The Honor of Takanosuke
An original fiction by Travis J. DeSantis
Takanosuke Mamoru was a man of great esteem. The only son in the seemingly final generation of a minor samurai family, Mamoru wanted very much to raise the name of his clan once again. To these ends, he studied long in the ways of nobles and excelled at all the skills required of a samurai, especially the art of swordsmanship. Mamoru's prowess for war was invaluable to his lord on the field of battle, but even more admirable was his elegant demeanor and even-handed leadership. Growing ever popular in the courts, he had become among the most trusted of Daimyo Tsubasa Eiji's vassals, even at an early age.
Mamoru was not an impressive individual, at first glance. He stood at a moderate stature with wide shoulders and the calloused hands of a craftsman. His face did not hold the soft beauty that was sought after at the time, but was long and chiseled, appearing to be made of stone. This fit his personality well, for Mamoru was a stoic man of strong conviction. To him, nothing was more important than maintaining the honor of his clan.
Takanosuke was soon married to the lady Muramoto Asahi, the only daughter of Tsubasa's closest friend, for the daimyo himself had no offspring. Asahi was beautiful girl of thirteen at the time of their marriage and though she was relieved to escape the attention of a particularly irritating suitor, it was apparent that there was no love in the partnership. Mamoru was concerned only with his duty and Asahi's reservations grew in his presence. However a mutual respect between the two ensured the marriage's prosperity, for when she was able, Asahi in turn bore three fine children. The eldest, a boy named Shirou, would follows his father's footsteps and become a decorated soldier. The second son, born five years later, was called Eiji, in honor of the daimyo. He was kind-hearted like his mother and later entered the priesthood. Finally, the youngest was a sweet little girl named Yumei, who had yet to mature past infancy. Together they appeared reasonably happy, but the patriarch had begun to feel a dark cloud forming above him.
As the years passed on, Mamoru found himself increasingly discontent with court-life. It dulled him, wearing away at his persona and eroding his skills. He now found any excuse to depart for military engagements, from putting down distant insurrections to even tracking lowly tax evaders. Mamoru had found that the only way for him to feel alive was to do battle, with blood pounding in his ears and flowing at his feet. It was as if the clash of blades and the whistle of arrows was a sudden great tide on the sea, the crashing waves bringing rejuvenation to a stagnant cape. The now forty-seven Takanosuke found no respite from his otherwise dreary life in the fine arts, nor in religion, as suggested by Eiji. The calm and silence of meditation only seemed to aggravate Mamoru's feelings of malaise.
And now he sat in quiet contemplation at the edge of a pristine spring in the mountains of Fukui, feeling very distant from home. He was on a mission with a small contingent of cavalry to suppress a rogue band of guerillas in the mountains. The enemy had been cornered in their own encampment without a way to escape. Though the surrounding mountains ensured Takanosuke's military victory, he couldn't help feeling it was an analogy of his own existence.
"Rock walls surround me," he mused, "filled with the death in my past; I am trapped by fate."
The man sighed heavily. His poetry was as flimsy as his existence. For all his merits, Mamoru could not even conquer a simple thing such as haiku. He gazed out at the bounty of nature before him, but it was beyond his appreciation. The trickling water and call of unseen birds seemed to be mocking him.
"Enough!" he roared, rising from the ground. He drew his katana, the blade singing with a note that eased the pain, but only slightly.
"Father?"
Takanosuke turned, suddenly aware of his own outburst. Shirou had accompanied the party upon request. Now the young man stood tall and proud as a samurai, but his eyes were red and wet.
"Quell those tears. What could you have to cry about?" Mamoru said, in a tone a bit harsher than he perhaps intended.
"A..a messenger came, with word from home. Mother, she...she was found..dead," Shirou's head dropped, trying to hide the tears he could no longer hold back. "Just this morning, apparently by her..her own hand."
At first, Mamoru was still. He could feel nothing, neither grief nor rage. Slowly, slowly, something built up in him. "I won't believe it," he declared at last.
"Father..."
"No! Asahi was a strong woman. No mere emotion could drive her to suicide." Perhaps it was this indescribable feeling within him, but Mamoru felt his words flying out on their own. "Foul play must be involved."
"A deception?" Shirou sounded incredulous at first. But quickly, the combination of sorrow and doubt ate at him. "Then I must go home. I'm sorry, father, but I must find out for myself."
