Takeo's Chronicles, page 152
Takeo’s only reply was to put his gaze on Kuniko. The girl blinked once, twice, then raised her brows. She bowed low again.
“Understood, my lord,” she said. “Your will be done.”
Takeo sighed, thankful Kuniko was loyal enough not to need a full explanation. The girl didn’t understand what had happened, but she didn’t need to. All she understood was that there was a plot to overthrow her idol, and that was enough. As Takeo hung his head, his eyes inadvertently fell on Krunk’s lifeless body, and a lump swelled in this throat.
“Was it worth it?” Qing asked.
Takeo ripped his gaze away, intending to respond but instead found Nicholas atop the gatehouse. The viking's maul lay at his feet, the shaft held loosely in one hand, his large mouth hanging open.
“I hope so,” Takeo replied.
He broke his gaze with Nicholas and paced off into the crowd. Kuniko began shouting orders, but no one moved for several seconds as Takeo continued to steal the attention. The crowd parted for him like soil before a plow, all the way up until Takeo took the stairs to reach Gavin’s side.
And Emy’s.
The rakshasa still held her disguise, or rather forgot she was changed at all. As Takeo approached, she drew back only a hair, as opposed to the full step most others took. Her eyes were sharp as she watched him, the dagger held tightly in her grip. Takeo sheathed his enchanted blade, but did not release the handle, letting power continue to course through his veins.
He ignored her and offered a hand to Gavin so that the knight could stand. Gavin looked at it, and only then did Takeo realize his arm was drenched in blood.
Gavin turned away.
“We can deal with this later,” Takeo replied. “For now, just do one thing and one thing only.”
“What’s that?” Gavin asked.
“Collect your family and look after Krunk.”
Gavin shook his head, eyes red, cheeks drenched in tears. He sniffed.
“And where are you going?”
Takeo stared up at the Katsu fortress, to the tallest tower.
“To make it worth it,” he answered.
* * *
Once Takeo ascertained the location of the Lady Anagarika Katsu, he made a direct path to her. He took Qing as a witness and the next available Katsu commander as an envoy, but otherwise he needed no assistance from them. Takeo knew the way well, and he climbed stairs, passed through halls, and made deft turns in absolute silence.
He paused only at the final hallway, one long and wide that led to a set of closed double doors. The memory of his last visit here was unpleasant and eerily similar to his current situation. Like then, he approached in the wake of an assault, one that resulted in a loss for the defenders. Like then, he approached the shogun under no peaceful terms with full intent to do harm. Like then, he had betrayed those he’d fought with for so many years.
Unlike then, he was not accompanied by someone he loved.
Takeo let the memory pass and strode down the hall. He was expected, it seemed, as there were guards at the doors, and the way was open for him. He did not pause before entering.
A lone woman waited inside, wearing a simple blue kimono and sitting on a large pillow. Takeo surmised she was a little over a decade older than him, but it was difficult to tell because age lines were assaulting her features, and he judged that time would not be kind to her face. Before her was a low table covered in brushes alongside a half-finished painting, all of which were set aside. The woman had her hands clasped before her, unconcerned with the way her paint-covered hands marked her clothes. Takeo thought her stoic at first, the way she sat up straight, but then he realized it wasn’t with courage that she held herself high.
Her bottom lip trembled.
“Lady Anagarika Katsu,” Takeo said.
She paused, uncertainty in her every move. Normally, Takeo despised such things, but this was different. He drew resolve from her lack thereof.
“Takeo Karaoshi,” she finally replied.
Anagarika swallowed down a dry throat. Takeo stepped away from the entrance, following the room’s edge. It was a circular room with large windows all around, designed for solitude rather than safety. It offered a commanding view of the ocean, the coast, and the courtyard outside. Takeo stopped to admire the view.
“Your cousin’s body lies somewhere down there,” Takeo said.
“So I heard,” Anagarika whispered. “I’ve been kept informed by my guards. I knew you’d come for me soon.”
