Fantasy Flight Games

Restoring Imperial Law

Published 10 August 2021 | Legend of the Five Rings LCG

Restoring Imperial Law

Updated Rules Reference, Draft Rules and Imperial Law for Legend of the Five Rings: The Card Game

The Kaiu Wall has been breached, and Akuma-no-Oni’s forces are ravaging the Empire…but not all is lost! The heroes of Rokugan have set aside their differences and banded together against this common foe. During this time of unusual unity between the clans, the Regent has seen fit to issue one final update to the Imperial Law, in an effort to maintain fun and balance should the clans (inevitably) return to their bitter conflicts. You can find an updated Rules Reference, Imperial Law, and Draft Rules documents now available for download under the Support Section here, as well as the complete Under Fu Leng’s Shadow rulebook to support challenge and cooperative play.

Compiled Rules

The most sizable update to the Rules Reference is the addition of the new rules and mechanics from the Temptations Cycle and Under Fu Leng’s Shadow expansions. These include the corrupted and dire keywords, as well as the tainted status token and the rules for conflicts at multiple provinces. Additionally, the card clarifications found in the Temptations Cycle rules inserts have been included in the Rules Reference so that they can easily be found by players.

None of these updates change the game, but hopefully they will make it easier for players to look up rules as they are needed during play.

Functioning As Intended

For a game with as many moving parts as L5R, even simple abilities can often have unintended—and undesirable—side effects. As the game does need to remain technically sound even in extreme corner cases, a handful of cards have received errata to function within the rules as they were intended to.

The Western Wind (The Temptation of the Scorpion, 85) does not clarify whether the cards placed into the chosen province are faceup or facedown. As they were intended to be put into the province faceup (to be played or put into play by card effects), the event now places them faceup.
A pair of Shosuro Deceivers (Coils of Power, 96), both of which are dishonored and one of which has a useful ability-granting attachment (such as Way With Words (In Pursuit of Truth, 69)) can achieve a game state where they have an infinite number of copies of a particular ability. While this is a difficult-to-achieve situation, it is convoluted enough and potentially powerful enough as to require an errata preventing Shosuro Deceiver from gaining the abilities of another Shosuro Deceiver.
Calling the Storm requires you discard your hand as the cost to play the card. As the ruling on Chancellor’s Aide (Clan War, 30) indicates that Calling the Storm is still considered to be in a player’s hand while paying that card’s cost, this would result in Calling the Storm discarding itself and failing to resolve. It has been fixed to work as intended.
Akuma no Oni (Under Fu Leng’s Shadow, 1A) requires the players choose characters to be bowed during the dynasty phase. Nothing prevents the players from all selecting the same character, however, which breaks the spirit of the cooperative challenge. His ability has been errata’ed to now require each player select a different valid character to be bowed, but also allows the ability to resolve even if insufficient targets exist in play.
Finally, Procedural Interference has received a balance errata to prevent its controller from selecting the stronghold province and thus taking away the opponent’s opportunity to prevent the honor-gain. Procedural Interference would not be a fair card if it said, “Pay 0 fate to gain 2 honor” as that would quickly lead to an uninteractive honor victory, and so it can no longer achieve that result by targeting the stronghold province.

Free Cards Are Too Strong

While this header might be obvious, it is the impetus behind a number of additions to the Stronghold and Skirmish ban and restricted lists. A handful of cards from the Dominion and Temptations Cycles, intended to bolster new play styles or support clans that were underrepresented, provide players with an efficient way to gain card advantage over their opponent with no cost. While this can be fine in small volumes (such as Imperial Storehouse (Core, 129)) or under strict conditions (as with Battle Meditation (Coils of Power, 100)), these five cards represent too-easy access to cards and thus have unbalanced the clan metagame and proliferated problematic playstyles.

Wealth of the Crane (In Pursuit of Truth, 63), Ki Alignment (A Crimson Offering, 60), and Calling the Storm (Coils of Power, 106) have all been banned in the Stronghold format, with Calling the Storm also being banned in the Skirmish format. Logistics (Spreading Shadows, 45) and Exposed Courtyard (Atonement, 122) have both been added to the restricted list.

Wealth of the Crane, while succeeding at its objective of providing more selection in the dynasty cards for a particular style of Crane-based deck, has proven to be too effective in concert with the game’s wide suite of holdings. Holdings are a card type that inherently provides players with free value, but at the theoretical opportunity cost of drawing fewer dynasty cards each round. Wealth of the Crane entirely mitigates that opportunity cost by both searching out the desired holdings and then by refilling the holdings’ provinces with characters once the holdings are in play. In a late game scenario, or in certain deck archetypes, Wealth of the Crane can even be free! To prevent players from building near-unbreakable province formations at near-minimal cost, Wealth of the Crane has been banned.

Ki Alignment was initially designed to be the “glue” for Monk/Kihō decks, allowing them to compete alongside the most powerful competitive archetypes. It turns out that with several other powerful kihō that were recently printed, along with the ever-present Void Fist (All and Nothing, 94), it was less necessary than originally anticipated, and has instead turbo-charged that archetype above its competitors by providing free card advantage with minimal-to-no deckbuilding cost. To bring the Monk/Kihō decks back into alignment with the rest of the field, Ki Alignment has been banned.

Calling the Storm, while an ambitious design that challenged players to risk their entire hand of cards for whatever they could draw off the top of their deck, ultimately could not be supported in a game with as many free cards as L5R. The value of getting an immediate flood of free attachments onto one’s characters can be overwhelming at the start of the game, and the possibility of generating an infinite game-winning combo with Logistics and Divine Ancestry (As Honor Demands, 110) was the nail in the coffin for the card. Because it has proven to be far more consistent than it was originally intended to be, Calling the Storm has been banned in both Stronghold and Skirmish.

As the Lion clan often found itself fighting an uphill battle, due to its focus—and in many cases reliance—upon gaining honor, they have received a number of ways to draw cards without bidding for them. The clan has now reached a point where there are too many different ways for the Lion clan to generate free card advantage, and some of them need to be broken up. Specifically, Exposed Courtyard and Logistics work in excellent harmony: the Courtyard enables the free card draw from Logistics, and Logistics allows the Lion player to move the Courtyard away from danger to stay in play longer. And when the Lion player’s provinces are not being pressured, Exposed Courtyard can re-play Logistics to draw a card for free. To break up this synergy, both have been added to the Stronghold restricted list.

A Fresh Draft

Finally, with the full cardpool now released, I took an opportunity to update the Draft Pool found in the online draft rules. You can find the final version of the card pool in the new rules document, and the list of specific card exchanges are listed below.

Renewed Seasons

While this is the final rules and balance update for Legend of the Five Rings: The Card Game, it is not the final word on the game’s future. Members of the online community have been hard at work iterating on a much more expansive ban/restrict list, titled the “Jade Edict,” which looks to create a slightly lower-powered version of the game. It is neither better nor worse than the Imperial Law I have been curating, as it wishes to craft a different game experience, so I encourage members of the online community to also give it a try. I think it looks to be quite a fun alternative!

By virtue of being an LCG, Legend of the Five Rings has always been a game where we made the pieces, but where the players made the game their own. I look forward to seeing what creative new ways the players come up with to have fun with the foundations and cards that we have produced over the past few years. Will it be new fan-made cards? A new format? A rotating seasonal cardpool/ban list? You tell me!

Written by Game Desinger: Tyler Parrot

To download the updated Rules Reference, Imperial Law, Draft Rules and Under Fu Leng's Shadow rulebook documents, click here.

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Play-and-Share Promos

Published 23 June 2021 | Arkham Horror: The Card Game

Play-and-Share Promos

All of the Play-and-Share Promos in One Place

The FFG Play-and-Share Campaign has officially come to a close. On behalf of everyone at Organized Play, we'd like to give a huge thanks to everyone who participated!

In case you missed out on any of the print-and-play promos that were unlocked as part of this campaign, you'll find each of them listed below!

Arkham Horror: The Card Game

Daisy Walker (Standard)

Daisy Walker (Parallel)

“Skids” O’Toole (Standard)

“Skids” O’Toole (Parallel)

Legend of the Five Rings: The Card Game

Marvel Champions: The Card Game

Black Panther Resource Cards

Captain America Resource Cards

Captain Marvel Resource Cards

Iron Man Resource Cards

Ms. Marvel Resource Cards

She-Hulk Resource Cards

Spider-Man Resource Cards

Thor Resource Cards

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Heroes of Legend

Published 22 June 2021 | Legend of the Five Rings LCG

Heroes of Legend

Nine New Print-and-Play Characters for L5R Are Available Now

Introducing the Print-and-Play Heroes of Legend for Legend of the Five Rings: The Card Game is now available to download. Read on for more information on this exciting addition to the game from Game Designer Tyler Parrot.

While the Under Fu Leng’s Shadow expansion serves as a capstone to Legend of the Five Rings: the Card Game, there are still a handful of cards that were designed for future inclusion in the game that we would like to share with the online community. To that end, nine unique characters, the Heroes of Legend, are now available for download as print-and-play cards.

Originally designed to be prize cards for the 2021 Kotei Series, these characters embrace L5R’s theme of players influencing the game by allowing players to customize the very cards that are included in their deck. Each character has four abilities available, only two of which can be used during play. However, each player may choose to use a different combination of abilities, resulting in characters who operate very differently when played by different players. While there are only nine characters among the Heroes of Legend, there are 54 different ways to customize them!

Before a player shuffles a Hero of Legend into their dynasty deck, they must check off (or fill in) two of the boxes in the card’s text box to indicate which two abilities they have selected for that hero. Once marked, the selections cannot be changed, and a card with more than or fewer than 2 boxes checked is invalid for play. Multiple copies of the same character in the same deck do not need to all share the same selected abilities. As with any other card, no more than 3 copies of a character can be included in a player’s deck by title. Additionally, Akodo Toturi and Toturi (the rōnin) cannot be included in the same deck—Toturi’s text preventing this is active regardless of which abilities are selected for his card.

These characters were chosen to be our final protagonists for the Scorpion Clan Coup storyline because their story arcs were most involved in both the LCG’s initial stories and because they were protagonists involved in the events related to the Coup. And after seeing how popular Katsuo the Peasant turned out to be in the Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow, it felt like he deserved to join the Heroes of Legend as the smallest of the bunch.

As a game designer for L5R, I wanted to explore design space that empowered players to customize their game further than ever. I hope you all enjoy playing with your favorite version of these prominent protagonists!

The free Print-and-Play Heroes of Legend cards are available now! Download under the Print-and-Play Cards in the Support Section here.

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Available Now: June 18

Published 18 June 2021 | KeyForge

Available Now: June 18

New Products Now Available

Check out the latest product from Fantasy Flight Games, now available online through our webstore or at your local retailer!

Drax Hero Pack

Killed by Thanos in a wicked act of cruelty, Arthur Douglas was reincarnated as Drax, a knife-wielding warrior with a thirst for vengeance. Now a member of the Guardians of the Galaxy, Drax travels far and wide, driven and determined to put an end to the mad titan once and for all.

As a member of the Guardians of the Galaxy, Drax charges into the scene with unrelenting fury in this expansion pack, which introduces Drax as a brand-new playable hero, along with his fifteen signature cards. With a pre-built Protection deck ready to go, you’ll be able to try out Drax’s unique vengeance-fueled gameplay from the moment you open the box. Punish the villains who wrong you and show them why Drax is a force to be reckoned with!

Not a standalone expansion. Marvel Champions: The Card Game Core Set required to play.

Pick up your own copy of the Drax Hero Pack (MC19en) at your local retailer or online through our webstore today!

Under Fu Leng's Shadow

The Shadowlands have always threatened the southern border of Rokugan—but now, the aimless and disorganized hordes of foul goblins, shambling undead, lost samurai, and hideous monsters have been united under a single vicious ruler. A monstrous oni stomps toward the Emerald Empire, leading waves upon waves of deadly foes to breach the Great Carpenter Wall. It is the greatest threat that Rokugan has faced in centuries—and even if the clans can unite, there is no guarantee that they will survive.

The Under Fu Leng's Shadow Premium Expansion is stuffed with 271 new cards for Legend of the Five Rings: The Card Game, and at the same time, it introduces two brand-new ways to play the game! Almost half of the new cards contained in this expansion are fully dedicated to the brand-new Shadowlands faction, and you can battle against the awe-inspiring might of the Shadowlands using two new game variants. You might choose to play the cooperative variant, either playing solo or teaming up with your friends to take on a mighty Shadowlands warlord. Or, you could embrace the darkness in a challenge variant, allowing one player to lead the forces of the Shadowlands into battle against two to four other players.

Whether you battle the rising darkness together with your friends, challenge them to fight the Shadowlands hordes under your command, or use this expansion’s clan cards in your stronghold or skirmish games, Under Fu Leng’s Shadow is packed to bursting with exciting new content for every Legend of the Five Rings: The Card Game player.

Pick up your own copy of Under Fu Leng's Shadow (L5C42) at your local retailer or online through our webstore today!

Dark Tidings Deluxe Deck

Dive beneath the waves of the Crucible’s oceans with Dark Tidings, the fifth set of Archon Decks for KeyForge, the world’s only Unique Deck Game! Dark Tidings introduces a brand-new House to the game: the Unfathomable. Replacing Dis in the current cardpool, the Unfathomable specialize in controlling their opponents by exhausting enemy creatures. What’s more, every House gains the power to call upon the tides of the Crucible, gaining advantages from high tide and avoiding the punishments of low tide. Finally, Dark Tidings also brings the possibility of evil twin decks into the game! Any evil twin deck is an exact copy of another deck in existence, except with many of its cards exchanged for their “evil twin” versions, featuring alternate abilities, graphic design, and art.

Each Dark Tidings Deluxe Deck contains a single, ready-to-play 36-card deck, bringing together three of the diverse Houses of the Crucible into a single deck—featuring its own mix of cards and unique from every other Archon Deck in existence. You’ll also find all of the tokens that you need for a single player to start playing the game of KeyForge!

Pick up your own copy of Dark Tidings Deluxe Deck (KF13) at your local retailer or online through our webstore today!

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Available Now: June 4

Published 4 June 2021 | Legend of the Five Rings LCG

Available Now: June 4

Legend of the Five Rings: The Card Game Coils of Power Dynasty Pack Now Available

Check out the latest product from Fantasy Flight Games, now available at your local retailer!

Coils of Power

The Emerald Empire faces war on all sides. Mighty armies stamp across the realm, and hordes of horrifying Shadowlands monsters menace Rokugan from the south. The Great Clans have been tempted in countless ways—will dissension and self-interest triumph over unity? Can anyone bring Rokugan together in its hour of need?

As with the earlier Dynasty Packs of this cycle, the Coils of Power expansion for Legend of the Five Rings: The Card Game gives you a host of new tools for every Great Clan within this expansion. Multiple clans receive massive new Army characters as war sweeps across Rokugan, while other clans gain unique powers to manipulate the fate on friendly and hostile characters. With a new stronghold, two new provinces, and a full array of dynasty and conflict cards, any dedicated player will want to be sure they pick up Coils of Power.

Pick up your own copy of Coils of Power (L5C40) at your local retailer or online through our webstore today!

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Available Now: May 21

Published 21 May 2021 | Arkham Horror: The Card Game

Available Now: May 21

New Products Now Available

Take a look at the latest products from Fantasy Flight Games, now available at your local retailer or online through our webstore!

Peace At Any Cost Dynasty Pack

As the Emerald Empire continues to battle its enemies from beyond, so too must it deal with its enemies from within. The temptations of each of the Great Clans have threatened to break Rokugan apart in irreparable ways. In this time of desperate need, the hopes of the Empire may rest in the hands of those seeking to purify the corruption that festers within—but only if they can resist the allure of their own temptations in the process.

As with earlier Dynasty Packs of this cycle, this expansion provides a bevy of new tools for each Great Clan. Several clans receive new ways to manipulate fate on individual characters—on both their own characters and their opponents’—as well as ways to respond to their opponents doing the same. With a new stronghold, two new provinces, and a full array of dynasty and conflict cards, Peace at Any Cost is a must-have for any player!

Pick up the Peace At Any Cost Dynasty Pack (L5C41) at your local retailer or online through our webstore today!

Into the Maelstrom Mythos Pack

Throughout your Innsmouth investigations, you have ventured into tide-hollowed caves and dripping tunnels—but these watery caverns are only the antechamber of the Deep Ones’ domain. A hidden city rests beneath the choppy waves of the North Atlantic, slumbering at the bottom of the ocean. If you’re going to protect the world from suffering the same fate as Innsmouth, you’ll need to venture into the heart of the storm.

Within the Into the Maelstrom Mythos Pack, you’ll find the final scenario of The Innsmouth Conspiracy cycle for Arkham Horror: The Card Game, inviting you and your fellow investigators to dive into the darkness beneath the waves and confront the Deep Ones in their own city—putting an end to this threat forever. Combined with the addition of new player cards to upgrade your decks, Into the Maelstrom is a perfect capstone for a cycle of danger and mystery.

Not a standalone product. Requires Arkham Horror: The Card Game Core Set and The Innsmouth Conspiracy deluxe expansion to play.

Pick up the Into the Maelstrom Mythos Pack (AHC58) at your local retailer or online through our webstore today!

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The Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow: Epilogue

Published 7 May 2021 | Legend of the Five Rings LCG

The Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow: Epilogue

Presenting the Final Part of the Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow Storyline

Greetings, Legend of the Five Rings readers, and welcome to Week 10 of the Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow event!

The Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow has ended, and Akuma no Oni has been defeated. Your voices have been heard, and the champions defending Rokugan from the threat of the Shadowlands hordes can rest and relax, if only briefly. Read on to see the conclusion to the Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow storyline.

For those of you who are joining us for the first time, or if you missed a previous part of the story, you can learn more about the Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow event and the single elimination tournament associated with it here.

Epilogue

By Robert Denton III with Marie Brennan and Katrina Ostrander

14th Day of Togashi, Cherry Blossom Snow Lake

Hida Sukune forgot his rapidly cooling ginger tea as the impromptu festival unfolded around him.

The Otter Clan riverboat samurai had broken their casks, and sake flowed. Warriors of the Crane, Crab, Phoenix, Dragon, and Unicorn had all formed a ring around a dramatically gesturing Sparrow Clan storyteller. Now and again, someone interjected a proud boast or a wry remark, and everyone laughed.

From the center of the thick crowd, a patched-up Hida O-Ushi lifted a grinning Shiba Tsukune by the waist into the air. Her red and laughing face bobbed above their heads, and the crowd erupted into cheers and raised sake cups. From this vantage, Sukune could just make out his sister’s bragging: “Don’t be fooled by this one’s size, she’s ready to cut down another Oni Lord!”

Sukune drifted his gaze to a closer, more quiet gathering. Matsu Tsuko, only a touch less sober than before, cradled a small sorghum wine bottle with her slung arm. Nearby, Bayushi Yojiro recalled what had transpired at Otosan Uchi to the others. Sukune had already heard the story, but Matsu Tsuko seemed especially interested in the ending: how Mirumoto Hitomi had crossed swords with the traitor Shoju and cut him down with Itsuwari. A stony look washed over the Matsu’s face, and her raised eyes met with Sukune’s from the other side of the crowd.

She nodded at him. He lifted his cup.

His brother’s voice thundered above the din. “And somehow, you arrived here from there, in the blink of an eye?” Yakamo smirked, eyes glittering with drink. “And we’re supposed to believe that, Yojiro-san?”

Tsuko shrugged. “I do.”

Yojiro smiled softly at the Matsu daimyō. “Ah, that’s right. You did manage this yourself, didn’t you?”

“Help from someone I love,” Tsuko replied. She smiled up at the starry sky, raising her bottle with her good arm. “This is for you, Arasou.”

A few confused looks exchanged between those gathered, and then Yojiro raised his cup. “To Akodo Arasou, then.”

Tsuko looked momentarily surprised, then joined them in drink. Sukune smirked inwardly. Yojiro was an odd choice for Scorpion champion. Perhaps he would do better than Shoju had.

“Hida Sukune!”

Sukune glanced up. The Son of Storms, grinning in spite of his braced leg, gestured toward him from his seat among the others. “Let’s see it, already!”

Very well. He stood and approached. O-Ushi noticed and pointed; soon she and Tsukune were gathered with the others. Among the expectant eyes that followed, the peasant Katsuo nervously bit his lip.

Sukune unfurled the sheet and laid it at their feet. He gestured to his brushwork.

Katsuo peered at the paper. “What does it say?”

Sukune pointed to the two characters, one at a time. “Victory. Man. Together, they read: ‘Katsuo.’”

A stunned expression washed over Katsuo’s face. “My name? That’s how it is written?”

“And the rest is an account of your deeds here.” Yakamo slapped him hard between the shoulder blades. “That’s a Twenty-Goblin Winter, if I’m ever asked. How about it, Katsuo? We could use another hero on the Carpenter Wall.”

Katsuo looked stunned.

“Bah,” Tsuko shook her head. “And waste his talents? Katsuo, I know a swordmaster who would be willing to teach an adult student. Swear yourself into my service, and I’ll elevate you among the Matsu.”

Yoritomo laughed before Katsuo could speak. “How gracious of the Great Clans to offer new shackles!” He gestured out, as if framing the horizon. “Why not see the entire world? The Mantis can show you things you never knew existed!”

Katsuo looked questioningly to Shiba Tsukune.

She smiled at him. “He is a samurai now. And rōnin forge their own paths.”

“And ‘samurai choose their own lords,’” said Tsuko, quoting Leadership. She nodded. “My offer will stand until you are ready, Katsuo-san. Take what time you need. A warrior pilgrimage, if that’s what it takes.”

Yoritomo raised his glass. “To the man whose name means ‘victory’!”

Katsuo lowered his head as they cheered his name. Tears welled in his eyes. But he was smiling.

And then a shout. A young Kaiu, mop-topped and grinning wide. “You live, Yakamo?”

Yakamo leapt to his feet. “Fusao! You’ve been here all this time?”

The two embraced. Then Yakamo lifted up the shorter man, kissing him before the stunned assembly. “It figures you would show your face only after I’ve been worried sick!”

O-Ushi shot Sukune a glance from the other side of the crowd, incredulously smiling, as if to say: Did you know about this?

Sukune chuckled and raised his cup. “To unexpected reunions.”

The others cheered, drank, and debated what they would drink to next.

Sukune said nothing as his cup was refilled. There was still much to do. Dispatching heralds. Mourning the dead. Rebuilding.

And driving out whatever invading forces lingered here. The full breadth of the Oni Lord’s march still remained to be seen. Then there was the matter of the fallen Yogo Castle. Liberating it from another Shadowlands army would be a great challenge, especially with the Crab so diminished. They would need to rely on the other clans for aid. At least now, Sukune knew they could.

Word of this victory would reach his father at Kyūden Hida. The Great Bear would then decide whether or not to step down. Sukune had tried not to think about it. The notion filled him with dread. But as Hida Kisada had deferred entrusting the ancestral sword Chikara to any of his children, they would soon be faced with a difficult conversation.

But not tonight. Those worries were for tomorrow. Not for now.

Several Moto drummed a beat on traveling drums while a Mirumoto plucked a lute in accompaniment, and a Kaito shine-keeper danced with bells to the joy of those clapping along. For a brief flash, Sukune spotted a laughing Tsuruchi leading an eager Fox Clan shugenja by the hand; they vanished into the crowd. Samurai swapped stories beneath the jovial throng, and Sukune could not help but notice the varying heraldry on their backs. Above them wove the banners of the clans, both great and minor, mingled together.

They were so different. Some of those differences, their conflicting values and ways, were irreconcilable, chasms that not even time could close. It had sometimes felt as though they were destined to fracture, to shatter. Tomorrow, they would be enemies.

But tonight, they were family.

For the first time in his life, Sukune finally understood how Rokugan became an Empire. History made it seem like an accident, or destiny. But it was neither of those things. It was because the Great Families, when united, could not be defeated. When they fought each other, they could tear the Empire apart. But when they worked together, recognizing each other’s right to exist, their strengths combined and all else set aside?

They were unstoppable. The greatest force in the entire world.

He took it all in, etching it deep into his own heart. If darker days still lay ahead, then he wanted to be able to recall this moment, when the clans set all else aside and drank together.

Away from the party, Shiba Tsukune looked again to the south. She winced at the pain of breathing in too deeply, gingerly feeling the bandages over her cracked ribs. It should have been worse than this, by all rights. But something had protected her. Someone.

“Can’t talk you out of it?”

She shook her head at Hida O-Ushi. “I know they’re still out there. I just do.”

She expected her friend to protest, but it seemed O-Ushi understood. “I’ll put a scouting party together. They’ll be ready by tomorrow.” She held up a preemptive hand. “Don’t bother protesting, either. You might be an oni-slayer now, but I can still toss you into the lake whenever I want, so stay on my good side.”

I like her, Tsukune thought. “Thank you, O-Ushi.”

The tall warrior nodded. “When you come back, we’re going to that sumai event in Jukami. Don’t even try to get out of it!”

Asako Maezawa frowned as O-Ushi returned to the party. He drew long on his pipe speaking only when they were alone.

“Tadaka is gone.” No emotion.

Tsukune felt her smile fade. “Perhaps.”

“Then you admit, this is a fool’s errand. You would risk Ofushikai, and perhaps more, for—”

She met his gaze. He paused in the flash of purple glowing in her spirit-touched eye.

He meant well. This was his expertise. How many had he personally lost to the Shadowlands’ call? But what he asked of her, she could not accept.

“Shiba could not abandon Isawa,” she whispered. “And I cannot either.”

Maezawa rubbed his bald forehead. “I will grant you this much: there is a chance we may discover the fate of the Master of Water’s niece. Perhaps you owe Tsuki that much, having sent her to her doom.”

Those words were a guilty dagger in her gut. Maezawa always knew how to make her feel only inches tall. And it was true. If there was a chance her friend Asako Tsuki still lived…

The old man grunted. Hard lines dug into his weathered face. “But that is not why you are doing this, is it? Make no mistake, if the Master of Earth stirs, then he is not Tadaka. Not anymore. You and I, we did what we could. His own master tried to reason with him. He has played his part. Whatever befell him…”

His voice wavered, then softened. His tone was that of someone who knew quite well what he was talking about, and someone who wished so sorely that he did not.