The elder Takanosuke walked forward, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. Suddenly, a movement in the bamboo. Mamoru threw his son to the ground and swung his sword. The sound of metal on metal and a shuriken was deflected into the ground.
"The enemy!?" Shirou exclaimed. He quickly stood and drew his own sword, in an instant prepared to use everything his father had taught him.
"Not bandits," Mamoru correct. "Assassins." Having been discovered, trying to hide from a Takanosuke had proved futile. Six men dressed in black armor with covered faces pushed through the bamboo into the clearing. They surrounded the two samurai, their various weapons held ready for combat. "Someone doesn't want us to return."
Beside him, Shirou held the grip of his katana with barely suppressed rage. "You guys...you picked the wrong time to attack me!!!"
The two Takanosuke's exploded with motion. Steel whirled and blood flew. The calm of the forest was broken by death. One by one, the assassin's dropped. Mamoru's blade claimed another life and the last body fell. He faced his son. "My men can hold the bandits here. We'll go together."
Mamoru left word with his lieutenant and they rode like the wind. Night came and steam rose off the muscles of their horses in the cold air. Man and beast panted, but for different reasons. The moon hung low in the sky, reflected off the still waters of Lake Biwa and had yet to set by the time Otsu came into view. The gate guards were caught unaware, but this was no time to reprimand them. They rode to the Takanosuke Manor in the west sector, hooves clattering on the city's cobbled roads.
Shirou's horse would have collapsed had he not dismounted when he did. And it was just as well, for his father was already storming through the courtyard. Their own home felt foreign and both men could feel the gaze of the servants upon them, guilty and silent. No one spoke, no one moved. Mamoru and Shirou were the only ones disturbing the uneasy silence with their footsteps. The gloom that hung over the house of Takanosuke was almost palpable.
The doors to the master bedchamber flew open, revealing Eiji kneeling by a prone form, covered with a blanket. Eiji approached his father, the young man's priestly robes hanging off his slight frame. He winced at the blood still flecked on Mamoru's armor, but did not mention it. Instead, he held out an ornamental knife that had been among Asahi's prized heirlooms. "This was in her hand, Father. I performed the rites to ease her soul, but we postponed the burial until your return."
"Do you have any rites to ease my soul, brother?" Shirou muttered. In his haste, he had forgotten to remove his sandals at the door.
"Please do not speak so accusingly," Eiji responded morosely. "My faith is all but broken. My prayers for mother's safety and happiness have not been heard by Buddha. And poor Yumei; she is old enough to know this pain as well. How do you think she feels?"
"Silence, both of you!" Mamoru said at last. "Bring Misaki here."
Takeda Misaki was a plump woman who was Asahi's personal handmaiden. She had been a servant of the young Muramoto and continued to do so after her lady's marriage. Her round face was streaked where the tears flowed and her eyes held the same haunted look as the others. "My lord," she said in a weak voice.
"Tell me what you know," Mamoru demanded.
"I found her first, in front of the drawing table"
"Tell me what you know!" the man shouted. He faced the short woman and gripped her by the shoulders. "I want the truth! What happened here? What did you see?"
Misaki stammered in nervousness. "S-s-sir, I do not"
"Do not or can not? Will my own house hold secrets from me?" The darkness behind Takanosuke's eyes was enough to drive anyone mad.
The handmaiden broke down, collapsing under the weight of her guilt. "I saw it, sir! Two night before, the lord Hajirome came to see Lady Asahi. We could not hold him back, my lord!" Once again, tears struck the hardwood floor. Mamoru felt as if he was to be swept away in the sorrow of others while feeling none himself. "We heard sounds, frightening sounds that night. Hajirome at first seemed driven and unstoppable, but departed the opposite. I myself saw the sweat that ran down his face, like he had committed a sin right beneath the eye of Buddha. We were sworn to silence. Hajirome sent soldiers each day to ensure it."
"Hajirome Satsuda?" Shirou asked. Hajirome had always been a rival of the Takanosuke's. Though a senior member of Daimyo Tsubasa's court, he had long been pushed aside in light of Mamoru's achievements. In fact, it was he that was courting Asahi before she had been wed to Mamoru. Hajirome was an old man now, weak and cowardly. In the absence of the Takanosuke lords, his lust for Asahi had seized his feeble mind. "I'll kill him!" the eldest son swore.
