The Dragon's Flower

by Wyn Estelle Owens

  He slipped out of the room, followed silently by the ever-faithful Ichiro, and left the Katana and wakizashi behind on their stand.

  There was a reason Shogun Tsuneo of Masaki did not dare to send assassins after his wayward son, and that reason was not Ichiro.

  *****

  It was dark and quiet in the room--there were no windows to shed light, though even if there were, it would do little good. It was in the deepest, darkest hour of the night, and all the palace was asleep, save those that walked and lived in the shadows.

  Isao had the misfortune to be one of these.

  When he was eight years old, his lordly and exalted father had called Isao before him in the private receiving room (there’s a word for this and i can’t remember it).

  “You are of age now, my son, to be apprenticed out to be taught the trade of the warrior,” he had said, “However, the path before you diverges from that of your brothers’.”

  “The Heavenly Emperor has seen fit to bless me with seven sons. My firstborn Yoichi I have trained to become my successor, as is fitting, and my secondborn Hideaki shall be his advisor and strategist. Katsuro and Satoshi shall be generals, and my second to youngest shall be the head Royal Messenger, loyal and discrete. And my pride and joy, my youngest Shichiro, shall become the bodyguard and champion of his eldest brother.”

  Isao bit his lip to keep from shouting in protest. Little Shichiro--his baby brother!--was only five years old, and already their father was grueling him in the art of Kenjutsu, and he was doing it far more seriously and severely than Isao or any of their brothers had been subjected to.

  And now he learned that Shichiro was destined to be chained to their horrendous elder brother for the rest of his life. But there was nothing he could say in protest, so he kept silent.

  “Now the time is come that you take your own steps upon the path I have chosen for you, my son.” The Shogun said. “You too shall be a general--a general of my silent shadows, who will protect our realm from the dark and the quiet. You are clever, beyond your years, perhaps… and skilled in slipping in and out of shadows and passing by without being noticed.”

  If he was so skilled in not being noticed, Isao thought unhappily, why did his lordly father know of his exploits?

  “Under the careful tutelage of Sakuto, the head of my shinobi forces, you shall become the greatest shinobi of our time… a Prince of Shinobi, perhaps. And because of this, you will not be sent away to be trained, but instead you will remain here, in my palace, with your mother and brother.”

  A swirl of happiness began in Isao’s heart, mixed with a rising swell of dread. When the silence lingered, Isao bowed his forehead nearly to the ground and said quietly, “I thank you, Father-sama.”

  By the time Isao had risen from his bow, his father was accompanied by a man who was dressed in dingy, dim colors. He wore nothing over his face, but his expression was schooled into a blank, forgettable mask.

  “This is Sakuto, my silent right hand.” Shogun Tsuneo said. “Follow him, and do all that he says, and I shall be well pleased.”

  “As you wish, my lord Shogun.” Isao said quietly, and got to his feet, following the silent figure of Sakuto with softly padding feet.

  Just as they reached the door, the Shogun’s voice called out to his fifth son. “Your training must be kept secret from all, but you are permitted to tell your mother, she knows the value of discretion. Remember, the blade in the dark loses its worth one it reflects the light.”

  Isao bowed deeply in acknowledgement, then followed Sakuto out of the room.

  It had been two years since that day, and Isao felt as if half his life was stained by ink, shrouded in inescapable darkness.

  And now here he was, in a dark, windowless room, face-to-face with a destiny he wished to flee from with all his might.

  “Sakuto-sensei, I don’t--”

  Sakuto cut in, his voice deep and smooth and dark, like black silk. “If you cannot perform as required, tell me, boy. However, if you can’t, I shall have to inform your father of the uselessness of his son.”

  Isao shut his eyes and shuddered. It would not be pleasant if his father was told thus.

  “And…” the prince felt a brush of air against his ear. “I would be very angry if my prize pupil failed his testing. And if I get angry, who knows who will bear the brunt of my anger?”

  Isao’s breath caught in his chest, and his eyes darted over to the side, where a small boy knelt, staring straight ahead with a blank gaze. He was a tiny little thing, at least two years younger than Isao’s baby brother. He couldn’t be more than five years old.

