The Dragon's Flower

by Wyn Estelle Owens

  “You’re wrong, little brother.” Isao snapped. “You are more worthy than any of our siblings to be in the family Nishimura. It is an ancient clan, full of honor and nobility, and besides you, Manami and I, none our father’s children deserve to bear that name. Our father was a fool for disowning you.” He turned to glare at his brother, but Shichiro looked straight ahead, the sun turning his dark hair orange as flame.

  “I have no father, Isao.” Shichiro said. “And despite what you say, I deserve far more than the mercies given to me by the Shogun of Masaki.”

  Isao snarled and bit back a curse. He moodily glared at the ocean beyond the city, and thought It’s my fault. I should have done something to prevent this poison from entering him. What kind of brother does it make me that I didn’t even notice? Once again my actions come too late.

  “Don’t blame yourself, honored elder brother,” Shichiro said softly. “What happened, happened.”

  Isao sighed and ran a palm down his face, before grinning weakly. “You say that, little brother, but why don’t you listen to yourself? But fine. I won’t.” Mostly, anyway.

  Shichiro smiled faintly. “Good. I’m glad.”

  The wind whistled over the hill, bringing with it the smell of the sea. Isao took a deep breath. “I love this smell, the smell of the sea. Whenever I smell it, it makes me think of Aika. Of home. This is a good country, and I am proud to call it mine.”

  Shichiro smiled, his voice soft. “Each country has its own winds and smells. I am glad that I know them, and I am content to follow them throughout the lands. You don’t need to worry for me.”

  Isao sighed. “Fine, I’m glad you’re content. Better than not being so, I suppose. And I’m happy you find happiness.”

  Shichiro began to bow, but Isao spun around and lightly smacked his head. “OW!” Shichiro yelped, stumbling back and grabbing his head. “What in the dragon’s flame was that for?”

  “What was that for?” Isao seethed self-righteously. “Cranefeathers! Don’t ask me what that was for! Don’t you dare tell me not to worry about you again! It’s my right and privilege after being granted the dubious honor of being your big brother! So don’t ever say something like that again or-or I’ll kick you straight into the sea!”

  Shichiro snorted. Isao waved a fist threateningly. “Don’t scoff at me, baby brother! You may be able to beat me with a sword, but I’ve always been able to wrestle you to the ground, and don’t forget it!”

  His baby brother immediately started laughing, bending forward and wrapping his arms around his belly. “All right, all right, I promise I won’t! I won’t ever do something like that again!”

  Isao glared at him. “Well, good! And don’t ever forget it!” He put forth all his ire into a malevolent glare… which lasted for about a total of three seconds before he started laughing too. By the time the ringing echoes of laughter faded from the hilltop, they were both collapsed on the grass and staring up into the indigo and gold tinted sky. When the silence stretched on, Isao whispered. “You’ll keep your promise?”

  “I swear. As long as my mouth can speak, I’ll never say those words.”

  Isao heaved himself to his feet and bent over his brother, holding out a hand and grinning fiercely. “Good. I’ll hold you to it.”

  Shichiro grinned back and clasped his arm. “I wouldn’t expect any less from my dubiously honored elder brother.”

  Isao hauled him upright and together they stood on the hilltop.

  “Well, I guess this is it for now?” Shichiro asked.

  Isao nodded. “Be sure to visit all of us. And especially visit Manami. It’s lonely, cooped up with all the monks.”

  “I will.” Shichiro said solemnly, before smirking. “It’ll be a nice safe haven from your taste in music.”

  Isao sniffed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Ha, of course you don’t. Here,” Shichiro reached into his sleeve and withdrew a small package. “Give this to Daisuke, with Uncle Ronin’s compliments on his fourth birthday.”

  Isao took it and secured safely in his own sleeve with a smile. “I assure you it shall be done.” They paused briefly, looking at each other, before Isao shook his head and sighed. “Well, I must be going. Aika awaits my return.”

  “Give her my regards,” Shichiro said with a bow, and Isao nodded, before his face lit up.

  “Oh, and speaking of Aika--she’s pregnant again. Be sure to stop by once the baby’s come.” Isao said, as he slung his katana over his shoulder.