"You mustn't!" Eiji cried. "To pursue vengeance will only damn you!"
"You say your grief is equal to mine. Cannot even a man of God turn a blind eye where his mother is concerned?"
"You will stay here, Shirou," their father said. He was now kneeling beside his wife, one hand lightly caressing the contours of her face through the fabric. He could finally describe the churning in his heart. The thirst for revenge was now his only desire. A man that found solace in combat would, fittingly, conclude his life with one last murder. "I will go alone."
"Father!" his two sons said at once.
"Support your bother, Eiji. He is young and will need your kind heart to guide him. Shirou, be strong. It's all in your hands now." He stood and handed Asahi's knife to his eldest son. "Pass this on to Yumei, and give her my love."
"You can't be serious!" Eiji protested. "I won't let my father go to his death!"
"Be quiet, Eiji." Shirou said. He held his brother back while Mamoru departed the room, never to return. "It's a matter of honor. Mother sacrificed herself to save face, but Hajirome still shames our family with his sin."
"What could all this killing possibly accomplish!?" Eiji cried, distraught beyond words.
"I don't like it anymore than you, brother. But as a fellow samurai, I can see his reasoning. He must free us from this shame by eliminating the only two people left who contributed to its inception."
The priest fell to his knees, wringing his hands uselessly. The rosary he held fell and hit the floor with a hollow sound. "Honor! Vengeance! Life is more precious than anything! Why, brother? Why?"
Shirou had no answer.
~~~~~
By the time the sun rose, Mamoru's feet had carried him all the way to Hajirome Satsuda's manor. It was a derelict place, as old and worn as its master. The lone guard was unusually alert.
"I'm sorry, Sir Takanosuke," he said. "My lord will not be conducting audiences today."
"How is your father, Usui?" Mamoru asked. The guard's father, a peasant, was a kind old man who had the samurai's respect. "Still taken with fever?"
"He is," Usui sighed. "The doctors think he may not last long. We've already asked for a priest."
"Then go to him. Only two men should die today, not three."
Usui blanched. He was suddenly aware of Takanosuke's skill with a sword and his own spear felt very heavy. The guard bowed quickly and began his journey home. After that, Mamoru passed through the gates uncontested.
The manor of Hajirome appeared even more dilapidated from the inside. Dust and cobwebs were as common place as the expensive tapestries the master of the house coveted so much. Mamoru could find not one of the house servants. Apparently, those that did not leave in shame of their master's sin were hiding to avoid Takanosuke's wrath. Finally, Mamoru came upon Satsuda's personal haven. While his garden was long the envy of the court, it too was withered beyond repair. Bamboo was rotten with pests and even the most beautiful bloom was hidden among dry, dead leaves. Heading for the shrine in the back, Mamoru crossed a wooden bridge that creaked under his weight. He noticed that no fish or frog could have survived in the stagnant waters of the pond.
In the depths of the garden it was dark, for even the dying bamboo reached higher than any man. The only light was orange and flickering, originating from some candles around the shrine. Mamoru could see Lord Hajirome's silhouetted back, rocking back and forth with a murmur of prayers. He thought it humorous that such a vain man comcerned with only material satisfaction would now be seeking forgiveness from a diety he had ignored all his life.
Takanosuke drew his katana again, the familiar note shaking Satsuda from his trance. Like lightning, the blade plunged into the bamboo forest. A pause, and then a single drop of blood rolled down the length of the blade, seeping into the detailed work of the pommel. Mamoru stepped back, letting the assassin stumble out of hiding. He took two shaky steps and fell into the pool. The diseased water would have eventually poisoned him had he not been dead before impact.
Satsuda was frozen as Mamoru approached. As Takanosuke raised his sword, the old man redeemed himself in the only way he could. No pleas, no prayers. The lord of Hajirome died without a sound, in what dignity he could muster.
When Shirou's attendants came to investigate that evening, they were not surprised by what they found. Hajirome Satsuda's headless corpse had fallen forward, the spray of his blood extinguishing the shrine's candles. Takanosuke Mamoru had committed seppuku, ritual suicide. Even in death, the man that saved the Takanosuke Clan was proud and noble.
His body was cleansed and placed next to his wife in their own manor's garden, and a simple shrine marked the spot. Beside the statuette of Buddha within, a small placard was placed upright in the offering of rice.
It read: "For the honor of Takanosuke."
