her following his wedding. Her attempts were brief, fruitless and ultimately abandoned the third time she lost for making an illegal move (why should any move be illegal so long as you can live with the consequences?). How fortunate for Asano, then, that being a courtier was also like sadane. You haven’t lost until you have nothing else to say.

It had never occurred to Asano to threaten Yogo Shinano’s home town. It should have; the woman was provincial. Lowbred. She played it up at court to encourage her opponents to underestimate her, but the best lies always contain a kernel of truth. Of course she cared about the heimin; she practically was one.

Another reaction was a dramatic shift in her priorities. Yogo Shinano had embarrassed her, it was true, but that was business. The two of them represented families with different interests. More important now was that crucial difference between Bayushi Asano and Bayushi Yanami. Asano would threaten to hurt heimin. Yanami would follow through.

Where Aramono’s desire to make friends had garnered him invitations to foreign courts, Asano’s propensity to make enemies kept her close to home. She was stationed in Ryoko Owari Toshi, the City of Lies, where her primary responsibilities were ensuring that her family had preferential use of the waterways to move their goods while attempting to deny the same to their competitors (like Yogo Shinano’s family). They were not far from Tansaku Torid-e, Yanami’s hometown, which meant that Yanami’s threat might just have teeth. She needed to know for sure before she acted.

Yanami left the meeting first and did not notice Asano in her hiding place when he did. Asano stayed a little while longer, sitting out of view with her breath shallow the way she had learned when she had crept through her father’s barracks, or into Moto Kaii’s private rooms. When Shinano finally dried her last tears and made herself presentable she, too, left the room – and Asano followed her.

The city was busy. A constant flux of activity that made being unnoticed easier than keeping tabs on Shinano. Asano was looking for some hint that Shinano’s tears had been sincere – the woman was wily enough to fake them if she knew Asano was watching. It bared investigation.

Unfortunately there had been no time to collect her yojimbo, so Asano found herself entirely unaccompanied when she followed Shinano into the very casino under ‘discussion.’ There were guards about, of course; the inn was awash in coinage by necessity, which needed to be protected. They were not her guards.

Shinano disappeared into a backroom. Asano could not follow without arousing suspicion, so she did not. Instead she sat at a roulette table within sight of the door, glancing at it only occasionally while she played. Thankfully she was carrying some coins which she could exchange for chips. Luck favored her; though she’d never played the game before she won more than she lost and her small pile of chips steadily grew in size.

The next time that door slid open a man came out. Asano had never seen him before, but he was tall and handsome with a Mantis mon on the breast of his kimono. The Scorpion and the Mantis had a long history of bad blood between them – more so even than the Scorpion and Crane. Asano did not think he would have noticed her furtive glances as she tried, unsuccessfully, to further narrow down his heraldry. It must have been coincidence that he crossed the room and joined the table next to her. A signal from the Mantis to the heimin working the table and the latter produced a stack of the little chips Asano had been gambling with and slid them to the Mantis, no coin exchanged. They sat in silence, shoulder to shoulder, gambling for a little while. So preoccupied was Asano with the door at the back of the casino that it took three bets for her to notice; the man was waiting for her to place her bet, then deliberately betting against her. When she put her chips on black his went on red. If she guessed 24, he put his on 19. She tested the observation on her fourth bet by waiting until the very last second to place her bet. He chimed in after her, with the opposite bet, and though the wheel was already spinning the heimin accepted it. She won, he lost. The fifth bet she put a generous stack on red, and he put his chips on black. Before betting closed she changed her mind and moved her chips to black. Sure enough, he moved his entire pile to red. The ball came up black. She was handed a generous pile of chips, the mantis lost his. He only chuckled and said to the heimin “another.” The heimin dutifully provided the man with a second stack of chips.

He bet against her, and lost, but laughed as if he had won. It was enough to make her break etiquette. She commented “does the house always cover a Mantis’s bets in a Scorpion casino?”

The proper thing, if the man was interested in doing things properly, would have been to ignore Asano’s outburst. Evidently he was not, because he retorted; “only when the house owes that Mantis a great deal of money.”

