[Ketsurui Samurai] Bamboo Shoots, Rose Thorns

The details were unclear. That was how it was supposed to be, but it didn't make it any easier.

Kôsuka let out a long, slow breath, eyelids floating over her eyes just so.

The sound of water falling from the sky penetrated straight into the Samurai's mind. It soothed her. The sound echoed off the wide, sloping iron roof of the single-story, wall-less structure, filling the space below the oak rafters before being sucked into the thick, dry tatami mats of the floor. There were no birds around the tall hill, and there were no other Samurai, who could be more noisy than the birds at times.

What light there was had to reach from several dozen meters away, and it was hampered by rain clouds. Combined with the absence of artificial light, it made the space more like a cave, especially when one was in the center as she was. The wind sometimes swept through, depending on the weather, but today it was still, if cold. Occasionally a little gust would weave through the rafters on one side, then disperse on the opposite side, continuing on its journey without disturbing whoever was beneath the roof.

The four pillars holding the roof up were smooth, dark-stained oak, almost a meter thick. One at each corner. Painted on them in flawless white script were compass directions. Above Kôsuka's head, another compass, this one painted over the eight rafter beams that met in the center of the roof, about three meters above her when she stood. The beams were painted white in a way that they formed a circle about two meters wide, with black characters on each beam's "tip" to signify the directions. Except west, which was red.

Kôsuka brought air into her body and held it, letting the moist, clean cold seep into her insides. Artificial as they were, she liked having something so pure in her lungs. It calmed her mind when she had trouble concentrating.

She was in the place for it — simply called "Wide House," it was the highest structure inside Samurai House, the only one which peaked above the trees — something even the Iron Pagoda could not claim to do. Placed at the far southwest corner of the campus, it was a place to narrow one's mind, then free it.

The direction one faced while inside Wide House mattered, according to the Samurai. To seek guidance on a specific matter not solely having to do with one's self, one faced west, the direction travelers traditionally associated with Kyoto. For help with personal problems, north — where the ice lands would cool emotions and provide emptiness to contemplate an answer. To explore one's self, a Samurai would face east, where the harsh, varied terrain could test the spiritual self amist the wild.

Kôsuka faced south, toward Luna Bianca and Midori no Umi. It was the direction faced when one needed to explore beyond themselves. It could be other people or places or events — anything not solely grounded in the self.

Something happened on the Miharu, Kôsuka thought. Something important enough that I could not know about it. Something Irim did not know about.

Mopping up the agents Kôsuka killed was the easy part. What came after involved accusations of betrayal and cover-up, both mired in bitter anger. No one on either side expected it to be productive, but it openly saved face for both organizations. Quiet, reasoned negotiations came later. Those produced a predictable compromise — "We let go together, at the count of three." The matter disappeared.

Not every Samurai was happy about it, but all recognized it was the most prudent outcome. That included Kôsuka, even if she trusted Irim less than she initially had. She knew Irim would not let the matter go, but with her own memory of it gone, she was no longer a factor.

Her thoughts, her concentration, were on her daughter. She feared for her. Whatever Kôsuka had done, it had involved Kotori, and she had not heard from her in more than a year.

It was a clandestine assignment; that much she surmised. An assignment Irim must not know enough about. But could Kotori not at all contact her? Why was there nothing about the assignment anywhere? Not even in places she normally could rely on?

She pushed out the hot air from her body and drew in more cold. She bent her head a little.

Kôsuka did not hear the footsteps until they touched the tatami mat an arm's length away.

"Is Kei-san with you, sensei?" the Samurai asked, her eyelids rising to greet the grey-white light at the southern end of the temple. It was like looking at the end of a tunnel.

"At the base of the hill, jou-san," replied Chizuru Saya. "She did not want to disturb you, but I have no such inhibition."

The Samurai unfolded her legs, then stood up. She sucked down another mass of cold air. She turned and bowed, then rose.

Before her was one of the oldest Samurai actively serving in the clan. She stood 1.47 meters tall, with shiny blue hair pulled into a tight, small bun behind her head. Her brown eyes gleamed, even in the dim. Her button nose crinkled each time she smiled, which was often, with her small lips parting to reveal a mischievous grin. She had smile lines along her face, even when she didn't smile.

