Takeo's Chronicles, page 148
“And so, I thought that if I had to fail, if I had to die, at least let me go out saving one person. Please, I begged at Botan’s feet, let me not live a life where I’d have to hold one more person as they died in my arms, like my mother, like Emily.”
Mako’s hand swept through his hair as he cried, his hands clutching her clothes and his body curled up, ignoring how his insides screamed in pain at being so compressed. However, the pain felt good, in a way, because it was so much more preferable to feeling nothing at all.
“You’re lost,” Mako whispered, sweeping his hair behind his ear.
Takeo nodded.
“I’ve been lost, too,” she said. “I’ve been lost for a while, and things only seemed to get worse as they went on. First, Okamoto was taken from me, from us, but then I lost you, too. Then my parents and our whole village was destroyed. You remember? You came back only briefly before leaving me again. You’ve never asked what happened to me, between then and now, all those years you were gone from my life, all those years I was cast adrift. You’ve never asked, and I’ve never told.”
She paused, one tracing finger having found the scar that ran along his cheek, faded though it was. Her touch did not linger there and instead retreated to the safety of his hairline.
“There’s a reason for that, though,” she continued. “It’s because it’s not important, to either of us. What matters to you, to me, is that we’re here now, together, and things are going to be better because of it. You don’t ask because you don’t want to hear, but I don’t tell because I don’t want to relive it. It’s the same reason you never talk about her, and the same reason you were hesitant to talk to Dhyana. When the past is painful, it can be difficult to acknowledge. Sometimes we can only survive by numbing ourselves and looking to the future.
“I don’t think you realize this, Takeo, but to many people, you’ve become that future.”
She paused. A conversation started up just outside the tent, including some shouting. Takeo had been too distracted to hear all of it, but it sounded like demands to see him. No doubt there was a fair bit of confusion flowing through the camp, what with the catapults burned and Takeo charging off to face Botan alone. People wanted answers.
Kuniko’s voice rang out, and the shouting died down. Mako continued to run her fingers through Takeo’s hair.
“I didn’t realize it until I overheard Ping demanding to join you on the battlefield,” she went on. “For the longest time, I thought it was just me suffering under the greed of the daimyo, as they used everyone beneath them to vie for power. People ask, why is food hard to come by in a land like this? Juatwa is beautiful, plentiful, or at least it should be. Why do we starve but the daimyo are fat? Why are we always in danger, but not them? We don’t have half the number of deadly creatures or marauding bands that other places are rumored to have. How is it that death is so common here? It shouldn’t be. It doesn’t have to be, but few stopped to think about it until you showed up and pledged your life to the cause.
“The past is painful, Takeo. You and I, we’re not the only people who’ve suffered, who’ve lost, and who've searched for something to latch onto. I can’t answer these questions, but I can tell you that you can’t give up. You carry more lives than just Gavin’s these days, and your shoulders are heavy because you carry the dream of an entire people.
“We’re all lost, Takeo, but we’re following you. So please, don’t give up. Lead us out of this abyss.”
He couldn’t recall when, but sometime during Mako’s speech, Takeo stopped crying.
* * *
Nicholas, although very much attached to weapons in general, was not attached to any specific weapon, per se. For example, he’d wasted not one single breath on the maul that he’d flung into Botan, instead Nicholas took from the armory one of the heavy warhammers one would use to destroy a gashadokuro. He twirled the weapon about in his hands, testing its weight as he walked just behind Takeo and Qing on their way to Nobu’s tent.
“You know, I get that you're suffering here, Takeo, and normally I’m not real inquisitive,” Nicholas started, “but I have to ask. The next time you get a brilliant idea to go down in a self-righteous blaze of suicidal glory, can you tell me first?”
“What’s this about, Takeo?” Qing said, cutting off the viking. “You've summoned us with no explanation. It’s clear we’re headed to Nobu, judging by the path, but Kuniko seemed to know more than we did. Why isn’t she here?”