  He resisted the urge to grind his teeth together angrily, or, preferably, kick Sakuto-sensei in the shin. Some of the best dreams Isao had ever had involved him kicking Sakuto-sensei in various painful places.

  When he spoke, his voice was smooth as his master’s, cool and emotionless. “I will perform as you wish, Sakuto-sensei, and I am certain you will be pleased with my performance.”

  “Just as I thought.” Sakuto said calmly. “Your soft heart directs your actions more than they should. Still, we’ll train that out of you, in time. Now go, and show me the results of my efforts.”

  Isao sighed and faced forward, reaching into his sleeve and pulling out his sai, stretching his fingers and feeling the cold circle of metal around his thumb and middle finger. His opponent was across the room, bound and watching.

  He was enemy shinobi that had been captured and interrogated, and now there was only one use left for him.

  At a word from Sakuto-sensei, the enemy’s bonds were slashed by one of the shinobi’s silent lackeys, and Isao waited one moment before darting forward.

  The battle was short. The enemy was weak and injured from imprisonment and interrogation, and Isao was young and strong, with two year’s training in the art of shadows and killing under his belt. The conclusion was inevitable.

  In the end, Isao stood over the cooling body of his opponent and silently tucked his sai back into his sleeve.

  “Excellent.” The blank voice of his master spoke from his corner of the room. “You have progressed faster than even I did when I was your age, boy. Your father will be pleased. Only remember to keep it up.”

  Isao turned and bowed slightly in acknowledgement and kept silent, trying not to think of the dead body on the floor, or of his desire to lunge forward and grab at Sakuto’s leg with his ringed hand. It would be futile, in the end, and the little boy would suffer from it.

  “You are dismissed, prince. Go now and relish in your victory.”

  Isao was silent as he walked by, intent on fleeing from there as soon as possible. He wanted to be safe in his own futon, far away from the smell of blood. He wanted to tease his silly baby brother, who was still happy and carefree, yet untainted by the knowledge of how it was to deal death. He wanted to crawl into his mother’s embrace and feel her love, free of all disgust and condemnation.

  He did not look at Sakuto. He did not look at the thin little form of a lonely boy that was barely more than a baby, but already knew how to kill.

  Someday, he thought, I will free that boy, and take him away from all the darkness, and teach him how to smile and laugh and be happy, like my baby brother.

  Someday, I will kill Sakuto-sensei with my own two hands.

  *****

  “You called for me, wife?” Isao announced cheerfully as he entered the room where his wife and her companions waited.

  “Indeed.” Aika said softly. “Akashi Keiji-dono has something he wishes to tell you.”

  Isao raised his eyebrows and looked over to the fox, who curled himself tighter about Hanako’s ankles. “There are intruders in the palace.” The Clever One stated. “And they bear the scent of malice and ill intent.”

  “I see.” The Prince said thoughtfully. Since I have heard no commotion nor received any notice from my guards, it is most likely that these enemies are shinobi. He felt the corner of his mouth quirk up. Too bad for them.
>
  He glanced around the room in thought. This room is pretty defensible, and i don’t want to risk moving them and exposing them. No, we’ll stay here. However… what shall I do about the Shogun?

  “Ichiro, I want you to stay here--the Empress and her heir must be guarded with all our ability. However, that doesn’t mean we should neglected the safety of my lordly father. Select some of your best men and send them to guard him.”

  “Of course, my lord,” Ichiro said quietly, and slipped out of the room. Isao turned back to survey the room. His wife was standing, cradling their infant daughter in her arms, while Hanako held little Kenshin close. Sumiko was holding her own son, and Ayaka held little Misaki.

  Princess Yuhime stood faithful guard over the futon where the older children were sleeping, and Isao smiled at her in approval.

  She was the daughter of his old, best friend (waaaahhhh yasuhito i’m sorry for inventing you for the sole purpose of killing you off), and he had raised her and her little brother after the tragic deaths of their parents (i’m sorry, too, nameless yasuhito’s wife). She saw Deisuke as her own sibling just as much as young Yasuki, and Isao was glad.