  “Oh, you’re trying to multiply your spawn, are you? Should I be worried?” Shichiro said.

  “Ha, ha. Very funny, little brother.” Isao shot him a dirty look. “In reality it is I and the rest of the seven kingdoms that should be shivering in terror if ever you take a wife and start creating little hellions in your image.”

  For some reason, Shichiro thought of Princess Hanako, but he dismissed that as a result of the lateness of the night. Isao must have rattled his brains a bit with that smack, he thought.

  And with that, Isao turned and strode off down the hill into shadow. Shichiro raised one hand in farewell and watched him go silently, before he too turned away.

  The sun sank down into the sea, and darkness fell in silence.

  *****

  CHAPTER FOUR --- THE PRINCE AND THE PRINCESS

  It was drawing towards evening when Shichiro finally reached the inn. It was situated by the main North-South road, not far from the border between Akiyama and Masaki, and as such it was incredibly popular with royal couriers.

  He took a moment to smooth the fabric of his new gi. He’d been hoarding the money he’d gotten from selling the silks, and since he needed to infiltrate a higher-quality establishment, he’d decided to buy himself some new clothing. Hopefully, it would hide the fact that he’d been living as a penniless vagrant for the past 7-odd years.

  Here goes nothing, he thought, and stepped inside the inn. He proceeded to quietly pay for a room and a drink, and settled himself quietly in a corner to observe and watch.

  He had seen the horses being led away to the stable—they had born the crest of Masaki (the head of a white dog, encircled) and the crest of the Nishimura clan (three maple leaves in a golden circle). They had belonged to the Shogun’s couriers, which meant they were here—and he would find them.

  He didn’t have long to wait.

  They came in, wearing the royal seals on their haori, and Shichiro felt a surge of triumph when the settled near his corner. Sake was bought and passed around, and Shichiro listened quietly, taking a sip from his tea or a bite from his meal now and again.

  At first it was nothing but complaints about weather, difficult superiors and the like, but finally (once the sake had spread enough), one of them broached the subject he had be waiting for.

  “Akiyama, Akiyama, Akiyama!” One of them ranted. “Back and forth to Akiyama. I’m sick of mountain passes.”

  “Calm down, Junko. At least it’s important work that we’re doing.” Another one said, before tilting back his sake jug.

  “Do we really know that, though, Abiko?” The first man, Junko, complained. “Maybe Captain Morifuji is just giving us this low-class missions because he feels like messin’ with us.”

  “Nah, I agree with Abiko. I’m sure this is important.” The third, and last, said.

  “How do you figure, Mizuta?” Junko said.

  “Because…” And here, the man Mizuta leaned forward and stated in what his sake-dulled mind believed was a whisper, “The Shogun’s personal courier has been running back and forth between Akiyama and Konohamiya.”

  “You mean Prince Akihiro?” Abiko asked.

  “The one and only,” Mizuta said smugly. “And what’s more, I’ve heard he’s being received by the Princess Katsumi herself.”

  “That would make sense,” Abiko replied, nodding sagely. “I’ve been hearing rumors of alliances, and that would make sense why we keep being sent to Akiyama’s border posts.”r />
  Junko rubbed his chin, also ‘lowering’ his voice. “You mean there may be a war soon?”

  Abiko shrugged sloppily. “Who knows? There’ve been rumors enough about war since before my grandfather’s days in the couriers, and that was under Shogun Yutaka in his young days.”

  “Well, if there is a war coming, it would fit with some of the rumors I heard.” Junko said.

  Mizuta raised his eyebrows. “What rumors?”

  “Weeeeelll…” Junko drawled, clearly enjoying his position of knowledge, “I overheard Princes Hideaki and Katsuro talking…”

  Shichiro fought the urge to roll his eyes. Of course it was Hideaki and Katsuro Junko had heard—they were notorious for talking about important things rather carelessly, often while somewhat inebriated. If he had still been living in Konohamiya, he would have been irritated, but those days were in the past. He supposed he should send up a grateful prayer as to the princes’ loose lips next time he visited Manami’s temple. He lifted his tea cup to his lips and strained his ears to hear Junko’s next words.

  “And they were saying something about reinstating the emperor.”

