Cherry Blossoms, Just a test, just a test.

[Hisui]

The sun still reflects magnificently on your blade, my love, she thought as she looked at the katana. It is every bit as beautiful as you were when we first met.

She looked out the window, the flat of the blade resting on her palm while her other hand held it balanced close to the hilt. The katana was a beautiful thing, something that was a product of master craftsmanship, from the curve of the blade to the razor of the edge, and even to the fine haiku inscribed in small characters near the hilt. The blade reflected the fading rays of the sun when she tilted it just so; the faintest reminder of the radiance of the woman who once carried it to battle. The thought made the woman holding on to it that moment smile faintly.

“Shall you serve me as faithfully as you served her?” she asked.

Memories came unbidden, flooding her mind as she continued to look upon her reflection on the blade. She could almost feel her lover’s touch on her hands, and almost see her lover’s ghostly apparition looking at her reflection. She almost felt the soft rustling of silk on skin, and the way her lover’s hair tickled the back of her neck. Such sensations had long been past, and she had not felt them since the turning of the seasons. As she looked at the edge of the katana and saw only her own face looking back, she knew only the memories would remain. She would never know her lover’s touch again.

She took a deep breath as she allowed the melancholy to sweep over her, a tear forming out of the corner of her eye before she put her emotions in check once again.

She placed the blade slowly back into its saya, letting the memories of her past move into her mind; memories she’d tries so hard to bury, to keep from the surface. She was glad she could not.

She closed her eyes again, focusing her thoughts on the past. She held it as delicately as if she was afraid of it, even though she’d been given the proper instruction in kenjutsu ever since she was just a child. She was not a master of the weapon, not by any stretch of the imagination, but she knew how to use one well enough in defending herself. She could use a weapon well enough, and she could get the balance of the katana in her hands without too much trouble. She stood up and held it in her hands, holding on to it and getting a feel for the weight of the blade, the pressure on the hilt, and how much she could feel in her arms with every move she made with it in the air.

With her eyes closed, she focused her mind and let her body flow. The movements and the motions of the kata flowed into her mind, her memories starting giving commands her body obeyed perfectly. Every move resonated in her mind even before her body followed, without even the slightest hint of conscious thought. The kata let her focus not only her sword strokes, but her balance, her footwork, and as she kept moving, she focused her emotions. The moves flowed like water, a slow trickle rapidly turning into a raging torrent. The movements involved were designed to aid in practicing combat with multiple opponents, footwork changing directions and attacks making allowances for attacking one side while dodging an attack from the other side at the same time. Parries and strikes, dodges and countermoves, clean strikes and feints.

She could almost hear the blade sing as she performed the moves, her senses forming the sound of a faint melody forming as it cut through the air. The music of steel slicing through air, the weight and balance of the blade, and the emptiness of her mind as she moved gave her control. She could remember without losing her face, without falling apart. That was the purpose of the kata, she’d been told. To focus, to empty the mind, to give someone a funnel for the dangerous emotions that constantly swirled.

When the maneuvers ended and she had begun to sweat from the exertion, she knelt down and slowly sheathed the blade. Ishida Yuki. That was the name she went by when she first saw the katana she held, and when she was taught the kata she’d just performed. That was the name she called herself when she ran her fingers over the blade’s elaborate craftsmanship, and the pristine calligraphy that decorated its side. The memory, the emotion made her smile.

Centuries of craftsmanship, skill, and technique perfected. That was the weight the blade carried. For a moment, she contemplated the edge of the blade against her bare flesh. She knew what it meant to have the blade with her now, and not with the woman who was once its rightful owner. She held back, strained her self-control to keep from weeping uncontrollably. Such a display would be unseemly if someone was to see it, and it would bring some unpleasant implications she preferred not to deal with. There were some things she could never bring herself to speak of openly, for reasons that varied as much as the nature of the secrets she kept. A deep breath, a moment of focus, and she put herself in as close to a state of ease as she could.

