That's The Way (464 hits)
Category: UberMadness! EntryRating: 2 on 1 review (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Mercutio (View user info) at 2004-10-17 01:18:09 EDT
This post was an official UberMadness! entry. Click here to view the original matchup.
From the front of the small house, Mori could see the two figures sparring in the meadow below. Kumano had been training Mori's son rigorously for the past year, ever since Kumano's father—her husband—had been killed. Okuga learned quickly; he showed particular talent for his age and had bested his peers in most of the regular training regimens. He was still young, though. It would be many years before he could be sent into battle to fight alongside the samurai. Too many years...
Okuga pressed the dulled sparring blade against the neck of Kumano, catching his uncle's eye. He squinted and smiled, glancing over at the dulled blade that he had just disarmed from Kumano. In one swift movement, the older man grasped the blade lying in the grass and brought the side of it down on his nephew's knuckles. Okuga cried out and dropped the sword, grasping his fingers and cursing under his breath. Kumano arose, frowning.
"Never take your eyes away from your opponent, nephew. You can predict their every move if you stay focused on the eyes of a man. Even though you are the best of the young pupils in the village, Okuga, there is still no reason to mock your opponent when you have bested him—your smile was uncalled for. There is no honor in that."
"Yes, uncle." Okuga bowed his head and squeezed his knuckles, reminding himself to remain humble and disciplined.
"Now," said Kumano, scooping up the young man's blade with his own, "go fetch your sword." With that, he tossed the blade over the side of the hill, into the oncoming wind. It sailed over the edge of a nearby cliff, whistling quietly as it cut through the air. Okuga would have to work to get it back now, scaling a treacherous portion of the mountain.
With that, Kumano turned and headed back towards the village, thinking to himself. His nephew was improving daily. The progress was remarkable and his confidence well-founded, although he would never admit that to the young man. One of the most important tenets of The Way was the maintenance of humility. Kumano signaled to Akihito, who was keeping watch at the gate. Slowly, the doors of the monastery creaked open and Kumano made his way into the village.
The samurai and their families had been forced southward to this monastery nestled in the Kii mountain range shortly after the crowning of the Emperor Koyasan, successor to the noble Emperor Barkren. Barkren's son was not like his father, however. Immediately after the inauguration ceremony for Koyasan—even before the final festivities ended—the young emperor began employing bands of ninja to eliminate the leaders of nearby factions. Soon Koyasan was employing several groups of ninja, using them to crush any sign of dissent in the kingdom after his enemies' armies dissolved without leadership. There was no honor in the ninjas' method—they operated under a cloak of secrecy and did not face their opponents, preferring to kill their enemies with stealth instead of skill. What's more, they demanded payment for their duties and were constantly draining the foolish young emperor's treasury with the high cost of their services.
This eventually forced the council of samurai to advise the new emperor against the constant employment of ninja. Some suspected that the ninja were blackmailing the emperor, others believed that the young man was simply being foolish and power hungry. Regardless, the slightest suggestion of dissent among the men who were rumored to be his most loyal soldiers sent Emperor Koyasan into a rage; in a fit, he banished the samurai from the kingdom, forbidding them from every setting foot in the capital again. In spite of their insistence to serve him and fervent requests to remain faithful, he eventually had them removed by force from Kyoto. After a few years of isolation south of the village, the young emperor sent out legions of foot soldiers with orders to kill the samurai and their families.
Upon dispensing several hundred men within a week, it was quickly decided that the samurai and their families would head southward, hopefully avoiding the seemingly endless and unnecessary conflict. Throngs of soldiers pursued them. Temporary settlements farther and farther from the capital were continually attacked, though; the emperor, it appeared, was hellbent on eliminating every single trace of samurai on the continent. When he began employing cannons and muskets that he had shipped in from the west, the samurai were forced to take refuge at the Jison-in Temple, located at the peak of the highest mountain in the Kii mountain range.. Perhaps appropriately, as it was the final step in the pilgrimage of the samurai. It was an abandoned Shugen temple and contained a mystic energy that only those who ventured here knew of.