“Trust me, child. You do not want to know. You do not want to see whatever has become of him. You must let him go.” He grimaced. “Or he will pull you into the dark with him.”

She closed her eyes as he walked away.

It was disgraceful for a yōjimbō to stand aside while their charge was in danger. But she was not his yōjimbō anymore. And a gulf had formed between them, hadn’t it?

So why did she feel like she was torn in two?

No. She couldn’t abandon either of them. Not while there was still a chance for them. There was no other course of action for her to take. If she did anything else, she wouldn’t be Shiba Tsukune. And that was the only person she knew how to be.

Thunder echoed across the plains. From the south. She knew in her heart that the storm was coming for her, whether she waited or rose to meet it.

Later that Month, Somewhere in Dragon Lands

Between one step and the next, Mitsu’s world vanished into an inferno of pain.

Agony past anything he’d ever known ripped through his soul. The power that sparked in his tattoos roared into a blaze, like staring into the sun. Too much power for any human to bear. But he couldn’t close his eyes, couldn’t push it back—couldn’t even feel his body. There was only overwhelming fire…

…and buried within it, images.

Seven new trees, sprung from the roots of the past. The stars swinging full circle. An unhealed wound. A shadow behind a shadow.

Then, as suddenly as it had come, it vanished. Mitsu collapsed to the ground.

Distantly, as if a thunderclap had crushed his hearing, he heard people shouting. Red dotted the snow beneath him: blood from his eyes, from his ears. His entire body throbbed like it had been crushed in a vise. Through blurred eyes, he saw feet running toward him; he tried to rise, but his body, trained through lifetimes to answer his every command, would not obey.

The images remained, though, burned into his mind.

As did the fear.

Atop a far-off mountain, in the High House of Light, the man called Togashi Gaijutsu sighed and passed one hand over his blind eyes. The visions taxed even his divine endurance; for his mortal champions, it was the purest distillation of suffering. And Mitsu lacked the nemuranai armor that should have protected him from the worst of it.

“I am sorry you had to bear that,” he murmured to his distant disciple. “But with the collapse of the wave, Yokuni’s time has ended. And the Empire must be ready for what comes next.”

He rose and slid the door aside, letting in the icy winter air. The cold was nothing next to the weariness in his bones, the weight of a burden carried far too long.

His sightless gaze turned, unerringly, to the south. “Brother. A thousand years ago, our duel began. Perhaps the time has come for it to end at last.”

12th Day of Ryoshun, Otosan Uchi

An unseasonably warm breeze wafted into the Crane guest house and rustled the papers on her writing desk. Doji Shizue scratched behind a furry ear as Fumio snored softly in her lap, oblivious to the chorus of birdsong and the pounding of carpenters’ hammers.

Though she had been writing letters all morning, she couldn’t bring herself to get up from her seat and disturb the slumbering cat just yet. So long as he slept, there was nothing to menace her calligraphy brush, and she wouldn’t have to worry whether her recipient would take offense to a flourish of small inky pawprints across the page.

She had a little longer before needing to prepare for court. Time enough for one more letter. She dipped her brush in the ink and began to write.

Spring is nearly here, and I hope that this letter brings warm days in addition to my warm tidings. I pray that your journey from the Castle of the Fox has been uneventful and swift.

Much has transpired at the capital since I last wrote, and the spirit of its citizens has shifted with word of Akuma no Oni’s defeat. The toll of death and destruction that weighed on the city even after the traitor’s defeat has lifted, giving way to a sense of relief and—dare I say it—hope. Everyone in the capital, from his excellency the Regent Kakita Yoshi to the lowliest tanner, seems to be counting down the days until the dawning of the New Year. The scent of newly arrived tatami mats also brings to mind fresh starts, and our entire household is intent on sweeping clean the evil spirits that have plagued us since Satsume’s unfortunate passing. The promise of a peace brokered between the Lion and Unicorn blossoms alongside the gardens.

Lauded as a hero among her clan, Ikoma Tsanuri has recently departed for Sacred Watch Palace, where she is to be reunited with her parents Ikoma Anakazu and Akari after Matsu Tsuko reversed the couple’s divorce. It is said that in addition to personally meeting with her generals to root out any trace of the corruption begotten by Ikoma Ujiaki’s schemes, Matsu Tsuko is working closely with the Kitsu daimyō to find paths to peace that honor the memory and sacrifice of the Lion Clan’s ancestors.

With the Unicorn heir returned from the Burning Sands and the Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow Lake, Shinjo Altansarnai and Iuchi Daiyu have begun preparing to travel home to oversee spring planting and the foaling season. Their three children, Haruko, Yasamura, and Shono will remain here with Ide Tadaji in the capital to work out a new treaty with the Lion, if a lasting agreement of peace can indeed be found. Poor Iuchi Shahai, who was last seen with Prince Daisetsu, is still missing, much to the consternation of the Imperial household.

As you have hopefully heard proclaimed by the Miya Heralds, the Regent is offering a substantial reward to any who can provide the Hantei heirs with safe conduct to the capital. Mirumoto Hitomi has been appointed to lead a contingent of Imperial Legionnaires in this effort. Kitsuki Yaruma and Mirumoto Raitsugu remain in the capital as liaisons for daimyō Mirumoto Masashige until the lost heir to the Dragon Clan, Togashi Mitsu, makes his location known.

Yet it seems Mitsu is not the only errant clan champion. For now, Asako Maezawa serves as the delegate representing the Phoenix Elemental Council members in court while Champion Shiba Tsukune completes some important but secret endeavor. Here in the capital, many hope that endeavor involves Lady Kaede’s imminent return to the capital, as she has not been seen since her husband's renunciation of his family and clan. The absence of the Emerald Throne’s spiritual advisor has been felt often in the recent months and, for my own part, I would like to know that she remains safe.

Finally, Hida Kisada seems to have pulled through and is improving after sustaining grievous injuries, although the Crab Clan itself has not yet recovered from the devastation wrought by Akuma no Oni’s Shadowlands horde. Daimyō Yasuki Taka is sailing with another contingent of the Imperial Legions to begin emergency repairs to the Carpenter Wall, lest another threat rise from the south while a gap exists in the clan’s defenses.

As always, do not hesitate to offer the assistance of the Crane Clan should you find yourself in a position to lend aid to these noble heroes and their vassals.

When next you visit our champion at the Esteemed Palaces of the Crane, do not be surprised to find the former Imperial Advisor also in residence along with her son. (Perhaps this means our champion will get her first taste of parenthood, what with a young samurai joining her household.) Despite her role in liberating the city, many in the capital cast a wary eye over the Lady Kachiko and young Dairu owing to their association with the traitor. The Scorpion Clan Champion knows that this is a delicate time for his clan and that keeping her at a distance will allow him the time and space needed to repair the clan’s reputation. Given the demands of the championship on his time, he has relinquished his position as chief magistrate of Toshi Ranbo, which remains an Imperial holding.

Of course, there is one member of our champion’s household whose absence you will no doubt feel keenly. I know that Doji Kuwanan meant a great deal to you, and we all mourn his loss. His sacrifice to protect the Champion of the Lion Clan may yet be remembered as a balm that allows the wounds felt between the Left and Right hands of the Emperor to begin healing.

Even the Empress Hochiahime has had a breakthrough with her health. After Her Imperial Majesty was evacuated from the city during the traitor’s coup, the healers of the Centipede Clan have been tending to the Empress personally. It seems that Lady Sun indeed smiles upon the priestesses of the Moshi family, and we shall pray that her blessings extend to the rest of her children and her light dispels the shadows hiding the lost Hantei heirs.

Although the Seppun astrologers are not yet prepared to pronounce the omens of the coming year, one thing is certain: Rokugan is changed. On this point—and perhaps on this point only—the Great Clans are agreed. It falls to all of us loyal servants of the Empire to determine whether that change is for the better.

Your loyal and loving cousin,

Doji Shizue

She summoned her handservant Naoko and pressed the folded paper into her hands. “Please see that this reaches Kakita Asami.”

Naoko bowed and departed silently, closing the screen door behind her.

Fumio’s ear twitched, and one eye opened to peer up at Shizue.

She smiled. “Did you enjoy your nap? You've awoken just in time.”

Senzai stood from the pond. It was a bird that broke her from her reverie. A bird’s call.

It reminded her of a dream she once had. One from long ago. Another lifetime.

Realization washing over Togashi’s face beneath the plum tree.

Shinjo’s laughter over some silly joke they both could no longer remember.

Fog rising from her lips, sitting in the snow with Doji.

Long conversations before the fire with Hantei. Shiba’s joy, his inspiration, shining through his eyes as he recorded their words.

Lord Akodo spitting in her face.

She loved those memories. She loved them all. How nice it was to recall them again.

Senzai laughed. Although it took so many lives, she finally remembered why she’d stayed. The world was so beautiful. How had she ever forgotten?

What role would she play this time?

Whatever it would be, she would see it through without fear. Her destiny, and that of this shining Empire, awaited.

“Let us get started,” she said, as a crow dove from the sky and landed on her shoulder.

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The Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow: Ch. Five

Published 30 April 2021 | Legend of the Five Rings LCG

The Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow: Ch. Five

Presenting the Fifth Chapter of the Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow Storyline

Greetings, Legend of the Five Rings readers, and welcome to Week 9 of the Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow event!

We have received word from the frontlines—the Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow rages on, and Akuma no Oni has yet to be defeated. Your voices have been heard, and the champions defending Rokugan from the threat of the Shadowlands hordes are spurred on by your support. Read on to discover the results of the most recent round of voting.

Chapter Five

By Robert Denton III

14th Day of the Month of Togashi, The Tomb of the Ninth Kami

Beneath the library of nightmares, breathless and ducking from the gaze of his long-dead ancestor, Isawa Tadaka found the sword: An ancient straight blade of hammered iron, no sheath. A curved handle, heavy orb pommel. And yet, defying centuries, there was not a speck of rust.

It couldn’t have been Matsu’s. Wrong style. Utaku’s, then?

The sword rested here, undisturbed, because none of these denizens could touch it. Beneath it glowed a thick patch of fronds, blooming even though there was no light.

This was the voice that had called out to him, a lone song of sanity in a chorus of maddened kansen. The kami in this blade had awakened. Were it an ordinary kami, this place would have corrupted it. But this spirit was far from ordinary. Whatever its wielder had done had made the spirit strong.

And once he invoked the spirit, it would flee, just as the others invoked in the Shadowlands had. The sword would become nothing more than an ordinary, crumbling relic. The Isawa family existed to preserve such artifacts. Every instinct screamed that he seek another way. Perhaps he could wield the sword instead? Cut him down?

No. That wouldn’t work. His ancestor’s body was already dead. Animated dead. Tadaka needed to sever the connection itself. Otherwise, Akuma would just possess something else.

There was no other way. This object was just a shell. The spirit within, that was what was sacred. The people he’d sworn to protect, they were what mattered most. Hadn’t Kuni Yori taught him this? All that time wandering the wastes, Yori had shown him exactly how to defeat the Oni Lord.

Tadaka scooped the sword up as Akuma’s voice echoed in the darkness. He would have to complete his task running. The demon was close again. How much time did he even have left?

Meanwhile, near Cherry Blossom Snow Lake

The last time Hida Sukune had seen an onikuma, a “demon-bear,” it had nearly decimated his expedition. Claws like wakizashi, fur that broke blades, a body the size of a stone-thrower. He’d been helpless to do anything against it. But this time, he was glad it fought on his side.

It was as if the entire forest had risen to cast away the Shadowlands invaders. Oni swatted at birds and deer, only to fall prey to mauling bears. The Fox Clan had come through after all, and now he and the other officers could disengage. They had a moment to breathe.

Across the field, surrounded by the chaos of battle, a new body stood, glistening and sickly green with scales and horns and three flaming eyes. Akuma no Oni. The plan had worked. At last, the Oni Lord was revealed.

No ballistae were left standing. No Kuni shugenja or Inferno Guard were left unengaged. No heralds remained in the field to give orders. A vanguard had formed nearby—Sukune could just make out his brother Yakamo leading them, and Matsu Tsuko waving the standard—but the samurai and soldiers were wholly occupied with beating back the oni spawn who were trying to reach their master. At last, the Oni Lord was exposed, and Sukune had nothing left to throw at him.

Nothing except two warriors, who had Akuma engaged. Sukune could not make them out at this distance. Whoever they were, he could do nothing for them. The fate of the Crab Clan—of the entire Empire—was in their hands.

Whoever you are, he thought, make this count.

Why you, Shiba Tsukune?

She darted out of the path of three acidic arcs flung from the demon’s three tongues. This form was smaller, and maybe a little weaker, but Akuma was still three times her size. And now, he was faster…

Bitter fumes burned her eyes, blurring her vision. She ducked beneath a swiping claw, and into the path of Akuma’s massive reptilian foot. Forced to choose, she accepted the consequences and tried to roll with the blow. She felt something snap as the force sent her sprawling.

Of all the brave souls who marched against the Oni Lord, what makes you think you can beat him?

Katsuo had asked her much the same question, hadn’t he? He didn’t feel that he should be here, that he could contribute anything significant to the fight.

And yet, here he was, leaping over Tsukune to put himself between her and the oni, swiping wildly and protectively to drive the demon back. Akuma reared, three eyes narrowing on the new threat.

Akuma must be more vulnerable than before! Why else would he avoid a mere blade?

She called Katsuo’s name and tossed him her jade. He caught it haphazardly, and emboldened, advanced on the creature, sword held inexpertly at the ready.

She forced her knee beneath her. Her head pounded, and breathing hurt, like something was tangled up insider her chest and wouldn’t expand. But seeing Katsuo now, recklessly disregarding his own safety, how could she give anything less than her all?

The Oni Lord broke the Crab’s defenses—their very Wall. He sundered their champion and scattered their samurai. Their entire history has been dedicated to defeating the Shadowlands. Yet who among them faces him now?

Katsuo leaped at a feint and was punished. The demon’s tail tore away lamellar plates and forced him to the ground. Tsukune darted forward with a cry, and Akuma abandoned his bone-crushing stomp to face her. She halted, sword ready. Maybe if they surrounded him, kept him moving, they could force him to make a mistake?

The Son of Storms draws his lineage to a son of Hida. A Fortune’s blood rushes through his veins. You may carry the name of a Heavenly Kami, but unlike the Son of Storms, your lineage is purely mortal.

Katsuo clambered to his feet. He shouted. The demon spun.

Tsukune leaped onto Akuma’s exposed back and brought her sword up high.

The demon fell backward. She rolled off just before he smashed back-first into the ground. The air left her, the sword falling out of her reach. Akuma rose again. His spines left holes in the earth. She rolled away from jets of his acid spray. Safe from harm, but now further from her weapon.

Could an Isawa call upon the five elements to defeat the Oni Lord? Could a Kuni? Even their power does not belong to them—it belongs to spirits and Fortunes. Yet if gods are powerless to stop him, what hope is there for humankind?

Katsuo thrust out the jade to hold the demon at bay. Akuma titled his head, as if amused. But he didn’t advance, merely ducking back or to the side as Katsuo thrashed, again and again.

Tsukune covered her nose against acidic fumes. Blood trickled onto her sleeve, but she ignored it. She extended her fingers. Even Ofushikai seemed to reflect her own fatigue, dragging along the ground into her grasp.

Even the Master of Dragons, Togashi Yokuni, for all his mystic power and wisdom, could do nothing but stall for time. Are you even sure this was not a part of the Oni Lord’s plan?

She needed a respite. Her muscles burned with every movement. She couldn’t seem to draw enough air into her lungs. She felt like she might collapse at any moment. Katsuo still fought on, but he was fading, diminishing, sluggish. Akuma showed no signs of tiring. He didn’t need rest, didn’t need to pause. How much longer could they keep going?

Panicked shouts. An oni spawn nearly slipped through the line of Yakamo’s vanguard. They were being overwhelmed. They’d been fighting all morning. The hours of nonstop battle were finally taking their toll. They couldn’t hold back the rabble for much longer.

Why you, Shiba Tsukune? Why this peasant, Katsuo? Why, of all the heroes of legend, are you both here instead of them?

“It doesn’t matter why,” she replied to whatever spoke to her now. “We’re the ones who are here.”

Correct, the voice answered.

Her sword. It was sheathed in faint light, twisting around the blade, like coils of flame. The voice was coming from Ofushikai. Ancient, amused, wise…

Now, it said, show them all what mortals can do.

Akuma screeched as Katsuo struck it with the jade. He crossed into the demon’s reach and dug his sword into the monstrous leg. Switching his grip, as he’d seen others do, his muscles tensed to carve a tear into his corrupted flesh.

Claws raked the man’s face. Red splashed onto the ground.

And now he was in the demon’s grasp, arms pinned at his sides in the demon’s bone-crushing grip. Akuma’s lips parted and revealed rows of dagger teeth.

Tsukune’s heart pounded as she dragged herself up, but they were too far apart—there was no way to reach him. Muscles rippled in the Oni Lord’s arms, a trickle of dark blood winding through his fingers. Katsuo’s face seemed oddly resolute as Akuma unlocked his maw. Fearless, to his last moment, he stared into the oni’s mouth as razor teeth encircled his head.

The last incantation fell from Tadaka’s lips. The sword was heavier now. Dull. He’d felt the spirit leave the shell, but it was different somehow. Perhaps it hadn’t been a kami, but an ancestral guardian, or something else. But whatever it was, it eagerly answered.

Already the paper ward, written on Azusa’s origami paper in jade ink, sprouted tiny fronds. The spirit was willing. He needed one last offering. One final—

Tadaka felt his ribs snap as he smashed against the wall. The sword clattered to the floor. Stone claws pinned him, pushing against his chest. Waves of pain wracked his body. His possessed ancestor leaned in, Tadaka’s face blistering from the heat of three fire-orb eyes.

There was no time left. His own Earth, his body, was all he had left to give.

You are too late, came the Oni Lord’s voice. Nothing will stop—

Tadaka exhaled. Take it.

With his last ounce of strength, Tadaka slapped the paper charm on his ancestor’s face.

“Let me teach you something.”

The Oni Lord’s screams tore through the shrine.

Katsuo grunted as he struck the dirt. Fangs snapped at the empty air where his neck had been. He jerked back, away from the trembling claws and flailing tongues. Everything seemed to pause as Akuma shook, eye-orbs dimming, and wavering as if he were boiling inside.

He’s weakened! Tsukune realized.

With her ghost eye, she could barely catch a tiny glint of glowing purple light. A rectangular charm with faint writing, perfectly centered on the oni’s forehead.

Katsuo locked her gaze with wordless affirmation, eyes widening urgently, as if to signal: Now! NOW!

There would be no second chance.

Tsukune bolted, Ofushikai ready.

Katsuo flung the jade with a wrist-flick. It arced in slow motion as she closed the gap. She caught it in her left hand.

The monster steadied, recovering. Flames returned to his eyes.

Katsuo hunched his back and braced himself. She couldn’t see his face, but he nodded.

The creature’s eyes cleared. Realization washed over his features.

Tsukune’s foot planted between Katsuo’s shoulders. Her momentum pushed her forward. With all her strength, she sprung off his back.

Ofushikai dug into the creature’s shoulder. Tsukune’s elbows struck his chest. Akuma reeled, his abyssal maw opening in a scream. Fumes burned her nostrils, acid burned her skin. She wrenched the sword out as he recovered, his heavy claws wrapping around her. As a vice-like grip began squeezing her sides, she brought the blade high.

With the last of her strength, she plunged Ofushikai into the glowing light.

The blade slid through scales and sunk with no resistance, not even against bone. She didn’t stop until the sword’s guard pressed against the Oni Lord's flesh, the blade jutting out from under Akuma’s jaw.

Her ears popped. A mortal spasm that dug claws into her chest. An abyssal scream that filled her lungs with fire.

Her fingers uncurled from Ofushikai’s handle as her strength faded. The oni toppled forward. His skin grayed and cracked, calcifying into stone. She watched him petrify, the Oni Lord’s arms solidifying into thick rock, pinning her. Unable to free herself, she felt the ground rushing up behind her with spine-breaking speed. In his death throes, Akuma’s final act would be to crush her beneath a body of stone.

With one eye, she saw Akuma no Oni's spiteful maw in the throes of his death. The hatred spilling out. Burning. The demon would curse this world with his last breath.

With the other, her ghost eye, she saw only Tadaka. He was smiling in spite of the skin missing from his cheek. He looked so peaceful. So happy. The light passed through him, and he floated like a feather before her, but she could smell his sandalwood scent, and she could even feel his hand on the back of her neck, as well as his gentle forehead as he pressed it against hers. She closed her eyes. He was warm.

It was what she had hoped to feel in her last moments, before she left this world. The Fortunes were kind after all. She embraced him, and everything that had led her here.

“My life,” she whispered.

He replied. “My Soul.”

And then, darkness. The ear-splitting sound of rock shattering against the unyielding ground was mercifully brief.

The battlefield sounds fell away as Katsuo clawed at the crumbled stone that had once been Akuma no Oni. A burst of rallying samurai, the spontaneous unmaking of the oni spawn around him, the breaking of goblins at the loss of their general, and even Yakamo’s thundering battle cry and other voices raised in victory, all dimmed as he strained to free the Phoenix Champion.

Buried under so much stone, crushed by the one’s dying body, there was no way Tsukune could have lived. But he tossed the crumbling rocks aside, sweat pouring from his brow as he dug. He had to free her. He couldn’t leave her corpse under all that rock, all that…

Empty space. A gap. Sunlight pouring in. Katsuo’s eyes widened as his face went pale.

He fell to hands and knees.

He whispered, “Thank the Fortunes.”

Tsukune squinted into the sunlight, blinking up at him from her tiny crater. Split stone formed a pocket around her. It was as if she’d been protected somehow, as if something had embraced her in a bubble, breaking the stone around her, leaving her untouched and lying on the soft ground.

“Cherry blossoms.”

Katsuo paused. “What?”

She smiled. “There are cherry blossoms.”

A petal, soft pink, glided into his vision.

Katsuo lifted his face into a shower of pinks and whites. Cherry blossoms, long out of season, cascaded across an impossibly blue sky. Far across a field dotted with calcified demons and sundered stones, the forest bloomed. Blossoms mirrored across the pristine surface of the Lake of Cherry Blossom Snow. She could tell from his expression that Katsuo had never seen so many blooms at once. And looking up from beneath, seeing the flurry of petals falling around him, Tsukune was reminded of the first snow of winter, and the wish for a brighter spring.

He leaped to his feet and cheered. Samurai voices, the mingled victory cries of the Great Clans, thundered back.

And Tsukune laid back her head as her fingers tangled with a sash of orange silk. A mask. The last thing of Tadaka’s in this world. How it had come to her, across all this distance, she would perhaps never know. But she was glad. This, like her pain, was one more gift.

“We did it,” she whispered, as the world blurred with tears. “We actually did it.”

He wasn’t sure what was left. The kami, or whatever spirit had lain in wait, had taken much this time. But he could accept that. He knew the spirit would soar, untouched, back to the Emerald Land.

His ancestor’s voice, calm and content: I am free, Tadaka. Thank you.

Please protect them, he thought. Protect Tsuki. Protect and guide the others.

And then an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Whatever awaited his ancestor now, whatever Emma-O would decide, at least he was free.

Tadaka sighed and closed his eyes. He was so tired. He would lay here for a while. Yes, for a long while.

When he closed his eyes, he was standing before a glossy reflection pool dotted with fallen peach blossoms. He could hear the songs of nightingales mingled with laughter, and see the gentle smile and camellia blush of a seventeen-summers girl.

I’m sorry, Tsukune. I hope you understand.

I love you.

And then he slept. Deep, and without dreams.

Read on to see the results of the final round of voting, as well as the percentage of votes each character received!

Final Match

Shiba Tsukune (59%) - Katsuo the Peasant (41%)

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Heroes of Legend: Chapter Five

Published 23 April 2021 | Legend of the Five Rings LCG

Heroes of Legend: Chapter Five

Presenting the Final Chapter of the Heroes of Legend Storyline

Greetings, Legend of the Five Rings readers, and welcome to Week 8 of the Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow event!

The traitorous regent Bayushi Shoju has seized the capital city of Otosan Uchi in a bloody Scorpion Clan Coup. To make matters worse, he has declared his allegiance to the Shadowlands and appointed his second-in-command, Ikoma Ujiaki, to deploy the Imperial Legions in defense of the capital against any who would challenge his rule. Who will rise up to save the Emerald Empire in its hour of need?

As a reminder, the events of this story take place prior to the events of The Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow.

For those of you who are joining us for the first time, or if you missed a previous part of the story, you can learn more about the Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow event and the Heroes of Legend storyline here.

Chapter Five

By Marie Brennan

12th Day of the Month of Togashi, 1123, within the Forbidden City

Mirumoto Hitomi would have preferred to be working only with Seppun Ishikawa. If he could get out of Otosan Uchi in the midst of a battle, then he was the ideal person to get back in under the same conditions. While the forces that had assembled to bring down the traitors made a very large distraction, a small party had a hope of slipping in unnoticed—which meant that any defenses around the palace might be less ready for them. And Ishikawa knew not just the streets and public gates, but the alleys and side portals. After all, anyone whose duty was to protect the Emperor ought to know every route by which someone could sneak in.

Not that he’d done a very good job with his duty. But Hitomi couldn’t really despise him for that, given that the Dragon Clan Champion had sent her here to protect the prince. Togashi Mitsu might have thought that referred to Daisetsu, but the coup had made it clear: her champion had meant for her to protect Sotorii. A task she had comprehensively failed. And it wasn’t fair to get angry at Ishikawa just so she wouldn’t have to be angry at herself—for that mistake, and so many others.

Ishikawa was fine. Getting to their target, though, required more than just a guardsman’s knowledge of the palace. It required someone who knew how to exploit every weakness in the defenses, every person who could be bribed, every routine that left a gap.

It required Bayushi Kachiko.