She took a good look at the intricate designs on the blade. The dragon design that decorated it from the guard to halfway up the blade was magnificently crafted. She could feel the detail that went into it as she let her fingers run over the surface of it, her eyes closed as she tried to take it all in. She hoped, perhaps, to try and capture some of the katana’s previous owner lingering on the blade, some semblance of the woman who once wielded it. For the briefest of moments, she could feel something emanating from the blade. It was enough. Yuki opened her eyes, let a small smile paint her features, and then looked to the east.

“It is a beautiful sword,” she said to no one in particular. “A weapon fit for a beautiful woman.”

[Rui]

*speechless* holy crap.... *puts hisui on idol list*

[mitski]

Nicely written,

[lilgumba]

Once again you have the ability to transport me into the world that you created. That tragic theme is popping up again. I wonder what happened to the previous owner~

[violoncello]

I have a really pretty scene in my head right now ^^
if only I was a director lol

[Hisui]

This is just the start, though. I'm not sure if I should upload the next chapter in full or in parts.

[Mystic_Legend]

it's nice!

[Hisui]

I'm feeling generous. So here's a small chunk of chapter 1.

----------------------------

The ancestral castle of the Ishida Clan, Kyuden Ishida, was abuzz. It was merely two weeks from the onset of what many believed to be the coldest winter in a hundred years, and thousands of peasant servants had started to prepare all manner of decorations, foods, and other guest needs. The castle was to become host to delegations from several other Clans in the Empire, many of them possessing various levels of political or military power. The highest ranking members of the Ishida had come to understand that, given the situation, it would be best to make moves that would take advantage of the forced isolation that the season brought with it. The whole thing put just the faintest hint of a smile on Lord Ishida’s grim, morose features.

In the absence of an Emperor, the Ishida Clan had offered to host a major winter tournament – a thinly-veiled excuse for them to gather representatives and delegates from the other clans together for a period of time, in their home territory, to discuss a variety of matters. The winter would become a court affair, with the people firmly under the grasp of the Ishida’s own political weapons. Certainly, there would be a great expense, and the Ishida’s treasuries could potentially be drained dry, but the possibilities of making new alliances or trade agreements could offset that easily.

The daimyo of the Clan was most eager to get things to go smoothly over the winter. There were quite a bit of risks. As guests for the winter, all of the needs of the delegates would need to be provided for quickly and perfectly. The risk of insulting them or not being the perfect hosts could mean war – and with so much preparation going into the affair itself and into maintaining the standing army of the Clan through the winter – a war against one or more rival Clans was the last thing Lord Ishida wanted. No, he desired to build alliances and secure friends, adding more influence and pull to his already considerable retinue. He suspected that his guests would be far more pliable to his suggestions or his intimidation tactics when trapped for the winter under his roof, in his castle.

However, he needed to first provide some means of getting the right delegations to stay, while cutting off those that were from the weaker, less significant Clans.

For that, he turned to his daughter, Ishida Yuki.

Yuki was groomed to look every inch the perfect bride, and therefore, the perfect political weapon for her father. There were few ways to create a more secure alliance than by marriage, and Lord Ishida understood that little else attracts a good marriage than the prospect of a magnificent bride. It was that purpose, Yuki herself was sure, that her father had in mind when she began her education in all the usual courtly arts.

She shrugged when she recalled the rather extensive training in ikebana, the delicate art of flower arrangement. She enjoyed it, of course, having found a strange sense of comfort in it. The fact that it gave her something to talk about in polite conversation, steering them cleverly away from things she preferred not to speak of, was something that just made her smile slightly. She had noted how her father seemed to approve the progress she made in the skill, though Yuki had decided not to question what precisely he was pleased with. The trend, based on her memories, had continued into her training in everything from calligraphy to the art of the sword.

As she walked towards the audience chamber of her father, she had mulled over her initial reaction over the news that her hand in marriage had been put up as the prize in a tournament. She was aware she had not reacted as perfectly as she should have, but found it difficult to justify her shock at the idea, followed by a sense of dismay. She had hoped to secure a strong alliance for the Ishida through her own wit and charm, not by the whims and fancies of fate meddling in the actions of mortals. Yuki did begin to feel that requesting the right to enter the tournament herself was not the wisest joke she’d ever made. The notion made her shrug as she had the servants open the doors to the audience chamber.