“She’s busy issuing orders and taking care of people who ask too many questions,” Takeo said. “We’re going to tell Nobu this siege is over. You’re here to act as Lady Zhenzhen and Lord Virote’s will. Nicholas is here in case the oni try to give us trouble again.”
Nicholas sighed and gazed off toward the setting sun. Satisfied with his new weapon’s weight, he sheathed it into the straps over his back.
“So, we’re really calling it quits, eh?” he asked. “I thought maybe you’d changed your mind, the way you charged out to face Botan, but I suppose there’s nothing more to do at this point.”
“I’ll admit even I am a little surprised,” Qing said. “I’ve witnessed your tenacity. I expected you to break before you bent.”
“If it were only me, I suppose I would,” Takeo answered. “However, recently, I’ve had to accept that my actions have further reaching consequences. Yoshida is right. I must aim to win the war, not always the battle. No one is my enemy who helps me reach this goal, not even him.”
“And Krunk and Gavin?” Nicholas said.
Takeo came to a stop and hung his head. He remembered Botan’s promise to kill them for Takeo’s insolence and hoped the shogun had been lying.
“I don’t know,” the ronin admitted. “We’ll think of something.”
He marched on. They weren’t long in reaching Nobu because, this time around, there was no guessing which tent Nobu was in. Tokhta and Borota were stationed outside the entrance, both seated and dozing in place, unconcerned with the smoke that still lingered in the air or the general unease that permeated the encampment.
As the trio approached, Tokhta cocked one eye open and snorted.
“Our orders remain the same,” the oni said. “No one is allowed inside. Don’t think to disobey again. We’ll not be so forgiving.”
“If your orders haven’t changed,” Takeo countered, “then you’ll recall that Nobu said it was fine if I entered. Has he rescinded that decision since I was last here?”
Tokhta opened his other eye and flicked a gaze at Borota. Takeo smiled.
“Well now,” the ronin said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you indecisive before. How comical.”
The oni snarled.
“Only you, then,” it said. “The other two wait outside.”
Takeo shrugged. “Fine by me. I’ll just have Nobu let them in, too. You’ve done nothing but inconvenience me. Congratulations. You’re as powerful as a stick lying in the road.”
Veins popped along Tokhta’s neck, though their intensity was lessened between the oni’s red skin and the fading light. Takeo marched between the immortal guards, slipping into the darkness of the gigantic tent.
It took a second for his eyes to adjust. Nobu had let the fires die out again, leaving the opening at the top as the only source of light. At this time of the day, that meant only a slim ray slipped in and ran along the top fabric, casting everything beneath into shadows. He expected to find the lord in his bed like last time, so it stunned him to see the prince’s dark outline standing in the middle of the room.
“My lord, sorry,” Takeo said in reaction, catching his hand before it fell to his sword, shifting the movement into a bow. “I didn’t see you there.”
Nobu gave no reply, and Takeo didn’t wait for one to rise.
“I have terrible news, though I’m sure you’ve heard of it by now, if not smelt it in the air,” he continued and stepped forward. “I hope you’ll understand that I did everything to prevent this but—”
Takeo caught himself. Something was wrong. Lord Nobu was completely covered in darkness due to the lack of light, but Takeo could see that the lord hadn’t moved since Takeo had entered, not even to flinch. Then it dawned on Takeo that Nobu’s head was cocked at an odd angle, and there was an overturned stool at his feet. Also, the lord seemed taller than he last remembered, until Takeo’s eyes dropped to the feet and saw that the prince was floating in the air.
Not floating—hanging.
Takeo gasped and dashed forward, kicking the stool out of the way, and grabbed hold of the prince, hoisting him into the air. The rope that hung about Nobu’s neck slacked, yet no strength returned to the lord’s body. He fell limply over Takeo’s shoulder, his cold skin brushing against Takeo’s face. Now that they were close, Nobu’s grim, lifeless expression shined through, forever frozen in time.