Hitomi couldn’t decide whether to admire the woman, spit on her, or both. Nothing of the elegant Imperial Advisor could be found in the woman currently leading her and Ishikawa through a concealed corridor of the Forbidden City. Her kimono was the simple cotton of the servants who usually frequented these routes, her hair bound up under the sort of kerchief a washer-woman might wear. Her skin was pocked with a few old scars, her face thinner, her eyes shadowed with exhaustion that was only partly false. Not a notably ugly woman, just…unremarkable. And the last thing anyone expected Kachiko to be was unremarkable.

To disguise oneself like that was despicable. To serve the Empire without concern for one’s self was laudable. The question of how to weigh those two things against one another was something Hitomi could wrestle with later. For now, she accepted, with gritted teeth, that doing what needed to be done meant working not only with Ishikawa but with Kachiko—and dressing in borrowed armor and sneaking through servants’ corridors like a damned shinobi while she was at it.

This was the only way to make up for one of her many mistakes.

I should have killed Shoju when I had the chance.

The ashigaru had just finished strapping Hitomi into her armor when Bayushi Yojiro entered.

“Make it quick,” she snapped, before remembering Yojiro was the Scorpion Clan Champion now. But there was little time for niceties when what remained of the Army of the Rising Wave was preparing for battle.

He didn’t comment on her rudeness. “Mirumoto-san. I apologize for the interruption, but there is someone you need to speak with before you go. Privately.”

She waved the ashigaru out and waited while Yojiro brought two hooded figures in. Hitomi assumed they were Scorpion spies, bearing some useful intelligence. And maybe the taller one was; she recognized him from Otosan Uchi. Bayushi no Sentaki Yūgiri, one of Kachiko’s creatures.

But the shorter one was Shoju’s son.

They’d lost him in the chaos, when Shoju’s forces drove the Dragon from their guest house. The last thing she’d expected was to see him again. Had Shoju sent Dairu to bargain? Did he think her heart would falter a second time at the sight of the boy?

Dairu sank to his knees in front of her. “Mirumoto Hitomi-sama. I have come to beg you to stop my father.”

The passage they were following was narrow and walled with solid wooden panels, not the beautifully painted screens of the public areas. Fighting in here would be difficult, if someone found their little group. Hitomi had braced for Shadowlands monstrosities. But so far, nothing.

Kachiko stopped at a point that looked no different from any other and pressed her ear to the wood. Then her hands did something Hitomi could not see, and the wall opened onto the room beyond. How many such hidden portals were there in the palace? How many secrets did the Scorpion hold? Too many—but these secrets were what had permitted them to slip through nearly unnoticed, while the battle raged in the city outside.

It felt too easy. And even as Hitomi thought that, Kachiko murmured, “I don’t trust this.”

“If you know about these,” Ishikawa said in a low voice, “then surely the usurper does as well.”

Kachiko nodded. “He could have guarded them. That he hasn’t done so…means he wants us to get in. It somehow suits his plan.”

They’d worried about all manner of complications: Shoju setting fire to the palace, Shoju summoning oni, Shoju slaughtering people by the hundreds in some dark ritual to keep his attackers out. The whole point of their stealthy trio was to slip in without him noticing and making such extreme moves.

Instead, they’d played into his hands.

“Perhaps he’s left the palace. Or even the city.” Ishikawa scowled. “Fleeing like a coward. Or going to join up with the Shadowlands forces.”

“Or,” Kachiko said, “he’s still here, and he’s lying in wait.”

Hitomi was tired of trying to follow the twists and turns of Scorpion logic. There was an old story about a Togashi monk who spent three years contemplating an intricately knotted rope, trying to figure out how to loose it. Then one day a Mirumoto bushi passed by and, hearing the monk’s tale, simply drew his wakizashi and cut the knot apart.

Trickery and plotting had gotten the Empire into this disaster. Maybe what it needed was a clean swing of the sword to get out.

“He can plan all he wants,” she said, touching the blades at her side. “We’ll see how that fares against steel.”

Kachiko’s gaze followed Hitomi’s hand and her jaw tightened, but she said nothing.

“Yūgiri-san helped me escape,” Dairu said. “And he helped me take this.” From beneath his cloak he produced a sheathed, straight-bladed sword.

It looked ancient, and sinister. The wood of its sheath was a red so dark it almost touched black; the cords that wrapped it were brighter, the red of fresh blood, interlaced with bronze. Hitomi stared at it, not understanding, until Yojiro spoke quietly. “This is Itsuwari. The ancestral sword of the Scorpion Clan. By tradition, it is supposed to strike down the Champion if he ever betrays the Empire.”

Dairu presented the sword in both hands, bowing until his face touched the ground. “Mirumoto-sama. I humbly request that you take this sword…and use it to kill my father.”

They found Shoju’s trap outside the throne room.

Ishikawa risked a swift glance around the imposing pillar that concealed their group. His curse went no farther than their ears, but was impressive for its foulness. “Shosuro Ibuki,” he breathed. “And two others I don’t recognize.”

When he described them, Kachiko looked like she wanted to echo Ishikawa’s curse. “Yogo Itoju and Soshi Angai. Wardmaster and illusionist,” she murmured. “And Ibuki is better with a sword than she lets on.”

“Then we will have to be quick,” Hitomi said grimly, reaching for her blades. Not mine, she reminded herself. The wakizashi, yes—but she was only a temporary bearer for Itsuwari. The hand of justice, striking down the traitor. Too late to help Sotorii . . . but late was better than giving up.

Kachiko’s eyes narrowed, and she put one hand out to stop Hitomi from drawing. Did she not have the stomach for blood? If she thought she could protect her clanmates from the fate they’d earned—

“I have an idea,” Kachiko said. Her gaze swept first over Ishikawa, then over Hitomi in her plain, borrowed armor. “But…it requires you to trust me.”

Hitomi almost laughed in her face. Trust Kachiko? She might not be the blasphemous traitor Shoju was, but she was a quintessential Scorpion. Hitomi wouldn’t put it past her to have lured them both here for—

For what? Their deaths? She could have accomplished that easily, half a dozen times before now.

Through gritted teeth, Ishikawa asked, “What do you need?”

“Itsuwari,” Kachiko said, holding Hitomi’s gaze. “And your willingness to bend your neck, Ishikawa.”

She got the latter before the former, but in the end, they went with Kachiko’s plan. A moment later, she strode around the pillar toward her three clanmates, brandishing Itsuwari high. “I am Bayushi Kachiko, and I have regained our stolen ancestral sword! Along with a prisoner my husband will want to see.”

Ishikawa stumbled in her wake with his hands behind his back, Hitomi shoving him along and trying to keep his greater height between her and the three Scorpion guards. The edge of her conical helmet partially obscured her face, but she couldn’t duck her chin too far without looking suspicious. Besides, staying behind him helped conceal the fact that she held Ishikawa’s katana, ready for him to seize it if the ploy failed.

The swordswoman—Shosuro Ibuki, Hitomi presumed—was questioning Kachiko and getting an imperious flood of lies in return, something about Kachiko infiltrating the enemy at Shoju’s orders so as to inform him on their movements. The wardmaster was eyeing Ishikawa with suspicion and craning his neck to see past the man to where Hitomi stood.

If the ploy fails? That was optimistic. And while attacking mid-conversation was contemptible…it was also better than letting the enemy strike first.

For the Empire.

Hitomi shoved Ishikawa’s blade into his hands and snatched out her wakizashi. “Kachiko!”

Kachiko’s empty hand suddenly held a knife, flashing across the illusionist’s throat as she lunged forward. Ishikawa jabbed the sheathed end of his katana into Ibuki’s eye, buying himself time to draw. Hitomi, armed with only her wakizashi, grimly set her feet to launch herself at the wardmaster—

Only to catch Itsuwari instead, as Kachiko threw it at her. “Go!” Kachiko shouted.

And Hitomi went. Through the doors of the throne room, kicking them shut behind her—leaving Kachiko and Ishikawa to fight for their lives, and maybe to die, but they’d all known that might be the price when they came into the city. Hitomi herself might be about to die this instant, because someone had just dropped the bar across the doors, sealing her into the throne room, and sealing her allies out.

From his arrogant seat on the throne, Bayushi Shoju said, “I’ll admit, I didn’t expect you.”

“I’m not even a Scorpion.”

Dairu was still kneeling, his arms trembling as he held the sword out. Yojiro said, “Clearly not. But you are a skilled enough swordswoman to defeat the usurper.”

Hitomi bit down on the urge to ask if he’d lost his wits. “Doesn’t the Scorpion Clan have any skilled bushi? Ones not loyal to that blasphemer?”

A choked sound came from Dairu. When he lifted his face, she saw the bright trail of a tear down one cheek. “For what he’s done, my father should be strung up in the Traitor’s Grove. But—” Dairu was fighting to hold his composure, and slowly, inevitably, he was losing. “Mirumoto-sama…I love my father. Despite everything he’s done, I love him. I don’t want his soul denied rebirth, tortured for eternity in a tree. Any Scorpion who could defeat him would try to drag him to the Grove. Please. He has to be stopped, and you are the only person who can kill him—the only person who will. Please!”

Dairu bowed once more, hiding his face, but Hitomi could see his shoulders trembling with suppressed sobs. When she looked at Yojiro, he nodded.

She knelt, bowed, and took the sword.

Hitomi’s gaze raked the throne room. All she saw was Shoju on the throne and one elderly courtier, the one who’d dropped the bar across the doors. Knowing the Scorpion, he was probably an assassin—but he backed away and knelt beside the wall. And Shoju laughed.

“No one will interfere,” the usurper said. “Do you think I need minions to defend me, when I command the might of Jigoku? I know my wife well. While an army keeps Ujiaki busy, of course she slips in with a small group for a targeted strike.” He sighed heavily. The worst thing about that sigh was, it sounded sincere. “If only she and I had been in better accord. Shared the same goals, communicated with one another more clearly. Who knows what the Empire might have become, then?”

“No amount of talking would have persuaded her to your blasphemy,” Hitomi growled, stalking forward. Her heart raced, but her hands were steady. She’d stayed her blades once, for Dairu’s sake… But even the son had turned against the father. “You don’t deserve the love and loyalty of those around you. The Emperor trusted you. You are no scorpion; you are a spider, tangling everyone in your web and poisoning them with your evil.”

Shoju rose to his feet. “Yes,” he said, his voice grating like stone against stone. “The Emperor trusted me—his greatest mistake. I serve another master now.”

He wore a sword at his side, and drew it with theatrical slowness. “I will take great enjoyment in defeating you. And once I have done so, your blood will feed—”

Hitomi didn’t let him finish. She charged, with Sotorii’s name as her war cry.

Shoju met her charge as if he’d expected it. She knew his reputation: a withered arm, made strong by magic, and he’d mastered the sword as if in defiance of that weakness. But how often had he sparred against Sumiko, or anyone else trained in the niten style? Would he be prepared for the whirlwind that was two blades attacking at once?

The answer, damnably, seemed to be yes. Hitomi’s wakizashi slapped his thrust down and to the side while Itsuwari cut at his neck, but he dodged with astonishing speed. She pressed him hard, driving him off the dais and across the floor, yet his single blade had an answer for every move of her two. Was this Jigoku’s hand at work, granting him speed and strength?

She shouldn’t have let thoughts like that distract her. And she shouldn’t have assumed that just because he held only one blade, he couldn’t present two threats.

Powder flew into her eyes, blinding her. A jarring thud knocked her wakizashi from her left hand; then Shoju seized her right in a crushing grip. “This is Itsuwari,” he snarled, so close she felt the spittle that escaped his mask. “No Dragon deserves to bear it.”

Hitomi’s vision cleared just in time for her to block Shoju’s descending arm before his katana could strike. She hooked her foot behind his, trying to trip him and failing; when he broke free of her grip, she clawed at his mask, thrusting her nails at his eyes. Shoju released her, but her fingers caught the mask’s edge and tore it from his face.

She hurled it at him, gaining an opening to leap back and reclaim her fallen wakizashi. “And you don’t deserve that mask,” she spat. “The Scorpion may be dishonorable, but always for the Empire. You have betrayed every principle they hold dear.”

Robbed of its concealment, Shoju’s face gave everything away. Beneath that snarling, diabolical mask…he was just a man. One who had thrown away everything of value: his duty, his integrity, his clan and his kin. All the inner fire that gave strength to the true warrior’s spirit and flesh.

Without that, he was nothing.

Hitomi had her honor, and her wakizashi. She had her fury, and Itsuwari. Two blades, working as one, weaving a net of steel that Shoju could not escape. He retreated again and again, backing toward the dais and the throne he had profaned—

Until Hitomi lunged forward and caught his blade between her two. But not as she had done before, with steel against steel; no, this time she trapped him where the blade met its round guard.

A twist of her wrists wrenched his katana from his hand. It clattered to the floor, and with a scream, she brought Itsuwari down to cleave him in two.

It came to a gentle stop against his collarbone.

No.

“No,” Shoju breathed.

Hearing her thought echoed from his mouth broke Hitomi from her shock at the blade’s betrayal. She looked at Shoju—but she didn’t see triumph in his face.

She saw abject horror.

He made no move to disarm her again, to throw more powder or regain his blade. He just stood, staring at the ancestral sword of the Scorpion, which was supposed to kill any Scorpion Clan Champion who betrayed the Empire.

Like the thunderbolt flash of enlightenment, everything became clear.

How many individuals had set their differences aside to answer the threat Shoju posed? How many clans had buried their conflicts—maybe not forever, because no peace could last for all time—but for long enough to stop the Empire from tearing itself apart?

Hitomi whispered, “You—”

Shoju met her gaze, eyes wide with desperation. And an unspoken plea. “I am the Empire’s villain.”

Two swords fall from Heaven. Where one refused, the other would succeed.

With a single strike of her wakizashi, Hitomi cut Shoju down.

The old courtier had slumped against the wall. The lined of discolored spittle from his lips spoke of poison. Someone was pounding on the doors, shouting; Hitomi couldn’t identify the voice through the pounding of her own heart, thudding like a war drum in her ears. Whoever was outside might be an ally, and she would live; or they might be an enemy, and she would die.

No. She couldn’t resign herself to that, not yet. Protect the prince, her Clan Champion had said—and although she had lost Sotorii, he was still out there somewhere.

She hoped. Until she knew, she could not accept death. But before she took up that duty again, there was one last thing to do.

Hitomi sheathed Itsuwari, then crossed the floor to where Shoju’s mask had fallen. She picked it up, returned to his body, and settled the mask once more over his face.

Then she went to the doors and let her fate in.

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A Battle for the Ages

Published 19 April 2021 | Legend of the Five Rings LCG

A Battle for the Ages

Introducing the Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow Event for Legend of the Five Rings

The Emerald Empire has fractured. While the Great Clans wage war against each other, Akuma no Oni has broken through the Wall. The oni lord’s horde of Shadowlands monstrosities threatens to overrun the Crab Clan and conquer all of Rokugan. Meanwhile, the traitorous regent Bayushi Shoju has seized the capital city of Otosan Uchi in a bloody Scorpion Clan coup and declared his allegiance to the Shadowlands. Shoju’s second-in-command, Ikoma Ujiaki, deploys the Imperial Legions to defend the capital against any who would challenge the regent’s rule.

Now, in the Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow, sixteen great figures from across Rokugan will struggle against the forces of the Shadowlands, and all of you will help decide who among them will prevail in the battle ahead!

You can find the master schedule for this event at the bottom of this article!

What is the Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow Event?

At its core, this event is a celebration of Legend of the Five Rings: The Card Game, and we want you, the community, to help share in the climax of the story arc represented in the card game. The celebration begins with weekly fiction releases describing the events taking place in this dramatic moment in the Legend of the Five Rings saga. However, what happens in some of those fictions is directly tied to the results of an online, vote-based single-elimination tournament that will run from now until early May. This voting tournament will shape the storyline of the Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow itself and determine which character fights their way through the hordes of the Shadowlands to face off against Akuma no Oni, the Three-Tongued Serpent.

At scheduled intervals throughout the duration of the event, we will present a single-elimination tournament bracket showing all of the remaining participants in the Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow. Each round of voting will last for four days (Monday through Thursday), during which time any fan of the Legend of the Five Rings universe can cast one vote for each respective matchup. Since this is a purely online tournament, anyone around the world can participate in voting—there’s no need to be involved in any official community or even the competitive scene. Anybody who enjoys any part of the Legend of the Five Rings franchise (whether it’s the card game, roleplaying game, fiction, etc.) is welcome to cast their vote!

Once a round of voting has completed, you will have to wait until the release of the next chapter of The Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow fiction to see the results! Although only the winners of each round will have their chance to shine, every combatant in the battle is giving their all to defeat the invading Shadowlands forces and their twisted commander, Akuma no Oni.

What is the Current Bracket for the Tournament?

Below is the current voting bracket for the Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow event. This bracket will update each time the results of a round are revealed, up through the reveal of the champion.

Click here to download a color or printer-friendly PDF of the bracket!

Please Note: The first round of voting will be split into two parts: voting for the first part, featuring the four matchups on the left side of the bracket, will begin as soon as this article goes live. Voting for the second part, featuring the four matchups on the right side of the bracket, will begin on March 8^th.

For those of you who want to see the whole voting schedule, you’ll find it at the bottom of this article.

Heroes of Legend

The Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow is the name of the battle taking place outside the border of the Shinomen Forest, where the remnants of the Crab Clan’s defenses join forces with anyone from the other clans who will answer their call to fend off the terrifying hordes of the Shadowlands. However, this battle is not the only one described as part of this community event.

Throughout the event, we will also release chapters of fiction titled Heroes of Legend. This story takes place prior to the events of The Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow, and it follows the confrontation of the usurper Bayushi Shoju and his second-in-command Ikoma Ujiaki. Each week between now and the event's conclusion, if there is not a new chapter of the Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow storyline, then we will publish a new part of the Heroes of Legend story instead. This means that, whether it’s one story or the other, you can look forward to a new chapter of Legend of the Five Rings fiction every week!

You can find a detailed schedule for the publication of both these fictions at the end of this article.

Contest of Champions

In addition to the voting tournament and fiction releases, fans of Legend of the Five Rings will be able to engage in a Fan Art contest as part of the Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow event.

Starting on April 12, we will open submissions for our Legend of the Five Rings Fan Art Contest. The art of the Legend of the Five Rings universe has always been gorgeous, and the fan art from the community is equally wonderful. With this contest, we invite artists and fans of the franchise to bring us their best work. Up to three winners of the Fan Art Contest will each receive a Legend of the Five Rings prize package along with a free copy of Under Fu Leng’s Shadow after it releases. Let those paintbrushes dance and show us your stuff!

This contest's submissions will close on April 23 (UPDATE: Extended to May 7) at 11:59 PM CST. We hope you’re excited!

*Note regarding the originally-planned Costume Contest: In light of recent events that have affected the Asian American and Pacific Islander community, we have decided not to move forward with hosting a costume contest whose submissions could be considered offensive or inappropriate to certain groups. We stand in solidarity with the broader AAPI community and are committed to ensuring everyone feels welcome and safe in our gaming and social media spaces.

The Passage of Fate

As we charge ahead into the finale of the Legend of the Five Rings LCG, we want to take this opportunity to bring the community together (virtually, of course, since the ongoing pandemic prevents us from meeting in person) and celebrate the Legend of the Five Rings universe as a whole.

Below is the master schedule for the Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow event, as well as links to all of the fiction chapters that have released so far. Mark your calendars, and we hope you enjoy it!

Master Schedule:

March 1
- Voting begins for Round 1 – Part 1, and ends on March 4 at 11:59 PM CST
- The Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow, Chapter 1 releases
March 5
- Heroes of Legend, Chapter 1 releases
March 8
- Voting begins for Round 1 – Part 2, and ends on March 11 at 11:59 PM CST
March 12
- Heroes of Legend, Chapter 2 releases
March 16
- Update for the Legend of the Five Rings Fanfiction Contest - Can be found on FFG OP's Facebook page
March 19
- The Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow, Chapter 2 releases (Round 1 results are revealed)
March 22
- Voting begins for Round 2 (Top 8), and ends on March 25 at 11:59 PM CST
March 26
- Heroes of Legend, Chapter 3 releases
April 2
- The Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow, Chapter 3 releases (Round 2 results are revealed)
April 5
- Voting begins for Round 3 (Top 4), and ends on April 8 at 11:59 PM CST
April 9
- Heroes of Legend, Chapter 4 releases
April 12
- Submissions open for the Legend of the Five Rings Fan Art Contest, and are due April 23 at 11:59 PM CST (Update: Submissions have been extended to May 7)
April 16
- The Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow, Chapter 4 releases (Round 3 results are revealed)
April 19
- Voting begins for Final Round (Top 2), and ends on April 22 at 11:59 PM CST
April 23
- Heroes of Legend, Chapter 5 releases
April 30
- The Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow, Chapter 5 is released (Final Round results are revealed)
May 7
- The Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow, Epilogue is released
- Submissions are due for the Fan Art Contest
May 12
- Fan Art Contest winner is announced

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The Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow: Ch. Four

Published 16 April 2021 | Legend of the Five Rings LCG

The Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow: Ch. Four

Presenting the Next Chapter of the Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow Storyline

Greetings, Legend of the Five Rings readers, and welcome to Week 7 of the Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow event!

Chapter Four

By Robert Denton III

14th Day of the Month of Togashi, Near Cherry Blossom Snow Lake

Despite the deluge of cold rain, Yoritomo caught Hida Yakamo’s hot glare. The Crab probably believed that the Son of Storms abandoned his post. Was there even time to explain?

Yakamo looked like he’d been chewed up, swallowed, and had fought his way back up the throat. He had formed a ragtag band and pushed into the apex of the fighting. Even now they repelled waves of goblin horrors. The band’s members were mostly Crab, but a few others had answered the rallying cry. Like the Matsu daimyō, apparently, who carried a banner instead of her weaponry, one arm shedding a steady crimson river.

Oh, and there’s Katsuo. Even hammering at the frame of what was once a ballista, the boy looked more like a samurai now than he had the previous day.

“Uji and his Iron Cranes are holding the pass,” Yoritomo said. His eyes settled on a massive ballista bolt nearby, decorated with paper wards and tipped with jade. “You plan to use that on the Oni Lord?”

“If we can get this ballista repaired,” said Yakamo. “The Kaiu engineers spent the week constructing these and hiding them in the field. They got some use before goblins got to them. This is the only one left that isn’t a pile of splinters.”

Katsuo crawled across the sundered ballista with the expertise of a carpenter. “Give me time. I’ll get it working again.”

Yakamo might have replied, but instead he noticed the arrival of a disheveled Shiba Tsukune. His eyes went straight to the jade amulet around her neck, and then widened in alarm.

“What happened to her?” he demanded. “Where is O-Ushi?”

“She’s with the medics,” Tsukune assured him. “She’s safe. She told me to find Akuma no Oni. That if we slew him, his army would fall apart.”

Yakamo nodded, although concern for his sister’s fate never left his face. “The oni spawn are coming from here. We’ve been beating back waves for some time. He must be nearby.”

Yoritomo pointedly cast about the battlefield around him. “Impressive that something so big can hide. Perhaps he is invisible, like a camouflaged octopus.”

“Correct.” They turned toward the unnaturally deep voice. No one had seen Togashi Yokuni arrive. From his belt, he drew an ancient jitte. “Or, perhaps I should say, he was.”

At once, Yoritomo stood in a shadow.

Perhaps a bow’s range away, a mountain of rusty iron flesh rose from the sea of nightmares. He stood taller than the mast of the Bitter Wind, his mouth large enough to swallow an ox whole. Three serpentine tongues flicked acid beneath the three flaming orbs that were his eyes, orbs that seemed to blur together as Yoritomo stared into them, a diamond-shaped flare that scorched his mind.

Tsukune cried out, falling to one knee. She clutched her purple eye, jaw clenched in anguish. Glowing liquid dripped between her fingers. “I-invoking…kansen…” she gasped.

Yokuni lunged in front the ballista, shoving Yakamo aside. He slammed his hands against the earth. For a moment, his dragon tattoos writhed, and his hands glowed against the grass.

A loud crack split the air. Jagged stone burst around the ruined ballista, accompanied by disembodied screams. Yoritomo’s teeth rattled as a shockwave rippled through him. Yokuni wrenched violently, as if something had struck him in the stomach. Then he crumpled to hands and knees, drained from deflecting the oni’s sorcery.

The Oni Lord pressed himself flat against the ground, his clawed hands clamped into the soil. With a gesture, a wave of spawn poured from the earth, a screaming mass of eyes and claws.

Matsu Tsuko raised the banner. “Rally here! Protect the ballista!”

“You heard the Lady of Lions!” Yakamo bellowed, as defenders formed a shell around the weapon.

Katsuo’s hammering increased its tempo. Tsukune forced herself to her feet and drew her weapon. Yoritomo braced himself as the wave of monsters crashed into them.

Yokuni leapt and scooped up the discarded ballista bolt. Spinning it like an oversized spear, he battered oni spawn on each side, sending them sprawling to be finished by the others. Tsukune rushed to guard his back, her movements falling naturally in tandem with his, a samurai trained to fight beside mystics and shugenja. Black blood sprayed arcs in the rain.

Beyond, the Oni Lord rose. Long steps brought him toward the ballista. Panic briefly washed over Yakamo’s features. Oni spawn were one thing, but could they keep Akuma no Oni himself from simply smashing the only weapon that could seriously harm him?

Yoritomo remembered the briefing from the previous days. Akuma no Oni was given the name of Isawa Akuma, the Master of Earth. It was what made him so formidable. But perhaps he’d inherited other things from Isawa Akuma. His hubris, perhaps? His pride?

He was only a few hundred yards away, now. He was closing in.

I can’t believe I’m about to do this.

Yoritomo dashed out, away from the mass. “So this is Akuma no Oni,” he shouted, “with a face even a mother would drown.”

The creature paused. Tilted his head.

“It is a great honor,” Yoritomo continued, “to finally meet the least powerful of the Oni Lords.”

The massive creature jerked in his direction. Did his eyes burn a little brighter? Did his tongues writhe just a little more menacingly?