The reply cowed Asano. She had been unspeakably rude, and to a man of no small means. “My apologies, Mantis-sama” she replied. The ‘sama’ may have been too polite, but it seemed the safest option given her transgress and his influence. “I am Bayushi Asano.”

“So you are” he agreed, rather than give his own name. He grinned as if his rudeness was the funniest thing in the world and Asano found herself grateful that her mask covered the lower half of her face, otherwise the man would have seen her blush. Once the bet on the table was over she collected her winnings and fled. Finding more about Shinano would have to wait for another day.

---

Yanami was a distant cousin. He was far enough removed that Asano could not name their nearest common ancestor, but close enough to share a name. They had been introduced when Asano first came to Ryoko Owari Toshi, which made it easy for her to invite him on a walk through the city the following morning. They met, Asano bowed just a little lower than she should to an equal like Yanami, he recognized it for the flattery that it was (which did not stop it from being effective), they exchanged pleasantries and spent a few crucial moments discussing trivial matters. The beauty of the city. The paintings that adored the keep’s sitting room. Bayushi Yae followed a few steps behind, as much honor guard as body guard; Asano was still an unmarried woman. Yanami was guarded only by the katana on his hip - his left hip, so either he did not trust the city or he did not trust Asano. Neither was unwise.

When it would not seem like an abrupt change of conversation Asano commented “my condolences on the loss of the casino, Yanami-san.” This garnered nothing but an inquisitive glance from her companion, which spoke volumes. He pretended not to know what she was talking about, and there would be no need for pretense if the matter didn’t still hang in the balance. She continues, “I fear the magistrate will side with Yogo-san.” Asano’s training was good enough to see the hubris beneath Yanami’s demeanor. She could coax him into bragging about his cleverness, she was sure.

“Do not be so sure, Asano-san” came Yanami’s reply. “The Kami know the truth. The Yogo family built that inn fully aware that it jutted onto Bayushi property. They intended to muscle us out, hoping that the presence of the building would make contesting their transgression too costly. Bushido requires that they lose the entire structure, rather than profit from their duplicitous act.” Lose it right into the hands of Yanami’s family. She had noticed his phrasing; he had called it ‘Bayushi’ land, subtly framing the issue in a way that put Asano decidedly on his side. She could pretend to be. No one would suspect otherwise.

“Yogo Shinano-san does not appear to think so. The woman is so clever.”

Yanami’s mask was an elaborate one. A delicate piece of crafted ceramic that gave him an oni’s grimace. It left his eyes showing, as had Bayushi’s. Asano could see the smile there. “You overestimate her resolve.”

Asano opened her fan, hiding delicately behind it in a way that let her peer through her eyelashes at her companion. “Is your resolve stronger, Yanami-san?”

“Yes.” Yanami confirmed. “Perhaps we may discuss it once the matter is settled.” He wanted to tell her about it. He wanted to impress her. He was cautious, though. That was understandable, and also irrelevant; Asano did not need to confirm that he had threatened Shinano. Only that he could follow through.

“I would enjoy that” Asano puured. She let him think she was happy to put it off, like her only interest was in hearing his tale of conquest. “I’m sure any bluff that could shake Shinano-san was masterfully crafted.”

That statement had been a risk; Yanami-san could have taken it as an insult to his honor. It paid off, though. His response was “I do not bluff, Asano-chan.” That answer gave Asano everything she needed to know. If he had been bluffing he would still have denied it, but he would have cited bushido or crowed about the importance of honor and sincerity when he did. He did not mention his honor, and what’s more he’d used such a familiar form of address. He was flirting, and fancied that his statement would make him dangerous in Asano’s eyes. Well, it did, but not to the end he anticipated.

---

That evening Asano returned to the casino, hoping to find out more about Shinano. Whether or not Shinano cared for her heimin it soon became apparent to her that those that worked in the casino were well taken care of. She found her spot, the same from yesterday, and watched the crowds. The casino was popular, with a myriad of impressive and not-so-impressive samurai visiting while she played. The Mantis made a brief appearance, but did not approach her. Asano’s winnings steadily grew.

When she left the casino she found a quiet place to sit. With a few letters she arranged for some of her family’s less valuable holdings in the city – the ones along the docks, or far from the best inns - to be sold.