Her eyes fell to Takeo’s sword and the way his hand rested on the pommel.
“From what I’ve been told, you and Botan ruled as equals,” he said. “I find that hard to believe, considering I’ve never seen you until now. Botan has always ruled from the front, leading the armies, wearing the crown so to speak. The way I see it, the only way you two could be equals is if, unknown to most, you were in the background pulling all the strings. I’m talking specifically about the most important strings, like getting the lesser daimyo to fall in line.”
Takeo stepped away from the window and continued on, circling around the room. His pace slowed as he reached the opposite wall, stopping at one window in particular with no special view. It faced north, over the ocean but not far from the shore. It was the newest window in the bunch, having been replaced some years ago, but there was no sign indicating that. Takeo only knew because he had watched it shatter.
“Am I wrong?” he pressed.
“No,” Anagarika finally replied.
She bowed her head over the table, like a prisoner before an execution, one that didn’t want the blade to miss and prolong their suffering. The window that Takeo was at put him behind her, but she did not look for him. At the entrance, Qing and the guards watched in complete silence.
That was good. Takeo wanted them to watch. Legends were easier to spread with more witnesses.
“You wouldn’t know this, lady, but something happened last night that changed everything,” Takeo continued. “I’m not talking about the death of my mother—of which I know you played a part—or the burning of my siege weapons. In a way, those events were but two of the many small steppingstones that have led me here.
“Last night, I murdered three of the most powerful and influential daimyo in the Hanu kingdom. I did so in cold blood and then tricked their armies into doing my bidding. The strange part is that these individuals committed no crime. They did not aim to ruin my plans or dispose of me. In fact, their ultimate plan fell very much in line with my own. Minus my pride, my sword, and my friends, I should have had every reason to follow their orders. They died, you see, not because they made any sort of mistake, but because I did. I made, as the vikings say, the greatest mistake of all: denying my destiny.”
Takeo slid his hand down the handle of his sword until his skin touched the guard. His fingers wrapped tightly around his weapon, letting the fire rage within him. He had total control over it, though. He knew he did. It was always that way. He understood now why Botan had failed to kill him with this weapon. The fire Takeo felt was no jinni enchantment at all. It was a piece of his own soul, forged into death.
Takeo left the window and paced around the room to face Anagarika again. Her head remained cowed, but her shoulders shook. She did not whimper, though, and that was more than Takeo could say for some who had kneeled before him. Against his better judgment, this woman earned a level of respect out of him.
“I tried my damnedest to serve the daimyo caste,” Takeo said. “I made myself useful, indispensable even, thinking that in doing so they would rise up and fulfill my dream. Unfortunately for me, the only thing they ever saw was a threat to their power. Unfortunately for them, that time has passed. To call me a threat implies that I can be stopped. What I am is a reckoning.
“Look at me.”
Anagarika raised her head swiftly, but her eyes hesitated to meet Takeo’s dark gaze. She stopped first to view her soldiers, all four of them, standing well within reach of assisting her, yet none seemed poised to move. Their attention remained fixated on Takeo’s hand, the one that rested on his sword. It was clear that the secret was out now, and that everyone would soon be telling stories about the power of the Karaoshi blade.
“Listen,” Takeo commanded. “I don’t want anarchy. Quite the opposite, I want stability and control, not just for Juatwa, but for all the world, and I will stop at nothing to see this through. The daimyo can be instrumental in such a plan, if they choose to be. A new table of power has just opened up, and all the seats are up for grabs. So, I have but one question for you.
“How good are your survival skills?”
Anagarika’s shoulders stopped shaking. The gaze that she held with Takeo left behind its reluctance as she tilted her head ever so slightly. She took a steady breath, the first since Takeo had entered the room, and then bowed.
“Impeccable, my lord,” she said.
