L5R - Ditched - A Winter Court 5 Sequel Story

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Re: L5R - Ditched - A Winter Court 5 Sequel Story

Postby KakitaKaori » Sat Jul 22, 2017 2:15 pm

(feedback appreciated, folks.)
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Re: L5R - Ditched - A Winter Court 5 Sequel Story

Postby KakitaKaori » Sat Jul 22, 2017 2:18 pm

Spring, 1237 – Seawatch Castle

Seawatch Castle. Where the Crane had sent their embarrassments for many centuries. The blue sky here met the gray sea in endless curls of white foam that beat against the dark cliffs. The keep had been damaged in the tsunami that had ravaged Crane lands, so there was no place to escape the sound of the waves against the shore, even in his dreams.

Harun was dreaming.



Behind him, the ocean lapped a sandy shoreline. Before him the jungle was a solid wall of green, as impenetrable as Kaiu Kabe, as obscure as the mountains. As he walked towards it, its curtain parted slightly, and emerging from it a small figure, clothed in the pure white of death.

A white veil hung over her head, masking her face and hair completely. It could not conceal the curves of a female form. It not hide the cloth of white and gold that surrounded the figure’s waist, leaving the belly bare, or the chains of gold and jewels that encircled her hips. The figure cradled two katana in her arms. One was slender, wrapped with blue in a pearl-white saya. It looked familiar…Harun had seen that sword in the ancestral shrine of his aunt Kyoumi and uncle Kousuda’s home in Otosan Uchi. The other, however, had tsuka, tsuba, and tassel all of fiery orange, with a saya of purest copper tipped with small gold flames. It shone with an unearthly silver light that sent flickers across the white veil that shrouded the figure’s features.

He heard her voice, Arahime’s voice. “Harun-kun!” She sounded very far away.

He stepped closer. Could it be her? “Arahime-chan?”

She took a step towards him and suddenly she was very, very close. He could see the ornate jewels that crossed her brow, holding the veil in place. He could see more jewels on her hands, with rings on her fingers attached to chains that extended to bracelets at her wrists. He could hear her soft breathing, feel the warmth of her presence. He reached forward to touch the veil that hid her face, then gripped it and lifted it up.

She looked up at him. Those same wide almond eyes, gray as the sea on a cloudy day. Hair as white as the sea foam at the crest of the waves. But completely alien too. Around her neck, a heavy collar of diamonds and emeralds, ivory and jade, lavish with gold. And in one side of her nose, a large but delicate ring of pure gold, decorated with tiny pearls, attached by a chain to her hair above her ears. In her ears, earrings, ornate with jewels, hung.

He staggered back, completely shocked, “Arahime?” he asked again.

The one he thought he had always known gave a small, mysterious smile, reaching up to touch his hand with hers. “I am not dead. Please don’t forget me. I’m alive! I promised I would come back and I will. I’m trying to get back.”

At her words, he reached forward to grab her, to make sure she could not escape him, to make sure he would not lose her for even one more moment. But even as reached out, she disappeared in his arms like an illusion of mist and magic, the creation of one of his aunt Kyoumi’s stories.

“Remember me.”

Her words lingered on the sultry air. But his hand grasped at nothing. She was gone.





She’s alive!
Harun awoke before dawn. The first real smile on his face for the for the first time in months. His hand still fresh from the touch of Arahime’s hand. She was different, not just the gaijin jewelry she wore, but she looked thinner, harder. She looked as if she had been through a great ordeal, she had survived but it had changed her.

And it was that, more than anything else, that convinced Harun that this wasn’t just a dream borne out of his own desires and fancies. That convinced him that Arahime was still alive. And that he had been right all along.

The question now, of course, was what to do about it.

His first instinct was to start a letter to his Aunt Kyoumi. Surely this would lighten the load of her new duties as the Voice of the Emperor. But he had scarcely put his brush on the page when he stopped.

How could he explain this properly? It seemed so silly when he tried to write it down. Harun knew that Arahime was alive, but somehow he couldn’t translate conviction onto paper.

And there was another reason he couldn’t say anything. He had promised his Uncle Kousuda that he would never speak of Arahime to Kyoumi. And even though things had changed, that he was now certain Arahime was alive, this wasn’t enough to break the promise he had made. Not when it still could cause so much pain.