Her two swords were the opposite of Kôsuka's — instead of simple wrappings around the hilt, the Samurai's were golden fabric, with ivory hilts and twinkling jasper embedded in the tsuba. Their ornate nature made them stand out wherever she went.

They also obscured the fact the blades were transparent zesuaium, gifted to her from Yui-sama herself, many years ago.

She wore her two swords differently than Kôsuka — one on either side of her body in the tachi style. She was the only Samurai to do so. It was the set-up that led her to develop the first two-sword form of Sora-Mai, which Kôsuka later adopted. Even the Samurai's obi was unusual, being gold and patternless. Even Kosuka's had a pattern on it ... even if it was more of a random tie-dye look.

What truly separated Chizuru Saya from others, however, was her name. The Chizuru clan was no more, absorbed into the Kitsurugi long ago, but Saya kept her surname.

"Have you solved your daughter's mystery?" the Samurai asked.

Kôsuka shook her head. "I recall talking to Sylvester-san, but after that, the restoration ends. He told me Kotori's original 22M body survived, and that Kotori's current 29S body is abnormal. How, though, I don't know."

"The answer will come with time," Saya said. "I believe tea will help. Black, with cream and sugar."

Kôsuka tried not to wince. Saya's black tea was brewed to wake the dead. The cream and sugar just took the edge off of it. Their NH-27 bodies did not respond to the caffeine, but the taste alone made Kôsuka stand at attention.

"Oh, stop that," Saya said, already walking away. Kôsuka hung just behind. "My life is long because my tea is black. That grassy stuff the rest of Yamatai drinks is no better than Neko blood. The Nepleslians, for all their flaws, got tea right."

Kôsuka kept silent as she floated with Saya over the edge of the temple and down the 10 or so meters of solid, vertical granite foundation and to the start of the hill. Kei stood out like a beacon, platinum blond hair atop like the tip of the crest, with her royal blue hakama the base. She bowed as much as a 1.72-meter tall Neko could without bumping her head against someone.

"Sensei," she said to Kôsuka. "Sensei-dono," she said to Saya.

"Kei-san," Saya replied, touching down with a toothy smile. "Show your teacher what you earned today."

"What?" Kôsuka said.

Kei's cheeks were red as she turned just so to the side. Her obi had been replaced. Instead of the royal blue it was supposed to be, it was a flat, patternless red.

"You passed?!" Kôsuka was caught off-guard. She quickly queried the House's KAMI and confirmed it. Just to be sure.

"I administered her test, of course," Saya proudly said. "Her score came close to yours, jou-san! I believe you have nurtured another challenger to your rule!"

Kôsuka glanced sideways at Saya, whose teeth were showing. She pointedly ignored the old Samurai and formally bowed to Kei. "Welcome to Sora-Mai, Kei-san."

Kei did not rise from her bow. "Thank you, Sensei," she quietly said.

"Rise," Kôsuka said. "I will seek your daisho today, and call Rosenthal's — Kei, control yourself!"

The Neko sniffled, revealing her tearing face. "B-but, Sensei! It is — it is very meaningful to me!"

"To me as well, Kei," Kôsuka said as calmly as she could, trying to ignore how irritated she was becoming with Saya, whose smile could not be contained. "I knew you would succeed, but to approach the top score is more than I imagined you could do. You make me very proud, Kei."

At that, Kei's face started to crumble, and she bit her bottom lip in vain before the tears came down and she bowed deeply again. "T-THANK YOU, SENSEI!" she unintentionally shouted back.

Saya was snickering to herself.

"Sensei, please," Kôsuka asked.

"It is unavoidable," Saya said through her grin. "Especially considering your student is withholding the truth."

Kôsuka looked at Saya, not understanding what she meant. She looked at her pupil. "Kei?"

The journeywoman kept her bow, not looking up. She was sniffling, but stiff. Like a child caught in a lie.