Chapter 22
There was no battle. Takeo exited the Katsu fortress with Botan’s head in one hand, his sword in the other, and a second army at his back. No doubt there were some misgivings among the mix of Hanu and Katsu soldiers, as just that morning they’d been fighting to the death, but Takeo didn’t need them to be friends. He just needed the image, which proved more than enough. Those Hanu daimyo who had banded together in Takeo’s absence, after discovering the bodies of Nobu, Yoshida, and the others, quickly deduced that their chances of success lay in living to fight another day. They took their troops and withdrew.
Or at least those troops that obeyed.
An odd thing occurred that Takeo hadn’t thought to try. Kuniko issued orders that the army was to stay together in order to escort Anagarika and Botan’s surviving family into Lady Zhenzhen’s custody. It would be an admittedly large escort, wholly unnecessary for the task, but it inserted a level of gray into the affair. The Hanu army now had two sets of orders to obey. On one hand, they were told to flee by their daimyo; on the other, they were told to stay by their general.
By Kuniko’s report, a good two thirds stayed, and the Hanu daimyo fled all the more quickly because of it. Upon being complimented, Kuniko had but one thing to say to her lord.
“My father was a coward, not an idiot. He understood power, and more specifically how it stemmed from desire. People want to follow you, my lord. They just need an excuse.”
And so, Takeo and his army returned to the Hanu fortress proud, victorious, and bearing terrible news.
Takeo had thought that at least one of the fleeing daimyo would reach Lady Zhenzhen first and tell their version of the story. However, whether because of his victory, his sword, Qing’s involvement, or something else, that wasn’t the case. Lady Zhenzhen learned of everything upon Takeo’s return, including her son’s death.
She locked herself in her throne room for a week. The city suffered worse.
Lady Zhenzhen mandated one hundred days of mourning throughout her newly expanded empire. During this time, no festivities or celebrations could take place. Only songs of her son’s greatness could be sung, and everyone was expected to spend the first hour before sunset remembering their prince and thanking him for all he’d done. Attendance to the funeral was mandatory, though unnecessary, as Nobu’s corpse was taken on a tour of every street in the city. Anyone caught doing anything other than mourning the poor Nobu and how he had given his life to save the kingdom would be deemed a traitor and sentenced to death.
Throughout the procession, Lady Zhenzhen was brought to tears and made several comments about the number of people that had turned out for the event. They truly must have loved her son.
When Takeo could get away, he spent much of his time with Lord Virote. Now that the entire Hanu power structure had been undermined, the old man became an open book. Problems were laid bare and all solutions discussed.
“Who would have thought a single battle would both cost and gain us so much?” Virote commented one evening, rubbing his eyes as the two of them poured over maps, notes, and family trees. “My nephew’s only surviving line, dead. Oh, how I failed him. I warned Nobu’s grandfather as much when he made that deal, that signing such a treaty with the oni would only delay his family’s death rather than prevent it, but he was at the end of his rope. Now Nobu is dead, and the oni are gone, and you’ve turned half the daimyo in the land against us.”
“I’ll bring them back,” Takeo had replied.
“You’d better. Juatwa is an even split now. Those once loyal to us have defected to the Nguyens. Sure, you’ve brought the Katsu lineage to heel, but doing so has merely balanced the power of this land rather than concentrated it.”
Takeo had sighed and clenched his teeth in frustration.
“How can any of those daimyo serve a rakshasa? How can I, a human, even if a ronin, be considered a worse master?”
“Qadir plays a better game than you, Takeo. He knows how to appear as a willing instrument, and he's never killed a shogun. I’m sure it helps that you made him a cripple, too. The daimyo defecting to the Nguyens can convince themselves that they serve a shogun as opposed to a rakshasa. With you and Zhenzhen, the reality is easier to see. We must remedy this situation. Since we cannot ban you to the background as Qadir has done with himself, we instead need to legitimize your current position.”
Takeo had stared hard at the old man in the flickering candlelight. An understanding passed between them.
“No.”
“No? What do you mean, no? You speak as if marriage to Zhenzhen is monstrous as opposed to inevitable. Listen, I won’t argue with you, Takeo. You have cunning enough to formulate your own solution, but this method provides the easiest, most direct route to victory. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Takeo had not, but that didn’t mean he agreed either.