Harun put down his brush.

Outside, the sun was rising above the sea. Another day was beginning at Seawatch Castle. Harun carried around the secret inside him without saying a word. However, more than once he caught himself thinking back to the previous winter. When he had been at Kyuden Hida. And remembering a conversation he had had with Lord Shibatsu, brother of the Emperor and Champion of the Spider Clan.
Last edited by KakitaKaori on Wed Aug 09, 2017 6:03 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Re: L5R - Ditched - A Winter Court 5 Sequel Story

Postby Kakita Shiro » Sat Jul 22, 2017 8:44 pm

I am enjoying this so much. Thank you for continuing to write this tale.
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Re: L5R - Ditched - A Winter Court 5 Sequel Story

Postby KakitaKaori » Sat Jul 22, 2017 8:56 pm

Spring, 1237 – The Unknown Lands

The two Vānara had left. Ou’bouji was once again on his way with promises to return in a month when Arahime was ready to travel. And Yu’genta was out foraging in the jungle. They left her alone to examine the rest of the gifts she had received.

She removed the tray in the box that had held the necklace and found below it many more pieces of jewelry. She picked up the first and largest piece, some sort of jeweled belt with dangling chains, meant to go around the waist. Its colors and style matched the necklace; it was clear all the pieces were part of a set. She wrinkled her nose. The Kakita of course knew she had an important duty of representing her clan, bearing herself with dignity as a representative of the Lady Doji. Many female courtiers wore some beautiful jewels. But these jewels were so lavish, so colorful and overdone. Even Harun would laugh at her if she wore such things. She took out a pair of large, dangling earrings such as the finest courtiers might wear. Fine battlegarb, Bushi, she smiled. A fine hoop of gold wire larger than a koku coin and attached to a chain followed. Three earrings? That’s different. A headpiece of jeweled gold disks. Rings and bracelets joined by chains, anklets and broaches. She pushed all the strange jewelry back into the box and shoved it aside. None of these were useful for travelling.

She pulled apart the bundle of white and gold cloth. Within there was a piece of clothing of some kind, similar to the gaijin tunics the heimen of the Ivindi wore, but made of gold cloth and very small. She pulled it over her head. It fit snugly about her, with sleeves that covered the upper part of her arms. It was not uncomfortable – indeed, it seemed to fit perfectly – but it showed every curve and barely reached the bottom of her ribs. It still felt good to have the wound on her back protected from view and further injury. A pair of finely embroidered cloth shoes fit her feet perfectly, though it felt strange to walk in them. There was a sheer white veil which she set aside. The only other thing within was a single very, very long piece of white silk edged with gold embroidery.

Taking the long piece of cloth, she tried to figure out a way to wrap it around herself to grant her at least some measure of modesty. She thought, perhaps, with time, a needle and thread she might be able to rend the delicate silk into some sort of wearable kimono, though her Crane blood was horrified she would consider destroying cloth of such beauty. Even if she had wanted to, however, she had no needle or thread. She needed to find some way to make this work intact. But her hands fumbled, and it slipped down after only a few steps. I can’t even walk in this!

Here, little sister. Let me help you. The voice was her own, the thoughts nearly indistinguishable from her own. But it felt as though another’s hands were guiding hers as they picked up the fallen fabric. Her hands, simply, with practiced skill, wrapped the cloth around her waist and pleated it smoothly in front of her, securing it with a small gemmed broach from the box of gems. More practiced pleats, and Arahime drew the cloth across her chest and over her shoulder, securing it with another broach. By the time she was done, all was secured and covered, and the duelist was able to move freely.

“What is this? How could this be?” Arahime said the words aloud to the empty room. “Who are you?”

A hesitation, and then the voice in her head answered, “My poor lost sister, to be raised in such foreign and violent lands. I made this sacrifice to help teach my younger sisters to learn all the things that you must know to create peace and prosperity for all people. I will teach you, little sister. Do not be afraid.”