  Shichiro choked. He set down his cup and buried his face in his arm in an attempt to stifle his coughs. He’d been gone from Konohamiya for some time, but there was always the danger of recognition.

  Reinstating the Emperor? But why in the realms would they want to do that?

  Abiko and Mizuta obvious agreed with Shichiro, and proceeded to laugh. “Why on earth would we do that, unless we were making one of the Princes emperor?” Abiko asked when they had finally calmed down.

  “Just think, idiots,” Junko said. “If we reinstated the emperor, the Imperial house would be rather indebted to our Shogun, don’t you think?”

  There was a silence as the couriers and Shichiro all mulled over that. After a moment, Abiko and Mizuta smiled, and Shichiro ducked his head to hide the paling in his cheeks.

  If Masaki reinstituted the Emperor as their puppet, the rest of the realms would have no choice but eventually be forced to submit to Masaki’s influence. Shogun Tsuneo would gain the power he so craves.

  “The question is,” Mizuta asked, “Is if whatever’s going on with Akiyama is connected with this supposed emperor business at all.”

  Shichiro blinked thoughtfully. That, he decided, was a very good question. It was about time he paid a visit to Akiyama, he thought.

  “And,” Junko said, “If we manage to gain control of the seven kingdoms, does that mean the price of Miyukimura sake will go down?”

  “I’ll drink to that for sure.” Abiko said, lifting his jug. “To Miyukimura sake!”

  “Miyukimura sake!” the others chorused loudly and followed his example.

  Shichiro rolled his eyes again and flagged down the innkeeper, intending to ask for more tea.

  “Not that this sake isn’t half bad,” Mizuta drawled, looking sadly at his now empty jug. “Hey, where’s that innkeeper? I could use some more!”

  “Uh, I think he’s over there,” Junko said, gesturing over his shoulder before tipping his own jug upside down and watching a clear drop of liquid splash down onto the table.

  Shichiro tensed. The innkeeper was attending him at the moment. Still, he didn’t recognize any of these men, if he was lucky, there’d be no reason at all for them to recognize him.

  “Hey, Tsutomu-san!” Abiko yelled, “We need more sake over here.”

  The innkeeper turned and bowed, gesturing to Shichiro. “Pardon me, sirs, and I will attend you as soon as I finish with this gentleman.”

  Junko pouted. “Don’t see why some nobody should be more important than the Shogun’s couri—hey…” He squinted, “You look familiar… do I know you?”

  Dragon’s tail… I should have known better than to trust to my luck. I don’t have any, remember? Shichiro shrugged. “I do not recall you, however we may have passed on the road before.” Please please let that be enough to satisfy his curiosity…

  “Huh.” Junko dragged himself to his feet and shook Abiko. “Hey, lookit the ronin over there. Don’t he look familiar?”

  Abiko slapped his hand away but peered at Shichiro before shrugged. “Can’t say.”

  Shichiro let out a tiny breath of relief.

  “However, I know I’ve seen that sword before.”

  …oh, dragon’s tail.

  “Huh, his sword?” Junko looked over at the sword Shichiro had propped against the wall. Shichiro could see the confusion rapidly being replaced with comprehension. Why does it ALWAYS have to end this way? “No freakin’ way… hey, Mizuta, tell me and Abiko we ain’t seein’ things.”

  Why, why, whyyyyyyyy…

  Mizuta stood up and stared at the sword. “Hey, that’s the worthless dog’s sword!”

  Shichiro sighed. It’d be nice if they actually use my name from time to time…

  “Hey, scum,” Junko said, roughly, “Is it true? Are you the banished scum of a prince?”

  Shichiro elected to ignore them and took a sip from his newly-replenished tea.

  “HEY!” Junko growled, “I was talkin’ to you, dog!”

  Shichiro sighed and set down his tea, picked up his sword, and turned to Junko and his idiotic drunken companions. “I have no kin or name, and I am certainly no prince, good sirs. I’m merely a ronin. However…” and here he flicked the hilt of his katana free. “Whatever past I had is not your business, and I’d greatly appreciate it if you stopped asking. If you don’t, I may become… displeased.”

  Junko, Abiko, and Mizuta looked at him, the katana, and finally him. As if on some signal, they all paled at the same moment. They seemed to remember the old stories, at least. There was one break today at least, Shichiro thought.