---

The next day Asano returned to the casino, this time much later in the evening. The hour meant that it was more sparsely populated. She made a show of gambling, winning just a little less than she had on her either two visits. As yesterday the Mantis was there. As yesterday he did not approach her. The difference today was that after she cashed out she put on her best ‘I belong here’ stride and walked to the back rooms. She found a staircase going up, past the private rooms the inn rented out, up to the third floor where a side door lead into a little office. A few seconds of searching turned up a number of ledgers. Complex, convoluted things that showed the casino’s debts, their holdings, and their daily takes. She found what she needed. Then she heard footsteps in the hallway outside. There were armed samurai on hand and she had not brought Yae. Asano needed to leave. Luckily for her this floor had a window. She opened it and flung herself forward, landing on the roof next to the casino. She wasn’t being quiet anymore. The footsteps she had heard broke into a run after her. She expected there to be shouting, a call for help. There was not. Instead her pursuer jumped out the window after her, chasing her across the rooftop.

When she looked over her shoulder what she saw terrified her. She could not be sure who the man chasing her was; he was dressed all in black, with a mask across his face, armed – and worst of all, gaining on her. Looking back was a mistake. Her sandal caught on one of the tiles of the roof below her. She tumbled forward, grasping at the roof in the dark. Then he was on her, and brought his katana down. She twisted, rolling away from him and though he cut through the back of her kimono he only succeeded on leaving an ugly cut along her back. She lashed out at his legs with her feet and the two went down together, wrestling on the roof. He was stronger than she was, but couldn’t use the long weapon when they were so close. She left blood on the roof where the shingles dug into her skin. She was not going to be able to fight this man, the closest she was going to be able to come was escaping.

She brought her knee up, as hard as she could, between his legs. It was a dishonorable blow that would have shamed any samurai, which is undoubtedly why he was not expecting it. While he was stunned she clawed away from him, rolling to the edge of the roof and simply dropping off the side. It was lucky that she did not break her leg on the fall down. She disappeared between the buildings, pausing for only a few seconds around a corner to ensure that she had lost the man, then slunk back home to tend to her wounds.

---

“I hope you enjoyed your visit to our casino last night.” Shinano hardly ever addressed Asano directly, but when she did it had always been just as blunt as she was now. It was something she did to play up her ‘small town bumpkin’ impression.

“I did” Asano responded. She knew what this conversation was about, but she was still going to make Shinano find a way to ask. She was in court today, despite the cuts and scratches across her back. Her kimono hid her bandages; it would not do to let anyone wonder where she had gotten them. “I find that I have had a great streak of luck. Roulette favors me.”

Anger flashed briefly across Shinano’s expression. She took her fan from its place at her side and opened it. Shinano’s mask did not cover her lips, it covered her eyes – so that between her mask and her fan Asano could hardly see her face at all. That was by design, she was sure.

“Have you shared your luck with Bayushi Yanami-san?”

Asano gave the slightest shake of her head – ‘no.’ Now it was her turn to think of a delicate turn of phrase. She started hesitantly “Bayushi Yanami-san….”

“He is gifted in the ways of sincerity. He will follow through on his words” she makes bold eye contact with Shinano. The woman was clever, she would take her meaning. “-Even if he gave those words hastily.” Anyone listening would hear Asano praising her cousin for displaying a tenant of Bushido. Shinano heard the truth behind what was said; ‘I know that he threatened you. I think he was wrong to do it, but he will follow through.’

Asano continued; “I think it best for everyone involved if he does not impose on Tansaku hospitality.”

Shinano inclined her head for a moment. Long enough for Asano to imagine that she was overcome by emotion that she did not want to show. When she spoke again her voice was quiet. “You show wisdom beyond your years, Asano-san. Beyond mine as well, I think. I am indebted for your advice.”

Asano nodded her agreement. It was good that Yogo Shinano recognized the favor she was doing.

---

The magistrate visited.

Shinano appeared ever so slightly concerned about the fate of the casino.

There were convincing arguments made on both side.

The magistrate awarded the casino and all of its assets to Yanami’s family.