“Father, are you sure a tournament is the best way?” she asked the moment the doors had been closed behind her.

“Frankly, Yuki, I do not believe this is the ‘best’ way. It is, however, the most neutral, and I intend to keep this plan as peaceful as I can,” he answered.

She frowned in obvious distaste. “Don’t you trust me to be able to secure the ideal alliance for the Clan’s interests, father?”

He looked at her like she’d just suggested marriage with a peasant. “I trust you to secure an alliance suited to your own interests, with no regard to the needs of the Ishida Clan.”

“I am insulted at your implication,” she said, her tone seemingly sincere and demure.

“Do not further question my decisions,” he said as he gazed at her as an executioner to a criminal. “I do not need your approval, only your obedience. Now leave.”

Yuki held back a disgruntled response, instead choosing to bow respectfully before turning away. She did not like his tone, nor how expertly he’d showed just how well he understood her motivations. As the doors to the audience chamber behind her were closed, she let her facial expression slip into one of clear annoyance and distaste.

She took a moment to compose herself before she moved down the halls, along the regular paths where she knew servants and vassals of the Ishida would be present. She had nearly breached etiquette and broken tradition, tempted as she was to unleash an enraged outburst at her father. She would not allow anyone the satisfaction of seeing her as anything but the perfect princess. It was simply unacceptable.

While walking, she made a mental note of things. A few of the delegations and representatives of the many Clans in the Empire had already arrived. The grounds to be used for the tournament were ready, and she surmised that a few Clan and personal rivalries were already being settled in duels. She looked out one of the windows along the wall and caught a glimpse of someone in one of the many gardens within the castle walls, apart from the impressive grandeur of the main courtyard.

Word had reached her ears earlier in the day that a few participants in her father’s contest had arrived early. A couple of early delegates had arrived that morning, as well a few participants in the tournament for her hand – none of them from any of the Clans her father had hoped would win. The Ishida required an alliance of far greater strength than the many smaller, less important Clans that had already arrived. Yuki had spent a bit of time glancing over some of the gathered diplomats and sycophants, but she noticed there was someone different.

A lone figure in simple robes was there, kneeling by the reflecting pool Yuki herself had favored as a place of quiet contemplation. She could tell, even given the distance, that it was a young woman about her age, and that there was a daisho at her waist. She had a hunch that the young woman was a participant in the tournament, but Yuki dismissed it as a mad notion. She quickly rationalized that the young woman was part of the retinue of one of the delegates, probably a close relative with some training in combat, but not enough skill to be on par with the finest in the Empire. It wasn’t much, but at least it was someone she might be able to get some time sparring with over the winter. Winter can be such a dull season, she thought as she continued walking towards her private chambers.

Yuki indulged herself with the faintest hints of a smile. “Well, I guess winter won’t be completely dull.”

[lilgumba]

First site from a group of strangers. It's destined to be!

[violoncello]

tournament~!! xD

[mitski]

moar!

[Hisui]

Behind the fan that covered her facial expression, Yuki was grinning more than she would ever have allowed anyone to see. The youth she had glimpsed from the window a few days prior had been part of a delegation, as she’d suspected. She had caught a glimpse or two of her since then, noticing the strange woman either at the same reflecting pool as before, or practicing in some quiet corner of Kyuden Ishida’s many guest quarters. However, given all the preparations that needed to be made and all the diplomatic appearances she had to keep up, Yuki had found it difficult to find the time she wanted to have in paying attention to the movements of the mysterious young guest. With her prey at the court, being presented by some delegates, however, Yuki had the opportunity to take a good look at her.

The warrior was dressed in simple attire, though the material looked to be of good quality. She had no armor on, and the only semblance of warrior training on her was the pair of blades hanging from her waist. Her movements were precise and curt, but not boorish. Still, she seemed out of place in the midst of so many courtiers and refined individuals. Yet, the warrior’s manner was one that understood her place in the grand order of things – she was a warrior, a tool of war, and she walked with the confidence of knowing that was her place. It wasn’t just the confidence that made Yuki pleased, however.

