14 Goat 1169
Karma has a funny way of balancing its books. Sometimes it takes lifetimes for the great wheel to come around, sometimes it takes a day. These past two days were the Fortunes' opportunity to drag me from one end of the Karmic wheel to the other. Strangely enough (or maybe not so strange, all things considered) I hit my low within my own clan, my high among peasants.
By a strict interpretation of the understanding reached between the Great Clans and the Seppun, the members of the Kanshigumi are supposed to be serving "the Greater Good of the Empire", whatever the hell that means. In reality, it's a lot like the Emerald Magistrates – serve the Empire, but make your clan look good or you're Bakemono food. So I returned to the Mantis district of the city to give an update on our progress to Yoritomo Satoshi, the district governor.
Satoshi-sama is not a bad man but not an overly bright one either. I think he won this post for being "least offensive." It's not like any Mantis in the city have any sort of pull without Yoyonagi-sama's say-so, but I'm so far down that particular ladder, I must look up to see the floor. Today, he informed me that I will have a new person to report to in the future. When I was a district magistrate, I rarely had to appear in person – All of our activities were recorded for posterity (and in order to know whom to blame). Today, I met my new superior. It's Yoritomo Haruko .
This was where I began swearing incessantly. I managed to do so only mentally and avoid slitting my belly today. The swearing got louder when Satoshi-sama introduced the filthy lying murderess as his niece…his thrice-damned niece! Haruko murdered a fellow Mantis in her scurrilous grab up the ladder (a climb I suspect she accomplished primarily on her back). By the time I found someone who would testify as to her involvement, she'd found a flunky to confess and commit seppuku in atonement. With the confession, the matter was closed…for legal purposes.
I would like to say that I maintained my composure throughout the brief meeting with Haruko. I would also like to say that I did not go home immediately thereafter and get blindingly drunk. I cannot – I must save my lies for when they will do the most good. I called her a murderer to her face, which was probably not the best idea I have had. The upside is that I now have a good reason to adhere to the strict interpretation of the agreement with the Seppun. The downside is that Shinjo-san and Hiruma-san are both now quite aware of my new problem. I am a very loud drunk.
I was spending the next morning exercising my hangover away when Yamizu-sama got a letter from his own district – seems someone had not yet checked in like they are not supposed to. Before too long we were out on patrol. Most days our patrols are uneventful and involve us walking through the streets. Yamizu-sama tends to use these times to look at the peasantry like he's looking at the peacocks in the Imperial Zoo (Not that I've been to the Imperial Zoo, mind you – I've just heard stories). He gawks and seems nervous to come into contact, lest he catch fleas. It was, therefore, somewhat dismaying to him when young Kanjiro came to get us. He was out of breath and his face betrayed that something bad was going on.
"You have to come…you have to rescue them." The boy explained that a band of Ronin had taken hostages at Hayai Kame, the noodle shop. As we went back, he filled in the scenario enough for me to understand – a gaggle of Ronin tried to rob the shop and something went wrong. Damn them to Jigoku and may the Maw itself use them for pleasure toys. I'm not unsympathetic to the hard lives Ronin lead, but preying on weaker people (or, at least, unarmed people) is pathetic. At least the firemen performed a service for the trouble.
As happens with any emergency, a crowd gathered for the explicit purpose of getting in the way. Yamizu-sama had a flash of an idea (that I missed in my tunnel vision!) and asked the crowd what happened. We learned that there were three Ronin with three hostages. When I asked to see the hostages, they held out a small boy. So these wave-men were not only vultures, they were cowards as well. They demanded safe passage out of the city and I restrained my urge to laugh. None of us even had travel papers, let alone the authority to write them and the Emperor himself would be out doing the dance of the Drunken Monkey before the local Kitsuki allowed these reprobates to escape with their lives.