Mori had a pot of tea ready for Kumano when he arrived at the house, positioned near the top of the monastery just at the foot of the temple. He took the cup in his large hands and looked out across the valley. From here, most of the mountain range and the surrounding flatlands were visible. On clear days, you could just make out the top of the Emperor's palace, a few hundred miles north of the temple. "It won't be long now, Mori."
"Surely not yet," Mori replied, matching his gaze northward, "they're still a few days off."
"One or two at most," Kumano said, pointing northward and down, "you can see the smoke from their fires."
He was right. Just squinting, she could make out the smoke snaking upward, out of the cloud of morning fog below. She turned away and tended to her regular duties, sweeping the floor for the second time that day even though it didn't need it. It was common knowledge that Koyasan had every intention of eliminating the entire bloodline of samurai. That included herself and her young son. Omine, once a samurai and now the emperor's best general, would undoubtedly be leading the force sent to crush the samurai. Given his undisciplined nature that would inevitably be inherited by his men, Mori expected to be raped prior to her death if she were aught...perhaps several times. She shuddered.
"You must remain positive, Mori," Kumano reminded her, "your duties are clear, as are mine. We will engage Omine's force as they traverse the countryside. Upon our signal, you are to ignite the monastery. It contains secrets that would be deadly if the emperor's forces were to stumble upon them. Omine knows this and it is imperative that your mind stays clear and focused on the task at hand."
"You are right," Mori reprimanded herself and remembered for the hundredth time the plan—the role the women and children played was as important as the samurais'. There was a small tunnel in the temple that they would escape through once the structure was set ablaze. They would come out on the south side of the mountain and escape into the woods, their fate uncertain from that point on.
That night it was decided that the conflict would begin early the next morning. Omine's forces would not be expecting a pre-emptive strike, especially so early on in their final voyage through the valley. In addition, the cover of the forest below would act in the favor of the small force of twenty five men. The final preparations were made late that evening in the temple. The samurai gathered with their sons and disciples and imbued their weapons and armor with the unique ore of the mountain. The characters engraved in their equipment glowed with a faint blue light, the mystical properties of the mountain coalescing with the craftsmanship and sweat of the patient men. At the end of the evening, before departing for their huts, the village gathered for a meditation and prayer to bless the next obvious leader of the tribe—Okuga, as well as ask for good fortune the following day. The strange glow from the temple was noticed in the valley below, sending several men to their tents prematurely and haunting them in their sleep with fearful visions.
Before dawn the men assembled at the gates of the monastery, each of them equipped with their individual suits of armor, still warm from the night before. It was late fall and the mornings were cold; the frosty grass crunched beneath the heavy boots. They hoped to be on the edge of meadow that the army was camped in before sunrise. Twenty five men stood at the gates, saying their last somber goodbyes to their families before departing. Many men looked upon their young sons and reminded them of The Way of the samurai, making them swear that they would never allow another man to do them dishonor. Thus began their march down the mountain, Okuga following behind with the heavy powder keg on his back—the signal that he was responsible for igniting.
The morning was peaceful and calm. Each man tried to relax as best as he could, knowing that this situation meant almost certain death. It was soothing to know, however, that their honor would be remembered for years to come, if only by a few survivors. Even if no mortal knew of these brave men a generation from now, their legacy would echo through eternity, their honor infamous amongst the gods.
A scout was sent out early as they approached the meadow. Rokugan returned shortly after with his report, "Roughly five hundred men, sir. Most armed with muskets and light armor. In addition, Omine has also managed to bring a cannon this far and has it in position. The men are already in formation."
Murmurs arose from the men—the sun was not on the horizon yet...how could the enemy forces already be prepared? "They must have seen the energy from the temple last night," Kumano explained. "No reason to worry, though, for it is our fate, my friends. Accepting that is our duty...that is The Way. The Way of the samurai."
