The Sands: Utaku Zhe-Dong

The Sands By: Christopher Cruz

The Sands

Zhe-Dong rose before the Lady Sun, kissed his still sleeping wife, and went to check on their children.

The walk to the stables, in the cool before the dawn, was quiet. Here and there, servants carried out their duties, but their footfalls were muffled. In the hour before the dawn, only the birds and insects could be heard, all else was still, as though the night had not yet ended. In truth, for most, it had not.

He entered the stables, Ichigo and Sanko immediately rising to greet their master. He ruffled them affectionately, and gave them words of praise for their vigil. His hounds watched over their elder brother and sister well. None should be so foolish as to risk the wrath of the Utaku in harassing their children while their parents slept, but “should” and “would” were not always the same.

Zhe-Dong felt better with two war-dogs to watch over Kuri and Hoshi, while he and his wife rested.

Kuri was already awake, and greeted his father with an affectionate nuzzle. It was he who was seen-to first, of course. Their first son, born and bonded to his mother Tetsuko even before she wed Zhe-Dong. As he brushed the long chestnut coat that gave the Utaku battle-steed his name, Zhe-Dong felt pride rise in him. It was the same feeling as when he saw his second son, Ichiro, first open his eyes.

“I helped create him. I watch over him. This is part of me, the best part of me.”

It was pride, but tinged with sadness.

Zhe-Dong led Kuri out of the stables, to the large open staging grounds. There they trotted alongside each other, warming up as the Lady Sun began to rise. Tetsuko would ride today, as she did most days. Both she and Kuri kept in peak condition, one never knew when their skills and training would be called upon.

This was what he could do to prepare and support them.

Again, honour with a hint of sorrow.

When Tetsuko came out, he helped her don her riding armor, and mount Kuri. She needed no help, but it was his place to make her training as easy and simple as possible, so that she and Kuri could dedicate themselves completely to their duty. As he watched them begin their forms, his face smiled, but his heart ached.

"I will never be like them."

He left, and walked to the Gardens of Toshi No Omoidoso. Perhaps he would compose, Phoenix lands were strange indeed. That strangeness could be turned to no small use. A good poet watches, feels, takes in what was outside and transforms it into inspiration. He endeavored to create something of beauty with his art. Seppun Hannako, formerly Doji Hannako, now wife of Seppun Kazetora, had even praised his skill. That was no small honor.

Poet, stable-keeper, war-dog master, husband, father, and diplomat. He turned his will to those roles that he could excel in.

Shame eclipsed pride, and his steps slowed. He did not know why today it should be any worse, but it was. The thought was always there, niggling away at him. A worm, burrowing into his contentment like a persimmon.

“I will never be the bushi they are.”

He had traveled with the Hida named Ogo, called the Jade Fist, for years now. Between that massive Crab samurai, and his own wife Tetsuko, who eclipsed even the great Crab warrior in height and bulk when mounted upon Kuri, Zhe-Dong knew his place.

Their long shadows cast a chill over him. He would never be what they were, never match them, never stand beside them. Always behind, always in support. That was to be a man among the Utaku, and to choose the way of the bushi.

His steps slowed, and his gaze drifted to the ground. He walked, through the Gardens, and then on, lost in thought, wrestling his own demons. When he looked up, he found himself in a desolate corner. A place for Ashigaru to muster, or to gather the wounded in case of an attack. Little more than dirt and grass, save for a samurai practicing kata with a yari.

The morning Sun seemed to bother him not at all, as Zhe-Dong watched the man go through his forms. Feeling a gaze upon him, the samurai stopped, and Zhe-Dong, ever the representative of the Unicorn in the Courts, greeted him first.

“Ohaiyo gozaimasu, Bushi-sama. I am the husband of Tetsuko, Utaku Zhe-Dong. My wife, Shiotome Tetsuko, is gunso of the 6th Khol Legion, and I am her stable-keeper and the Unicorn representative to the courts. I hope I do not interrupt your training, I was merely admiring your form.”

It was no lie. Zhe-Dong had not seen many who wielded either the pole-arm or the spear. Although they were weapons steeped in history, many considered them more fit for ashigaru, or even peasant levies. Most bushi focused on the sword, or perhaps the great steel hammers, axes, and clubs so favored by the Crab and Lion. Zhe-Dong had studied the Iron Forest Kata among the Daidoji, but other than them he had met no one who even carried a yari or bisento.

“Ohaiyo, Utaku-sama. I am Miya Tatakisu, shisha and gunso of the Imperial 9th Legion. I welcome you. After all, we are both guests in these lands.”

The two bowed, bending like reeds in the wind. Zhe-Dong was surprised at the honor the Miya showed to him. His bow was to a peer, when, to Zhe-Dong, there could be no such comparison.

“Miya-sama is too kind. I am merely a stable-keeper from Isei. He is a member of the Legions, who serve at the Emperor’s side. All the Empire knows which of us is more worthy.”

And he meant it. This was no shame, nothing but the proper humility of a samurai who knew, and was content with his place in the world. It was not the Imperials, or the Legions, whom Zhe-Dong envied. He admired them cleanly, and took comfort in the fact that his family was sheltered under their tireless watch.

But the Miya only gave a small smile, and replied,

“All the Empire? That is a bold claim, Utaku-sama. I do not seek to contradict you, but I have found that what makes a samurai worthy rests in more than names and titles, or even what ‘all the Empire knows’. I myself have never questioned those who elevated me to my place, but it has been my own struggle to prove worthy of it.”

Zhe-Dong nodded. He knew that feeling, oh so well indeed.

“Miya-sama has a fair point, but I hope he will forgive me if I continue to hold him in higher regard.”

