Epiphany

Night in the Mountains of the Dragon was cool and refreshing, somehow more welcoming than the mountains of the lands in which Bikane had been born. As she gazed out of the window of the chambers generously granted to her by the grateful Mirumoto Takajiro, she reflected that this was one of only many differences in her life between her life then and now.

Three years before, she was a failure, reviled by kith and kin for her inability to be what her blood demanded of her. Try as she might, Bikane had never truly been suited to be a Crab. She was too soft, too fragile, and it had left her adrift, as lost among her brethren as one from outside the Clan would have been. The Crab had one Duty, one real purpose, and it was one that she had not, and would never, be able to fulfill.

She wasn’t a coward. This, at least, she knew in her heart. She had tried, again and again, to do what was needed. Since her time as a delegate began two years ago, Bikane had faced many challenges and many situations in which she very well should have died. It was the blessing of strong companions, and, perhaps, the Fortunes, which had kept her alive. Still, for all of those battles, battles in which she was largely an observer or a hindrance, she had tried. She had not retreated, had not cowered behind the bushi around her.

Unable to sleep, she rose and moved through the fine house the Governor kept, a hand on her swollen belly. Bikane came to the gardens, observed but unhindered by the guards, and made her way to one of the benches. Seated there, she listened to the music of the wind through the trees. Smiling gently, she let her mind drift to another garden, in another time and place.

Seppun Katsu. Her husband was a good man, an honorable warrior and true servant of the Empire. She did not love him, did not think she was capable of loving anyone, but still, she cared for him. What his reasons for choosing her were, she had never quite asked him. Hers, she knew, had nothing to do with the advantage to the Crab that a former member bound to the Imperials would bring. She had not been thinking of her Clan when first she sought the nakodo for the match, though it was surely a reason the nakodo had agreed.

No, even in that, she had been a poor Crab. She had thought not of Duty, but of herself. She was an ill Crab, even though she performed well enough in the courts for them. She knew it to be so, just as her mother had always claimed. It was easier, far easier, to leave them than to change. She had been weak again, weak in spirit this time, and she had jumped at the chance to leave.

The baby kicked under her hand and, without thought, Bikane’s hand moved in slow circles, seeking to sooth it...her, if the midwives that she had visited over the last months were to be believed.

She would be a mother. When she had realized it, that she had, as a wife, finally succeeded in a Duty at last, Bikane had felt a thrill of excitement. She had accomplished many things, but they were, to the grand scheme, incidental. THIS, the begetting of an heir, mattered. It mattered very much, in fact, to both her and her husband.

She might not love Katsu, but she could love their child. She already did, uncaring of if the baby was to be male or female. She cared only that it would be hers, someone she could nurture into a fine samurai, something her own mother had failed to do for her. That, too, was another Duty, and Bikane was more determined than she had ever been in her life not to fail.

The bench was cold and, after an endless time had passed uncounted, she rose, with a bit of a struggle, to her feet. Through the darkness, broken only by stone lanterns, she moved without thinking until her eyes fell upon the room of the young man they had rescued. It was strange to see it from the outside, stranger still to think of all that had passed since they had heard of his taking.

Agasha Koishi had done what he had done for love of his Lord. He had thought himself wiser, though himself right, to seek to change the fate that had been preordained. His eyes had brimmed with tears for as he spoke, impassioned by his own emotions, as he told them why it was that the boy, Fukurou, must die.

She had listened, and in his tone she heard a sour note, a hint of something amiss. He did not lie....but he was wrong.

Her own words had followed. She spoke of the Duty of samurai, a dedication to one’s Lord that should surpass all things. Love, she had said, should not, could not, replace obedience. Desire was a Sin, even when well-intentioned. No samurai, particularly one of Koishi’s high station, should allow themselves to succumb to Sin, especially when their actions would cause echoing Sin in others.

Takajiro would Regret the loss of his son. Perhaps he would Regret entrusting Koishi as his hatamoto. The Guard Captain would Regret his failure to protect his Lord’s heir, and his life might end upon his own blade.

All of this she had said.

All of this sounded, to her own ears, like truth.

He had heard it, as all of them had. Koishi’s resolve fell in the face of her truth, of her understanding. Koishi, and Koishi alone, had died in Sin.

Bikane moved on again, and at last found herself in a small shrine, one who’s patron Fortune she did not immediately know. Religion was not a focus for most Crab, beyond a worship of Bishamon, and she was no different. Still, she felt moved to kneel there, head bowed. She had no offering to give, and so she gave the tale of the days past, spun in as pleasing a fashion as one who had always had a gift for performing could manage. Calmness flowed into her as the chill of the night eased. As she spoke of her journey, that calm turned to true peace.

When it was done, she sat in soft silence, feeling as though something yet listened. The tale lacked an end, though she thought it had been told in full.

Her lips parted and, as if drawn forth by an unseen hand, Bikane murmured, ‘I did my Duty, to my Lord and to his. To my Husband, and my Daughter. To my Empire...and myself.”

Bikane straightened and looked, truly looked, at the Shrine for the first time.

The face of Kobiru-Tadashiko, Fortune of Understanding, smiled back.