The warrior was quite a beauty, in Yuki’s view. Black hair cut short just past the shoulder, and the strands of hair looked very smooth. The soft-looking skin, the small face and lips, and the almond eyes intrigued Yuki greatly. The warrior’s figure was very slender, it seemed, but it was hard to tell from her attire. All Yuki could be certain of was that she was looking at quite a classic beauty, and she that she would soon be aware of who it was she was looking at. With a slight smile, she feigned interest in the sycophant pandering of the courtier in front of her, hiding her eagerness to know who the warrior was.

The one to step forward, however, was not the one Yuki sought.

This other woman bowed and spoke. “Lord Ishida, my name is Uesugi Mai, aide to the delegation sent by the Togashi Clan.” She paused, and then gestured to the warrior. “This is the contestant we offer for your competition, Lord Ishida,” she announced, with murmurs and surprised, hushed whispers following.

“I am Togashi Aya, loyal samurai of the Togashi Clan,” she’d said while bowing before Lord Ishida. “My brother, Togashi Genji, was slated to participate in your contest of skill. He is indisposed at the moment, and has requested that I be allowed to compete in his place, Lord Ishida.”

Lord Ishida kept his face neutral, unmoved. “You realize, of course, this is highly unusual.”

“The Togashi are aware of this, but we are confident the Ishida will see that, as unusual as a substitution in a competition of this manner may be, it is not an offensive request to make.”

He made a show of appearing to ponder his response before he spoke: “The Togashi are a Clan that has no quarrel with the Ishida, and I have no desire to begin one,” he offered. “However, I do wonder whether or not I should so blatantly ignore tradition in the face of the other Clans. After all, not all the Clans appreciate the enigmatic maneuvering that comes so naturally to your kinsmen, Togashi-san.”

“It is ultimately your decision, Lord Ishida,” the head of the delegation, a pretty woman in fine dress and with a daisho hanging from her waist, answered. “We will abide by your decision, regardless of whether or not it is favorable to our Clan’s current circumstances.”

For just a moment, Yuki saw Aya glance at her aide. “As my aide has said, the Togashi will hold the Ishida to no offense if they decide against this,” Aya said as she returned her attention to Lord Ishida. “However, the Clan would appreciate the opportunity to compete for the Lady Yuki’s favor and her hand.”

The idea was unconventional indeed, but Yuki had heard how the Togashi were the kind to resort to unconventional methods in their battle tactics. It was not difficult for her to imagine their political tactics would be subject to that same ‘flexibility.’ She wanted Aya to participate, if only to be able to watch her in action, but she could not predict how her father would react. It was certainly not traditional for that sort of substitution to be made, not in a tournament of the nature that Lord Ishida had. However, Yuki understood that for her father to deny the request could result in some diplomatic fallout that the Clan could ill afford so early on in the season. She pondered if she could pre-empt her father, and accept the substitution herself as a means of showing Aya her interest and favor. Such a plan would have been taken as very bold and very brash by many, Yuki suspected, but she trusted her feelings on whether or not Aya was worth the risk.

For just a moment, Yuki’s eyes met with Aya’s. In the many tales she’d read, such moments were often depicted as the defining instances of passion and desire, the kind of little thing that playwrights used to begin the tale of true love forever impeded by the constraints of honor. There was nothing that transpired, no moment of sudden clarity or insight between them. A small part of Yuki felt disappointed in this. Though, she thought to herself as she pondered her next move, such a thing should not be enough to stop me, should I so desire it. Her mind made up, she made her next move.

She folded her fan and turned to her father. “Lord Ishida, if I may offer an opinion on the matter…”

[mitski]

[lilgumba]

She is about to...dun dun duuuuuuuuuuuuuun!

[JazVahn]

Another world you've created here. And you seem to really like katanas.

I really like your writing style, it fits the story very well. This whole 'winner of the tournament gets to marry the princess' thing reminded me of the beginning of Suikoden V (an rpg game by Konami).

Just to make sure, only men are allowed in the tournament, right? (Well, probably, especially since the prize is the princess). If so, then it'll be so amazing to see Aya as the only woman in the tournament, if Lord Ishida approves of it though. XD