Seeing the Miya’s good humor and openness, Zhe-Dong asked the question that had been tickling him.

“Has Miya-sama studied the spear long? I do not see many bushi who devote themselves to it.”

Tatakisu shook his head, and explained, as he had already done once that day, the circumstances behind his skill with the spear. At the end, Zhe-Dong was left pleased and impressed.

“I honor your commitment to the moment, Miya-sama. Such things are signs from the Heavens. I myself have studied the Bisento, first among the Utaku Mounted Infantry, and then with the Daidoji of the Crane. It would be a great favor to my Clan and Family if you would meet me on the sands, perhaps tomorrow, and we could test each other’s mettle?”

It was a challenge, clearly, but a polite one. The Miya considered it for only a moment, and then gave a terse nod.

“It would be my honor, Utaku-sama. And we will see who the Heavens find worthy.”

-The Next Day-

The wind was cool, and the Sun warm, on the sands of the Dueling Grounds in Toshi No Omoidoso. Zhe-Dong walked alongside his wife, who had chosen to rest herself and Kuri in order to watch her husband’s duel. They walked slightly closer to each other than propriety dictated, but they loved each other, and part of that love was a disregard for what others thought of it.

It was neither the Sun nor their love that caused Zhe-Dong to feel a knot in his guts, but that he was perhaps moments late to a duel that he had asked for. His wife noticed his chagrin, but only smiled to herself. She knew no bushi worth his sword (or spear) would care over a matter of minutes, but her husband was ever the courtier, ever the diplomat. Men were so sensitive to such things.

She reached out, and lightly brushed his hand, and when he looked up at her, she gave him a hint of a smile. It was, as always, enough to make him forget his worries. The smile he gave her in return was, like their closeness, perhaps less than demure. Anyone watching would have read his love for her clearly in it, before their own honor required them to turn away.

They caught sight, first of the black and gold of Tsuruchi Mayumi’s kimono, and then of the Miya’s own colors. Zhe-Dong let out a breath, both seemed to have only just arrived. He approached them, and introduced his wife. Then he thanked the Mantis Shugenja for attending and watching over the duel. She was known to him from his time in Balishnapoor, and he had a deep and abiding respect for her skills as an archer and shugenja, but also her honor. She spoke, and then began tracing and consecrating the dueling circle.

“I, Tsuruchi Mayumi, Chui of the Mantis fleets, have been called upon to call down the blessings of the Kami on the duelists and supervise it. May the Fortunes bless you in your duel and I will be healing the one that needs it.”

She went on,

“On your honor, understand that no duelist will have blessings of the Kami upon them, and I will be inspecting for proper honors given. The circle will be created with the prayers said so that the field of honorable combat can stand before all the Empire.”

Standing a distance away from the dueling area, a samurai of average height, with only a wakizashi on one hip and a satchel on the other, looked on and nodded his approval. A jingasa covered his face, but his bearing was regal, and he watched with great interest.

It was only a moment, and then the two contestants squared off in the circle, as agreed. Blunted practice weapons for a test of skill were in their hands, a yari for the Miya, the bisento for Zhe-Dong. Tsuruchi Mayumi gave the signal, and the contestants immediately began.

Zhe-Dong leapt into his first strike. His schooling and experience taught him that a duel against a superior opponent could be ended by getting in the first blow, and making it a strong one. But the Miya stood his ground, and turned aside the strike with only a flick of his yari. Zhe-Dong was impressed, the difference in the size and heft of their weapons was apparent, but the Miya had parried the strong overhand strike with perfect economy of motion.

Zhe-Dong’s second strike, hot on the tail of the first, was a sweeping horizontal cut from the left, and this time it was not so easily parried. Tatakisu threw himself back, but could not avoid the tip of the Bisento as it slammed into his right shoulder.

Then, Tatakisu seemed to shrink into himself. Zhe-Dong was curious, but now it was his turn to ready himself for his opponent’s blows. He stood still, gathering his focus, his chi, as he prepared to weather his opponent’s storm.

Tatakisu seemed to throw himself at the Unicorn. His yari shot out, and Zhe-Dong was caught in the right shoulder. He stepped back and turned to soften the blow, but before he could answer was surprised at the speed of the following strike. Without even drawing his spear back, the Miya whipped it aside, slashing at Zhe-Dong’s chest. Only instinct and training turned it aside, the shaft of the bisento keeping the blunted spear-tip away from Zhe-Dong.

Now it was the Unicorn’s turn to surprise his foe. His time among the Daidoji had taught him the value of centering himself, and his opponent’s wild attacks had left him open. First, a solid strike to the body, one that might have cut a man in half if the blade had been sharpened. But that was not all, and the polearm in Zhe-Dong’s hands reared back to strike at the Miya’s off balance center…

And then Tatakisu called out “Yield”, and stood with his spear up, conceding defeat.

It had been perhaps twenty breaths, but the duel was over, and Zhe-Dong was the victor. He bowed, and his Miya partner bowed back, as Tsuruchi Mayumi approached to tend to their wounds.

Tatakisu did not wince as the kami filled him with vigor and banished his pain and fatigue, instead eyeing Zhe-Dong carefully.

“Are you satisfied, Utaku-sama? Or do you need another lesson in worth?” He asked, again with that same small, sardonic smile.

“Miya-sama, I still contend that of the two of us, your will and honor make you the more worthy.” Zhe-Dong answered instantly, and he meant it.

The Miya shook his head, and answered just as quickly.

“Then tomorrow, we will meet here again. Perhaps after that, you will understand.”

With that, and a bow, he turned to go, leaving Zhe-Dong confused, wondering why, if he had won, he felt at a loss.