"Kei-san," Kôsuka said, becoming more formal. "Rise. Face your mistake with integrity. We can — "

"Kôsuka-sensei, always so serious!" Saya approached Kei and placed a frail-looking hand on her shoulder. "Come, Kei-san. Join your sensei and I for some tea, and we will review your performance."

Kei sniffed very loudly, then rose. She steeled herself. "Hai, Sensei-dono."

Saya's apartment was on the top floor of Apartment House, simply named for the long row of seven narrow, three-story structures constructed of shaped, blackish concrete and connected by sky bridges. It was the fourth building, called Apartments Yonban.

Saya's two-room domicile was just big enough for her. The main room, with its attached kitchen and centrally located table, was about 100 square meters. The bedroom beyond the sliding, unvarnished wooden door, was half that size. The walls were a warm, unoffensive honey color, with window trim of chocolate.

The colors were not a coincidence. Saya's sweet tooth was inexcusable under any circumstance outside of her apartment, considering her station, so the apartment became a sugary haven for the Nekovalkyrja. Guests frequently were treated to candies no other Samurai bothered with (except former Penny Eaters, out of habit, and only to turn the iron in chocolate into a pellet).

A dish of the candies sat at the center of the table, the three Neko sitting on the off-white tatami mats around the short, wooden square draped with a blue cloth. The candies were butterscotch, the kind that melted in one's mouth the more they sucked. Kei only needed one look from Kôsuka to keep her hands in her lap, but Saya insisted, and the sensei relented. Kei popped one in her mouth and followed Saya's lead, suckling on it.

Her eyes lit up. She put the candy in her cheek before talking. "These are ... so good!" she said.

Saya's eyes twinkled. "Aren't they? If ever you desire one, sneak by my apartment. I am sure even a Stealth Sentinel can be fooled now and then, wouldn't you say, jou-san?"

Kôsuka bit the inside of her cheek. "No one is perfect, Sensei," she said through grit teeth.

Saya silently agreed before proceeding to bring up a high-quality volumetric panel. The panel showed the Proving House, where trainees and journeywomen tested, while Samurai practiced. It was an enormous box of a building, its walls, ceiling and floor smooth, polished oak. There were two entrances on either end of the long rectangle — one positioned low for those using the room, one near the ceiling that spectators floated up to reach. The seating inside was like a sports stadium, but stopped after five rows. They ran both long sides of the room, each some 250 meters.

Volumetric panels would divide the room depending on the needs. What Kôsuka, Kei and Saya saw from above was a 50-by-50-meter room, with Kei on one side. The view was from a distance, but Kei had her head down.

"I do enjoy this part," Saya said, the lights in her apartment dimming to nothing, and the folding shutters on the windows closing up.

The volumetric panel became three, one for each viewer. They adopted Kei's perspective inside the room, which involved staring at the floor. Saya's voice greeted them.

* * *

"Each year, Samurai seek to hone their prowess by adopting new budô. Some are trainees beginning their service. Some are veteran Samurai taking new assignments, or feel unsatisfied with their skill set."

"But the ones who bring surprises to budô are journeywomen, who seek to define themselves and let themselves be defined. They are unpredictable, but trained. They see what trainees cannot, and what Samurai will not. But first, these journeywomen must pass the tests."

The view switched to the other end of the room. Kei was dead still before them, 50 meters away.

"JOURNEYWOMAN, KEI!"

Kei's head shifted up, looking at the viewer. The perspective zoomed on half of her face and stayed there. "HAI!"

"You stand before Sora-Mai as a challenger! No less than a Ketsurui princess has stood here, seeking the way to the sky!"

"HAI!"

"You have been instructed by Tiger Mother, who in her traditional ways, wields a katana and wakizashi. Steel Tempest, the most untrained pupil to ever have earned her daisho, used the same. Others choose two katana; others, two wakizashi."

"WAKATTA!" Kei's facial muscles were taunt, as if she would have to headbutt someone during the test. Kôsuka lowered her head a bit, looking up.

"To find the way, you need not follow their path. But it is treacherous to not do so. You accept the risks with your chosen weapons?"

"HAI! SENSEI-DONO!"