By decree ‘all of its assets’ included its debts, especially the outrageous sum borrowed from Mantis-sama at a ridiculous interest rate.

The casino was popular, but it had not been profitable. When it changed ownership the heimin were swapped out. The new ones did not tilt the odds away from the house. The casino became radically less popular – and found itself unable to pay Mantis-sama back.

Weeks later Yanami’s family was forced to sell off several of its most valuable holdings within Ryoko Owari Toshi, taking a loss to quickly get the sum that Mantis-sama was calling. The Yogos stood ready with cash on hand to purchase their old casino, and many of Yanami’s other holdings as well. Asano’s family also had cash on hand, from the careful sale of several of their properties over the month rather than all at once. They offered less koku, but more honor – the honor of not selling the casino back to the Yogo they had pried it from. They took Asano’s offer.

---

“You knew!” Yanami spit the accusation at Asano over the bargaining table. “I know you knew, and you did nothing to stop it!”

“Calm yourself” Asano responded. “Retract the accusation. It saves you no face even if it is true. You should have suspected.” Yanami’s hand went to his sword hilt. Yae’s went to hers as well.

“Among scorpions you are a snake” her opponent growled. “I will prove it! The Kami will absolve me in a duel! Your death will cleanse my honor!”

---

Any duel to the death requires the participants’ daimyos to approve. How uncommon that the duel needed only be approved by a single man. Bayushi Jo was Bayushi daimyo and therefore also, by custom, Scorpion Clan Champion. The bloodlust between Asano and Yanami must have been evident in the letters they drafted. He returned only a single letter, addressed to the both of them, with instructions to complete it – and instructions for the victor to return to Kyuden Bayushi.

Yae was livid, but she was also loyal. Asano knew she had done nothing to deserve the woman’s friendship. This was the third duel in five years – though, in fairness, this one had found her. She did not know what Yanami was thinking. He might carry a katana, but he had attended the Bayushi courtier school same as Asano. Yae was going to kill him.

Which is why her heart dropped when, just moments before the duel was set to begin, Yanami approached Yae. “Yae-san” she started. “Your loyalty does you honor, but do not stand in defense of this snake.”

“You were appointed to her defense by the Bayushi family. Her actions have weakened the family as a whole. Let her face my blade directly, and if she is innocent the kami shall protect her themselves.”

The worst thing about the whole exchange was that Yae listened. She considered it. To her mind Asano was dangerous. Mercurial. Unpredictable. Yae considered her charge, and considered Yanami’s words, and for a moment Asano was sure she would die.

Asano did not expect the Mantis to interfere. He spoke to Yae directly, the three conversing ignoring Asano’s presence entirely. “Do not listen, Bayushi-san. He speaks as if he represents the interests of the Bayushi family. In truth, he represents only his own. He is motivated by jealousy.”

Yae listened to this, too. “Jealous of what?” – Yae had not trained as a courtier.

He glanced at Yae, then leaned a little bit closer. “He desires Asano, but I have kept her from him. He rails – if he cannot have her, he has determined that no one can.”

“Lies!” Yanami raged. Yae remembered, though, his walk through the city with Asano. Remembered that he sent her letters for days after. Remembered that the letters abruptly stopped. Her next words were addressed to the Mantis; “do you have any proof?”

“The poems I wrote for her, circulated through the city.”

“Those are unaddressed, and unsigned.”

“Yes” the Mantis agreed. It would have been crude to circulate signed poetry, though often no pains were taken to hide their original author. “If you need further proof –“ here he leaned closer and his words were lost to Asano.

Yae left the men behind and stormed over to Asano. She grabbed her charge by the arm and took her – would have dragged her if she hadn’t jumped to her feet and rushed to comply – into a side room. Yae nearly slammed the door behind her, then grabbed the back of Asano’s kimono. She ripped it from her shoulders, exposing the scratches from the rooftop fight. They had been deep, and were still healing. Undoubtedly some would scar.

Yae said nothing else. She picked up her katana. She slew Yanami. Then she cut her hair and retired to a monastery in the hills between Scorpion and Unicorn lands, leaving Asano to face the displeasure of her daimyo on her own.