I am afraid. Arahime thought about ripping off the necklace and sending it back to wherever it came from. But the specter of loneliness frightened her worse. She had not lied to the Vānara; the Crane valued peace and prosperity. All her life, all her mother’s life, they had lived in the shadows of war. The world had been shattered by it. Now, though, things were changing. It would be the duty of the Crane to rebuild the world again, and rebuild it in a different age, an age filled with gaijin and rinjin and Daidoji pepper and shattered Isawa and giant Kaiu machines. Her father had told her how difficult that would be. If she passed up this unique opportunity, it would be a loss.

If I could learn how to deal with the courts of Zogeku…maybe I can help Mushari even if I can’t fight properly. She brushed her fingers across the beads of jade and ivory, historically immune to the taint. It doesn’t feel evil. It doesn’t seem to be for evil purpose. Maybe I can use this to help my family. A twinge of pain in her chest, just the memory of the much greater pain she would feel if she pushed herself too far. Maybe I can still be useful to my clan, even if these wounds do not heal.

She did not take the necklace off. I never had a sister. I always wanted one. It would take time to get used to, but the Kakita was willing to learn.

Arahime picked up the jeweled belt. With no obi, she did not have much choice. She secured it around her waist, the jeweled chains flashing and sparkling at her hips. It was gaudy, but held firm and steady enough for her daisho. When she slid the blades into place, she almost felt whole again.



The cool nights and warm days of winter gave way to the heat of spring. Arahime poured her days wholly into regaining her strength and her training. She began to forage in the forest with Yu’genta, who showed her which foods were edible, which trees had healing properties. The old Vānara was crotchety and philosophical. He grumbled about everything, though never in Ou’bouji’s presence…the guru reminded him that one must receive one’s circumstances with acceptance. He told her of the great numbers of Vānara had been slaughtered by the Spider in the Empress’s name during the Age of Conquest, and how those who remained had hidden from the Rokugani, save for a few who had met with the Mantis before the Spider came. Those who had become cut off from their people fell to human ways, which from the way Yu’genta described them, were weak, violent, and decadent.

Arahime tried to explain to the old man that not all Rokugani were like the Spider. The warriors of Rokugan shielded the world against the forces of Jigoku. She spoke of the mysticism of the monks and the devotion of the shugenja and the discipline of the bushi.

Yu’genta, unimpressed, snorted and walked away.


Her dreams grew strange. Arahime rarely remembered her dreams, but those first few days after Ou’bouji had left were different.

She dreamed of her youngest brother, Hideyaki, dressed in red hakama and a white jubon, meditating in a large, cold chamber with heavy stone walls. She could see him perfectly in her mind’s eye: his curly brown hair and dark black eyes. Before him was a small red paper pinwheel. Her heart filled with fondness then pride, as the pinwheel started turning quickly in the windowless room. The boy allowed himself a small smile as he watched the pinwheel spin.

She dreamed of Masarugi, his wavey black hair cut short, as he practiced his kata side by side with another student. The student next to him was dressed identically to him, but Arahime knew immediately that the slightly chubby boy was Iweko Kiseki, oldest son of the Emperor. Both were doing well, but Masarugi had a grace, a gift, and the boken moved like it was made to be in his dark hands. Arahime always remembered Masarugi as a laughing child, full of fun and tricks, but this teenager was deadly serious. When Kiseki whispered some laughing comment, Masarugi shot him a glare. “Be serious!” That was not like what she remembered at all.

She dreamed of her father. He was arguing passionately with a Daidoji on a dock somewhere. By his mons, it was the Shireikan of the Iron Warriors, but surely Arahime was dreaming that, for she had never seen the man. Her father’s hair was much grayer than it had been at her Topaz Championship. Eventually, the Shireikan threw up his hands in defeat and gestured her father on his way. Her father bowed and continued up the gangplank onto the ship that was docked there.

She dreamed of her mother, but she could barely recognize her. She was dressed in a stiff, formal kimono in imperial jade and white, embellished with gold chrysanthemums. Her hair was dyed black, and was lacquered into an ornate style with jade hairpins. Her face had been painted white with lips of cherry red and gray eyes shadowed with blue. It was an expressionless mask offering nothing but beauty. Her mother stood at the top of three steps before a room full of elegantly dressed courtiers. At the top of the stairs, there was a heavy gold screen; Arahime could not see who was on the other side. Arahime knew it was her mother who stood there, could hear the warmth of her voice when she spoke. Even so, her mother seemed as distant as the moon.