“Tell me, old man, why are you helping me so much? Your family isn’t in line for the throne. Nobu is dead. No offense, but I doubt you’ll live long enough to see the fruits of your labor. Here we are, night after night working over battle plans, alliances, plots, and I just can’t gather why. What benefit do you stand to gain from your toils?”
“We’ve been over this once. As the sword does not question the warrior, so does the pen not question the author. We tools of greater ideals work until we break or are cast aside.”
“And when the sword gains sentience?”
“I’ll make you a deal, ronin. I won’t question how you choose to die if you don’t question how I do.”
“Fair enough, but one last thing.”
“Hm?”
“Don’t call me ronin again.”
As for Lady Zhenzhen, she may have locked herself in for a week, but that didn’t mean she was alone. Takeo still had orders to obey, especially if he wanted to regain her trust. Her son was dead, some of her most trusted generals executed for a treason that could not be proved, and her immortal oni allies gone to flight. The Katsu armies be damned, Lady Zhenzhen had made it clear how thin the ice was beneath Takeo's feet and also how that ice could be strengthened by the frequent application of body heat.
He did as he was told, staying in Zhenzhen’s throne room long after she was finished with him. Between her and Lord Virote, Takeo found some difficulty in getting away to see others, including Mako. At least with his newfound position, there was no need for Mako to do any menial labor to earn her spot. She slept soundly in a room befitting a royal guest.
There was only one other room that Takeo needed, and that was the one for Emy. Gavin, his wife, and his daughter had not returned to the Hanu keep with the army. Takeo had sent them, along with Nicholas as an escort, to a more remote location, specifically to Kuniko's lands. She'd readily offered them up; to which, Takeo had agreed. Krunk’s and Dhyana's bodies were sent, too, to be buried on the mansion grounds. Emy wanted to go, of course, but she did not say it. She’d stayed by Takeo’s side, a silent understanding between them.
It had to be silent because Emy had not spoken to Takeo since Krunk’s death, and he had not spoken to her.
“Aren’t you worried she’ll try to kill you?” Qing had asked one morning. “There’s nothing to tie her to you anymore.”
“I always assumed she’d try to kill me eventually,” Takeo had replied. “It’s in her nature. Humans and rakshasas are not friends. They are either rulers or subjects, master or slave, hunter or prey. Why do you think I had her stalk me as she grew up? I’ve trained myself against her, and she knows it. She’s no more a threat to me than any other ninjas in this land.”
Qing had scoffed and said, “What ninjas? This fortress has been eerily silent since your return. I thought for sure there would be a host of ninjas coming after you, what with the bounty that’s been put on your head by all the fleeing daimyo. Except, you’re not the usual mark. Most daimyo who survive a ninja attack consider themselves lucky and think nothing else of it, or if they do try to hunt down the ninjas that tried, they come up empty handed. You though? You murder them, down to the last child. No ninja clan will touch you.”
“So, what you’re saying is that I brought peace?”
“You mispronounced enforced.”
“No, I did not.”
Takeo did not stay at the Hanu fortress a moment longer than was necessary. He understood that as the acting Hanu general, he had a duty now even greater than the one he had served on the battlefield. It wasn’t just troop logistics and battleplans he had to contend with now, but also more administrative things such as ensuring taxes were collected and borders were secured. A whole host of duties were dumped into his lap overnight, including those for the newly acquired Katsu lands. Takeo needed much help in bringing order to the chaos of it all.
Anagarika offered to help. Zhenzhen wanted to deny her. Takeo persuaded her otherwise. Then the shogun made the demand Takeo knew was coming.
“Marry me,” Lady Zhenzhen demanded the night before Takeo intended to visit Gavin. “None of those idiotic daimyo would dare oppose you if we legitimize your rule.”
“My lady,” Takeo replied, “it’s already heresy enough to promote me to leader of your armies. A marriage would not restore honor to my name; it would only ruin yours.”