Kôsuka despised the theatrics that came with the pretest ceremony for Sora-Mai. They were Saya's fault, as the Samurai had a defined sense for the dramatic. Where Kôsuka and Kotori found them pointless, she could not ignore how useful they were for a hesitant student such as Kei. She took control of her panel and scanned the crowd — about 15 Neko, all but two of them trainees who either were considering Sora-Mai or had committed to it. The other two were Samurai, teachers of "rival" schools of combat.

Then there was the invisible one, at the back corner, near the volumetric "door." Yuri was leaning against the wall, watching.

Kôsuka returned her perspective to the testing ground, taking a wide view to ensure she could see everything. Saya was about done.

"If you are ready, then we shall begin. You face two categories of opponents. The first tests your control. The second tests your resolve. You must pass both to find the way."

This time, Kei only nodded. Kôsuka, who also had administered the tests, remembered she comfortably had passed both tests with her katana/wakizashi combination.

When she narrowed her perspective on Kei, she did not see that pairing. As Kei revealed her weapons and took her fighting stance, Kôsuka tried to maintain her composure, as the actual Kei was watching her for her reaction. Kôsuka now understood why the journeywoman worried about her teacher's reaction.

In what would have been her katana hand, Kei held a suburito. Instead of wood, however, it appeared to be a heavy metal, probably heavy iron, and was wrapped with thick leather around the hilt. In her off hand, a jutte. ... Or ... she zoomed on the weapon.

"Hachiwara?" Kôsuka said incredulously. The curved truncheon was unfamiliar in the hands of a Samurai. It was unpainted, unusual for that type of weapon, and was wrapped at the hilt with cotton rope.

"Inspired, isn't it?" Saya said, leaning forward over the table.

"She has no piercing capacity," Kôsuka said, acutely aware of Kei's looking down at her lap. "How ... ?"

"Watch," Saya replied, eyes stuck on her panel.

Six volumetric opponents appeared. They were black-haired Neko, armed with various weapons — including one with a Type 27 NSP. Around each of their arms, thighs, chest and back, a single row of thick glass vials filled with white paint stood out against the black gi they wore. Kei's test was to dispatch the opponents without allowing her weapons to break the vials.

The test's purpose was to learn enough control to use the enemy's attacks against them. If an opponent's deflected or redirected attacks broke vials, no penalty was administered. Kôsuka always taught her students to focus less on deflection and more on redirection.

Kei's weapons were ideal for redirection, Kôsuka thought. However, in practice, she was at best a mediocre fighter with swords. She had shown some talent with a staff, but Samurai could not carry a staff wherever they went, and the inherent weakness of a collapsing staff could be fatal for the Samurai or her charge.

A Neko raised her katana. Kei stood firm, posture and stance relaxed but ready, breathing even. Her hachiwara was resting on her left shoulder, while her suburito was angled outward, ready for an attack.

The katana-wielding Neko charged. She left the ground to do it, speed rapidly rising as the sword was raised first for a slash, then a thrust, as if she were trying to ram through Kei. It was a stupid attack, which explained why the Neko sprung upward instead, out of attack range. It let another Neko's whirling, roped kama closing on Kei's head.

When Kôsuka had faced a similar attack, she had ducked it and rolled out of the way of the Neko coming at her from above. It committed the katana Neko to her attack just long enough to slash open her exposed side before repositioning herself.

Kei batted the kama away with a swirling strike as her feet left the ground. As the katana came down where she had been, Kei was completing a full aerial spin, suburito coming around —

Kôsuka looked away, but her ears told her what her eyes couldn't. Kei had smashed the katana Neko's head in from the back. Probably at the top of the spinal cord.

The kama Neko brought her weapon back to her as the Neko with the bow let an arrow fly, aimed for Kei's center. Another Neko, this one with a naginata, closed on foot. Kei dodged the arrow by pushing her body away from it, feet planting on the ground just in time to stop the diagonal slashing strike of the naginata with her suburito.

It looked like it hurt. Kei had kept the blade from cutting her, but she flipped her weapon in her fist, making the metal bar clang into her arm. The blade barely more than a centimeter from her skin, and surely the journeywoman would bruise later, but she showed no pain.