---

Face her daimyo she did, kowtowed on his floor, the two alone in his audience chamber. "I understand that Bayushi Yae stood as your champion" he has not instructed Asano to stand, so she does not. She does not even look up. "Where is she?"

"Yae-san has given up her mask and shaved her head. She has joined The Order, Bayushi-Sama."

Bayushi Jo shifted his weight. It was impossible for Asano to judge his reaction to that.

"and Bayushi Yanami?"

"Dead at Yae-san's hands."

"I am given to understand, Asano-san, that Bayushi Yanami was not the first time you've killed one of my vassals."

Asano's thoughts went unbidden to Yogo Ghenji. Her daimyo could not see her face, resting as it was against his floor. Could he read the guilt in her body language? In the tension of her shoulders? She did not answer.

"I might be alone in remembering my loyalties, Asano-san, but I do. Your father has been a great asset to me, and your father's father a great asset to the Bayushi. I will not command your blood. Instead you are to stay here, in Kyuden Bayushi, for the rest of the season. You will not be assigned a yojimbo. Without Bayushi steel at your side perhaps you will learn to sweeten your words."

"Yes, Bayushi-sama" Asano confirmed.

[truemane]

"To stand Hasso is to be prepared for all that comes. To accept all. To take the knowledge to attack into yourself and become one with the certainty of death."

True to his word, Bayushi Jo did indeed order Asano sequestered at the Kyuden for the Spring. And, also true to his word, he made certain that Asano was not assigned a new Yojimbo. And Asano was suddenly thrust into a world where she could not immediately lead every encounter down a logical path of act and reaction because at the end of most paths was 'and then someone challenges someone to a duel.'

And so there was a ragged hole of sorts in the centre of her effectiveness. She did her best to work around it. But like any visible, gaping, weakness, her enemies knew and made sure that every encounter immediately fell into the catagory of things requiring duels. And so she to proceed so, so carefully.

It was humbling. And frustrating. Like being forced to race with one foot. Or duel with half your fingers missing.

Soon she had slipped from prominence and no longer commanded the same respect that she once had.

So it was only by the barest luck that she heard of Yoritomo Tenjin's visit at all. He was coming under cover of night. With a small retinue. Sailing under an assumed name. Whatever it was he was here for, he wanted no one to know.

And neither, apparently, did Bayushi Jo.

But Asano was an old hand at this. While she could freely admit the luck involved in hearing a name whispered between two people who thought they were more alone than they were, once she knew, it was almost trivial to follow up and get the details she needed.

And so, when the horses came to the gate, and the nondescript travelers disembarked and entered the caste, under cover of night, of cloud, and of pounding rain, Asano was watching.

And she knew that Bayushi Jo's first act would be to invite his guest to take a bath. To wash away the stains of travel. And his personal baths had just been re-finished. And the rain was so cold.

So she knew where he was. She knew when he would be there. And she had only a few minutes before her daimyo would enter and take him away to whatever business they had together.

Spoiler

Show

Okay! So. As you well know, this is a traditional PbP scene. I post, you post, I post. You only have control over Asano from here on, but as this is all 'ago' you don't need to roll anything or worry that anything you try to do doesn't work.

You know where I am if there are questions.

[Ezeze]

Yoritomo Tenjin had never told Bayushi Asano his name. She had learned it from the rumors that followed her to Kyuden Bayushi. It was commonly believed that the two of them had been lovers. He had said as much to Bay- No. Just Yae now. She had needed to hear the name eavesdropping on her enemies. At least she could still listen without a yojimbo's backing. Once she knew it she had sought out what was publicly available about the man. He had published some poetry, which hadn't particularly interested her. He had also published some philosophy, which had.

Since reading his work she suspected that he had interfered on her behalf because of a mutual hatred for the late Bayushi Yanami, but she had no proof. That was what she wanted now; some confirmation that he was the man he thought she was. She needed to know that he shared her view of heimin. She needed to know how he treated them.

Bayushi Asano's mask was beautiful. It was carved from a single, solid piece of wood, lacquered and painted with dozens of red hydrangeas on a black background, with the edges inlaid with gold. There was no opening for her mouth or nose, but little grooves along its sides raised it slightly above her skin so that she could breathe. It went over her chin to the tops of her cheeks, leaving only her eyes visible. She wore it always and would rather shed her kimono than bare her face.