Takeo swore and released the prince’s corpse. It swung freely, the rope creaking as it stretched from side to side.
“What the—” he started, breathless. “He didn't, no. Did someone? Damn. Damn! Damn it all.”
Takeo clenched his fists, mind reeling, eyes whirling about for some explanation.
“Oh no, this is terrible. How can this be happening?”
He grabbed Nobu’s corpse and checked his wrists.
“No marks, no signs of a struggle, oni haven’t heard a thing,” he went on. “Son of a—ah!”
A thought struck him. He opened Nobu’s clothes to check the boy’s stomach. His fingers found a single mark at the navel, a thin prick so shallow that it was red but did not bleed.
Shit. He tried to seppuku like a true warrior, blade against his stomach, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t follow through, so he hung himself.
Takeo stood rooted, lips parted as he watched Nobu’s body drift in silence. He didn’t know what to think at first. Admittedly, remorse was not within him, but there was plenty of shock, followed by apprehension.
“Hey, are you going to let us in or what?” Qing called out.
“Not another step,” Borota warned.
“Piss off, you oversized orc, or I’ll send you crawling back up some dead lord’s arse,” Nicholas replied.
Before Takeo could say anything, the tent’s opening was flung wide, and the last vestiges of evening light came pouring in. Three figures of varying size appeared and froze as Nobu’s swaying corpse was illuminated.
“By Valhalla,” Nicholas sputtered out first. “He’s—”
“Shut it, don’t say it,” Takeo cut in. “Don’t say a word. Get inside and close the entrance.”
Nicholas obeyed, but Qing was too stunned for movement. She stood with eyes wide and mouth agape, blinking less often than was comfortable.
As for Tokhta, he did nothing more than cock an eyebrow, wrinkling the skin around one of the horns that protruded from his head. He nodded to Borota, who glanced inside, frowned, and then the two shared a look. They shuffled to a stand, swung their kanabos over their shoulders, and started to march off.
“Hey, hey!” Takeo shouted and rushed out of the tent, glancing about to make sure there weren’t any onlookers, only to find three servants who quickly made themselves scarce at the sight of Takeo’s dark look. “Where do you two think you’re going?”
“The deal is broken,” Tokhta muttered, neither pausing nor turning back.
“Hey!” Takeo tried again.
But the oni were tall and covered the ground quickly, and Takeo would have had to chase after them at this point, which would draw attention. He swiveled about and marched back into the tent, making sure to draw the opening closed.
Takeo swore.
Qing had gone inside by now and had paced right up to Nobu, looking up at his crooked neck as he turned just a hair at a time with the dying motion set in place by Takeo. She grabbed his hand, cold and lifeless, and held it with both of hers.
“My lady,” Qing whispered. “This is going to break her. Why, my little prince? Why would you do this?”
Nicholas swore and swore again.
“What in the world, I mean really?” the viking said. “What is wrong with this place, this night, this day? Takeo loses his mother; Zhenzhen loses her son. This isn’t right, I tell you. All these people dead and not a single battle to show for it. This doesn’t sit well with me, Takeo. I don’t like where this is going.”
“It’s going to get worse,” Takeo said.
Nicholas swore again. Qing glanced over her shoulder. Takeo continued, rubbing his forehead.
“Grief aside, without the oni and akki to bolster the Hanu’s depleted ranks, Zhenzhen stands little chance of retaking the Katsu fortress, let alone standing against the Nguyens. She could dispense of me and thus bring many daimyo back into the fold, but that still leaves most of Juatwa divided and easily conquered by a skilled general such as Qadir, and Emily did not die just so another rakshasa could sit on the throne of the world. I don’t care how skilled a politician Yoshida is. With Nobu dead, politics won’t stop what’s coming. This is not a defeat we can afford. We have but one chance, one last resort that I never would have considered while Nobu was still alive.”
Qing and Nicholas shared a glance.