Kei was exposed to the archer, who was about to draw her bow. The kama Neko had her arm back to throw her weapon. The naginata blade was at head-height. Kei's feet barely left the floor as she spun the direction the naginata had slashed, the arrow slicing by. The naginata Neko spun, too, bringing her weapon around in an arc to try again to cut Kei down.

The kama was being spun along a vertical axis, probably for a head strike. Kei's body stayed just out of range of the naginata blade, but she timed her own swinging strike to send that blade into the floor. Before the blade edge was raised from the wood, Kei took one firm step inward and kicked at the exposed shaft. The Neko was reduced to having a broken stick. The kama came down, but Kei already was ready for it.

Where Kôsuka might have went in closer and slayed the disarmed Neko, Kei had another plan. The sensei watched as her pupil's hachiwara came up and met the kama just beneath where the blade met the shaft. Kei's arm gave some to cushion the stop, then brought her suburito down on the rope. Tensing both arms, she pushed as hard on the rope as she could, getting her hands as far from each other as she could.

The Neko, having wrapped the unneeded rope around her arm, was jerked onto the ground in a graceless faceplant. The Neko with the makeshift staff took advantage of Kei's position and brought her stick down on the Neko's back in a powerful blow.

Kei didn't flinch. She took to the air as she spun away from the kama and her attackers. She landed, then bounced off the floor before the archer got a bead on her and brought her suburito down on the back of the kama Neko's head.

Kôsuka winced again.

The archer got her aim and let go. Kei's hachiwara glanced the arrow away with a precise block, while Kei was crouched. The naginata Neko collected the bladed part of her weapon from the floor as Kei went upward again, just in time to receive NSP fire.

Blocking the shots wasn't possible, but Kei sped herself up mid-air to keep the shooter's aim off. She came down just a few meters from the NSP user, who jumped high and away, firing. Kei rolled to the side, clumsily slipping from the dodge to avoid another arrow. The naginata Neko came down on her head with her blade in a wild, over-the-head slash.

Kei thrust her hachiwara up and caught the blade in its prong while she was on her back. She brought the blade toward the ground while she lifted her back up with anti-gravity. Slipping around the Neko, who fell to the ground, Kei was airborne again, just long enough to avoid the archer.

The NSP user brought her gun to bear, but Kei shunted herself hard into the ground, just behind the naginata Neko, who had recovered from her fall. The archer could see Kei's profile, but it was too late to save her comrade. With blinding speed, Kei's hachiwara collided with the naginata Neko's temple in a devastating strike that sent her crashing to the floor before the archer.

Kôsuka cocked her head at the screen. "That was not unassisted."

"Shhhh! You spoil the finish." Saya was engrossed. Kei was cowering.

The archer did not take her eyes off her target. She loosed another arrow that Kei ducked, then tried to draw another one before Kei seemed to slither over the ground to her feet. The archer tried to twist, but Kei tripped her to the ground with the suburito before she got her bow on target. Kei was hovering above the ground by just a few centimeters, but it was enough clearance to let her completely spin. It built all the momentum Kei needed to cave the archer's face in with her hachiwara.

There were two opponents left. The NSP user was about to take aim. The second opponent wore tekko.

Kei hurled her suburito as straight as a javelin. It pegged into the shooter's head and stayed there.

The Neko with the tekko charged, programmed to sacrifice herself for the cause. She took to the air and landed close to Kei, who backed up. That left enough space for the Neko to land a thudding punch into Kei's rib cage on the right side. Kei didn't slow, deflecting the next one with her forearm, and the next three after that. On the last one, she caught the Neko's wrist and squeezed, interrupting the flow of attack. Kei swiped at her temple with her hachiwara.

She let go before the Neko hit the ground. She breathed.

"1 minute, 38 seconds," Saya the announcer said. "Enough for ninth all-time. Points deducted for one substandard dodging execution, but 80 percent of possible bonus points added based on killing through only two target areas, both on the head."

Kei retrieved her weapon while the KAMI deconstructed the Neko and prepared the next challenge.