She took it off now, wrapped it gently and stowed it with her clothes and her washizaki in a safe place.

She was wearing a heimin's garb, procured for exactly this purpose. She had dismissed one of Bayushi Jo's heimin and taken her place for the evening. Her daimyo would not notice. It was beneath the Lord of Secrets to know the identities of the people who served him. She had Tenjin's clothes, taken from the servant assigned to clean them when Tenjin went to the baths.

Now she went to Bayushi Jo's private baths, Tenjin's clothes carried reverently in her arms the way a heimin should treat a samurai's belongings. She walked to the side, with her head down, the way a respectful heimin should. She kept her hands, delicate and soft and totally unlike a heimin's, hidden as best she could. She entered the room where Yoritomo Tenjin was bathing, and bowed low like a heimin should, and set out his clothes for him.

She also produced a knife from inside of her sleeve and placed it next to his clothing. Ostensibly for grooming, but also to remind the Scorpion guest how easy it was to get him alone and defenseless, the way a Scorpion heimin should.

[truemane]

When Asano-heimin entered the room, the air was filled with steam. Whoever and whatever Tenjin was, he clearly liked his baths almost hot enough to scald. As she passed through the cloud, she saw him lolling in the bath as though he'd lived there all his life and hadn't a care in the world: arms out, leaning back, eyes closed, and he seemed to be telling a story to the male heimin who was washing his hair. Something about his childhood home. The washerman seemed to be engaged and listening intently, but it was hard to tell for sure. Scorpion heimin, perhaps more than any in the empire, knew the value of lies.

She laid out his clothes, and laid out the knife, and through it all Tenjin kept up his story, seemingly oblivious. And as she turned to leave, his patter suddenly stopped and he said to her: "Does that make you uncomfortable?" It was a gentle, curious tone, not at all interrogative or accusing.

[Ezeze]

Asano acknowledged Tenjin's question by turning towards him and bowing in a single motion. It was the appropriate response from a heimin, and it also kept her face pointed towards the ground. Her hair cascaded forward, further obscuring whatever view Tenjin might have had of her face.

"Samurai-sama?" Her words and tone conveyed a few things - 'have you addressed me?' 'May I be of service?' and 'I have not understood the question' - in a polite manner without breaking Asano's masquerade.

Her hands rested on her knees, fingers curved in under her palms to hide the fact that they were without scar or mark. She kept her eyes cast down. Her posture was deferential and unchallenging.

[truemane]

Asano couldn't see what Tenjin was doing or how he was reacting to her with her eyes down and her hair obscuring her vision. She imagined that the washerman might be eyeing her warily. But was Tenjin staring at her? Ignoring her? Was his face showing disapproval or judgement or amusement?

His voice, however, was the same calm and curious. "The knife. You have brought your master's knife, no? Does it make you uncomfortable to play such a part in your employers' games?"

[Ezeze]

Asano was sure that a real heimin would have plead ignorance. 'I'm not sure what you mean, Samurai-sama. The knife is for your use.' Or maybe, if they were less collected, they would throw themselves to their knees and beg for mercy - but heimin faithless enough for that did not find themselves in the service of the Scorpion Clan Champion.

Asano was not a real heimin. Her answer was a great deal more bold than any heimin had right to be.

"What matter if it did, Samurai-sama?" She responded. "Who would tell my Master not to use me in such a way?"

Still, she kept her eyes down.

[truemane]

"Who indeed?" he asked, his voice halfway between playful and ruminating, "Certainly not I. Even if I wished to, surely no one in this place would assist me."

There was then the sound of a body removing itself from water, a couple of steps, the scrape of wood against tile. A pause.

"Tell me, are you skilled in its use? The knife?"

He had gotten up and wrapped a towel across his waist. His bare chest was muscled and tattooed and cross-crossed with a dizzying variety of scars. Some from blades. But several burns as well. And others less easily identified.

He was seated upon a small stool. The washerman spread foaming lotion in his face and neck before the man dismissed him. He leaned back. Stared at her. Watched her for her reaction.