Good. Look this way. Yoritomo held his arms to his sides. “After all, a powerful Oni Lord would have gone straight for Otosan Uchi when they had the chance. I’ve heard there are Shadowlands creatures crawling at the bottom of the seas. Why not simply travel up through the ocean and attack the capital directly from the Golden Sun Bay?” He shrugged. “But then, I suppose you did the best that a coward could do.”

The ground shook with the monster’s steps. Yoritomo glanced back at the others; Katsuo tested the mechanism as three Crab soldiers loaded the bolt. No sign of Yokuni, and he couldn’t track the others through the goblin mass. Keep him busy.

Akuma’s jaws dripped high above the Son of Storms’ head. Yoritomo looked up into his enraged eyes without flinching. “All my life I have sought a worthy challenge.” He shook his head. “How disappointing that instead, here I find you.”

The creature slung his massive fist into the ground where Yoritomo stood. The Son of Storms barely rolled away, his kama flashing. He ducked beneath the follow-up strike, then leaped back from a shower of acid. Chemical steam burned his nostrils and eyes. The Oni Lord leaped over him like a cat, hammering another cratering punch into the earth.

But now Togashi Yokuni stood beneath his boulder-like fist, hands pressed against the creature’s knuckles, his muscles straining beneath the strength of the demon. The creature tried to yank his hand back, but Yokuni grasped him, held him fast.

His chance. Yoritomo scrambled up the creature’s arm and onto his back. With a swing, he dug both of his kama into the creature’s flesh. He let his weight drag him down and around Akuma’s flank, tearing a path like a sail. He dragged the blade across the creature’s thigh and into the tendons behind the knee, cutting through and rolling to the earth.

He crumpled to one knee, the other leg ruined. The creature screamed in pain, showering acid from his mouth. Yokuni ignored the sting as Akuma shrieked and jabbed at him with clawed hands, digging trenches in the soil. Yokuni sidestepped and brushed them aside, until finally he stomped a foot onto the creature’s clawed hand, pinning him.

A loud crack. The ballista fired.

Akuma roared as the massive bolt sunk into his side. A chorus of cheers arose from the ballista, Katsuo holding his hammer up high.

As the creature crashed onto his side, Yoritomo crossed his kama. Honored ancestor Osano-wo, are you watching? Your descendent begs for your aid! Please give me the strength—

Lightning traced an arc into the ballista bolt. Akuma shrieked as a god’s fire traced through his body. He collapsed onto his hands, smoke pouring from burns across his flesh.

Yoritomo stared, stunned, as ozone traced his nostrils. The entire battlefield seemed to slow down, to pause, as thunder echoed through the heavens. He’d hoped that the Fortune of Fire and Thunder had been listening. But he never dreamed that the Fortune would answer.

Was that you, Honored Ancestor? Was that a sign of your blessing? Are you telling me that I am destined to fell this creature, that I am—

The Oni Lord wrenched the bolt from his side and reared back to hurl it toward the Son of Storms.

Yoritomo tensed, ready to throw himself aside. The creature would make another opening, and he would capitalize, once more running up the arm and…

Akuma was not looking at him. His gaze was above his shoulder. As Yoritomo followed it, he realized the Akuma wasn’t targeting him, but the defenders gathered around the ballista. He saw Tsukune’s eyes widen as she froze in place. He saw the peasant, Katsuo, as the color drained from his face. He saw Yakamo pushing Tsuko down to avoid the trajectory, directly in its path. There was no way any of them could avoid it.

The only thing in the way was himself.

Just as Uji had thrown himself in the way of the goblin’s spear meant for him. Deeds, not words, will matter in the end.

Yoritomo nodded. He’d had a good run, up to now.

He hurled himself in front of the bolt. It tore through his armor, lifting him off his feet, sinking into his chest.

He struck the ground and was still.

The Oni Lord pounced to tear Yoritomo’s limp body to ribbons. But Yokuni held him fast, arms wrapped around his ruined leg. Akuma roared in frustration and spun, snapping at Yokuni as he jumped back, spinning. He diverted the Oni Lord’s attacks, again and again, as goblins rushed to claim the Son of Storms’ body. He sprung onto Akuma’s shoulder, then leaped to intercede.

Akuma snatched him from the air and smashed him into the ground.

Yokuni heard a snap as his chest buckled under the crushing weight of the demon’s hand. For a moment, his vision blurred, and the burning-orb eyes of the Oni Lord spun beneath his victorious grin.

For a moment.

Then Yokuni grasped the Oni Lord’s arm with both his hands. The dragons on his arms, brilliant jade tattoos, writhed down his limbs, over his hands, and into the very flesh of Akuma no Oni.

The Oni Lord screamed as his flesh calcified, growing brittle, blackening, as if burned from within. It fell away like dried mud, and beneath his screams, a human voice begged for the pain to stop.

Yokuni could not hear it. He couldn’t hear anything at all. Just his own heart, beating steady, as it always had. One beat after another, just as one thought had preceded this one. In the same way that one could not recall their first thought, there was no such thing as beginning or end. Such was the blessing of the Order’s teachings.

I have done everything you asked of me, Lord Togashi, except one. I regret that I could not prepare Mitsu for this burden. May he forgive me.

He exhaled, resting his head against the grass, as the Oni Lord crumbled around him.

This was a good life. May I remember its lessons in the next one. When I find my way once more to the High House of Light, as I have countless times since the dawn of the Order, may this world be more peaceful than when I left it.

The Dragon Clan Champion closed his eyes and did not open them again.

Tsuko was the first by the unmoving body of the Son of Storms, swatting at the encroaching oni spawn with her banner. Then came the others, forcing the goblin warriors back with spears and blades.

“He died to spare us,” Tsuko said. “Perhaps he had a noble spirit after all.”

Yoritomo’s chest heaved as the bolt fell away. “Perhaps,” he whispered.

Tsuko raised her voice. “He lives!”

Yakamo stared incredulously. “How?!”

The Son of Storms tried to move his leg. He couldn’t feel it. Yet there was no pain. Just the groggy sense that he’d fallen a great distance and lost a few moments of time. And then came the sound of a horn, something distantly familiar, and a new wave of cheers arose from the samurai around him. He heard the thundering of hooves and the clashing of blades, and then they crossed his sight. Cavalry. And they were not fleeing from the sight of goblins, which meant they were not normal steeds.

They were outriders of the Unicorn Clan.

Their arrival seemed to bolster the spirit of the fighting troops. With restored energy, they fought anew. The Unicorn galloped across the battlefields, joining the fray.

A grinning warrior with the heraldry of the Moto brought his steed to a stop. Yoritomo’s dazed eyes lingered on the man’s scarred cheek, and the brittle horn attached to his helmet. “You’re the biggest one here; you must be Hida Yakamo!” he barked. “Feel honored! Shono gives his regards.”

Yakamo blinked away his brief confusion. If he knew the Moto, he didn’t return the familiarity. “The Crab welcome anyone who would fight beside us.” He gestured to the Son of Storms. “This man is injured. Can you ride him back to the command line?”

As they spoke, Yoritomo drew a trinket from his sleeve. Once agarwood carved to look like a turtle shell, it was now broken.

He smiled wryly at himself. “I can’t believe I owe my life to a Crane.”

The monster Akuma no Oni filled Katsuo’s vision. He could not pull away, not even to regard the battle still raging nearby, separating him from the others. The flaming orbs that had been the creature’s three eyes now smoldered, rapidly greying like dying coals. The monster hunched onto his arms and legs, acid pouring from his razor-filled mouth.

He vomited. Wet chunks splattered out. He lurched, over and over, each spasm seeming to drain the creature of color, expelling another misshapen glistening cluster.

They were bodies. Misshapen flesh fell from his open maw, splatting against headless torsos and twitching limbs. The impact of their fall merged them into a glistening mound, like wet clay.

And two arms unfolded from that quivering mass. Clawed hands gripped the earth. The grass itself seemed drawn up those arms, sheathing the flesh. The grass blackened, stiffened, becoming fur, spines, armor. Three orbs ignited between them.

He was reforming, wasn’t he? Remaking himself, abandoning the shell that the Dragon Champion had sundered.

Katsuo’s mouth was dry. His sword felt as though it weighed a hundred bushels.

Why did I think I could do this? This thing cannot be killed. We’re all going to die here. We’re—

A woman’s soft voice. “I didn’t get your name.”

Katsuo jumped at Tsukune’s words. He hadn’t realized she was standing right beside him. The woman’s eye glowed like a purple lantern, and a thick iridescent tear-streak now thickly painted its way down her face, a brushstroke of melted pearl.

She seemed calm. Almost quizzical. How could she be so calm at a time like this?

She turned slightly, and after a moment, lowered into a bow. “I am Shiba Tsukune of the Phoenix Clan.”

Katsuo swallowed. He returned the gesture, lower. “I am Katsuo, of…” Of what, exactly? His village? Should he say that? “…Of Kurosunai village.”

Tsukune made a face.

Had he made a mistake? “I mean, just Katsuo,” he spat out.

Tsukune nodded. She spoke calmly, distantly. “The Dragon Champion gave his life to make him vulnerable. He gave us this chance.”

“How do you know that?”

Tsukune’s hand hovered before her glowing eye. “I can see him. The Realm of Slaughter is telling me to slay the Oni Lord in battle, to send him into Tōshigoku’s embrace, where he cannot escape.”

Katsuo trembled. “How are we supposed to do that?”

Her brow furrowed. Did she not even know? Did she not have a plan, or something?

“I don’t think I can do this,” he confessed. “I thought maybe I could, but what could I even hope to do against something this, this…much?” He knew that he was losing control, but he couldn't help that a dam had broken inside him. “That thing killed, or should have killed, two clan champions! Even struck by lightning, he kept going! I don't have magic tattoos or an enchanted weapon.” Katsuo shook his head. “I'm just a farmer. I—”

He trembled. What more could he say?

“You feel like you shouldn’t be here,” said Tsukune. “Like it was a mistake. I remember what that felt like.”

Katsuo paused. Was that true? The Phoenix Champion once felt the same way?

“There were far better candidates,” Tsukune spoke. “And some who came before me, I’ll never live up to.” She laid a hand on her sword. “But Ofushikai, it chose me. I still don’t know why. I don’t think I ever will.

“But maybe I don’t need to know. Maybe my role isn’t to question, but to use this gift to help as many as I can. To lift them up. To save the things we love.”

Katsuo closed his eyes. His tiny piece of farm. Takuhiro’s happy dog face, barking. Tomoko’s smile.

The things we love.

Tsukune gave him an affirming nod. “I think you do have a power. I think everything you’ve been though has led you right here. And I think you are exactly where you are supposed to be, Katsuo of Kurosunai Village, the man whose name means ‘victory.’”

How strange. There was no doubt anymore. Akuma no Oni had shed his husk, and now a new glistening body, sleek and spined, reared up and unleashed a vile roar. Yet, Katsuo knew what he had to do. Was this what it was like to be samurai?

“Will you fight with me?” Tsukune asked.

He raised his sword. “I’ll give it my all.”

They spun toward the beast as he charged toward them.

14th Day of the Month of Togashi, the Temple of the Ninth Kami, the Shadowlands

The animated body of Isawa Akuma wrenched back from the line of salt Tadaka had hastily drawn. Tadaka dove from a spray of acid, his nostrils burning. Blood ran down his face, but he ignored both his wound and the whispers urging him to give that blood to the kansen. He chose another hallway of the temple, hoping to once again duck out of sight.

Another moment to breathe.

He realized now that the Oni Lord was split between two bodies: his demonic one, and his ancestor’s. But which one had reached out to him in his dreams? Was it truly his ancestor’s spirit, or had it been the demon all along?

And did that mean that if he defeated the spirit here, Akuma would live on through the demon? Was the best he could hope for to buy time for Asako Tsuki to return to the Empire? Could he even free his ancestor from this cursed state?

Would he make it out alive?

The shambling horror froze between rows of forgotten tomes. He seemed to be hesitating. Sluggish.

He’s distracted, Tadaka realized. The demon may exist in both places, but he had only one mind. And whatever was happening with his other form, the oni was having trouble splitting his attentions.

He resumed his frenzied writing, tracing words with his finger in ink mingled with the crushed powder of his last piece of jade. It pooled in the origami paper’s creases. Azusa’s gift, a symbol of her trust, would make a fine paper charm, a thing to sever Akuma, if only temporarily, from the Realm of Evil. If only Tadaka could complete the complicated letters. If only the kami were here to bless it.

It was the faintest hum, a rattle in his chest, just barely perceivable. Were he not searching so desperately, he wouldn’t have felt it at all. There was a kami here, perhaps several, somewhere deep below. Not kansen, not corrupted spirits, but kami. Or ghosts, perhaps. Ancestors?

He could be imagining it. So desperate, that his mind invented a solution. After all, why would such spirits be in a place like this?

No. He had to believe that what he felt was real. He had to believe, impossible as it was, that there was still an ally here he could convince to aid him. He had to. He had no options left.

The shambling horror raked at him with crystalline claws. Tadaka rolled away, paper gripped in his dripping hand.

Whoever you are, Tadaka prayed, my hidden ally, whatever you are doing… don’t stop! Keep him busy!

His legs burned as the halls shook with thunderous roars. I just need a little more time!

Read on to see the results of the third round of voting, as well as the percentage of votes each character received!

Match 1

Shiba Tsukune (55%) - Togashi Yokuni (45%)

Match 2

Yoritomo (49.6%) - Katsuo the Peasant (50.4%)

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Heroes of Legend: Chapter Four

Published 9 April 2021 | Legend of the Five Rings LCG

Heroes of Legend: Chapter Four

Presenting the Next Chapter of the Heroes of Legend Storyline

Greetings, Legend of the Five Rings readers, and welcome to Week 6 of the Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow event!

As a reminder, the events of this story take place prior to the events of The Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow.

Chapter Four

By Josiah "Duke" Harrist

18^th Day of the Month of Hida, 1123, outside of Toshi Ranbo

Sunrise cut through grey morning clouds, coloring the snowy fields a brilliant crimson. As the morning ripened, Lady Sun cast the lines of Crane, Lion, Phoenix, Scorpion, and Unicorn samurai riding together in a blood-red silhouette before the dour clouds blanketed the scene in an otherworldly chill. At the head of a long line of cavalry, Shinjo Altansarnai’s face was drawn in stony resolve. Faint lines traced her features, hinting at years of worry and care. Next to her rode Ikoma Tsanuri. The delicately molded barding on Tsanuri’s steed were traced with frost patterns; how cold the poor mare—and its rider—seemed to be without the warm woolen wrappings of Unicorn riders.

Altansarnai’s mind was foggy from lack of sleep. The night prior had been mayhem as two previously warring clans struggled to realign themselves to fight side by side. And even in the brief hours the Unicorn Champion had taken to sleep, the revelation of Ikoma Ujiaki’s subterfuge—the impossible marriage, and the endless, fruitless feud between Lion and Unicorn—had eaten away any rest or repose. The blood price of Ambassador Ikoma’s conspiracy was beyond reckoning.

Tsanuri shivered, almost imperceptibly, as a cutting breeze tore across the wintry field. Altansarnai’s heart tightened at the thought of Tsanuri’s mother and her failed suicide attempt, the mock marriage arrangement; the entire bloody feud had been orchestrated by Ambassador Ikoma. There would be time to mend and heal later, but not until Ujiaki paid for his perfidy.

Perhaps she could at least take Tsanuri’s mind off the intense cold. Altansarnai’s breath manifested as a cloud as she broke the silence.

“I met an Ujik sage once. Living in a barren hovel out on the steppe, on the brink of starvation. Surrounded by animal furs and filth. The old man was thinner than parchment, but he invited me in, poured me a cup of watery broth, and told me he was the wealthiest man in the world.”

Tsanuri turned slightly, curious.

“‘What, pray tell, is your wealth?’ I asked him. He drained his broth and said, ‘Each day, Lady Sun shows me the animal I will eat, and the wind bears my arrows true. Every night, even in deep midwinter, I feast.’

“I drank one bowl of his broth, and he pointed to the mountains lit by the sunrise. ‘Lady Sun gives me gold,’ he said. A flock of birds nested on his roof, and he addressed them as his servants.

“It was then that I began to feel the effects of the broth he gave me.” Altansarnai’s expression broke into wry smile. Tsanuri chuckled.

“For all intents and purposes, I did enjoy a feast in the company of the lord of his home, with all his subjects in attendance. And although the winter was even more bitter than this one, the mountains were bathed in gold.” Altansarnai took a breath. Her warmth spilled out in a cloud, dancing like kami taking a thousand forms. “I suppose that a thing is as much how it is perceived as it is itself.”

Ikoma Tsanuri’s lips pursed. For a moment, Altansarnai saw something familiar in the general’s affect: like Haruko, she was a devoted daughter, sincere and noble, a successor to one of the great families of Rokugan. The young Lion’s keen eyes darted to and fro, searching for any threat ahead. The crunch of hooves in the thick, feathery snow filled the silence that stretched between them. Altansarnai reflected on the Lion general’s blithe confessions several days prior, then chose to respond in kind.

“The fields of Rokugan will always be stained with the blood of our people,” said the Unicorn. “I did what I had to for the Unicorn, as you have done for the Lion—"

“All that we did was in service to Ujiaki’s plans,” Tsanuri broke in. Her expression twisted in a look of pain as she guided her steed over a rocky outcropping, cresting a low hill that overlooked miles of empty snow. The clouds hung like a pall over the bleak landscape.

“We have no need to mix the blood of the Unicorn and Lion in marriage; the blood of our clans has mixed in the soil beneath our feet,” Tsanuri continued. “Duty has brought us death, Champion Shinjo. What we need now is justice.”

“Upon that, we are agreed,” Altansarnai’s tone was cold as ice. Her hands gripped the reins of her horse tightly. “Ikoma Ujiaki will pay a thousand times over for the misery he has wrought.”

When she looked into the general’s eyes again, she saw Tsanuri’s clear-eyed resolve. The Lion brushed a tear from her cheek and smiled at Altansarnai, who returned it in kind. Perhaps this was the kinship their families had always been fated to share, allied against a common foe.

The pair looked back to the cadre of samurai arrayed behind them. A Lion commander had pulled his mempō down to break into uproarious laughter, and was joined by several of his subordinates. Their mirth was broken by a shout as Utaku Kamoko rode up alongside the laughing man, her eyes hot with anger.

“You have the gall to show yourself in the company of the Unicorn?” Kamoko seethed. It was then that Altansarnai recognized the Lion commander: Matsu Agetoki, the man who had pillaged Kamoko’s home. The battle maiden’s hand rested on her sword’s pommel as she fought her rage. Altansarnai clenched her jaw as she prepared to intervene.

“Stand down, General Utaku,” came a clear, strong voice. A samurai bedecked in brilliant blue livery rode confidently through the lines of cavalry to come between the Lion and the Unicorn. Removing his helmet, Doji Kuwanan cut between the two, his cool brown eyes the only source of calm amidst the storm of emotion. “If you wish to settle your grievances with this man, you may do so in the appropriate time and place. But this is not that time nor is it the place.” The Crane noble nodded to Tsanuri and Altansarnai.

The Unicorn Champion looked to the Lion and Crane champions, and all the heroes behind them, who would ride into battle with her. Doji Hotaru gazed confidently at the head of a line of Crane elite soldiers, full of cool resolve. Altansarnai’s own children, Yasamura and Haruko, met her gaze, unflinching. In that moment, she felt herself the mother of all these young hopefuls, once set against each other by the acrimony of old wounds.

“Old wounds do not bleed,” Altansarnai shouted to their small army. “Though they may ache for generations. Today, let us set aside the past to strike at our true foe.”

The truth had broken like the sun through the clouds of war. Their true adversary was ahead, in Otosan Uchi. Ikoma Ujiaki would pay for his cruel machinations, as would Bayushi Shoju for his corruption. She saw the eyes of her riders alight.

“We ride for Rokugan!”

5th Day of the Month of Togashi, 1123, alongside the River of the Sun

As the army crossed a small, frozen river to the snowy fields outside Otosan Uchi, a cadre of mounted samurai came into view. The Army of the Rising Wave was arrayed in a narrow crescent outside the imposing profile of the Imperial City. A serpentine tendril of smoke rose over the sloped roofs and faded glory of the pagodas; something inside the city was burning, but what? The Miwaku Kabe—the Enchanted Wall—girding the innermost city seemed to ripple and shimmer like a mirage. As the small army approached, a messenger rode out on horseback to meet them, bearing the sigil of the Dragon clan. After a brief parley, Altansarnai, Tsanuri, and Matsu Tsuko rode out over the frozen plain to meet Mirumoto Hitomi in the Dragon army’s camp.

The Dragon general’s face was a grim mask as she appraised them each, in turn, in the cool interior of her tent.

“Your arrival is most fortunate,” Hitomi spoke in a low growl. “I am relieved to see that only a portion of the Lion sided with Shoju, and that the Unicorn have brought their muster.”

This was only part of her clan’s muster, but Altansarnai did not need to correct the Dragon.

“Our purpose is far more dire than it first seemed. Bayushi Shoju promised to unleash the horrors beyond the Carpenter Wall, and has somehow delivered on his promise. We have received word from the Crab that Hida Kisada has fallen, and Akuma no Oni’s horde marches across their provinces with the discipline of a well-trained army.”

The words hung like a stench in the air. Altansarnai looked to her companions and saw dread written upon their faces. Her own stomach ached, as though a snake had coiled in her belly. Hitomi exhaled, then went on.

“Shoju must be defeated at all costs, otherwise he shall surely add his forces to the armies of the Shadowlands.”

“We understand,” Matsu Tsuko intoned. The rest of them nodded as she continued. “Bayushi Shoju poses a grave threat to the Emerald Empire. For the good of Rokugan, we will slay his Legionnaires before they can debase themselves further.”

“The task is dire,” Hitomi responded. “As long as the wall’s enchantments hold strong, there is not an army under the sun that could possibly breach the city.”

“We should starve them out,” Altansarnai said coldly. “We can order ships to blockade their port of entry. They will have no choice but to meet us on the open field.”

The suggestion of a smile tugged at Hitomi’s angular features. “Chancellor Kakita Yoshi has already sent word to the Crane and Phoenix navies. And a gentle suggestion has been sent to the Tortoise to patrol the outer waters for opportunists who might slip through.”

Altansarnai’s eyes strayed to a large table in the center of the tent, where symbols for the enemy and friendly forces were arranged in a crescent around the stronghold. At the edge of the board, the golden and violet pieces of the Unicorn and Lion armies were piled; the Dragon had not known if they were friend or foe.

“We greatly outnumber them. If we can overwhelm the ambassador’s forces and breach the Enchanted Wall, perhaps we may stop Shoju himself,” said Tsuko.

Altansarnai clenched her hands into fists. Ujiaki had not simply betrayed clan and code for the regent’s power: he had sided against Rokugan itself, allied himself with a man who served the Shadowlands. The Unicorn Champion strode to the war room table and stared intently at the figure bearing Ujiaki’s name, standing blithely before a carved facsimile of the wall. The very soul of Rokugan was in the balance.

“The Miwaku Kabe was built to keep the Forbidden City safe. Legends tell of a mysterious and grave calamity that befalls any who would besiege the city.” Tsuko stood next to Altansarnai and placed one finger upon the pointed top of Otosan Uchi.

The nameless menace of the wall fixed itself in Altansarnai’s mind. She thought of her own children, and of their future in this fractured empire. If she died, would they have the strength to carry on in her stead? And if they lost this battle, would the Emerald Empire continue to exist? Would any of her clan ride free under the eye-blue sky ever again?

“The Unicorn have traveled far and wide,” the Unicorn Champion said. “We do not fear the unknown; we try to understand it. And so, we forge our own path. It is our differences that make us strong. Much as the Lion draw strength from their virtue, and the Dragon their wisdom.” She looked to Hitomi, who smiled openly for the first time.

“If we stand united, we shall not fail.”

12^th Day of the Month of Togashi, 1123, Otosan Uchi

A week had passed. The monolithic wall towered over the outer districts, shimmering and rippling as the armies of the Great Clans assembled like a noose around Ikoma’s neck. The curl of smoke they had seen rising over the capital city had not stopped burning.

Altansarnai’s heart swelled as she surveyed their army: the regal Shiba Katsuda, resplendent in the finery of the Phoenix; the ethereal Doji Hotaru and her brother Kuwanan, blades gleaming in the noonday sun; the former Master of Earth once known as Isawa Rujo, now stripped of sign or sigil; and Bayushi Yojiro at the head of the faceless muster of the Scorpion clan; where Hitomi should have been, Mirumoto Raitsugu stood proudly before the monks and warriors of the Army of the Rising Wave, who were poised and ready like the force of water behind a dam, waiting to break.

“All has gone according to plan. Perhaps too easily,” said Tsuko as she brought her horse alongside Altansarnai and Tsanuri.

“Do you suspect a trap?”

“I expect one,” Tsuko replied. “Ujiaki seems almost to beg for defeat. With our forces combined, we outnumber the Imperial Army ten to one, yet Bayushi Yojiro’s scouts reported he ordered all forces outside the Enchanted Wall.”

“It is more than folly—it is suicide.” Tsanuri’s amber eyes seemed to glow gold in the morning light. The sun had crested the low cloud cover, glinting off the Lion’s tawny armor.

“He has chosen a good day to die,” said Altansarnai.

To her left, Yasamura and Haruko sat astride their own steeds, faces drawn. In a single moment, Altansarnai remembered holding Haruko for the first time, how her tiny fist closed around her thumb, her eyes shut. And then Yasamura, crying in the mud after scraping his knee. Cold nights curled up together for warmth. She wished she could dwell in each moment, gather her children to herself again, keep them safe in memory.

Haruko had grown tall and fierce, and would die honorably someday, serving her clan. Yasamura was sharp and angular, and like his mother, would also die for his clan if need be.

There was still hope. Her youngest son, Shono, would take what he had learned far across the Burning Sands to lead in her stead, should she fall in battle. And, barring his return, Altansarnai allowed herself to hope that Iuchi Shahai might be quietly allowed to return, for Daiyu’s sake. One fine sunny day, perhaps, they would all be reunited.

Altansarnai turned to those of her children who were with her now. “Fight bravely. Carve your own path. No matter the outcome, I will always be with you.”