  As one, they all scrambled away and retreated to a distant part of the room. As soon as they were gone, Shichiro sighed and slumped slightly, sheathing his katana with a faint click. With another weary sigh, he turned to the innkeeper—Tsutomu-san, if he remember aright—and bowed deeply. “I am sorry for the scene I created. I understand if you would prefer me to leave right away.”

  There was a moment of silence, and Shichiro cautiously glanced upwards. The man’s face was closed off and silent, but after a moment he slowly shook his head. “That won’t be necessary, ronin-sama.”

  Shichiro nearly fell backward in shock. “Y-you don’t… want me to leave?”

  Tsutomu shrugged. “Why should I? Your coin is good, and it’d be foolish of me to drive away paying customers for nothing of their own doing. Bad for business, that.”

  Shichiro stared, completely bewildered, before hastily bowing again. “Thank you, good sir. Your kindness does me great honor.”

  “Don’t mention it.” The man grunted, but his voice had a tone of compassion.

  After a moment, Shichiro straightened up and ventured cautiously, “If I may ask… why?”

  The innkeeper stared at him, before sighing and said, “It was a hard choice indeed, that your father made you make, and I can’t bring myself to say the path you chose was truly wrong.”

  At that, Shichiro was silent.

  “Besides…” the man sighed again. “The Princess Tomoko stopped by here, once, years and years ago.”

  The ronin’s eyes went wide. “You knew my mother?”

  The innkeeper shook his head. “Just met her once. But she… she was a true lady. Kind an’ sweet as cheery blossoms, and twice as pretty. My wife was sick at the time, and she paid extra so I’d be able to get her a good doctor. It’s about time I managed to repay the favor. Besides, it’s not like you went out seeking trouble.” He paused, then leaned close, pretending to gather up Shichiro’s discarded dishes. “Seems to me, a man that carries himself the way you do… maybe Princess Tomoko didn’t do as poor a job raising her sons as everyone seems to think.”

  With that, the innkeeper bustled away, leaving Shichiro behind him, only his self control keeping him from gaping in shock. He… he said…

  The ronin didn’t
know what to think, and he could hardly bear to consider the innkeeper’s words. They couldn’t be true, after all… but he couldn’t manage to forget them.

  They would haunt his dreams that night.

  *****

  Prince Hamasaki Isao was kneeling at his desk, scowling at all the papers that came along with his elevated state. Yes, yes, it was a great honor to be named joint-heir and the future Shogun of Nagisa (along with being the head of Shogun of Nagisa’s Intelligence corps). Still, he hated paperwork.

  He idly contemplated the difficulties he’d deal with if he just set the entire bundle of papers aflame, before reluctantly deciding it’d be too much trouble in the end. Ah, well. At least he could imagine it.

  At that moment, shoji door of his study slid open and in toddled Isao’s favorite person in the whole world.

  “Papa! Papa!”

  Isao grinned. Paperwork could wait; he had much more important things to do: attending to his son, for instance.

  “Daisuke! What are you doing here?” he said, shuffling back a bit and throwing his arms open wide. Daisuke gave a happy squeal and rushed into them, his little brown ponytail bouncing excitedly. Once the four-year-old was happily ensconced in his lord father’s arms, Isao beamed down at him and tugged his ponytail. “Now, why are you here? I thought at this time of day Mama would have you taking a nap?”

  Daisuke pouted and looked off to the side. “Naps stupid. Imma big boy now! Dun’eed stupid naps!”

  “Ahhh, I see.” Isao said wisely. “I’ll take your big-boyness into consideration. Does Mama agree with you, though?”

  Daisuke’s pout became more pronounced and he squirmed. “Noooo…”

  Isao patted his head sympathetically. “Ah, well. Maybe we’ll be able to convince her soon. In the meantime, I’ll take you back to bed.”

  “But Pa-pa!”

  “No buts.” Isao said firmly, and stood, hoisting Daisuke over his shoulder. “Off we go!”

  “Buts I gotsa tell you summfin!” Daisuke protested.

  “You can tell me on the way, my son!” His father said cheerfully and strode out of the soji, gaining amused looks from his two (visible) bodyguards.