  Yasuhito would have been pleased, to know their children were so close.

  Isao brushed away the faint flicker of old pain impatiently. He had to focus now, and dwelling on old griefs had never got him anywhere.

  “Akashi Keiji-dono, what are your thoughts?”

  The Fox looked up at him from where he had twined himself about Hanako’s ankles, clearly unhappy. “Whoever the intruders are, they are not of my people. However, it’s still incredibly likely that they were sent by Princess Katsumi.”

  “At her behest, perhaps,” Isao replied, “But most likely by my father’s orders. His shinobi may not be from your patronage, my lord Fox, but they are skilled indeed in the ways of death.”

  “More skilled than you, prince?” The Fox replied, his gold eyes knowing.

  Isao grinned sharply back at him. “Now, I didn’t say that.”

  “I thought not.” The Fox said, and Hanako looked down at him, confused. Then she glanced up at Isao, and was shocked to find the splintered shadows in his eyes. She wondered what darkness dwelled in his past, and what taught him to hide it so well she’d not noticed until now?

  “I assume you will take charge of the Empress and her children, Akashi Keiji-dono?”

  The Fox grinned back at him. “They are under my protection, after all, mortal prince.”

  “Good.” Isao replied back. “Then Ichiro and I will take care of the other ladies. Do you know how many there are?”

  Akashi Keiji frowned thoughtfully in concentration. “It is… difficult to say. There are many, many people in the palace, and I am not omniscient. However… I believe i can distinguish fifteen malignant presecenes.”

  Isao’s eyebrows rose up. “Fifteen all at once? And all shinobi?”

  “My guess would be so.” Th Fox replied. “They seem to be able to keep from alerting your people to their presence.”

  “Well, Cranesfeathers.” Isao said. Then he turned to smile at Hanako. “You should feel proud, little sister. They must really want you dead or captured to send so many shinobi at once.”

  Hanako was uncertain as to how she was supposed to draw pride from the fact that her adopted mother was throwing shinobi at her, but she’d learned sometimes it was best to just let Prince Isao talk.

  “How close are they, my good fox?” Isao asked the Celestial, his attention diverted once again.

  “They are still reasonably far away, but they are coming swiftly.”

  “Excellent,” Isao responded. “I have time to prepare then. In the meantime, tell the guards that none save yourself are allowed to enter this room.”

  “As you say, my lord.”

  The shinobi slipped away, leaving Isao standing alone in the room. Then, to Hanako’s everlasting astonishment, he proceeded to strip off his outer layers of clothes, leaving him only in his under-kosode and hakama.

  While Hanako blinked at him in astonishment, Isao handed off his excess clothing to his wife. Aika merely set down the sleeping Yuriko and folded the clothes, placing them out of the way.

  Isao then reached into his sleeves and removed long strips of cloth, which he proceeded to use to bind his hakama tightly from ankle to the middle of his shin. He flexed his legs a few times, testing the movement, before smiling. He glanced up then, and caught Hanako’s bewildered stare, and burst out laughing.

  Her face expression immediately shifted from confused to veiled affront, and Isao bit down harshly on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing.

  “Hakama are all well and good on the battlefield and in a duel, but I excel at a different type of fighting than your husband. I don’t particularly wish to trip over the sweeping folds of my own clothing while fighting for my life.”

  She blinked a couple times, but decided that made sense. Her only question was what sort of fighting he did that was so different from Shichiro?

  Akashi Keiji’s smooth silver voice broke through her reverie. “They are here.”

  “Oh, good.” Isao said, his had sliding into the width of his kosode’s sleeve. As his hand darted inside, Hanako thought she caught a glimpse of metal around his fingers, which she thought strange indeed. Isao did not usually wear rings.

  There was a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye, and when she turned she saw Akashi Keiji in his human form, coppery hair and golden eyes gleaming with unnatural light.

  Or perhaps it was natural light, for him at least. After all, he was a Celestial, descended from those who had first dwelt in the Court of Heaven. How more natural can you get?