“Wait, you’re talking like we have a chance at victory, but you also said things were going to get worse,” the viking recounted. “You’re giving me a bad feeling.”
Qing narrowed her eyes.
“Your allegiance lies with Lady Zhenzhen and her alone, right?” Takeo said to her.
She nodded.
“And you trust me to bring victory no matter the cost?”
She paused, then nodded.
Takeo stared at Nobu's swaying body, knowing deep down that he shared some part in whatever had driven the boy to suicide. He should have felt guilt, but instead, all he saw was hope.
No—reality.
“Then let’s get to work,” he said.
Chapter 18
Lord Yoshida, despite all his talk of trusting Takeo to make a good decision, was not a foolish man. No lord or lady survived long in Juatwa without some insurance against being stabbed in the back by each and every person they knew. So, when Qing appeared at his tent late in the night, saying Takeo needed to speak with him at Nobu's tent immediately, Yoshida made sure not to go alone. He brought the Lady Xie, which was easy to do considering she’d been in his bed, and also sent for his right-hand-man, Lord Sing. They all brought their contingent of honor guards and made their way through the camp with Qing in the lead because, despite the late hour of the night, it would be considered rude and insolent not to answer their general’s summons.
After all, Yoshida really did want Takeo on his side.
“I assume this is about retreat?” Yoshida asked of Qing. “I saw the signal arrow shot through the night sky. I can only imagine that’s why Takeo is having us meet at Nobu’s tent.”
“That’s not for us to discuss here, my lord,” the ninja answered.
“Oh, come now. It’s not like the matter isn’t being discussed by everyone on all sides of this war. I’ll bet even the Nguyens know the situation by now. The need for secrecy has passed.”
Qing marched on in that uncanny silence that unnerved Yoshida. It was strange how her footsteps made no noise, almost inhuman. Until this day, he’d always been sure to stay on Lady Zhenzhen’s good side, not just because it was good politics, but also because of Qing. He had a feeling that if Lady Zhenzhen ever wanted him gone, she’d send this ninja to do the task, and he wasn’t so certain Qing could be stopped.
Takeo was waiting for them atop the low hill where Nobu’s command tent had been erected. At the ronin's side stood that towering mass of flesh called Nicholas. Yoshida always thought of vikings as a mistake, an improbable and disgusting crossbreed of a human-orc love affair gone wrong. Nicholas, for his part, did appear somewhat solemn on this occasion, with head bowed and hands clasped. Takeo appeared grimmer than usual.
Yoshida scanned the otherwise empty setting.
“Takeo,” the lord said.
“My lord,” Takeo replied and bowed.
“Is Nobu not here? Where are the oni?”
“Lord Nobu is inside,” Takeo replied softly. “The oni, however, have left us.”
Yoshida’s gaze drifted to the tent, then slowly back to Takeo, where the two locked eyes.
“Us?” Yoshida asked.
“The Hanu army,” Takeo replied, then nodded to the three daimyo. “You’ll want to leave your guards outside for this.”
A pit welled in Lord Yoshida’s stomach. He waved one hand at his guards, telling them to stay at the ready, and then marched inside the tent. Lord Sing and Lady Xie mimicked him.
It was dark inside, as the moon wasn’t bright enough to illuminate anything within, and Yoshida worried that he’d made a mistake. A moment’s reflection reminded him that there was nothing to gain by his death in this moment, as no daimyo would follow Takeo’s orders without his support. He was safe.
A moment later, Qing and Takeo followed them inside, leaving the brute outside with the guards. That made Yoshida feel better, until Takeo struck a light and Nobu’s corpse sprung into view.
Lady Xie gasped and clutched Yoshida’s arm. Lord Sing covered his mouth and averted his gaze, a small wave of nausea passing over his features. Lord Yoshida stared unblinking while his lips hinged open ever so slightly. It dawned on him that a putrid smell was starting to fester, and not just because the young boy had loosed his bowels upon death.