I am a horrid negotiator. When I was a district magistrate, I rarely talked to fools trying to hide from me – I had a Tsuruchi who worked with me and was my answer to most demands. If I had been more clear-headed, I might have asked Hiruma-san if he was any good with his bow, but we couldn't really see the thugs anyway. I also lack patience in any real sense of the word, so I asked Shinjo-san to watch the front door and headed for the back.
We had been told that the kitchen door was blocked by some fallen boxes. When I gave it a shove, it appeared to have been reinforced with a bit more weight. It took a good deal of shoving before it came open, but I wasn't precisely trying to be stealthy. From the kitchen we could see to the top of the stairs, where one of the Ronin stood, sword out and threatening. My negotiating skills had not improved since I broke down the door, so I waited for Isawa-sama to say something. The man who, just a week ago, was commanding fire to stop and start at his whim, found himself tongue-tied. He gawked there like a fish out of water, so I started running my mouth.
To my great amazement, I did not get the hostages killed at this point. Scruffy-san showed us the other two hostages: a woman and an older man. The old man let slip that there were, in fact, four Ronin. This complicates matters as we cannot be sure where everyone is. Then I hit upon an idea.
We offered to walk them to the Southeast gate if they would give up one of the hostages. There was a brief discussion, but they agreed to release the woman and take the old man and the boy as guarantor of safe passage. Once we were outside, Hiruma-san offered to run ahead and find a good ambush spot to take the bastards down. If we'd taken the time to reason out this cunning plan before we'd gone in to talk to the Ronin, it might have worked. Instead, Scruffy-san noticed that Hiruma-san had gone and set off on a different street towards the gate.
Sometimes, what seems to be a liability turns out to be an advantage. The Ronin had a shugenja with them and Yamizu-sama noticed that the man did not approve of holding the child hostage. As we got walking, I noticed Yamizu-sama chatting with the shugenja. I could not hear what was said, but I can imagine – a Ronin shugenja being told he's walking beside a future Elemental Master. I know how I'd feel walking alongside the Son of Storms while he told me that I was doomed. Finally, we reach a point where action is necessary before the local magistrates come into view. That would be my part. I inform Scruffy-san that he's going to have a rough time getting out of the gate, what with his face gushing blood. Even as he turns to look at me with that stupid dog face of his, my tonfa is already flying at his head.
This is the second fight we've had that was over almost before it had begun. One of the Ronin got a nasty cut in on the old man, but he paid for it with his life. Scruffy-san, his face a lovely ruin from my tonfa, took a long look at me and my kama and decided he was not ready to die just then and there. He dropped his sword and decided to take his chances with Dragon justice. Yamizu-sama informed me that the shugenja, named Kanburo, switched sides before the fight began. The Phoenix also smoothed things over with the old man, healed his wounds, and kept Kanburo out of the group dragged away by the Kitsuki. I take a long look at the wave-man priest as we walk back to the noodle shop.
The best part for me? Returning the money to Shuzo-san and Midori-san, who own the noodle shop. Even in a clan of ruffians and thugs (a title I don't run away from), I've grown up around money. But Grandfather always made sure we had some sense of perspective. That money could be the difference between those two eating well this week or having to sell their belongings just to get by. It's something most samurai will never even think about. Feeling somewhat generous, I wrote a letter of introduction for Kanburo and pointed him in the direction of the Mantis' Ronin recruiters. We're always hard up for shugenja, especially male shugenja who won't spend all damn day waiting for the blessed sun to burn their eyes out. For a few hours, I felt like all was right with the universe. Then I remembered who my new superior is.
It turned out that the hostages were a trio of Miya: an older man, his daughter, and her son. Yamizu-sama, ever our political opportunist took the chance to escort them back to their estate and score a few points for our side. I suppose developing good relations with two Imperial families might be worth enough to keep the Great Clans off of our backs. On the other hand, if anything good comes of our efforts, the Doji will steal the credit, the Bayushi will blackmail us into using it for his benefit, and Yamizu-sama will become insufferable. Still, notch another small victory.
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