And she dreamed of Harun. He stood balanced on a stump jutting out of the narrow beach near a heavily-damaged castle. He was gazing out to sea, eyes fixed on distant horizon. He was different too. His hair was long and curly. His scant beard had grown thicker. He had a pair of scars on his jawline that were visible because the beard had not yet hidden them. He wore a thick purple cloak, though his armor was sky blue. He balanced on one leg without the slightest waver, drawing and resheathing his katana in fluid motions.

She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. But he was alive.


When she told Yu’genta about the dreams, he shrugged. “Ou’bouji told you he would tell them you lived. He kindly shares them with you also. He may not have the skills En’you once had, but your samurai ways killed him. Ou’bouji is a wise teacher, and generally kind. You should be grateful.”

There were other dreams: of walking through the endless halls of a painted palace gilded with gold, of playing a strange stringed instrument, of dancing and making men smile until they agreed to do things they never would have otherwise. Those dreams weren’t like her at all. But she didn’t speak of those to Yu’genta.


A month had passed. Arahime and the old Vānara had prepared supplies for a journey, travelling further and further away from the hut to build the duelist’s endurance. The guru of the Vānara had arrived the night before, and they planned to depart at dawn before the heat grew intolerable. Yu’genta changed Arahime’s bandages one last time.

“Humm,” her caretaker made a thoughtful grunt.

She knew. “It’s not getting any better. My endurance is not returning. This wound is not healing, is it?”

Yu’genta shook his head. “No. It is not. I had to remove too much that had been poisoned. If I did not, it would have rotted and taken your life.”

She knew. “Will it ever?”

“Only Vishnu knows of forever. But not by any skill I know. It is healed that way now. It is part of you.”




The guru arrived, and, together, they headed into the jungle on ways known only to the Vānara. Arahime glanced over her shoulder as the little clearing in which she had lived for so long disappeared from view. I thought I knew who I was when I was brought to this jungle. But do I know who will emerge from it? Resolving to hide her weariness as best she could, she straightened and pushed forward on the path her caretaker’s had made. Someone who tried her best, she decided. That would have to be enough.
Last edited by KakitaKaori on Wed Aug 09, 2017 6:03 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: L5R - Ditched - A Winter Court 5 Sequel Story

Postby KakitaKaori » Sat Jul 22, 2017 8:57 pm

Kakita Kaori
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http://craneclan.weebly.com/
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Re: L5R - Ditched - A Winter Court 5 Sequel Story

Postby Hendrick » Sun Jul 23, 2017 7:23 am

I love this story. I check this site several times a day to see if you have posted more of it

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Re: L5R - Ditched - A Winter Court 5 Sequel Story

Postby KakitaKaori » Wed Jul 26, 2017 7:18 pm

Late Spring, 1237 – The Unknown Lands

The ways of the Vānara are not the ways of man, and the face the jungle shows to the Vānara was not the face that had gazed upon Arahime when she had travelled it before. In many ways it was far less generous: Arahime had been fortunate to travel when fruit was in season; she doubted she would have found anything to eat in these days. But at the Vānaras’ touch the jungle did not hesitate to open other kinds of bounty of plants and foods she would not have considered edible until Yu’genta had introduced them.

Their passage was swift enough. Both of her caretakers knew of hidden roadways and secret bridges buried beneath the jungle plants, and it was on these roads that they moved. They walked or swung easily through the trees above. But Arahime’s ability to travel was hampered; she could not travel more than a few miles without resting. It made for slow going. The duelist knew that once it would have spurred her into hours of extra work just to hide her embarrassment at her weakness and out of impatience to get there. But she knew what death tasted like, now. She had to be gentle with herself or she would never reach Second City at all.

Ancient pillars of stone or fragments of buildings peaked out from under draping veils of green vines blessed with big orange and red blossoms. The carvings on them were eroded heavily with the passage of water and time, but sometimes Arahime could make out a few of the designs. She paused before one slightly less worn the others, gazing up at the line of swirling designs that decorated the top.

Yu’genta grumbled again when he realized she was not with them. “She stopped again.” He and Ou’bouji easily swung back to the place where she stood, a puzzled crease between her eyebrows.