Her son wiped a tear from his face. Her daughter gave a grim smile. Their forces stood at the western edge of Otosan Uchi, where across the field, Imperial forces had mustered. A cold wintry wind blew from the north, carrying the menace of snow and ice. There was nothing more to say. Altansarnai looked to her companions, then flashed her war fan for the signal. Overhead, a black-winged crow circled and let out a mordant caw. At that same moment, Tsanuri let out a loud bellow.

“Charge!”

A flurry of movement. The weight of a hundred horses trampled fresh-fallen snow. All silence and anticipation ceased, became the present. Across the battlefield, a unit of swift cavalry charged through a wall of foot soldiers, darting across the field in a blur of green and gold.

Before their forces were within striking distance, a wave of enemy arrows blackened the sky. A whorl of current rushed around their ears as Phoenix shugenja entreated the kami, who swept the arrows aside as if by calligraphy brush. Arrows clattered noisily on helmets and armor, harmless. And then, at the vanguard, the cavalry clashed. Altansarnai watched her vassals pass her, holding their curved blades out to mete death upon the Imperial Legions. Moto warriors let out a long, ululating Ujik battle cry, while the Utaku Battle Maidens rode forth in fearsome silence.

Holding up an eyeglass, Altansarnai watched lines of Imperial foot soldiers march steadily out from the capital. In the midst of them, perched upon a tawny steed, was General Ikoma Ujiaki. In his hand, he held a metal fan that glinted dully in the watery light.

“The scouts spoke true. The ambassador is situated at the heart of his army, directing their movements,” Altansarnai barked at Tsuko. To the north, Lion cavalry clashed with Imperial ashigaru, supported on either side by the tattooed monks of the Army of the Rising Wave, their arms and bare chests glowing with luminous energy. Another volley of arrows launched and were batted aside by friendly shugenja. Several of the Lion cavalry were struck, their riders tossed from their saddles, by a half dozen Legionnaires wielding heavy iron tetsubо̄. The thick iron clubs dipped in and out of the waves of soldiers like paddles in a river, sending warriors flying in their wake.

“Press on!” Altansarnai shouted into the din. She urged her horse into the fray, then leapt from the saddle in front of one of the bushi, whose tetsubо̄ was embedded in the back of a fallen Dragon warrior. In a swift slash, Altansarnai felled him, then cleaved the helmet of another warrior in two. A backward swing from another tetsubо̄ knocked her breath out, and she tumbled back into the mix of mud and snow as a warrior approached, their mempо̄ painted with a rictus grin. The bushi brandished their tetsubо̄ over their head to mete out death.

“Champion Shinjo! To me!” came a voice. Unthinking, Altansarnai rolled in the direction of the sound. A slash, then a gurgling cry. She looked up to see Doji Kuwanan wipe his blade clean.

Suddenly, the skin on her neck prickled. Beyond the Imperial Army, the west side of the Enchanted Wall shimmered, and the very ground seemed to groan as if under a terrible weight. A sudden sound of voices—barely perceptible, but growing stronger—rose like the sound of the whispering tide as an oily, black mass pooled on the face of the Miwaku Kabe. The sound of voices grew silent, overtaken by a mordant wail. Altansarnai felt the skin on her neck prickle with fear as the dark shape grew heavy and tumbled down to envelop the outer city and surrounding battlefield. As the darkness overtook knots of skirmishing cavalry and bushi, blue lights danced in the murk.

The wind was sucked from Altansarnai’s mouth, as if the wall itself had drawn a sharp breath. All around her, shouts of consternation turned to screams as phantom forms emerged from the ground: clawed, spindly arms digging out of the muck, followed by ghastly, hollow faces. Out of the earth between her and Doji Kuwanan, a three-eyed monstrosity with a broad forehead and clacking jaws erupted from beneath a pile of snow, wreathed in an iridescent blue film. Altansarnai felt her blood run cold; Ujiaki had bent the kami of the wall to his will. The blue lights dancing in the distance were an army of undead servants: ultimate proof of Shoju’s alliance with the Shadowlands.

All became chaos. A stone’s throw away, Ikoma Tsanuri and Matsu Tsuko plunged into the tumult as undead servants beset their forces with tooth and claw, devouring the fallen with reckless abandon. Samurai locked in combat were blindsided by ancient, crude weapons wielded by phantoms with misshapen heads and sightless eyes. In a moment of panic, Altansarnai scanned the battlefield for her children, but could not see them.

Next to her, the heir to the Crane Clan drew a sharp breath. “We must be brave.” Doji Kuwanan flashed a smile.

Nearby, Kakita Toshimoko launched himself, faster than the wind, at a line of advancing soldiers. The duelist’s blade moved so quickly it was almost invisible.

The pair waded through the tempest as another volley of arrows flew out from the Imperial forces. This time, the combined army had no shugenja nearby to bat them aside. Kuwanan and Altansarnai both dove for cover behind a fallen horse, its former rider slack-jawed in a look of dead shock. Altansarnai searched every fallen Unicorn, every empty face, for her children’s likeness.

An inhuman roar resounded through the pall of battle. The pair advanced to see Matsu Tsuko struggling valiantly against a hulking oni that flickered with blue light. The oni was tall, perhaps the height of three warriors, with a long, furred body and an equine face rotted through to expose a ghastly white skull underneath. It champed its teeth, then snapped at the Lion commander. Altansarnai’s pulse stopped. Just then, the light of Lady Sun caught a familiar metallic glimmer in the corner of her eye: General Ujiaki was not far to the south, twirling a metal fan. The Unicorn Champion felt her heart pulled in two directions as she watched Tsuko struggle against the oni. The weight of their task bore down upon her.

“We must reach Ujiaki at all costs,” Altansarnai commanded.

Kuwanan nodded, but there was a silent conflict written in his deep brown eyes.

“Go to him. I have something I must do.”

The moment was fleeting; there was no time for hesitation. Altansarnai bade the Crane farewell, then headed south.

Unleashing a hoarse whinny, the massive oni reared back and stamped at Tsuko, who deftly feinted, losing her magnificently plumed helmet in the process. The weight of the oni’s hoof crushed the helmet as it bore down on the Lion commander. The phantom charged again at the warrior, who sluggishly dove for cover.

Doji Kuwanan drew his blade, then charged for the oni. The swordsman’s form was as fierce as a Lion’s as he struck a dire cut to the phantom’s right flank. Instead of blood, inky darkness spilled forth to sour the earth, stinking of death. Its ire drawn, the demon whirled around to face Kuwanan, its face stuck in a perpetual grimace. Nightmarish red light shone through one empty eye socket; the other eye leered, bloodshot, down at the Crane warrior.

“Tsuko, flee! You spared my life once; now it is my turn to repay the favor!” Kuwanan shouted to Tsuko, who clutched her side. The massive beast had torn a gaping rent in her chestplate.

The oni let out a gut-wrenching howl. A cacophony of voices rose, whispering like the denizens of Jigoku, and the beast charged at Doji Kuwanan. Altansarnai, who had turned briefly to watch the struggle, gasped and looked away as the Crane was trodden under the oni’s massive hoof. When she looked back, a mass of phantom creatures had swarmed what remained of the samurai’s body.

There was no time to mourn his loss. Her prey was on the move. Another flicker from Ujiaki’s fan told her he had moved farther south. Altansarnai mounted a fallen soldier’s horse and urged it forward, over piled corpses and blood-soaked snowdrifts, toward the traitorous ambassador. Arrows whistled past her as another volley descended. Around her, the battlefield was in complete disarray—both Imperial and friendly samurai lay, dead or dying, pierced through with arrows, cut by blades, or slashed through by the phantom horde. The Unicorn Champion thought she saw her daughter Haruko among them, but when she looked again it was only a trick of the light.

Cresting a hill, she found a skirmish in motion: soldiers locked in combat, archers firing blindly into the fray, heavy cavalry cutting through wave upon wave of ashigaru. A whistling screech from an oni pierced the din. It took a moment for Altansarnai to make sense of the tangle of bodies locked in combat: the soldiers fighting each other all wore the emerald armor of Imperial forces. Utter chaos seemed to have taken hold.

A hollow voice rang in her ears. “You are deceived, my fellow Lion! Shoju has allied himself with the evils of the Shadowlands!”

It took a moment for the Unicorn Champion to place the voice, and to see where it originated: Akodo Arasou, fallen Lion Champion, stood in the midst of the fray. The apparition was swathed in beryl iridescence, flickering and flashing like a silhouette behind a paper wall, but the voice was unmistakably his.

“To me, Lion samurai! I, Akodo Arasou, exhort you to defend the reputation of the Lion Clan. Fight for your families. Fight for your honor. Fight for Rokugan itself!”

Mired in a tangle of warring soldiers was Ikoma Ujiaki, red-faced and blustering. As the ambassador snapped his fan with one hand, another roar echoed across the battlefield from the oni.

Sensing her opportunity, Altansarnai urged her steed into battle. As if guided by the kami of the winds, the horse cleaved like a bolt from a crossbow across feuding soldiers, past the glowing apparition, and carried her to the feet of Ikoma Ujiaki himself. Altansarnai cut two ashigaru down to make way. Ujiaki sat astride a massive warhorse, resplendent in his leonine beard and golden regalia. His voice was hoarse from shouting, and his cheeks were flushed. Upon seeing the Unicorn Champion, he let out a raspy roar and pointed his fan imperiously in her direction. It flashed in the sun. In that moment, Altansarnai and her blade were one: with a swift motion, she struck at his outstretched arm and cut it cleanly off.

Howling, Ujiaki looked pleadingly at her. The color drained from his face. Altansarnai picked up his fan and surveyed the field. The undead horde had vanished. Immediately, the clash of battle quieted around them.

“Ambassador Ikoma Ujiaki,” Altansarnai raised her curved blade to his throat. “I demand that you declare your defeat.”

The ambassador’s noble face was saturated with fear. A bead of sweat trickled down his brow as he nodded gravely. Clutching the stump of his arm, he struggled to dismount his warhorse, and stood in submission before her, head bowed. The sound of sheathed blades and dropped weapons issued around them as soldiers witnessed the surrender.

“Ikoma Ujiaki, you have brokered war and deceit, and allied yourself with the agents of the Shadowlands,” the Unicorn Champion said. The words themselves tasted bitter on her lips. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

The traitor wept openly, blood staining the fabric of his dusky kimono. Lines of worry and care traced his face, and his brow was knotted in a look of contrition.

“Champion Shinjo, I beg your mercy. For I have been deceived.”

The general pointed to a slender young woman bedecked in the armor of the Imperial Legions.

“When Commander Kitsu Chiemi called the spirit of Akodo Arasou, he spoke the truth to me and my armies. I did not know the depths to which Bayushi Shoju would go to deceive me and the Imperial forces.”

A hacking cough. Ujiaki looked pleadingly at Shinjo Altansarnai, his hazel eyes brimming with tears. Altansarnai’s chest tightened as she looked upon the ruin of this once-proud man. Her eyes strayed to the Kitsu, whose face was drawn in concentration. The ghost of Champion Arasou continued to bray in the din, exhorting Lion and Imperial forces to put down arms.

“You claim to be ignorant of Shoju’s alliance when you loosed the ghosts of the Shadowlands on this battlefield. Do you take me for a fool?”

“Those spirits were bonded to the wall from its creation!” Ujiaki exclaimed. “To its very stones. I merely–”

Altansarnai raised one hand to cut him off. “Even if what you say is true, Ujiaki, you have betrayed your duty to your clan, to the Emperor, to Rokugan itself. You have schemed and manipulated—” At this, Altansarnai paused for a moment. She thought of her wedding that might have been, the impossible choice. Tsanuri’s mother, pleading and broken. Even in his supplication, she saw in Ujiaki’s bearing an utter lack of conviction. There was only animal desperation, unyielding hunger, and naked ambition.

“You have disgraced yourself and your family, and put all of Rokugan in grave danger,” Altansarnai said. “The greatest mercy I can offer you is a dignified death.”

A dreadful silence. A snowflake drifted on a stray breeze and landed on the general’s beard, followed by many more. A heavy, ashen snow began to fall around them, muffling the battle with a preternatural calm.

“Champion, you do not understand. Shoju bewitched me. The duplicitous Scorpion forced my hand: I was compelled to act against my will!”

The snow fell upon friend and foe alike, burying the horrors of war in pure white. Altansarnai’s heart was cold.

“Draw your wakizashi and ready yourself.”

Seeing that his pleas fell on deaf ears, the general’s expression turned to rage. With his remaining hand, Ujiaki drew his short sword. Hot breath billowed out like smoke in front of him as he drank the winter air.

“I should have known better than to reason with a Unicorn,” he seethed.

Shinjo Altansarnai saw the flash of predatory inspiration cross Ujiaki’s face as he darted at her and stabbed at her torso. She stepped lightly to the side, then swung her scimitar with deadly precision.

“Let the snow bury your lies,” she spoke as his body slumped forward. Her part was done. Blood bloomed through the blanket of snow.

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The Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow: Ch. Three

Published 2 April 2021 | Legend of the Five Rings LCG

The Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow: Ch. Three

Presenting the Next Chapter of the Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow Storyline

Greetings, Legend of the Five Rings readers, and welcome to Week 5 of the Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow event!

Chapter Three

By Robert Denton III

14th Day of the Month of Togashi, the Temple of the Ninth Kami, the Shadowlands
Isawa Tadaka blinked at the ancient paper. It was gibberish. Lines and symbols. Nothing more.

Asako Tsuki gasped. She unfurled it across the table. Tears welled up in her eyes. “Yori was right,” she whispered. “This is Shosuro’s account, written in one of the Asako family cyphers…by Lady Asako herself!” She pointed to a faded personal stamp in the corner. “This is her chop. I’ve seen it back home, at the library!”

She traced her finger to two others. “And this is Kuni’s personal stamp. And this…” She inhaled excitedly. “That is the seal of Togashi-no-Kami! This is a priceless artifact!”

So Yori had been genuine. If Tadaka had decided to turn the Tainted daimyō in, they never would have found this. His head swam contemplating what could have happened instead.

Spike squinted her bulbous eyes at the paper, not quite getting Tsuki’s excitement. “What’s it say?”

“It says that…well…hmm.” She bit her lip. “Perhaps I am reading it wrong, but I think it says Shinsei’s plan was to buy time. Time for ‘Togashi’s Duel.’ Time for the next Day of Thunder.” She frowned. “But the Day of Thunder already happened.”

A thump. Something stirred in a dark corner.

“But listen,” Tsuki continued, “Shosuro said that the elements would fall out of balance, and a lost general will rise from death. That the Hantei will be slain by his own blood, and those he most trusted would betray his legacy. The dragons will abandon the heartland, siblings will draw blades against each other, and when it has all come to pass, the Ninth will return to claim his birthright.

“But when the day is darkest, seven thunders will be reborn from the Great Clans. They will decide the fate of a thousand years on the next Day of Thunder.” She trembled. “It’s a lost prophecy…”

Tadaka pushed Tsuki just before the claws could tear out her throat.

A shamble of a human being stood before them. His arms, skeletal and crystalized, ended in stone claws. His robes, tattered and moldy, bore the insignia of an Elemental Master. Stale motes hung thick in the air around him, carrying the scent of decay. Where his eyes had once been, now three glowing orbs blazed in rolling fire.

And as Tadaka grimly snapped his line of jade beads, freeing a handful of orbs, his eyes lingered on the ancient man’s face. It was a face he knew from his dreams. It belonged to a man he’d never met, but one who had shaped his very future and forged his destiny. A man who’d spoken to him countless times before, ever since he first lit a stick of incense and pressed his hands together.

His lost ancestor. Isawa Akuma.

Except it wasn’t. The man’s face was a sculpture of regret, but his thin frame was worn away by years of unnatural life, and the presence of kansen surrounded him like the stench of a corpse. He spoke without opening his mouth. His voice rent the inside of Tadaka’s skull.

You should have listened to your master.

And finally, Tadaka understood.

“So,” he said. “You are the demon that stole my ancestor’s soul.”

Yours will be a suitable replacement for his.

This was the source of Akuma’s power, wasn’t it? The Oni Lord existed in two places at once: his demonic form, and the body of the mortal that had surrendered his name.

You were born to be mine, Tadaka. That is why I led you here.

Asako Tsuki scrambled to the fallen scroll and hugged it to her chest. Horror painted her features as she stared at the possessed dead man from behind Spike, who hissed loudly and glanced frequently at the door. Tsuki’s fugue only broke when Tadaka removed the porcelain mask and pressed it onto her face. She blinked and met his eyes.

The Tainted beings in this place would ignore her so long as she kept it on. That was, after all, how they’d gotten this far. Then, Tadaka tucked the remaining jade beads into her collar. It was enough for a week, perhaps.

“Go,” he commanded. “Both of you. Take the prophecy back. You must tell the Empire what you’ve learned.” He nodded in the ratling’s direction. “I leave this to you, Spike. Protect her, and get her back home.”

“She’ll live a long time. I promise.” She grabbed Tsuki’s sleeve. “Come on!”

But Tsuki was rooted to the spot, shaking her head, as if trying to wake herself. “I can’t leave you. I can’t. Please, it’s too much.” She shuddered at Spike’s frenzied tugging, torn between her promises.

Weak. She will never survive. Her bones will bleach in the sun.

“You can.” Tadaka smiled. “You will.”

Tsuki trembled. Just a librarian from some dusty corner. Just a victim of circumstance, one who had stumbled into a dark corner of the world where she never should have been.

The hope of the Empire, cradled in her hands. It would not be an easy journey back. But she could make it. She had to.

“We have to give everything,” Tadaka said. “That is the oath we took. We are the servants of both mortals and gods. You give so others have a chance.”

The light returned to her eyes. “I’ll try.” She swallowed. Nodded. “My life, my soul, for the Phoenix.”

Tadaka turned to his possessed ancestor and cast aside his sash, revealing his ruined face. “For Rokugan.”

Spike yanked her away. Their feet echoed heavily throughout the temple. Tsuki didn’t look back, even as Akuma raised his skeletal hands, and the stone collapsed behind her.

Near Cherry Blossom Snow Lake

Shiba Tsukune flicked black blood from her blade and cupped her throbbing eye. This wasn’t the first time that pain had blossomed behind the eye soaked in the blood of angry ghosts. The first sensation upon waking from nightmares was an icy stab in the right socket. And whenever an argument nearby became emotional, the heat there would swell and make her dizzy, and she would remember the endless battlescape and the undying combatants.

But now, the pressure was so great, she felt as though her eye would burst from her face.

It was the second wave that broke the line: dead-eyed samurai in Crab armor, shrugging off arrows and blades, a trisected diamond painted onto their chests. Once known as “the Damned,” now they were thralls beneath the control of Akuma no Oni. Goblins swept up behind them, dividing the defenders and shattering their formations like porcelain. They would have crashed into the command line, had O-Ushi not planted her samurai between them, grimly engaging an enemy that no longer felt pain.

And now there was no strategy, no disciplined ranks, no carefully executed countermoves, and no mindful eyes watching for orders. There was only the flash of claws and blades and blank stares and the screams of the dying.

“You still there, Tsukune?”

Tsukune blinked her thoughts away. O-Ushi’s back still pressed into her own, the taller woman lifting her massive warhammer up from the shattered body of its latest victim. The sounds of battle still surrounded them, but their efforts had made a moment of respite, an eye in the storm of fighting.

She exhaled slow, until she could think clearly. “I am.” She looked across the hewn goblins and bone piles. “Should we reform the unit?”

“Not happening,” O-Ushi replied. “We’ve been separated too long. Now they’ll have to fend for themselves. Battles eventually devolve into this.” She grinned over her shoulder and down at the Phoenix Champion. “Not quite like what you’re used to, huh?”

That was an understatement. This was not at all like the orderly procession of duels that she’d witnessed in her time among the Lion Clan, nor the bloodless capture and exchange of keeps that marked the Shiba’s campaigns in her father’s time. Even skirmishes against bandits and the swarms of angry ghosts at Cliffside Shrine had been more orderly. This was as close to chaos as she’d ever seen. Did the Crab really fight their wars like this?

“The Phoenix are not prepared.” That is what you’d said, wasn’t it, Tadaka?

“We can’t do this alone,” Tsukune spoke. “Being divided is how we got here. We need to form some kind of spearhead. Work together.”

“We’ve done our part,” O-Ushi remarked. “We can only hope we’ve drawn him out.”

Tsukune stiffened. Him. The one commanding the Shadowlands forces.

“Only one thing is going to win this battle now,” O-Ushi continued. “The death of—”

Her voice stopped. Tsukune felt her pull away.

And then a heavy hand slammed into Tsukune’s shoulder, sweeping her down and away from two glossy insectoid pincers.

She rolled out from under a shelled bulk suspended on segmented legs. Curling onto her knees, her breath left her as a raptorial appendage cleaved the shaft of O-Ushi’s hastily lifted hammer, then smashed sideways into her face, sending her sprawling and the warhammer spinning away.

The creature looked like two horse-sized helmet beetles had fused with a praying mantis the size of a rickshaw. It was a scramble of insect legs and a glossy shell, with three glowing eyes burning above a pair of gigantic pincers.

O-Ushi grappled with the pincers as they crushed her torso in a vice-like grip, her armor splintering with the pressure. She grit her teeth as bladed mantis arms struck her shoulder plates, again and again, tearing away cloth and iron with each strike, like axes against a tree. The strain showed on her face as she tried to free herself from the pincers, but she could only halt their steady crush.

Two elongated jaws jutted from the creature’s face like a bear trap. Abandoning the pincers, O-Ushi just barely caught the jaws before they could clamp down on her head. Blood trickled from between her fingers as a massive fang sliced into her hand. She glared defiantly into the creature’s mouth.

A dozen human hands poured out. They grabbed at her face, tangled their fingers in her hair, clawed at her eyes. She screamed.

The sword Ofushikai leapt into Tsukune’s hands. She slashed at the creature, again and again. Steel resounded against black chitin, the sound of a blacksmith’s hammer against the anvil.

Nothing. Not even a scratch! Tsukune reeled back, the creature paying her absolutely no attention at all.

She couldn’t hurt it. Ofushikai, blessed ancestral blade of her clan and home to generations of Phoenix Clan Champions, did nothing to harm it. How was that possible?

“How do I kill it?” she shouted.

O-Ushi struggled against a rain of hands and claws. She shouted back, “Try jade! Between the armor!”

Tsukune wrenched her jade prayer beads from around her wrist and wrapped them around her sword’s hand guard. Carefully she aimed, finding a seam in the creature’s plated armor. With all her strength, she drove it in.

It stopped only inches deep. Stuck. She wrenched with all she had, but the sword wouldn’t budge.

“It’s not working!” she shouted.

O-Ushi jammed her elbow into the creature’s jaw and pointed at her discarded hammer.

Tsukune sprang for it, abandoning her sword. There was still time. It could break through the shell, and then…

An insect leg whipped out, kicking her behind the knees. Another struck her in the stomach. She jerked forward, air forced from her lungs.

Whatever O-Ushi’s cry, Tsukune could not hear it. Only the hammering of her heart in her own head, her lungs desperately twisting as they tried to fill with air. She couldn’t breathe. The world was spinning. She was falling. Falling.

And as O-Ushi’s blood trickled through the cracks of her splintering armor, and the vice-like grip of the creature’s pincers slowly overcame her, Tsukune could only think of how Isawa Tadaka, her former charge and Master of Earth, had been right all along. For all their expertise, for all their knowledge and the gifts of the kami, despite their position as the Voice of Heaven and the emissaries of gods, the Phoenix could do nothing about this enemy. They were helpless. Powerless. Weak.

Just like you, Tsukune, who cannot even protect your charge, who cannot even protect your friends. Tadaka is alone and your friends will die and the land will be swept in blood and it’s all your fault. It should have been you who died and not your brother, and Tetsu should be Champion instead of you, and if you had been better than this, if you had tried harder, none of this would have—

Tsukune closed her eyes. “No. You don’t fool me, demon.”

Whatever spoke in her mind was silenced.

She opened her eyes. Before her, the shimmering image of a Phoenix Clan Champion, gleaming in his gossamer armor, reached out his hand.

We are here. I am here. Find your strength again. Call for me.

Tsukune rose. Whatever doubt was once there, now it was gone. She turned to the demon and reached out her hand, calling for Ofushikai.

It replied, cutting through the demon to rest in her grip.

A shower of ichor soaked the ground as the bisected demon collapsed around Hida O-Ushi. The warrior fell onto her knees, then sideways onto the grass. She lay still.

Tsukune rushed to O-Ushi’s side. Blood trickled from her lips and through breaks in her armor, her chest rising and falling slowly. But she was grinning, like someone had just told her a bawdy joke.

“Not bad.”

“You’re hurt,” Tsukune said. “Don’t move. I’ll find a medic.”

O-Ushi gripped Tsukune’s sleeve, forcing herself to a sitting position. “No. Every moment counts, now.” She pressed a finger of jade, her last one, into Tsukune’s hand. “Take this, and what’s left in my warhammer over there. There’s some jade in the business end.”

Tsukune’s breath caught in her throat.

“If the big oni have appeared, it means that he’s here, somewhere on this battlefield. You have to end this. Cut the head off the snake. His forces will fall apart.” She coughed, a red trickle worming down her chin. “He shouldn’t be hard to find. He’ll be the spiked mountain with the glowing eyes, the kaijū directing his underlings.”

Now that was a new word. Kaijū. Yet even without seeing the characters used to write it, Tsukune somehow knew exactly what it meant. A giant legendary creature. A being from myth and nightmare.

Akuma no Oni.

Tsukune hesitated. She wasn’t about to leave O-Ushi, injured and bleeding, vulnerable and alone, on a battlefield.

O-Ushi rolled her eyes. “I’ve lived through worse than this, Tsukune. Don’t worry about me.” Her chuckle broke into a cough. “Damn, you’re just like Shizuko was. Come on, you know this is more important than any one of us.”

Tsukune closed her eyes. The injured woman’s gaze was too heavy to hold with the burden now resting on her shoulders. “O-Ushi, I’m sorry. You’re injured because of me.”

