Glory by Daidoji Gisei
"No wall stands forever. Only duty stands forever."--Kaiu Hosaru, A Perfect Cut
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Glory
by Daidoji Gisei/Nancy Sauer
A wounded Crab warrior becomes an ambassador to the Phoenix clan and discovers the serenity and peace he had been denied for years thanks to the Phoenix gardens under the winter snow.
Hiruma Nizan stared up at the carved and painted beams overhead and considered the stiffness that threaded through the left side of his body. It had snowed overnight, he decided. Cold alone could not seize his joints this bad, so there had to have been snow. Wet snow, most likely. Taking a deep breath he placed his right hand on the floor beside him and flipped over on to his left side. The pain of his ruined limbs made his jaw clench and his eyes water but Nizan refused to cry out. When the agony finally gave up and slunk away the Crab samurai slowly, and with many pauses, pushed himself to his knees and then to his feet.
Five minutes, he thought. Five minutes just to get out of bed. The time had been when five minutes would have seen him out of bed, armed and up on the Wall, ready to take all comers. But that had been before the oni who had picked him up like a doll and thrown him into the side of a watchtower, before the broken bones and shattered joints that the Kuni could heal but not mend. Then, cold had been an inconvenience: something that chilled exposed skin and set teeth to chattering. Now it was a force that stole into his joints and opposed every movement. Nizan took a deep breath, centered himself, and began the slow task of getting dressed.
It didn't have to be this bad, he knew. Shiba Danii was a gracious host, and had given him this suite of rooms as a gesture of hospitality--"they are right next to the garden," he had said, as if living next to a patch of ground that grew nothing useful would please Nizan. A few words were all it would take to be moved into a warmer suite. But that would mean moving further into the light and color and motion that made up the Phoenix castle, and Nizan couldn't bring himself to that. He had grown up in the tenuous lands surrounding Hiruma castle, where no color was bright and even the noon sunlight was pale--it hurt, somehow, to be surrounded by so much life.
Finally dressed, Nizan left his rooms and took the corridor that would lead most directly to the dojo. A few steps down it he was stopped by the murmured sounds of conversation that drifted around the corner ahead. A moment of listening allowed Nizan to pick out the voice of Shiba Barahime, and the Crab could feel his insides tighten in dread. Barahime was Danii's sister, a young widow who had moved back to live with her family and whose glances towards Nizan had what he identified as a predatory look. He turned around and headed back down the corridor. Going through the garden would be colder, but safer.
His mind full of thoughts of Barahime, it took Nizan halfway across the garden to notice what it looked like, and when he did he stopped and stared. The night's snow had softly coated the top of every branch of every tree and bush; its pure whiteness drawing out the subtle tones of black and brown of each bark, its mounded smoothness accenting the creases and grooves that textured each branch. The sky was overcast but not gray--rather, it glowed like a pearl seen in candlelight and the sun was a gleaming silver disk that lit the day without throwing shadows.
Nizan shut his eyes, unable to bear the pain of his vision and then immediately reopened them, unwilling to be parted from it. It was like the Hiruma lands as they might have been once, could be again--alive and whole, colorless not because color had been stolen from them but because it was Heaven's will that color should sleep for a time. He wept open-eyed and blessed the cold that crept into his bones and made him a part of the beauty around him.
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Shiba Danii entered the main hall of the castle and looked around for his guest. There was so much to do, preparing for Winter Court, that he has forgotten how the cold would affect Nizan's injuries. Barahime had spent no small part of the morning upbraiding him over the issue, and he'd begun to wonder if his sister's interest in the scout wasn't all based on hospitality. A thought to ponder later in the winter, surely. Danii caught sight of Nizan sitting next to the fire, a cup of tea clasped in his hands, and smoothly walked over to him.
"Nizan-san," Danii said after they exchanged greetings, "it has occurred to me that your current rooms are some distance from the dojo. I have a suite available in the inner part of the castle which would be much more convenient for your morning exercises. Would you prefer that? It would be no trouble to effect the change."
Nizan smiled at his host, his eyes shining with more than reflected firelight. "Thank you, Danii-san, but no. I would like to stay near the garden."
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