“When the battle of the Jareshi river?” she asked.

Yu’genta made a low rumble in his throat. “About seven hundred years ago. A great war leader of the Rakshasa emerged with the goal of conquering all the lands east to Ivory Palace and slaying the maharaja. He hoped to free his brothers from Vishnu the Protector’s imprisonment, and his armies stretched to the horizon. He was defeated here. My mother was there. She was considered a great healer in her day.”

The girl nodded and turned away from the pillar, continuing along the path.

Ou’bouji watched the exchange with a private, knowing smile. “The Princess likes her,” he said softly, though his fellow could not overhear. She will serve us very well.



The Ivory Palace stood at the heart of the ruins of a great city that once dominated the countryside all around. The jungle, however, was quickly claiming the ruins and twisted trees and bushes grew in and amongst all the rubble of the city. Around the outskirts of the city, warning symbols and grim graffiti painted the walls of various buildings. Many shredded and tattered wards sought to repel ghosts and unnatural creatures, but Arahime could only hear the normal cries of jungle animals.

Towering above the jungle and the ruined city rose a huge staircase reaching upwards into the sky. When they reached the bottom of the steps, the Vānara stopped.

“We will go no further. At the top of the steps is the Ivory Palace of the Maharaja. When the cult of Kali-Ma gained in strength, we sought him out with our warnings, but we were ordered away, and we shall not return until a new Maharaja invites us to,” Ou’bouji told Arahime.

Yu’genta agreed. “The Samurai is inside. The samurai has been there many, many years. The samurai will tell you how to reach the sea, and Second City, and help you find your place. The samurai is very powerful and knows many things.”

“How do you know this? Which samurai is this?” Now that the moment was on her, Arahime felt a surge of both elation and fear. She knew she would face and defeat Purashi one day, but so much had changed.

Ou’bouji waved his hands in the air as if the questions were annoying insects. “Why? You will find out soon.” He then lowered his hands, and said, “We will not meet again, except in dreams perhaps. But it is your destiny to bring endings. May such endings be peaceful ones, and may they bring peace to all those who lie within the living.”

Yu’genta unshouldered the bag she had created long ago from her hakama once, now fully laden with fruits, vegetables, and starches for a journey. “There is food here, and medicine, and water, enough for a week, if the Samurai is unready or unwilling to travel. The sea is only three days south of here, along the royal road. Do not forget to treat your wound each day.”
Arahime knelt on one knee before the old Vānara. “I won’t. Thank you, Yu’genta, one last time, for saving me.”

Yu’genta snorted. “Goodbye, Egret. You are a pretty enough bird. May Vishnu the Protector smile upon you. Do not damage my Dharma with your murdering ways!”

Arahime, used to such talk, gave a small smile. “I will try not to,” she answered quietly,reaching out to take the big Vānara’s hand. “Be well.”

The foolish old man did not answer, instead pulling his hand back and putting it over his eyes so he would not have to watch her leave.

The guru, Ou’bouji stepped forward. “Many blessings upon you. May you help lead the samurai of Rokugan far to Viveka, the path of discernment. Or at least help teach them the ways of non-Violence so they are not all lost. Goodbye, little one.”

Arahime bowed to Ou’bouji. She then straightened, shouldered the bag, and turned away, already setting her feet on the steps up to the Ivory Palace and its fabled ghosts and secrets.
Last edited by KakitaKaori on Wed Aug 09, 2017 6:03 am, edited 1 time in total.
Kakita Kaori
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Re: L5R - Ditched - A Winter Court 5 Sequel Story

Postby Kakita Shiro » Wed Jul 26, 2017 8:11 pm

Ivory Palace? Which Samurai?
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Re: L5R - Ditched - A Winter Court 5 Sequel Story

Postby KakitaKaori » Thu Jul 27, 2017 5:11 am

:)
Kakita Kaori
Kenshinzen of Golden Petal Village and overly prolific fiction writer
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Re: L5R - Ditched - A Winter Court 5 Sequel Story

Postby KakitaKaori » Sun Jul 30, 2017 1:31 pm

Last edited by KakitaKaori on Wed Aug 09, 2017 6:03 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Kenshinzen of Golden Petal Village and overly prolific fiction writer
http://craneclan.weebly.com/
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