They went over the plan once more. The group would be divided into three segments. The first, composed of thirteen men, would face the enemy head on. Kumano reminded everyone to avoid the line of fire of the cannon. Although their mystical armor could easily deflect the musket fire, they were still prone to the heavy ball of a cannon. Two groups of six would flank Omine's army on both sides as the front line of samurai approached, hopefully catching them off guard and breaking their ranks. The final man—Okuga—was to stay at the edge of the meadow and prepare to light the keg when Kumano gave the signal. With that, each man slipped on his helmet and they nodded to one another. It was time, as the sun was just rising. It being late in the year, the sun tended to rise towards the southern edge of the eastern horizon, hopefully hampering the aim of Omine's forces.
The front line of samurai gathered at the edge of the meadow. As the sun just hit the northern edge of the fog, they nocked their arrows and let one volley fly into the fog. Moments later, the cries of the enemy could be heard. After another two volleys, general Omine's distinct voice could be heard, ordering his men to maintain the line. With that, the samurai began their final charge. The ranks of infantry rustled nervously, hearing nothing more than the soft clink of the finely crafted armor approaching in the fog. Upon being able to make out the silhouettes of the samurai, Omine gave the order to fire. Knowing that his lines were not solid, the once-samurai moved to the rear of his forces—these men knew of the rumors of the samurai, knew of the hundreds slain, knew of the tales that the few survivors of earlier expeditions told. These tales, combined with the cries of their comrades wounded by the rain of arrows, created an almost tangible apprehension and fear.
As the order to fire was given by Omine, the samurai braced themselves and unsheathed their swords, which glowed with a faint bluish light in the morning air. The small bullets from the muskets ricocheted off of the armor, hardly phasing the seasoned men. The cannon fired right near the center of the ranks, effectively removing five samurai from the battle and injuring another two; it was time to move. At the sound of the cannon fire, the samurai increased the speed of their charge and engaged with the poorly armored infantrymen before they could finish reloading. Kumano smiled, trying to remember the last formal engagement that he had been in. Omine's troops were unprepared...he could tell from the look in their eyes. The eyes screamed of the nervous anticipation of an amateur warrior.
Besides the fear in the eyes of the young troops, Kumano also noticed the apparent silence of the battle. The flanks were being attacked—he judged from the sounds of panicked fire and hasty orders to reload from both sides. Beyond the gunfire, the only tangible noises were the orders of the cannon crew and quiet swish of swords in the morning air. This, complimented by the occasional thud of bodies and heads falling to ground. Very few screams, as the samurai were focused on killing, not injuring, these men. It was their final hour.
Omine's forces were suffering massive casualties, but the samurai forces were measly in comparison. At one time, this would have been a casual battle easily won by the samurai forces which once numbered in the hundreds. Most had been killed at the hands of Koyasan's silent ninja in their trek southward. The few remaining, though, fought with the strength of their fellow warriors that had been killed dishonorably under the cowardly cover of night.
By now, the sounds of musket fire had subsided and the sounds of close combat were the only things distinguishable in the moist air. The bayonets on the ends of the infantry muskets were virtually futile against the armor of the samurai; the only vulnerable locations were at the joints of the armor. Slicing through a bayonet and, in the same stroke, taking off the head of the wielder, Kumano quickly scanned the field in his follow-through. The figures of his fellow samurai were to his left and right—both flanks had successfully broken their lines on both sides. However, many samurai were down—Kumano did a quick count of the figures that were much bulkier than the footmen. Two to right, one to the left...in spite of their superior force, the samurai were still suffering casualties—it was inevitable, given the number. Fortunately, only a few of the infantry remained on the field...several dead, several others were retreating into the forest under the cover of the fog.
Glancing straight ahead, Kumano noticed the cannon a few feet in front of him. He could distinguish the light of the torch, as well. Taking a few strides forward, he vaulted into the air and sailed over the cannon, noticing the surprised utterances of the men below him as he turned in the air and landed on the balls of his feet, now facing the back of the cannon. There, a few feet in front of him, stood Omine. "You've done well, Kumano." Omine smiled and slipped his helmet on; it was a disgrace to the samurai for him to continue to wear their armor, for he had strayed from The Way long ago. The general quickly unsheathed his sword and took the traditional defensive stance. "Let us finish this, old friend."