A heavy hand rested on her shoulder. “Call me Yoritoko. And hold your head a little higher. You just defeated an Armored Windblade Demon—a Kamakiri-zaka. That’s no small feat for a beginner.”

“Beginner!?” Tsukune puffed out her cheeks. “I’m pretty sure we’re the same age.”

A passing medic found O-Ushi without trouble. He only had to follow her laughter.

Katsuo lifted the broken haft away from the goblin’s body. He was certain it was dead, but he struck it a few more times to be sure. Of course, just because it was dead didn’t mean it wouldn’t stand up again later. He’d confirmed that with his own eyes, and wished he hadn’t.

He frowned at the splintered remains of his spear. He’d need a new weapon if he was going to stand any chance of seeing the end of this day.

Katsuo searched around him for any sign of the others. He was supposed to be the one leading them, but he had no idea where he might find them. That thing, the horrible massive mountain of spikes and teeth, had appeared so suddenly, its cold shadow sweeping over them, that he barely remembered how the ground broke when it landed, crushing the Kaiu’s ballista beneath it. But he did remember how it raised its clawed hands to the sky, and how the bodies of those felled across the field slowly staggered to their feet. Within moments he was swept away, alone with new enemies.

A part of him wanted to run away, to put this place far behind him. But the part that was in control remembered the promise he’d made to Tomoko just a few days ago, the ruins of his village all those months past, and the look on Shiro’s face as he died. Maybe there was nothing he could do here now, with just a broken spear and no unit beside him. But he could not abandon the others. He didn’t want anyone else to suffer what befell his home. He couldn’t stand by and allow it.

“You!”

Katsuo spun into the path of a towering man in Crab armor, a massive iron tetsubō held aside in a one-handed grip. Although his insignia was hidden by mud and his armor splattered with red and black, the man’s face and voice were burned deep into Katsuo’s memory, the same man who had barked drills at him and the others for hours at a time. This was Hida Yakamo, the one Crab he’d hoped never to see again after today.

Yakamo glanced at the bodies around him. Fallen samurai and goblins, some still gripping their weapons. In this slight depression in the ground, they were temporarily sheltered from the battle. “You’re that farmer boy who volunteered. Where is your unit?”

Katsuo found his voice with some difficulty. “I was separated. This gigantic monster broke us up. Raised the dead, used them like puppets—”

Yakamo seemed lit from within. “Where?” he demanded. “Where did it go? Which way?”

Katsuo gestured with his broken spear.

The massive Hida seemed to consider this. The sounds of battle drew closer, and above the lip of the hill, Katsuo saw a few samurai in blue armor engaging with a rabble of goblins. He became suddenly aware of how exposed both he and Yakamo were in this moment.

The memory of his lost village came to him again. Shiro’s dead stare.

“Hida-sama,” he uttered, “Was that creature responsible for what happened to my home?”

Yakamo studied Katsuo’s features. “I cannot say for certain. But perhaps. Do you want your chance to avenge them, boy?”

His fists gripped the broken haft. He nodded.

Shouts from atop the hill. The clashing of steel. The skirmish poured over the side, goblins locked with outnumbered samurai.

“Then follow me,” Yakamo said. A meaty backhand knocked the spear haft out of Katsuo’s hand. It happened so suddenly, the boy could only blink at his empty hands. “That won’t do. Take this.” The Hida wrenched a katana from the body of a fallen samurai, then tossed it into Katsuo’s stunned grip.

Katsuo stared at the sheathed sword with open horror and awe. He’d never held a katana before. It was heavier than he’d expected, although no more so than the farming implements he’d used back home. His fingers curled around a handle wrapped in cured manta ray leather.

Over the hilltop, another samurai emerged, blood staining the mane of her armored helm. Her right arm hung limply from her side; although she held a blade in the other, Katsuo could see that she was injured. He froze in her vision, watching as her surprise was overtaken by the curled lips of anger.

“Yakamo!” she shouted, pointing at Katsuo. “Did you just give that farmer a katana?!”

He nearly dropped the sword right there.

The woman marched down the hill. “That is a violation of Imperial edict! I could cut him down for that. I could cut you both down!”

Yakamo sneered. “By all means, Tsuko. Perhaps the next Emperor will thank you when these fields are overrun with goblins!”

The woman cursed, regarding Katsuo with open distain. “Look at him! He cannot even hold it properly. He’s frozen with fear. He’ll be a greater danger to others than—”

“I’m not afraid,” Katsuo said.

The woman—a Lion samurai, Katsuo now realized—seemed taken aback for a moment.

The memory came again, fresh. His dead friend. The Lost, on horseback, with their menacing blades. His hands balled into fists around the sword.

“I’m not afraid!” he shouted. “And I can fight them, just like you can!”

Matsu Tsuko crossed the gap in an instant. Her sword flashed a bright arc.

Katsuo flinched, shucking the sheath from his clutched blade in a panicked frenzy. Pure instinct brought the sword between them.

His gritted teeth rattled as her blade clashed against his. The jolt shook through his shoulder and down his arm. He buckled with the force and fell to one knee. He blinked at a razor edge suspended inches from his face. Had he been only a moment slower…

But just beyond their locked steel, Tsuko’s expression was…amusement? Surprise? It was hard to tell. She seemed only to express herself through her eyes, as if her own face was a mask to hide her thoughts.

Yakamo barked a laugh. “Ha! Did you see that? He’s a natural.”

“He dropped his form instantly,” she replied.

“He’s a natural,” Yakamo insisted. “And we must start somewhere. Everyone is scattered. We need to form a unit and find the enemy general. They’ll rally around us if they see us fighting together.”

She stepped back, regarding Katsuo with new eyes. Only now did he see the blood staining her right shoulder, and how she tucked her arm close to her torso. Perhaps she would have overpowered him if she hadn’t been injured.

She cursed and sheathed her sword. “Fine.”

She was upon him before he realized she’d moved. Gripping him by the wrist, moving one hand closer to the sword’s guard, the other to the bottom of the handle. Her feet kicked his knees, forcing his legs wider, his stance lower. “This hand here. That hand there. Lead with this hand, the other supports. Strikes start at the belly.” She slapped his stomach, and he winced. “Not the shoulders. And stay even on both feet, or else you’ll trip. Do not overexert yourself: let the sword do the cutting for you.” She frowned. “Don’t make me regret this.”

Katsuo focused on the sensations in his muscles, his grip. He needed to remember them.

Yakamo glanced over his shoulder at them. “What does Akodo’s Leadership say about impromptu vanguards?”

“Never form one from exhausted soldiers. They’re too tired to be effective; you’d just be throwing their lives away.”

He grunted. “You tired?”

Tsuko knelt and lifted a fallen banner with her good arm. “No.”

“Good. We’ll start with us three and build from there.” He looked at Katsuo. “She cannot fight while wielding that banner, so make sure you watch her back.”

The Matsu samurai didn’t seem especially thrilled to have her life entrusted to a farmer wielding a sword for the first time. But she did not protest.

Katsuo looked up at the torn banner. Only the top remained, a single character fluttering on the surface. But he couldn’t read it; he was illiterate. “What does it mean?”

Tsuko glanced at the banner, then back. “That is katsu.”

He repeated the word. “Katsu.” To prevail. Victory.

“Yeah, Katsu.” Yakamo smacked the farmer on the back. “It’s in your name, Katsuo.”

Somewhere, out there, was his enemy. His hands tightened around the sword.

“Yes,” he agreed. “It is.”

Ignoring the sharp ache of his joints and the pain in his leg, Yoritomo braced for the next wave of goblins. Nothing. The rabble backed away from the pinch point he’d created in the pass, the bodies of the first three waves enough to discourage them from another attempt. Still, he didn’t lower his guard, not even to wipe away a bead of sweat. These opponents proved every bit as capricious as the seas, but so far, not a single goblin had made it through.

And to think, Hida Sukune was going to waste an entire unit on this task!

The flesh on the back of his neck goosepimpled, and Yoritomo trusted the instinct, spinning out of the path of an arrow arcing behind him. The missile whizzed past and sunk into the back of a retreating goblin, sending the others splashing away and through the swamp.

Yoritomo turned toward the newcomers: mounted samurai in blue and white armor, the flags protruding from their backs displaying a crane with a spear in its talons. Samurai of the Daidoji family. And the man lowering his bow at their lead, face hidden by his mempō, could only be the Daidoji daimyō himself.

Daidoji Uji. Yoritomo knew the man by reputation alone, but he had not expected to see him here. Weren’t the Crane too absorbed in their northern affairs to pay the Crab any mind?

The daimyō’s voice was as cold as his eyes. “Hida Sukune mentioned you were holding this pass by yourself. Allow the Iron Cranes to give the Son of Storms some respite.”

No introduction. And the other Crane warriors had not put away their bows.

Yoritomo kept his eyes on them. The hairs on his neck had not settled. “So you’ve come to help? Why then do I have the impression that arrow was meant for me?”

Uji dismounted. Neither of the accompanying Cranes looked away as he placed a hand on the foreign-style blade hanging from his side. Not a bad choice; Yoritomo had one like it at home. It was designed to catch short blades in the action of a parry. Chosen, no doubt, for this exact encounter.

If something happened to Yoritomo here, if he fell defending this pass, that would certainly suit the Crane. After all, hadn’t the Crane discovered the Mantis’s piracy only a few seasons ago? Hadn’t one of Yoritomo’s own captains attempted to seize the Keep of White Sails in recent memory? Had he not, just a year ago, shown up the Crane at their own Winter Court?

And now here he was, alone, during a pitched battle, with no one from his own clan to witness. If something other than goblins killed him, well, that could never be proven, could it?

Yoritomo couldn’t help but smirk. He almost respected Uji for having the guts to consider this.

A loud splash. Then another. Uji froze, then fell into a stance, drawing his blade. Yoritomo spun to face the sounds of scrambling feet and screeching battle cries. The goblins had found their nerve again. And their slings, it seemed.

Yoritomo ducked as a hurled stone cleaved through two bamboo trees, planting himself just before the pinch point of the pass. His first strike claimed the head of the foremost goblin. Daidoji Uji’s blade claimed the second. Arrows fell from bows of the Iron Cranes behind them.

And then the wave crashed into them. The Son of Storms cleaved his way through the tide of goblins.

As his kama tore through breaks in goblin armor, Yoritomo kept an eye on Uji’s movements. The man fought opposite of him, efficiently and cleanly, drawing weapons from folds in his armor and abandoning them for new. Tiny daggers. Throwing knives. Chains. Now here was a Crane worthy of study. Here was a real threat.

He wrenched his head back from a goblin speartip. That one had come too close. He couldn’t divide his attention between both Uji and the goblins, but neither could he lose track of the Daidoji. If he couldn’t be sure that the Crane wouldn’t stick a dagger in him if he left his back exposed, then he couldn’t bring his style or full strength to bear.

But then, Uji was keeping him at arm’s length too. No openings. Never looking away. And it was costing him. The goblins piled in faster than they fell.

“Surely you don’t mean to lend your aid from back there! Have you no trust for a warrior who fights by your side?”

Uji’s eyes narrowed above his mask. “Indeed, Son of Storms. No trust for a dog that bites the hand which feeds him. No trust for an opportunistic lord of rogue sailors.”

A goblin darted into Yoritomo’s reach, swinging a stone. He kicked it away, taking his eyes off Uji for only a moment to finish the creature. He caught another blade and glanced. The daimyō was too busy to capitalize on the moment.

“My people were divided before my father gave them purpose,” Yoritomo said as he fought back. “Now our star rises. Without the benefit of inherited titles and empty promises—using only our own sweat and resolve—we built a kingdom to rival that of a Great Clan.”

“Indeed. But also with Crane gold.” Uji crushed a goblin skull with a bash of his helm. “The only reason your ‘clan’ even exists is because Doji advisors suggested mercy in the wake of your ancestor’s treachery. The only reason Kyūden Gotei stands is because Daidoji coffers opened for mercenaries during a time of mutual need. And when that time passed, and the Crane could stand on their own again, did the Mantis remember the benevolence and generosity of Doji’s scions, which allowed them the dignity of a day without starvation?” He kicked the last goblin away and cast the Son of Storms in his hot glare. “Or did they resort to petty theft, like ungrateful spoiled children?”

There! Yoritomo spun, hurling a kama in an arc toward Uji’s throat. “The Mantis clashed as warriors fighting another clan’s wars!”

Uji’s eyes widened as the kama left a deep slash and kept spinning. Red splashed across his mask.

And the goblin sneaking behind him fell dead at his feet.

Yoritomo lunged to pick up the thrown kama as he swept upward with the one he still held, catching another blade. The movement exposed his unarmored flank to Uji’s daggers. He grit his teeth. The daimyō would not get a better opening.

Yet another goblin charged, screaming, spear aimed at Yoritomo’s belly. Doom loomed over him as he realized he wouldn’t be fast enough to pull away.

Uji sprung into the spear’s path. The tip scraped across Yoritomo's thigh, cutting through the silk, before the blades on his forearm found purchase in the wooden shaft. He spun, wrenching it from the goblin’s grasp. Yoritomo switched hands on his kama and unfurled his arms, disarming and then beheading his own opponent before slaying the goblin facing Uji.

They pressed their backs together. Their blades wove a web of steel around them, back-to-back, side by side. Arrows from the Iron Cranes fell around them. They spun, Uji making openings, Yoritomo carving through. They danced together in a red net of death.

Until the final goblin was dead at Yoritomo’s feet.

His chest heaved with rolling breaths. Uji fell to one knee, blood running freely down his side. The spear had injured him worse than first appearances, it seemed. He looked up at the Son of Storms, and their gaze met. He seemed to be considering something, new light in his eyes.

Yoritomo extended his hand. “We are a part of the Empire too, Uji-san, whether that is convenient for the Great Clans or not.”

“So you say,” Uji replied. “But deeds, not words, will matter in the end.”

At first, he believed the Daidoji was refusing help, attempting to stand on his own power. But then he felt something pressed into his offered hand, something the Crane had drawn from beneath his collar.

A small turtle shell. Judging from the scent, it was carved from a piece of agarwood.

“No one will be able to get close to the Oni Lord,” Uji said. “Anyone who does may as well commit themselves to death. They will be crushed or torn apart long before they can even touch the thing with weapons.” He gestured to the shell. “But that tsangusuri will deflect the first fatal blow struck against you, no matter how strong, no matter the source. It will destroy the token instead. The Asahina meant for me to use it to confront the Oni Lord. But that seems doubtful now.”

Yoritomo frowned. “And you intend for me to face him instead?”

“You say you are a part of the Empire, Son of Storms.” Uji hardened his eyes. “Prove it.”

Bayushi Yojiro caught Yogo Kikuyo’s disapproving look just before she turned her head away. He knew she disagreed with what he felt had to be done, but it was his place alone to decide this course of action. He did not require the approval of the Black Watch, merely their cooperation. And while he had not planned on being transported across the Empire, at least he could make the most of this turn of fortune.

The Crab Clan escort said nothing as they approached the command line together. Yojiro took quiet stock of them: Hida Sukune rapidly gesturing to a map on the table, representatives of multiple clans gathered around him. Only the imposing form of Togashi Yokuni—at least, that was who Yojiro assumed the giant in green-and-gold armor to be—seemed to notice his approach and that of the other Scorpion.

A Crab scout seemed to be reporting to his general. “There have been many sightings, but no trail we can follow. It seems he is here, but we are unable to locate him at this time.”

Sukune shook his head. “How? The Oni Lord is gigantic. Even with the chaos of battle, he should be easy to spot.”

Yojiro steadied himself with a breath. It was now or never. “That is because he can conceal himself.”

At once he felt every questioning gaze and the weight of the silence.

He continued, “More accurately, he can muddle the mind. The Oni Lord is capable of confusing the senses, forcing you to overlook him. That may account for the brief sightings, Hida-sama.”

The Crane representative crossed his arms. “I suppose if anyone is to know about the nature of this creature, it would be the champion of the clan that summoned it.”

Yojiro clenched his jaw against a retort. Every instinct, every fiber of his being, urged him to refute the claim. Yojiro could prove that Shoju had not actually called Akuma no Oni from beyond the Wall. The part of him dedicated to law and truth begged him to cast it down.

But he couldn’t. Not knowing what he did.

Not now that he was the Master of Secrets.

All his life, Yojiro’s peers had called him “The Honest Scorpion,” a title parroted by those of the other clans, who thought they were speaking to his favor. They couldn’t have known that it was a grave insult, a mark that he could not be trusted within the clan. The most ironic of compliments. Yet he had embraced this title, finding a way to serve both his own sensibilities and the needs of his clan. He’d done everything that was ever asked of him.

And now he knew a secret that could fracture the Empire if it were ever spoken. The first secret a new Scorpion Clan Champion learned was always a terrible burden. At last, Yojiro knew what it truly meant to be the Master of Secrets. It was not a title, but a curse.

Very well, Shoju. I will play the part. He chose his words carefully. They would all be true, if only technically.

“The former Scorpion Champion told me nothing of the nature of Akuma no Oni. What I share comes from the precious knowledge of the Yogo family, who have long studied the nature of the known Oni Lords. I bring it to you from the smoldering ruins of Yogo Castle, destroyed as it was by the forces of the Shadowlands.”

Shocked looks exchanged above the war map. The color drained from Hida Sukune’s face. Perhaps he believed such a thing, if true, was connected to Akuma’s plans. Perhaps it was. Yojiro had no way of knowing.

“It is clear that Bayushi Shoju brought ruin to my family and my clan. The Scorpion disavow him. The Yogo came here with the hope that they might lend their aid to the defense of the Empire, as their ancestor did in the first War against the Ninth Kami. They hope to win the Crab’s aid in reclaiming their homelands. To this end, I offer something that may be of use.”

With both hands, he offered the jitte he’d recovered just this morning. Shadow covered the silver and jade of the rod, but not the gold of the scorpion-tail prong or the blood-red cord of the handle. “This is the Yogo Jitte, awakened by the revered magistrate Soshi Saibankan himself. Among its many qualities is the ability to reveal the lies of the Shadowlands. Bring this close to Akuma no Oni, and it will be forced to reveal itself. It will not be able to hide from justice.”

Silence, long and heavy. Yojiro’s heart quickened, and he considered the possibility that Shoju had done more to damage the clan than anticipated. If any of the Great Clans rejected him, he might never have a chance to restore the reputation of the Scorpion.

The reverberating voice of Togashi Yokuni broke the silence. “So long as the Shadowlands have a foothold at Yogo Castle, the entire Empire is imperiled. Some may not trust that this was not part of Shoju’s plan. Some may not trust the gift you are offering.” He extended an accepting hand. For a moment, Yojiro could almost swear that the tattoos across the Dragon Champion’s arms had moved by themselves. “But perhaps a demonstration of the Scorpion’s sincerity would be enough to convince them. Allow the Dragon Clan to help you, Champion Bayushi—the one they call ‘honest’—and I will accept your gift on their behalf.”

Yojiro hadn’t told them of his new title, nor had he anticipated the Dragon Champion’s involvement. He’d come to them unarmed and unarmored. He had revealed a weakness in the heart of his clan—over the protests of the leaderless Yogo—and offered one of the family’s most ancient artifacts. What more could he possibly do to convince them that this was not a misdirection, that his entire clan was not in league with the Oni Lord?

Perhaps the Dragon Champion could read his thoughts, for he seemed to reply to them. “My offer is thus: Let the Dragon Clan be a neutral party to vouch for the sincerity of the Scorpion Clan until such a time as trust can be restored. Togashi and Kitsuki advisors shall keep watch over the affairs of the Scorpion so that they can prove that they have nothing to hide. Our fates shall be bound together, and I will ensure that the Dragon Clan Champions that follow me shall honor this agreement.”

He did not need the alarmed glare of Yogo Kikuyo to tell him the consequences, should he agree. Everything the Scorpion did hereafter would reflect on the Dragon’s reputation as well as their own. And so every public proclamation, every deed they undertook, would require that the Scorpion consider the Dragon reaction, no matter how inscrutable the other clan may be. It meant Dragons in every Scorpion court. It meant all their secrets, all their weaknesses, would pass beneath the Dragon’s watchful eyes. It could mean years or even a generation of enforced humility.

Which wasn’t the clan’s strong suit, of late. It would mean his kin would hate him, but then again, they always had. They didn’t need to love their champion to do their duty.

But perhaps, with the Dragon’s help, we can recover the Yogo lands. This agreement will prove we are meek. And the clan will live on.

So be it. He did not know how deep those waters ran. But he could swim.

Yojiro bowed low as the Dragon Champion accepted the jitte.

Read on to see the results of the second round of voting, as well as the percentage of votes each character received!

Match 1

Shiba Tsukune (55%) - Hida O-Ushi (45%)

Match 2

Togashi Yokuni (64%) - Bayushi Yojiro (36%)

Match 3

Yoritomo (53%) - Daidoji Uji (47%)

Match 4

Katsuo the Peasant (56%) - Matsu Tsuko (45%)

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Heroes of Legend: Chapter Three

Published 26 March 2021 | Legend of the Five Rings LCG

Heroes of Legend: Chapter Three

Presenting the Next Chapter of the Heroes of Legend Storyline

Greetings, Legend of the Five Rings readers, and welcome to Week 4 of the Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow event!

As a reminder, the events of this story take place prior to the events of The Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow.

Chapter Three

By Tyler Parrott

17^th Day of the Month of Hida, 1123, alongside the Drowned Merchant River

As Ikoma Tsanuri approached the enemy war camp, she saw that the peacefulness of the fluttering purple banners was not shared by the samurai who stood below them.

Even after months of brutal fighting between the Lion and the Unicorn, the young general could still remember the names of the soldiers she had lost. But if Matsu Tsuko could convince Shinjo Altansarnai to find common cause with the Lion against the treasonous regent, they could achieve peace, or at least a truce. Respite for herself and her soldiers was so close, she could nearly grasp it.

Yet as Tsuko and her tiny retinue drew near the Unicorn tents, they were vastly outnumbered by the warriors guarding the yurts, let alone the soldiers amassed within. Shinjo, Utaku, and Moto samurai sat astride their horses with their bows strung, while infantry stood with spears held at attention or with scimitars at the ready. Such an array of force might not have been assembled if Shinjo Altansarnai were sympathetic to their requests—or if she hadn’t been alerted to their coming.

Allowing that scout to return to Altansarnai without confrontation had likely given away the position of the Lion armies’ leadership. While it had not resulted in an ambush, as one of Tsanuri’s lieutenants had feared, it had provided the Unicorn with ample time to prepare for their arrival. Perhaps the Unicorn had even prepared a holding chamber for prisoners, as they had at Four Roads Village.

Tsanuri hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

She clenched her fists at her sides. After convincing Tsuko that this diplomacy was necessary, Tsanuri still wanted to believe that Altansarnai would be open to negotiations. Yet she couldn’t hold the Unicorn Champion’s mistrust against her.

After all, were it not for the marriage treaty that had instigated this entire conflict, Tsanuri would still have a father.

Even the daimyō of the Ikoma could hardly agree to marry the Unicorn Clan Champion when he already had a wife and daughter. But neither could he disobey his lord when Champion Akodo Arasou ordered Ikoma Anakazu to forswear his family so that he could fulfill the conditions of the marriage arrangement that had been agreed upon by both champions. She’d kept the painful memories of his departure pushed to the back of her mind, but given the context of the negotiations, it was hard not to think about them now.

The Lion approached the camp, and three Unicorn samurai rode out to meet them. Leading them was Shinjo Haruko, daughter of the champion, wearing a stern but weary expression that Tsanuri hoped was not a prelude to what lay before them. Perhaps Haruko’s exhaustion came from the same place as her own: months of battle without end in sight.

“Matsu Tsuko of the Lion, I have been instructed to escort you and your samurai to my Altansarnai Khan.”

“Then I will follow your lead,” was Tsuko’s only reply. The Unicorn samurai fell into ranks around the Lion retinue as they entered the war camp—it was an armed escort, but so far, no weapon had left its sheath.

As they rode, Tsanuri noticed how close she and Haruko were in age. In fact, had Altansarnai not refused the marriage arrangement at the final hour, Haruko would have become the daughter of Ikoma Anakazu. Like Tsanuri, Haruko was a talented young warrior and an heir to a powerful lord. She had most likely also commanded Unicorn soldiers in the ongoing conflict between their clans, just as Tsanuri had. But to think of her as a replacement for Tsanuri…for a moment, she imagined facing Haruko directly on a battlefield, resolving her jealousy with steel.

We’re not here to fight, Tsanuri reminded herself. She was here to assist Matsu Tsuko in negotiating for peace—or better yet, an alliance to employ against Ujiaki. She tamped down on her anger and focused on keeping her composure. Such emotions would do her no good in the enemy’s court, and she had always prided herself on her level-headedness.

The Unicorn Champion’s command tent was a wide yurt decorated with colorful purple designs on heavy felt that flew the crest of the Unicorn Clan proudly from either side of its entrance. The inside was equally ornate, with beautiful wooden chests and fearsome suits of armor lining the walls; carven posts flowed with sculpted horses. At the center of the tent, smoldering coals drove back the cold.

Staring down at them from a raised seat at the other end of the space was Shinjo Altansarnai, her purple robes fluttering with colorful petals and her greying hair bound tightly behind her head in a warrior’s braid. Beside her stood a proud, bearded man with olive skin, his hands within his sleeves, and a much younger Crane Clan courtier who sat on a pillow—Doji Shizue, if the cane that lay beside her was any indication. The man had to be Iuchi Daiyu, the Unicorn Champion’s paramour, spiritual adviser, and the father of her children. Shinjo Haruko took up her position at her mother’s side and knelt in front of Daiyu.

Matsu Tsuko relinquished her swords to the Unicorn guards as they entered, but Tsanuri was permitted to keep hers as Tsuko’s bodyguard for the negotiations. Based on the half-dozen samurai who followed the Lion inside, however, it was clear that the Unicorn would not permit any harm to come to their champion.

“I will admit, I was surprised to learn that you were here,” Shinjo Altansarnai said as Matsu Tsuko approached and took a seat on the hard ground before the Unicorn Champion. “And even more so when my scouts informed me that you intended diplomacy, Matsu-dono.”