  His hands darted into his sleeves, and when he withdrew them, gleaming tekko-kaji were affixed to his hands. They were sharp, clawed devices that were a tool of the shinobi, and allowed one to attack and defend with normal hand-to-hand combat. Hanako had even heard that if used right, a tekko-kaji could disarm a man who was wielding a katana.

  Hanako glanced nervously about the room. As far as she could tell, they were going to be attacked by what appeared to be a horde of enemy ninja, and their only defenders were Isao, Ichiro and Akashi Keiji. The last time her mother had sent men after Hanako… Shichiro had been horribly wounded and separated from her. If something like that happened again, if Aika or Isao or the children suffered because of her…!

  “Don’t worry so, mortal child. Everything will be fine,” The silver voice of Akashi Keiji broke into her musings. She looked up to meet his golden eyes, which gleamed with amusement and fondness.

  “I am guardian after all, and a celestial one at that. My very purpose since I first drew breath has been protection. As long as you are under my care I will allow no harm to come to you.”

  Hanako felt her heart calm slightly, but her eyes darted nervously towards Aika, who stood sentinel over the children. The Clever One followed her gaze and tilted his head thoughtfully, long, fire-colored locks sliding over his shoulder.

  “And I wouldn’t worry for the others, either. I will not only defend you, little empress, even if you are my priority. And I am not the only defense.” He tilted his head in the direction of Isao, who stood calmly, examining the blade of his sai.

  “The little prince is renowned for more than merely being the heir of the Shogun of Nagisa.” The Fox said. “And he is not the sort of man who will let those precious to him die, not while he stands ready to prevent it.”

  His sharp, golden eyes slanted over towards the prince, and Hanako followed his gaze, just in time to catch the slightest flinch in Isao’s form. It was instantly concealed with great skill, but Hanako was one to whom the language of face and body was as clear as a cloudless sky. She could see the grief and guilt that was written in every line of his form, but then she saw him straighten and firm his shoulders with resolve.

  She smiled and felt her heart settle with peace.

  It was a good thing too, for it was then that the door
slid open.

  Hanako tensed and stepped slightly behind the tall silhouette of her guardian, but relaxed when she saw it was merely a servant, kneeling politely at the entrance.

  “My lord prince, I have come bearing a message for you.” Hanako eyed him, and felt her shoulders tense. The servant’s head was bowed subserviently, but the lines of his body were as tense as the string of a drawn bow, ready for action.

  “Ah, I thank you, for your diligence.” Isao said, his hands tucked inside the sleeves of his kosode.

  The servant’s head slipped to one side in slight confusion. “My lord prince?”

  “After all,” Isao said, and smiled wide and sharp. For a moment Hanako could swear she saw the bared fangs of a fox in his smile. “It takes an unusual amount of diligence to faithfully deliver a message, when the prince has forbidden any to approach him.”

  There was one terrible second, like the breath between a lightning strike and a boom of thunder, and then the stillness exploded into action.

  The servant reached into his sleeve and lunged at Isao in one smooth motion. Hanako’s eyes widened in alarm, but Isao darted to one side and stabbed with his sai. The assailant fell to the floor and was still, and Hanako flinched and clutched Kenshin closer.

  “Everyone, be ready.” Isao said, calmly wiping the blade of his sai of the fallen servant’s yukata. “It seems as if they are here.”

  Hanako stared at the fallen form, and felt anger welling up in her--here was a man that could have lived long and happily, had not Katsumi and Shogun Tsuneo succumbed to their greed and ambition.

  Instead, he lay dead on the floor, far from whatever home and family he had.

  “Akashi-dono,” Isao said, eying the corpse thoughtfully, “How many more are there coming? They don’t appear to be very threatening. We might have this business done in half-an-hour.”

  Akashi Keiji paused for a moment, tilting his head to one side. After a second, he frowned and sniffed the air. “There are thirteen left--apparently your man Ichirou took out one of them. However, there appear to only be nine heading this way--the other four are going in a different direction.”