[Ezeze]

The wet 'thud' of her tanto between Ghenji's shoulder blades and the warmth of his blood on her hands are permanently emblazoned into her memory. All of Ghenji's skill at iaijutsu, his practice with his katana, did not protect him from Asano's knife - a small one, carried more for its utility as a tool than as a weapon - stabbed into his back without warning.

"Enough to serve, Samurai-sama."

She glanced briefly at the man who had been attending Tenjin in the bath. The game she was playing was more dangerous to him than to her. Asano resolved that whatever she got from this exchange would not come at his expense.

She took the knife from him with both hands like a woman receiving a gift. Then she knelt next to Tenjin's feet, and began the delicate process of removing his beard.

It was more intimate than she had anticipated, her face near his by necessity, her eyes fixed on her task. Their relative positions - him on his stool, her on her knees - exaggerated their height difference and brought his jaw to eye level. She kept her movements slow, and deliberate, and careful. This man may have tried to kill her, but he had also saved her life.

[truemane]

Tenjin seemed totally at ease. After eyeing her as she rose and came toward, him, he settled onto the stool and closed his eyes and, for a few moments, there was only silence in the room as the knife scraped along the delicate skin of his neck.

After one pass, when Asano had cleared the blade and was moving back toward him, he turned to face her. He as looking down at her, his eyes sharp and kind. His face was solemn. He reached out one hand as though he meant to touch her fingers but thought better of it and laid his hand back down.

"You have good length of bone," he said at last. "You've clearly eaten well. And your features speak of samurai heritage. Was one of your parents ashigaru? Or samurai?"

He broke eye contact and settled back onto the stool.

"How much do you know of the samurai who live here? Do you know their names?"

[Ezeze]

"Names are easy, Yoritomo-sama. Samurai are proud of them. Wear them on their chests."

Asano used Tenjin's family name. She had come in carrying his clothing. It was not inconceivable that she had seen his mon. She answered only his last question - leaving it for her opponent to decide whether she had forgotten the first, or deemed it rude enough to ignore, or had assumed that it was asked rhetorically or had simply decided that it was inconvenient and therefore best breezed past.

"Is it your intention that I should play in your games as well as my Master's?"

[truemane]

Tenjin's whole body twitched in a chuckle. He might have laughed out loud, but there was a sharp object at his throat. "Games, is it? Games? Aye, you are not wrong. But no, I would never ask that of you. If you have no notion of the possible cruelty of your masters to heimin who betray them, then count yourself lucky."

A pause.

"No. It is names that interest me. Not games. Do you know one samurai named Bayushi Asano? I hear tell she has no yojimbo, and has earned the lord of the castles displeasure. I wish to know if she is in residence, and where I might find her."

[Ezeze]

Tenjin's words about cruelty surprised Asano, but not nearly so much as hearing her own name on his lips. Her training won out and kept the emotion off of her face. No ripple disturbed the concentration written there.

She decided on her answer quickly, but gave voice to it slowly - allowing Tenjin to think that she was reluctant to answer. Her knife scrapes over his skin in those seconds of silence when neither of them speak.

"I know of the woman who uses that name, Samurai-sama. Her enemies have much to say about her. Her friends say considerably less. I beg your pardon for speaking so bluntly, but I hesitate to share her whereabouts without knowing first which you are. What is she to you?"

Heimin had been executed for giving less offense than she had just offered, and to a guest none the less.

[truemane]

His hand snaked out, viper-quick, and took her by the wrist holding the knife. It was amazing enough that he was willing to touch a Heimin so casually, but also there was no pain. He was not hurting her. He was holding her delicate wrist with strength, but also gentleness, merely holding the knife still while he turned to her and met her eyes.

"So? You must have samurai blood," he said, there was little humour in his voice, "Else the Lord of Lies is a far more forgiving lord than I've been lead to believe."

He started at her for several long moments.

"I could tell you yes, whether or no. Would you have the skill to hear me speak a lie should I choose? And what matter to you? Are not the samurai all the same? One dies, another springs to replace it. Serve the tea. Serve the food. Wash the loinclothes. Avoid notice. What is she to you?"