They had not sent word of their intentions ahead, but such a small group of high-ranking individuals openly bound for the Unicorn war camp would have been easily understood.

“I did not at first intend to meet with you, Champion Shinjo,” Tsuko admitted. “But our conflict has been long and bloody these past seasons, and recent news has forced me to reevaluate the needs of my clan. Rokugan faces a dire threat, one which affects even the far-ranging Unicorn.”

“I know of the fires that burn in Otosan Uchi,” Altansarnai replied. “And I also know that the Champion of the Lion now goes where the waves will him.”

“Akodo Toturi served well as the Emerald Champion,” Tsuko declared, “but it was his brother who led the Lion. Now I come to you as Arasou’s heir, and as Champion of the Lion.”

“Hmph,” Altansarnai answered. The possibility that Altansarnai might be biased against Tsuko for her close relationship with Arasou was not one Tsanuri wanted to contemplate. “So, what does the Champion of the Lion wish from me this time?”

“If you know of the situation in the capital, then you also know that Ikoma Ujiaki commands the Imperial Legions at the behest of the treasonous Shoju.” Tsuko spat. “The Lion will not abide treason against the throne, and so I intend to rescue our troops serving among the legions from the wicked influence of our former ambassador.

“Last spring, a disagreement regarding a betrothal led to seeds of conflict being sown across our lands. When summer came, those conflicts grew. You proved yourself an honest opponent—I have the greatest respect for your clan and your samurai’s skill in warfare.

“But it is now winter, and we have naught to reap but continued bloodshed while the Emperor’s murderer deigns to sit upon the Emerald Throne. I ask if it is still a season for battle between our clans, now that Ujiaki is an enemy to us both—and Shoju threatens us all.”

At this, Altansarnai tilted her head. Daiyu’s eyes widened in suspicion or surprise. If they sensed weakness in the Lion, would the Unicorn respect it, or exploit it? Tsanuri had been so certain that they would listen, but…

“Have you come to sue for peace, Lady Matsu?” Altansarnai asked.

“I have come to offer a respite only,” Tsuko said. “It is in neither of our clans’ interests to continue fighting while the snow makes such endeavors difficult. And once we have meted out justice to the criminals in Otosan Uchi, perhaps we can find a diplomatic solution to our differences—one that is more acceptable to both our clans than our last attempt. To continue fighting now would only tax our samurai unduly.”

The Unicorn Champion’s face grew hard. “Perhaps your samurai are taxed unduly, yet it seems we remember this autumn quite differently. Was it not your servants who drew blades against us, demanding that we relinquish our holdings lest you take them by force? It will take years, perhaps generations, to repair the devastation wrought by Lion armies upon my land and its people.”

She was not looking at Tsanuri, yet the young commander felt the sweat collect on her brow. The hunger of her troops, the slaughter of the peasants at Onon Mura…the suffering was still too close to her mind. She wished she did not agree with Altansarnai.

“Your people are not the only ones who have suffered devastation,” Tsuko snapped. “Or did you think we had forgotten the raids and depredations of Utaku Kamoko? But if the usurper is not brought down, he will spread yet more ruin. We cannot tolerate the blasphemy he has committed. I am not asking for your forgiveness or your surrender, only for you to unite with the Lion against a treasonous regent and a treacherous ambassador.”

“Do not think I have forgotten the last time a Lion Clan Champion wished to find unity with me and my clan.” Altansarnai loomed like a wolf upon her dais. “And Toturi’s offer was even less compelling than Arasou’s.”

“As much as I loved Arasou, I am not him, nor am I his brother,” Tsuko replied. “I am not here to offer an arrangement concocted by advisers. I come as one champion to another, to beseech you to turn your attention to the Empire we both serve.”

The expressions of Altansarnai’s councilors remained set against Tsuko’s request. Only the gentle Shizue seemed receptive to Tsuko’s proposal.

The sweat now ran down the back of Tsanuri’s neck, and she glanced around at the Unicorn samurai watching from the edges of the tent. None of them seemed ready to fight, but even allowing the Lion to return safely could still result in more bloodshed. If Altansarnai rejected Tsuko’s appeal, the northern lands of the Lion Clan would be wholly unprotected when they marched upon Otosan Uchi. Altansarnai needed to understand, to agree to a reprieve, for the subjects of the Lion to remain safe.

“You may not be Lord Arasou or Toturi, but do not think me blind, Lady Matsu. You call yourself Champion of the Lion, yet what proclamation makes it so? Have you conferred with your daimyō and selected a replacement after Toturi’s departure, or have you simply chosen the position for yourself? Will you use me to dethrone your so-called traitorous ambassador, only to strike at me when our forces are weak, as when you led your generals against Kakita Palace while your champion was unable to stop you? I wonder why you profess such hatred for Ikoma Ujiaki: because he threatens the Empire, or because he threatens your control of your clan? Your word is no better than that of the Ikoma lord who sought to marry me.”

With those words, Altansarnai might as well have just spit in Tsuko's face.

This negotiation had been something Tsanuri had advocated for, something she had convinced Tsuko to attempt. If it failed, and the future of the Lion was ruined because of it, such a catastrophe would be on Tsanuri’s head. She could not let the prospect of a truce slip through her grasp now.

“Lord Anakazu did not seek to deceive you! And neither does Lady Matsu!” Tsanuri found herself shouting before she had even thought to speak at all. Blood rushed to her face as the entire assembly turned to her. What am I doing?

Silence fell across the room.

I should have let Tsuko speak for herself. I have no real authority here.

But the betrayal that she felt from her own clan’s leadership still stung in her heart. She could sit by and allow Altansarnai to impugn Lord Arasou as much as she wanted—and if she took issue with Ujiaki, Tsanuri would happily join in. But such a brazen insult to her father, even to his memory, was beyond what Tsanuri could stand. Not now, not when so much of the suffering this marriage treaty had brought upon them both could be laid at the feet of one manipulative ambassador.

If I’m going to make a scene, I cannot let it be in vain.

She continued. “Lady Matsu’s attack upon Kakita Palace was in fulfillment of the blood feud between their families, and she captured it justly. Even as the enemy demolished the stronghold to drive her forces out of it, she took it upon herself to safeguard the lady of the palace, to whom she had given her vow of protection. I know of no one else who would risk their own life to defend an enemy lord while escaping a castle that was being destroyed around them. Do you?”

“Do you always allow your yōjimbō to interrupt proceedings like this?” Iuchi Daiyu asked wryly.

“Ikoma Tsanuri is one of our most trusted generals, and she has personally advised me on this matter.” When she looked to Tsanuri, Matsu Tsuko’s expression hardened. “She speaks the truth about my escape from the destruction at Kakita Palace.”

Doji Shizue spoke up. “I did not know we had the honor of speaking with the daughter of the Ikoma daimyō.”

“Not anymore,” Tsanuri corrected her. The Ikoma are the face of the Lion, her father had once told her. Indeed, she had seen him and his emissaries speak their minds in foreign courts. It is our duty to ensure that our clan’s achievements are known and its passion unquestioned.

Yet she had never thought of herself as an Ikoma—she was too reserved for the normal stereotype of her father’s family, and she had found the Akodo War College much more comfortable than her father’s court or her mother’s libraries. Yet here she was. And she surprised herself with how much she had to say. “You may have spared my mother’s life, Champion Shinjo, but I lost my father the day he was ordered to marry you. You and your children are not the only ones to have suffered from your arrangement with Lord Ikoma.”

Shizue’s fan, which had been resting comfortably in her lap, shot up to cover her expression. Tsuko’s eyes widened in surprise, and her lips curled in the hint of a smile. Haruko gasped audibly, and Daiyu furrowed his brow. Altansarnai frowned, breaking her stony resolve for the first time.

“My Lady Tsuko comes to you with a request for aid against Ujiaki the Schemer, and she does not ask alone. For too long have I watched my soldiers die to your swords, by his manipulations. What damage he has wrought must be stopped and undone. The command given to Lord Anakazu may have been Arasou’s, but it came with Ujiaki’s seal. If you are unwilling to join us and strike down the traitor, then the mercy and kindness you showed my mother was clearly a lie.”

Once again, silence fell upon the assembly, but this time with less severity. The quiet murmurings of a couple samurai at the edges of the tent hung in the air. Tsanuri met Altansarnai’s gaze. As the two judged each other, the uncertainty that had been plaguing Tsanuri since reading Commander Kyōsuke’s records finally fell away. If the Unicorn Champion refused them now, it was on her head—not Tsanuri’s. Tsanuri had shared the pain she carried and challenged Altansarnai to respect it.

Haruko looked up to her mother with a questioning look, prompting Altansarnai to speak. “I am sorry you have unwillingly paid this cost, Ikoma-sama. When I withdrew from the arrangement to marry your father, I wished to see your mother's life spared. She helped me see that the treaty would benefit neither of our peoples. I never sought war between us, but I could not ignore the violence that greeted my decision.

“Perhaps the justice that arrangement lacked can be found now, without further bloodshed between us. If Lady Matsu is true to her word,” Altansarnai gave Tsuko a meaningful look, “and wishes only to find a new path forward for our clans, then I will stand down my troops so that we may find a less bloody resolution of this conflict.

“And if what you say is true—that Ujiaki has betrayed both our clans by devising the strife that has unfolded between us—then I would be glad to aid in his defeat. Let us strike down the usurper and then discuss what each of us can offer the other in restitution for the damage that we have inflicted. Ikoma-sama, at least, deserves to be returned to her family and station.”

Matsu Tsuko lowered her head in agreement. “You will find your trust is not misplaced. I will share what strategies we have devised to march on Otosan Uchi, in case they can be improved with your forces. And when it is over,” Tsuko glanced up at Tsanuri, “we can see about restoring what this past year has taken from each of us.”

Tsanuri bowed low to both champions. Before raising her head and returning to her seat, the young general swallowed the tears that threatened to emerge. Despite Altansarnai’s mistrust, she would join the Lion in their attack against Ujiaki and Shoju. It would keep Tsanuri’s soldiers safe from an ambush, and it would strengthen their assault upon the capital.

And, perhaps, when it was all over, she could have a father once again.

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The Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow: Ch. Two

Published 19 March 2021 | Legend of the Five Rings LCG

The Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow: Ch. Two

Presenting the Next Chapter of the Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow Storyline

Greetings, Legend of the Five Rings readers, and welcome to Week 3 of the Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow event!

Chapter Two

By Robert Denton III

13th Day of the Month of Togashi, 1123, on the shores of Cherry Blossom Snow Lake.

“He just arrived,” Hida Yakamo hissed at full stride. “No announcement, no warning.”

Hida Sukune frowned. How was that possible? The Crab Clan’s missives left only two weeks ago.

Hida O-Ushi and the Phoenix Champion Shiba Tsukune lingered just outside the command tent. Under less-urgent circumstances, Sukune might have contemplated how the two seemed ever more inseparable over the last few days.

“Is it him?” Sukune asked his sister.

O-Ushi nodded. “He looks real to me.”

“You’re acting like children. He’s just a man.” Yakamo threw the tent flap aside.

Within stood a towering figure encased in ancient armor and flowing silks, a sentinel of pine green and gold. Were it not for his rippling bare arms painted in dizzying tattoos, Sukune might have assumed that the armor was empty, for he could not see the eyes beneath the warrior’s intricate mask. He was massive, perhaps equal in height to Sukune’s own father. He gave no acknowledgement, silently regarding the battle map.

The others peeked around Yakamo into the tent. “I take it he’s not expected,” Tsukune whispered.

Sukune tried to keep his voice calm. “That is Togashi Yokuni, Master of the High House of Light and Champion of the Dragon Clan.”

Tsukune’s eyes bulged. “That’s the grand abbot?” She openly regarded his height. “I thought he was a Hida!”

There was a saying in the Empire: “Seeking answers, ask a Kitsuki; seeking questions, ask a Togashi.” Sukune spent his whole life seeking answers in study. Knowledge opened doors, and nothing frightened him once he understood it, not even the monsters of the Shadowlands. But nothing about Togashi Yokuni made sense. He was a puzzle-box without solution, something that could not be studied or understood.

“Did he come alone?” Sukune asked.

“He brought a cadre of monks,” O-Ushi replied. “Some medics, some archers.” A pointed look. “Dragon’s Flame.”

He knew the tattooed monks of the Togashi Order only by reputation. Whether or not the stories were true—stone-sundering punches, flames pouring from their mouths, their bodies unaffected by hunger or cold, feet running lightly across lily pads—Sukune could not say. But they needed medics desperately, and acclaimed archers like the Dragon’s Flame would be more than welcome. Given his scouts’ latest reports regarding Akuma’s numbers, he wasn’t about to turn away any allies, regardless of how much or how little he knew about them.

Perhaps Yokuni’s party would even be enough to turn the tide.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Yakamo said, loudly. “He is a Dragon. He might just be here to watch.”

Not for the first time in his life, Sukune wished he was taller, so he could wring his brother’s neck.

Yokuni turned. Was that a flicker of golden light Sukune saw, deep beneath the shadow cast by the helm?

“Hida Sukune-sama,” Yokuni said. “The reasonable one.”

A chill ran down Sukune’s spine. Yokuni’s voice, deep and resonating, spoke clear and unhindered by the mask on his face. He was not comfortable with how deeply the Dragon Champion bowed to him, and he carefully matched it with a bow of equal depth.

“I offer you our assistance. Would that I could offer more. The outcome of this day will decide the future.” He paused. “Just like every other day.”

Sukune considered his reply. Yokuni had to know how desperate the situation was. He didn’t want to risk offending the Dragon Clan Champion, but his mind would remain distracted if he didn’t ask the question churning in his own head. He had to know. “Forgive me, Champion Togashi, but our message to the High House of Light was sent only days ago.”

Silence.

“Yet here you are now,” Sukune pushed. “How did you get here?”

“How?” The Dragon Champion seemed taken aback. “Why, we walked.”

Walked?! From the High House of Light?! “But that would take months!”

Yokuni nodded. “Yes, it did.”

Sukune grasped for words. Had Yokuni foreseen this? How?

Shiba Tsukune stepped forward and bowed. Her clan dealt with the Dragon often; Sukune gladly yielded this matter to her.

“We accept, Master of Dragons. Thank you.”

Yokuni returned the gesture. “Consider it a favor returned, old friend.”

Tsukune’s brow pinched, but she said nothing.

In Yokuni’s wake, O-Ushi leaned in to whisper. “‘Old friend?’ I thought you didn’t know him.”

Tsukune shook her head. “I never met him before just now.” She smirked at O-Ushi’s questioning look. “Still, that wasn’t even the oddest thing a Togashi has ever told me.”

14th Day of the Month of Togashi, 1123

When the heated pinpricks against her face finally faded away, replaced by a breeze and the sweet smell of poplar, Matsu Tsuko finally opened her eyes.

Before her, an endless forest reached toward the horizon of the predawn sky. Poplar only bloomed in spring, so at first the scent confused her. But the prideful Shinomen followed its own seasons, didn’t it?

Behind her, the spirit road faded into a dream she had not quite awoken from. How long had she been walking with her eyes shut? How long had she ambled upon what had to be the Emperor’s Road, that mystic pathway sometimes opened by the Seppun shugenja? And now, like no time passed at all, she was here.

She crossed her arms as she surveyed the fires of the armies camped beneath her spot on the hill. “Rag-tag” didn’t even begin to describe it. Everything was scattered, with no war-curtain to hide their numbers and too many tents clustered together. But then, based on what Mirumoto Hitomi had reported, it wasn’t as if the Crab were operating at full force, and they likely didn’t have the time to make a proper camp.

“Poor Kisada—the plight of the Great Bear’s cubs must be dire if they are scrambling like this,” she said. “They need a leader: someone who can rally them into a stronger formation. Why can’t I just—”

A golden voice replied, “Because you have forgotten how to follow.”

From anyone else, she would have struck them down, repudiated them for daring to suggest that the Matsu daimyо̄ and Lion Clan Champion could not follow orders. But from him? She clenched her jaw against the harsh truth.

She’d never really had to follow anyone before. Her own gempuku had been rushed and early, and she was immediately elevated from student to daimyо̄. Only days after being hailed as the Matsu family’s head, she was forced to fight her usurper uncle and his forces—a man her father had forgiven, a man she’d always trusted. Forced to prove that she could lead in spite of her age, all the while questioning the motives of every advisor. And when she’d finally won, no one dared give her orders again.

Well, almost no one.

“You’re right,” she finally admitted. “I…I’ll try to learn.”

It wasn’t going to be easy, putting herself at the discretion of other clans. But if the Lion were to regain the clout Ujiaki had cost them, if they were to continue to stand tall beside the other Great Clans, she had to prove that she could work with them. She had to redeem her clan, as only the Lady of Lions could. Without forfeiting who she was, she had to find her place among them, and earn their trust.

She smirked wryly. Are you laughing at me right now, Toturi? Will I ever have to admit to your face that you were right all along? That I would have to learn patience?

Hesitantly, she unlaced her fingers from the gossamer hand that held hers. Already she missed its warmth.

“I’ll still be here, Tsuko, in every way that matters.”

She nodded, swallowing hard against a sudden swell of tears.

His spirit vanished.

“Goodbye,” she whispered. “For now.”

Just before sunrise, beside a cascade in the Shinomen Marsh.

“Pick up the pace!” Yoritomo’s voice thundered above splintering wood, hammering, and the strikes of hungry axes. “Pile them up! We haven’t much time! I know you can move faster, Aito, I’ve seen you at dinnertime!”

He stood back to inspect their handiwork. Numerous river boats, fishing boats, and a few smaller kobune lay beached and stacked to either side, narrowing the already-tight pinch point formed by the trees, rocks, and cascades between the forest proper and Cherry Blossom Snow Lake. Mantis hacked timber from the moored vessels, while others dragged them into position to reinforce the makeshift barriers.

This would help ensure attackers would be funneled to him. They would be forced to come one at a time. It would maximize his ability to defend the command line. After all, he was effectively the only one protecting them from being flanked.

He didn’t especially like the thought of shrinking his fleet like this. The wind carried the scent of poplar, and he couldn’t help but glance at the fertile, untouched boughs of the Shinomen nearby. All this lumber, right here, within reach…

But then, that suggestion hadn’t been particularly well-received when he raised it, had it? The united protests of every shugenja within earshot—Fox, Phoenix, and Falcon—had led him to reconsider. Now was no time to tempt fate, even if their collective horror did make him want to do it even more.

He stroked his goatee as his boatswain approached. The man didn't bother saluting; such formality was for the benefit of outsiders, not bonded crew—not family. “I can manage two more if needed, Captain, but any more and we’ll be sleeping stacked on the way home.”

Yoritomo nodded. “This should do, Izen. Well done.”

Susano-o no Izen shook his head at the exposed bones of the ruined riverboats. “And this is going to give you some kind of edge?”

Yoritomo pointed to the features that would funnel enemies into this pass. “You can see, if they want to cut through and attack the command line directly and if they want to avoid the torii arches surrounding the wood—as I’m told they do—they must either risk getting lost in the marshes or follow the cascades to this pass. Sukune may be a shrimp, but he’s got good tactical sense.”

Izen looked like he was chewing on his thoughts, unwilling to spit them out.

Yoritomo followed his gaze back to the riverboats. A few were still in one piece. To the untrained, they might even still be seaworthy. But the Mantis here knew better. Kobune were assembled from fitted hand-carved planks, treated cedar and fire-bent pine, and when placed into the water, the wood swelled to form a waterproof seal. They were dependable so long as they remained in water. But once dried, the planks shriveled; these boats would never sail again.

“Always stay in the sea,” Izen murmured. “That is what your father once said.”

But didn’t the sea also eat away at the ship the longer it was away? Didn’t they often abandon vessels, or rebuild them, to replenish them or to make them stronger? Every boat was ultimately disposable. It was the crew that made the vessel, not the other way around.

People, not ships, were the heart of the Mantis.

“We cannot stay at sea forever,” Yoritomo replied. “Eventually, one must put his feet on land. Besides, the Crab have proven true allies.” He slapped Izen on the back with a harsh laugh. “And wouldn’t it be nice to say that the stuck-up Great Clans owe their lives to the Mantis?”

A smirk tugged the corner of Izen’s mouth. “Perhaps. But that would only have worth if the Mantis cared for the affairs of the mainland.”

Yoritomo grinned in the first rays of dawn. “That, my friend, we very well may.”

Later that morning at the war camp.

O-Ushi flagged down the rider as he passed the readied troops, wondering eyes following his limp form. He all but collapsed into her arms. The other scouts, just a handful of survivors, didn’t look much better.

“We delayed them as much as we could,” the Hiruma scout rasped. His eyes were sunken, his flesh pale.

“You bought us much-needed time,” O-Ushi said. “You made your family proud.”

He went limp.

“See to his wounds!” O-Ushi barked. Within moments, medics in green and gold had taken him and the others to the tent in the back of the line.

This meant the Shadowlands forces were nearly at their doorstep. Her hands gripped her twin war fans, and she replayed the plan in her mind. From here, she would coordinate the initial volleys and the resistance against the vanguard. But there was only so much she could do in the first phase. Much would rely on the individual commanders. The plan depended on them maintaining control over their units, and a worrying amount of them were inexperienced ashigaru. If something went wrong…

A break into the command line would disrupt all orders. Instead of acting as one, the army would break into independent units. It was inevitable, but they had to delay that for as long as possible, soften up the enemy before it could manage to reach them.

As she surveyed the others, the Shinomen loomed large to the north. Memories assailed her: samurai vanishing into the mists beyond the narrow trails, monstrous things crashing through their ranks, and her foolish cousin’s broken body sunken into the mud. That place was alive and malicious, hostile to all humankind.

Unless you were a Fox Clan shugenja, apparently. This was the third day since they’d vanished into the woods, attempting to commune with the spirit of the forest itself. Perhaps they would succeed, and the Shinomen would somehow come to their aid. She’d hoped it wouldn’t take this long. But without word or sign, she had to assume they had not yet succeeded.

Wouldn’t it have just been better to give them spears and show them how to use them?

Sukune’s voice replayed in her mind. This plan is not a disregard of our traditions. It is making room for theirs. Let them play to their strengths, sister.

“You’d better be right,” O-Ushi grumbled.

Because they’d just run out of time.

The first skeletons shambled over the distant horizon, broken armor hanging loosely off their rotting frames. Bakemono scattered around them, goblins in line formations with heraldic flags waving from their backs. Here and there, reptilian beasts crawled on all fours, tongue-filled maws dripping with smoking liquid. Spawn of Akuma no Oni, no doubt.

And then, O-Ushi realized with a wave of revulsion that sapped her of warmth, shambling bodies that were far fresher than the others, encased in Crab Clan armor. The Barracks of the Damned, which had laid in Akuma’s path, must have also fallen to his forces. The damned, Tainted samurai that had not quite succumbed to the Shadowlands would not have needed much to be pushed over the brink.

And behind them, the rest. Swarms of hordes. Hundreds upon hundreds. Giants stepping around the smaller beings. Nightmares fresh off the page of ghost stories. She could not count them all.

You’re outnumbered. Twenty or thirty to one. There’s no way you live through this.

“The grounds are consecrated,” Tsukune assured her, or perhaps herself. The Phoenix Champion couldn’t take her horror-filled eyes off the swarming mass. She probably had never seen anything like this before.

O-Ushi glanced across the field. Her brother, Hida Sukune, stood elevated on the command platform, the banners of the Crab, Phoenix, and several Minor Clans fluttering beside his personal unit. He met her gaze.

“It’s okay,” O-Ushi told Tsukune. “My brother knows what he’s doing.”

She nodded.

His lips moved. The first command. The officer by his side, wearing the heraldry of the Otter Clan, made rapid gestures with his fans, which rippled across the other heralds’ fans.

She repeated them with her own war fans.

The line of Sparrow samurai unleashed their first coordinated volley. It was impressive range, perhaps 900 shaku. O-Ushi imagined a hail of fist-sized stones showering down at incredible speed. Someone struck by that would not walk away.

The effect was devastating. The entire goblin advance halted completely. One stone struck the head of a scaled nightmare three times the size of a human being. It fell instantly, and cheers erupted from the Sparrow.

Volley exhausted, the Sparrow pulled back to their stone piles, and the archers took their place. The Falcon and Wasp released an arching volley of arrows that blackened the sky, followed-up by a volley from the Dragon’s Flame. O-Ushi followed the shadow as it fell upon the advancing hordes. Dozens felled by willow-leaf arrows. Anguished cries of dying monsters.

The archers stepped back to reload. Another volley from the slings covered them.

The slingers stepped back. Another archer’s volley. More fell. Again and again.

The horde crushed the bodies of the fallen beneath their march. Undeterred. A wave of nightmares.

“Let’s do it,” O-Ushi said, and made several fan gestures in succession. Tsukune turned and did the same toward the Phoenix forces behind her.

Ashigaru marched at her command, while the heavily armored Crab samurai stayed behind in reserve. At their front, Katsuo, the farmer’s son who had volunteered to join, shouted commands. The volleys of sling and bow continued, but it could only whittle the enemy down. The ashigaru stopped mid-field, clustered together, their spears forward. They waited as the horde closed the gap, scrambling across the flood plain, racing toward them.

And they broke. The unit shattered into rabble, the screams of panicked spearmen raising above the din as they scrambled over each-other, pushing others aside.

O-Ushi felt Tsukune’s glance. Wait for it.

A handful of armored ashigaru bodies lay trampled by their kin. The horde dove upon them, claws breaking through their thin armor, digging deep, showering the field with—

Straw.

The oni spawn paused as one, as if bewildered. These bodies were straw instead of flesh.

Tsukune gave the signal. A chorus of voices rose from the Phoenix, two dozen prayers to the kami offered as one. Even from here, O-Ushi spotted the glow of the offerings hidden within the straw dummies. She couldn’t hold back her grin.

The blast tore through the Shadowlands vanguard with a massive gout of flames. The consecrated grounds, prepared over days by the Phoenix, spread the fires across the horde’s ranks. At once, the “fleeing” ashigaru spun on their heels. The Crab joined them in a charge, voices raised together.