Kumano stood, facing the general. His blade, covered in the blood of a hundred men, steamed in the cool morning air. He raised the finger of his left hand to his lips and let out a whistle—within a few seconds, he saw the Okuga's signal catapult skyward in a fiery mass. Its bright colors lit up the dawn air in one large boom that echoed across the valley. It was done. With that, he took an offensive stance and inhaled deeply. In spite of his rebellious nature, Omine was a very talented swordsman and was not to be taken lightly.
Digging his feet into the ground, Kumano charged, swinging his sword upward, slicing through the tall, frosty grass. It was met by Omine's steel and their blades met, as did their eyes...the characters running down the sides of both men's blades glowed. Slipping the end of sword down to the hilt of Kumano's, Omine quickly disengaged from the lock and brought his sword over his opponent's, directly into the crevice between Kumano's shoulder pad and helmet. Sliding it out as Kumano turned, Omine brought sword to the other side; he was already mortally wounded...now it was only a matter of time before Omine's opponent fell. Kumano turned and met the blade of the general as it stopped only a few inches from his neck. Their eyes locked again.
Just then, the sound of the cannon firing shook the earth. Shortly after, the cries of the remaining samurai echoed through the meadow...apparently they were regrouping and had been fired upon. Neither blinked as the sound of debris and bodies thudded softly around the meadow. Omine smiled as Kumano squinted at him over his forearm. Taking a deep breath and holding it, Kumano swiftly ducked and turned...his opponent, still expecting a locked blade, lost his footing and tried to correct himself. The mistake had been made, though, and Kumano took full advantage of the situation—aiming his sword carefully, he sliced into the area between the boot and the calf legging on Omine's armor. Kumano's opponent fell to the ground, his Achilles tendon cleanly severed.
Omine, feeling his right leg give out, knew he had been defeated. Losing the ability to maintain a proper defensive stance, he took his sword and used it as a crutch as he bowed down on his knees. Remembering his samurai lessons from long ago, he removed his helmet and bowed his head towards the ground. Kumano brought his blade down on the back of his opponent's neck and removed Omine's head with one quick slice. Hastily, he braced himself to take on the crew responsible for the cannon.
They were gone, though, retreated into the forest. It was over. The battle won. Kumano exhaled as he removed his helmet, the sweat on his forehead evaporating and cooling him in the morning air. Distinguishing the pulsing in his neck, he felt the blood gushing from the wound inflicted upon him, moistening the clothes under his armor. Noticing that dizzy feeling, he carried himself near the edge of the meadow where he had prepared nearly an hour earlier with his fellow samurai. As he made his way across the plain, he looked up and smiled—the signal had been noticed and the monastery was in flames. It was done.
Kumano knelt at the edge of the meadow, taking his sword and positioning it between the two plates that armored his upper chest. Pressing the point of the blade to his sternum and gripping it about midway with his gloved hands, he began applying pressure as he heard footsteps. It was Okuga. "Uncle...no!"
"Okuga," Kumano coughed, smiling, "do not forget what I have taught you. My task is complete and the deed is done. You are now responsible for your people and for continuing the legacy that you have learned. The burden lies on your shoulders, nephew. My time in this life is complete and it is time for me to pass on. That is the way...the way of the samurai."
Kumano smiled as he slipped the blade into his sternum. At that very instant, the fog cleared and the sun struck his face. "Go, Okuga...you have a people to lead and honor to carry." With that, his nephew departed into the thick forest, tears streaming down his face. By the time his pupil had disappeared from view, Kumano had stopped breathing. His duty was fulfilled, his honor intact.
* * *
Although the village escaped and settled on the southern coast of the island, they were eventually found by a band of Koyasan's ninja. Okuga died, along with four of his peers, protecting the remaining people of the tribe. Rumors of Omine's defeat, however, spread through the empire and the death of the final samurai caused great unrest amongst the people. The ancient legacy of the samurai lives on, though, in the forest below the burnt temple of Jison-in. To this day, the silhouettes of the samurai can still be seen as dawn breaks. Their honor preserved in their spirits carries on the tradition of The Way, The Way of the samurai.
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Submitted by youarsoghey (user info) at 2005-01-16 11:46:06 EST (#)
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