O-Ushi grinned as Katsuo charged with his spear in front, the others rallying behind him. “Not bad.” It took years for some officers to earn that sort of trust from their soldiers, to learn how to maintain control of a unit, to disengage and then reform. He’d learned it in a week. That could have gone very wrong, but he managed it. Perhaps there was more to the boy than she’d originally perceived.

“Should we reinforce?” Tsukune asked.

Good question. Letting the Shiba join now would give more offensive power, but the plan was to hold them in reserve in case enemies broke through to the north. O-Ushi looked upward in the direction of their exposed flank. No kites, no sound of whistling bulb arrows. That meant the Son of Storms still held the pass. She could picture him now, knee-deep in river water, kama whirling in a blade-storm as he cut goblins down. No one had enough stamina to keep that up forever. If Yoritomo fell, then these reserves were all that stood between the horde and the command unit. Could she trust that he would hold out?

A conch-shell horn resounded across the fields. Surprised cries to her right. Tsukune gasped. O-Ushi spun in place, her gaze raking down the line, past the units commanded by her elder brother, past the ashigaru there clashing with undead, finally settling on what was breaking through the western pass.

Armored figures on horses. Spear infantry. Archers. Armor glittering in blues, indigos, and bright silver. The heraldry of the Daidoji family fluttering proudly on their backs. The Doji’s Fan cavalry. The Iron Cranes. And predominantly before them, the personal banner of the Daidoji family daimyо̄.

Daidoji Uji. It could be no one else.

From across the field, their herald flashed a series of signals. They were offering to replace the reserves and announcing that a unit of Iron Cranes were engaged on the west-most flank. Already her brother replied. Offer accepted. They would form a pincer to separate and crush.

O-Ushi shook her head. She didn’t understand. “We didn't ask for them,” she uttered. “We didn’t ask for help. Yet here they are.”

“Of course!” Tsukune said. She gripped her sword and prepared to join a new charge. “This is their home too! We’d all give our lives to protect it.”

O-Ushi sighed and readied her warhammer. “Good,” she said with a smile. “But let’s try to keep it from coming to that.”

Bayushi Yojiro slowly came to with a spear tip inches from his face, and a woman’s voice shouting for him to identify himself. He grunted and brushed the spear tip away, rubbing his sore eyes as he sat up. Others surrounded him, and he was sure implements of death were being jabbed toward him. But he couldn’t think about that now. His head throbbed icily, the sunlight was like daggers, and each tiny movement stuck him with a thousand pins.

Where was he? Outside? There was a breeze on his cheek. Somewhere, in the distance, came shouting. Lots of shouting.

A marketplace, perhaps? Was he in an alley, or…?

No. Soft ground. Leaves. He was in a forest, somewhere.

“Is that… the Honest Scorpion?”

Yorijo fought the disorientation, willing himself to focus on the woman before him. He didn’t know her, or at least he didn’t recognize her face above the sash that covered her nose and mouth, but her kimono’s crest identified her as belonging to the Yogo family.

“Where am I?” he asked.

The woman ignored him, instead pushing forward and grabbing for what he held. He followed her gaze to his hands. There, a jitte glinted darkly, the wrapped handle shaped like a scorpion’s tail, jade ribbons in the metal of the shaft. A spiderweb of shadow in the steel. Loss and pain.

Examining the jitte from the safehouse’s secret cache was the last thing he’d done. Now, here he was.

“My apologies, Bayushi-sama, but you really ought not to go picking up belongings that are not yours.” The speaker was accompanied by several others in nondescript outfits. Their faces were also covered, but not according to Scorpion custom. No, these were to prevent identification.

What was going on, here? Who were they? Had this woman summoned the jitte, and in so doing, dragged him along with it? He shook his head. He couldn’t string his thoughts together, but there was some feeling that he knew who these people were, what they were doing here. If only the fog could break for a moment, if only…

It was the call of a conch-shell horn that sharpened his mind, followed by the furious thunder of war drums. These were army sounds. Sounds of battle. For the first time, he actually turned and looked at what unfolded beyond the trees.

Before him was a macabre mural or nightmare scroll brought to life, a cacophony of creatures that should not exist, claws and fangs and scales and exposed bones. The dead were walking beneath them, heedless to the brutal strikes of the living, desperate to hold them back. Blood soaked into the soil and made red mud.

Akuma no Oni’s army.

“I am Yogo Kikuyo,” the woman said. “You do not know me, but you assisted an associate of mine in the City of Lies. Would that you were not summoned here, but, well.” She gestured to the jitte’s handle, where light shaped like a complex ward slowly faded. “Bad timing, perhaps.”

The screams of the dying beyond the copse. “Is this Hell?” he murmured.

“No.” She narrowed her eyes at the slaughter. “But soon it will be.”

The Temple of the Ninth Kami, the Shadowlands.

“Stay close, Spike,” Asako Tsuki murmured.

A faceless monk turned toward her voice, head tilted, as if intrigued. But then the creature resumed shelving moldy books. The ratling pressed herself into Tsuki’s back. Tadaka couldn’t read Spike’s expression, but the hesitance in her body language was universal. There was no way either of them would fall far behind his steady pace.

A centipede the size of a fishing boat clattered across the ceiling. Tsuki and Spike shrank as they passed beneath it. An ancient pair of zori sandals, which had sprouted spider’s legs and a human eye, scuttled under their feet; Tadaka readjusted the porcelain mask and carefully stepped around them. He recognized these nightmares from Kuni lore: “transformed beings,” changed by their time in the Shadowlands. Yet none moved to stop them, or even to acknowledge them at all.

It had to be the mask. As long as he wore it, these beings would disregard him. And this seemed to extend to the others, so long as they stayed close. But then, Tsuki and Spike hadn’t been able to see the temple until they crossed the threshold. Bombarded with these horrors the instant they stepped inside, they’d clung to him ever since.

Where had Yori secured such a prize? What exactly was this thing?

“We’re almost there,” Tadaka reassured them, but he couldn’t hide the wavering in his voice.

“How do you know?” Tsuki whispered. She took in the rows of bound codices and scroll cases along the seemingly infinite shelves. “This is not at all like any library I’ve ever seen.”

They strode past a horned giant that gave them no notice. The cobwebbed library stretched in all directions, yet Tadaka already knew where to go. He’d walked this path many times in dreams already.

The hall opened up into a grand passage. Before them, two rolling screens formed a silk door, painted in a nightmare battlescape ripped from Hell. Behind it would be the shrine’s inner sanctum, the court of a god.

He rolled them aside.

The chamber hummed with the somber quiet of a tomb. The shimenawa ropes swung gently from a breeze Tadaka could not feel. Black motes hung thick in the sweltering musty air. Even Spike gagged after a sniff. Yet it was not unlike the inner sanctum of the shrines back home. In fact, the eerie familiarity was like stumbling into a childhood memory, every minute of difference a violation.

Tsuki paled in the phosphorescent glow of the chamber. “If this is the Temple of the Ninth,” she uttered, “then this must be where the… the offerings…”

She didn’t finish.

In each of the six corners sat a white urn. Behind the closest, a broken suit of scaled armor of ancient make, a design that predated the Empire. Behind another, a tattered silk robe, white cranes spotted with black mold, folded neatly on a stand. And so on. An artifact behind each urn, but no offering bowl among them.

The rest of the room appeared like a general’s tent. Scrolls decorated the walls, taken from centuries of intercepted Hiruma scouts. There were maps hastily scrawled on brittle leather. A keep in surrounding marshlands. A village nestled in mountains. Other such places. They looked like fragments of Rokugan…

There. At the center of the room, on a thin podium, a scroll sat on its stand. The case was wrapped in black silk.

Tadaka approached, Tsuki shadowing him behind. This had to be what Yori spoke of. A scroll containing the account. A scroll his ancestor had stolen.

With a shaking hand, he reached…

And pulled it away. What was he doing? Did he have any reason to trust Yori? The man was Tainted. Obsessed. This could be one of the Cursed Scrolls of Isawa. It could be—

Tsuki tore off the scroll case’s cap and flung it aside.

Tadaka blinked at her determined expression. “What are you—”

“I am afraid too, Master Tadaka. I just want to go home. But how could I show my face to our champion if we left our future on this slab?” She pressed the scroll case into his hands. “While we shouldn’t commit evil in pursuit of it, knowledge is what will save the Empire. Not doubt, not fear, not comforting stories, but the unadorned truth.”

Tadaka swallowed his shame. She was right. How could he even consider stopping now?

He removed the scroll and unfurled it.

Read on to see the results of the first round of voting, as well as the percentage of votes each character received!

Match 1

Shiba Tsukune (72%) - Yogo Kikuyo (28%)

Match 2

Togashi Kazue (31%) - Hida O-Ushi (69%)

Match 3

Togashi Yokuni (67%) - Hida Sukune (33%)

Match 4

Asako Maezawa (42%) - Bayushi Yojiro (58%)

Match 5

Yoritomo (70%) - Heroic Ancestor (30%)

Match 6

Daidoji Uji (56%) - Shinjo Shono (44%)

Match 7

Katsuo the Peasant (51%) - Moto Chagatai (49%)

Match 8

Matsu Tsuko (54%) - Kakita Toshimoko (46%)

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Heroes of Legend: Chapter Two

Published 12 March 2021 | Legend of the Five Rings LCG

Heroes of Legend: Chapter Two

Presenting the Next Chapter of the Heroes of Legend Storyline

Greetings, Legend of the Five Rings readers, and welcome to Week 2 of the Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow event!

As a reminder, the events of this story take place prior to the events of The Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow.

Chapter Two

By Tyler Parrott

15^th Day of the Month of Hida, 1123, somewhere alongside the Drowned Merchant River

Falling snow blanketed the road east toward Toshi Ranbo, obscuring the path that lay before Ikoma Tsanuri and leaving her directionless and uncertain. Somewhere across the river, to the north, a hostile Unicorn Clan army was also weathering the heavy drifts. Somewhere ahead of her, to the east, Champion Matsu Tsuko’s army was preparing for a siege of Toshi Ranbo. And behind her, the respected Commander Kyōsuke had lost a critical village to the Unicorn and was captured in the process. Her agent had failed to rescue the commander, but it was her army that had failed to reclaim the village before the river froze over and the trees lost all vestiges of life.

The Battle of Four Roads had been closely fought, and Tsanuri and her soldiers were tired and hungry. Their supplies had long run dry, with no indication from her superiors that more food and equipment could be spared. She relied now on the villages they captured to sustain her troops. Even the Castle of the Swift Sword could not feed her army through the winter, forcing them to live off the snow-shrouded plains. It was unsustainable. Tsanuri could only hope that her champion would have good news for her.

But Tsanuri had many reasons to doubt that she would see her troops fed and rested. The scrolls she carried had barely left her side—or her thoughts—since the rōnin had first delivered them to her. At first glance, she had found them to be little more than the routine records of the late Commander Kyōsuke’s campaign: quartermasters’ reports, missives to and from nearby regional lords, orders that had been relayed to him from the family daimyō through the clan’s chief ambassador, and the like. Tsanuri kept similar records herself. But Kyōsuke’s army had not suffered the same supply shortages that hers had—and Ambassador Ikoma Ujiaki’s messages openly acknowledged it.

“Believe what people say, Little Viper, but remain vigilant. The hypocrisy of the deceitful will reveal them, and you will know who can be trusted.” It was a lesson that she had taken to heart, not only because it had come from her father. Why would the clan’s leadership supply the army at Yōjin no Shiro and the army besieging Kyūden Kakita throughout both of their months-long campaigns, yet allow Tsanuri’s soldiers to scavenge for supplies at every turn? If Ujiaki knew of her shortages, did their family daimyō, Anakazu, also know? Had he agreed to it?

“General!” It was Matsu Beiona, one of Tsanuri’s more dangerous lieutenants. The rumble of her approaching horse’s hooves was muffled in the drift of fresh snow that covered the road. “Enemy scouts along the riverbank. Dosei believes they may have already spotted us.”

The frozen surface of the Drowned Merchant River paralleled the road. In the fog and snow, Tsanuri could barely make out the shapes of horses and their riders. They stood still, seemingly watching over the Lion retinue.

“Then we pick up the pace and hope they did not,” Tsanuri responded.

Beiona scowled. “You will not send a warrior to silence them? They will surely set an ambush for our return or attack the troops while we are meeting with the champion.”

“They cannot while the snow continues. And neither can we overextend our own limited forces.”

Beiona kicked her horse forward until they rode side by side. Her face, still painted white for war, showed concern. “You cannot expect them to simply leave us be. I can do it, general. You would not have to risk any of the other lieutenants. Say the word and I will strike them down before they can return to their champion.”

“I will not.”

This was not the decision of a good commander, and she knew it. Any tactical information gained by their enemy could be put to use against them, and their position on the road was vulnerable. Akodo’s Leadership warned that commanders should hide weakness and project strength in warfare. Were she trying to defeat the enemy army, Tsanuri would send Beiona to bring down the enemy scouts without hesitation.

But the sack of Onon Mura lingered in her mind. She still sometimes dreamed about the corpse-fires of peasants who had resisted her capture of their village—peasants whose slaughter she had ordered, when it became necessary. Those peasants could no longer serve the Unicorn now, it was true, but this was not their conflict. Had her army been properly supplied, perhaps it would not have been necessary.

After months of fighting with the Unicorn over scraps of storehouses, Tsanuri could no longer imagine the glory of victory. Dreams of a decisive win had given way to memories of dying friends and hungry nights.

“You are not wrong to be wary of the enemy scouts, lieutenant,” Tsanuri said, “but we are no threat to them, and with the snowfall they are no threat to us. I will not allow you to instigate a retaliation with a preemptive attack.”

“You are putting too much trust in the enemy showing us mercy. If they attack while we are separated from our army, those deaths will be on your head.”

“They already are!” It came out harsher than Tsanuri intended, and louder. For a moment, the entire retinue paused at her outburst. “Thank you for your vigilance, lieutenant. But no one will engage the enemy at this time.”

Beiona pulled the reins of her horse and rode to the back of the retinue with a scowl. Tsanuri wiped her nose at the cold and realized her face was flushed. With a wave, she signaled that they pick up the pace, and her lieutenants followed.

Across the river, the Unicorn scouts—who had been standing still and watchful throughout—turned their horses and rode into the snowfall.

By the time Tsanuri and her lieutenants arrived at Matsu Tsuko’s war camp, the sun had fallen to the horizon and exhaustion had settled upon them. The sight of makeshift palisades and Lion banners elicited a halfhearted cheer from some of her samurai, but the best Tsanuri could manage was a thin smile.

Ashigaru in cotton garb emerged from around their campfires, hurrying to retain what warmth they could as they took the reins from Tsanuri’s followers. When one reached for Tsanuri’s horse, the commander pulled the reins away. “I must see the champion at once. Where is she?”

“In the big tent with the Lady Kakita, most likely,” the ashigaru, a middle-aged woman still dressed in her armor, replied with a gesture toward the center of the camp.

“Lady Kakita?” Tsanuri looked to the tent in question, as if it would somehow provide an answer to her confusion. “Very well then, stable my horse while I speak with Matsu-ue.”

“Yes ma’am.” The ashigaru took the horse as Tsanuri dismounted. She hurried toward the command tent, her mind racing with yet more unanswered questions. Tsanuri couldn’t think of anyone who would fit the description of Lady Kakita from nearby Toshi Ranbo. Perhaps the wife of the Kakita daimyō had left his castle before its destruction, or the diplomat who had been staying in Matsu Seishin’s court had been given leave to depart. But when the Crane Champion was stationed in the city, why would either of them be negotiating with Tsuko on her behalf?

After one of the door guards reported Tsanuri’s arrival, the young general was admitted. The biting cold that had been clawing its way through her clothes and boots yielded to a still heat from the central hearth. Matsu Tsuko stood near it, a table haphazardly covered in papers and small figurines beside her. Across from her, a tall, austere lady dressed in a fine blue-silver winter kimono sat before a calligraphy set and pondered an incomplete composition.

“You have traveled through quite a harsh storm to meet with me, General Ikoma,” Tsuko said in greeting. The Crane woman also acknowledged the young commander but said nothing. Tsanuri bowed.

“It is of the utmost importance,” Tsanuri replied. She looked nervously at the Kakita. “I apologize for interrupting. I did not know you had company.”

“The Lady Kakita Barahime has been my guest since our escape from her late castle, and she shall continue to remain so until I have resolved my grievance with the Crane Champion over the death of my betrothed, if that can still be managed.”

“Is that not why you have come to Toshi Ranbo?” Tsanuri asked.

“It was,” Tsuko admitted. Her voice was low, almost hesitant—wholly unlike the fervor that Tsanuri had come to know from the older woman. “But the Crane—along with the forces of the Scorpion and Phoenix—are preparing to march their armies south, and I do not think it wise to delay them.”

Tsanuri’s confusion must have been clear on her face, as Barahime explained, “Lord Bayushi Shoju has violently seized control of the Forbidden City with an army of Imperial Legionnaires and loyal Scorpions. He now reportedly sits upon the Emerald Throne, having murdered the Emperor and declared himself in league with the Shadowlands.”

Tsanuri was without words. The news of the Emperor’s death had been sad, but to think now that it was a direct assault upon Heaven, and by the forces of Fu Leng himself…

“But there is more,” Tsuko said. “Shoju’s armies—including the Imperial Legions—are being led by Ambassador Ujiaki.”

She is quite capable of feeding her own soldiers, one way or another. Ujiaki’s words had been meant only for Commander Kyōsuke, but Tsanuri doubted that she would ever forget them. He had allowed her soldiers to starve, if not actively engineered it. And now he had betrayed the Empire and sided with the Shadowlands by allying with an evil usurper. How could this be? And yet…

“I…will admit that I have my own reasons to mistrust the ambassador,” Tsanuri admitted. “It was one of the reasons I have come to meet with you. However, what I have brought is perhaps best shared with you alone.”

Kakita Barahime smiled gently from where she sat by the hearth. “I do not wish to intrude upon the tribulations of your clan. Allow me to step outside while you deliver your report.”

At that moment, Tsanuri’s stomach growled loudly, and her face flushed. Barahime stood, adding, “I think it would be best if I got you a meal, as well.”

“Thank you, Lady Kakita,” Tsanuri offered Barahime a perfunctory bow as the noblewoman put away her composition and made her way to the tent flap, where two guards escorted her out.

“I will admit, I am surprised to see her here, where your most confidential military strategy is devised,” Tsanuri said once Barahime was gone. Tsuko shook her head.

“You are not the only one. Were she not as skilled with a blade as she is with a brush, perhaps it would be safe to let her wait out the snow with Lord Isebō at Yōjin no Shiro. But I promised to keep her under my protection, and she has more than proven herself as a traveling companion. And for as long I must delay resolving our grievance with Kakita Yoshi and forestall vengeance against Doji Hotaru…” A cloud fell over Tsuko’s face, and she looked down to the hearth. “I wish Arasou were here. He always knew what needed to be done.”

After an uncomfortable pause, Tsanuri offered, “You are as capable a warrior as he was. I have no doubt that you can lead us out of this schism and restore the Lion Clan’s good name.”

For the first time, Tsanuri saw pain in her champion’s eyes. Pain and grief, the suffering of a woman to whom closure had been denied too many times. Though her kimono bore intricate patterns of woven golden flowers, the firelight washed them into a single plain amber. She looked, in that moment, less like the champion of a Great Clan and more like a woman huddling by the fire in a cold darkness, lost and alone.

Tsanuri produced the scroll case she had brought with her and offered it to Tsuko. She had a report to deliver, and there were details Tsuko needed to hear. “My lord, I have come to you with updates from the Unicorn warfront. Most recently, we failed to recapture Four Roads Village after Commander Kyōsuke was overrun. While I was unable to rescue the commander, I was able to recover his records so that they stayed out of the hands of the enemy. Some of them have given me cause for concern, and I wish to share them with you.”

Matsu Tsuko took the scroll case and opened it, laying them out among the papers that already covered the nearby table. As she scanned the scrolls’ contents, Tsanuri explained the problems she had been facing: the loss of Commander Kyōsuke at Four Roads Village, their precarious hold on certain captured Unicorn villages, her soldiers’ lack of supplies, and the cost of that supply shortage upon her army’s ability to succeed. Tsuko’s brow furrowed as she listened to Tsanuri’s report.

“The orders and messages sent to Commander Kyōsuke by Ambassador Ujiaki are of special concern to me, as he clearly knew that my troops suffered from a lack of supplies—yet nothing was ever done to secure our supply lines. All I heard from him, and from Ikoma Anakazu, was that we were to press the offensive and rely on the land. It sounds now like you and your forces were fully supplied. If that is true, then why was nothing sent to us?”

While she was still poring over the scrolls, a scowl unconsciously began to turn the corners of Tsuko’s mouth. “Are you accusing Ambassador Ujiaki of betraying the Lion and attempting to get you and your soldiers killed? Accusing Lord Anakazu—your own father—”

“We don’t think of each other like that.” Anymore. “General and lord. Nothing more.” The mention of her father brought up fond memories that only hurt more for his absence. He had been someone who always shared her excitement, from finding a quail in the grass when she was a child to her rapid advancement within the Akodo War College. But she did not want to think of him now, certainly not while she and Tsuko attempted to resolve the crisis that hung over their clan. The loss of him was still too raw.

“I make no accusations, Matsu-ue,” Tsanuri responded shakily. “I merely wish to understand why the leadership of the clan seemed to be abandoning me…again.”

“I knew nothing of the supply shortages you describe,” Tsuko answered. “Had I known, I would have ordered a redistribution of the clan’s resources to better support your campaign. When we assaulted Kakita Palace, my army fought at full strength, with the element of surprise. It is why we were successful.”

It felt like the answer she had been expecting since she read Kyōsuke’s records. But Tsanuri didn’t feel any more at ease for it. “Given that Ujiaki has manipulated events to drive my armies toward further aggression toward the Unicorn, I cannot believe that this campaign is fully justified. I…my soldiers and I will fight as long as we have to, but their lives should not be wasted fighting a war that advances his ends, whatever they may be. It would be a debasement of not only my troops, but also what the Lion Clan stands for.”

Tsuko turned her gaze on Tsanuri, her eyes now burning with renewed wrath. “What you say is bold, general. But it is also correct. Whatever his faults, Toturi would not renounce his titles for a lie. That means that our soldiers, and those of the Imperial Legion, now stand behind a usurper. What you have shared with me only furthers that belief.” The champion stepped back from the table, Ujiaki’s message to Kyōsuke still in her hand. “We cannot allow Ujiaki to destroy what our ancestors have worked so hard to build with this clan.”

Tsuko began to pace. “Recall your soldiers from the Unicorn front and ready them to march on the capital. I will do the same. The forces of the Lion must march unified behind one Champion, even if that means Arasou’s justice will have to wait.”

“And as for the Unicorn?”

“Let them reclaim their own lands while the snow constricts them. Once we stand again with a clear honor and purpose, perhaps we can settle the Shinjo’s insult for good and move past such bloodshed as you have been forced to endure.”

The memory of the Unicorn scout lurked in the back of Tsanuri’s mind. If we leave this territory to the Unicorn, our lands will surely be overrun while we defeat Ujiaki. I should have ordered Beiona to strike them down before they could report our position.

But the certainty that Tsanuri had felt then was still present in her mind. Each time they struck at Altansarnai’s forces, the Unicorn retaliated. If Tsuko and Tsanuri were to defeat Ujiaki and unify the clan, as they both wished, they could not do it with Shinjo Altansarnai still poised to attack. “With respect, Matsu-ue, I do not think they will regroup in their own lands. If we leave Shinjo Altansarnai an undefended border, she will take it as an opportunity to invade. That is how they do war.”

“What would you do to secure that border?” Tsuko asked.

“If we negotiate with them, their champion will listen,” Tsanuri replied. She feared Tsuko would be loath to ally with their enemies, but Ikoma lands lay close to Unicorn territories, and Tsanuri knew much of the Unicorn champion’s reputation. “They are only in this fight because we have continued to engage them in combat and make demands that they did not agree to. I believe that if we allied with them, Shinjo Altansarnai would not only retreat from the border, but perhaps even join us in the fight against Ujiaki.”

“That is a bold presumption.”

“I know. But I believe Ambassador Ujiaki is behind much of this conflict. If we present this to the Unicorn champion, she will listen.”

As she stalked to the door of the tent, her hand still gripping Ujiaki’s scroll, Tsuko fell silent. Lost in thought, she wandered to the hearth and looked down into the coals. This time, the light that fell upon her kimono turned her flowing brown hair into a golden shawl about her shoulders.

Tsanuri spoke again. “This conflict has seen too many samurai on both sides dead. If we give them the opportunity, the Unicorn will do the right thing.”

Matsu Tsuko considered the coals for a moment longer, then looked to Tsanuri. Gone now was the doubt and pain that had plagued her before, replaced with a resolute fury. “Very well. I wish to see our clan made whole once again, and if that means we must negotiate with our enemies, then that is what we will do. Tomorrow, we prepare. We will put your theory to the test, or we will fight.”

This story reflects the consequences of the L5R community’s choices in the interactive fiction "An Impossible Task" by Lisa Farrell. You played as a rōnin on a warrior’s pilgrimage serving in a Lion Clan army. General Ikoma Tsanuri tasked you with finding and rescuing Commander Akodo Kyōsuke from Four Roads Village, or at the very least, ensuring that any sensitive information the commander may have been privy to did not fall into the hands of the Unicorn Clan. For many, this indeed proved an impossible task, but the sensitive information did make its way back to General Ikoma and the Lion Clan, and the rōnin proved themselves an upright samurai by delivering the scroll unopened.

Commander Akodo Kyosuke was not brought back alive (75% of respondents)
The Lion Clan did not recapture Four Roads Village (58%)
The scroll was intercepted from the messenger (79%)
The rōnin did not read the scroll’s contents (54%)

Thank you to everyone who participated in the interactive fiction story choice! You can still play through the story yourself and see what choices you would have made.

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Heroes of Legend: Chapter One

Published 5 March 2021 | Legend of the Five Rings LCG

Heroes of Legend: Chapter One

Presenting the First Chapter of the Heroes of Legend Storyline

Greetings, Legend of the Five Rings readers, and welcome back to Week 1 of the Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow event!

As a reminder, the events of this story take place prior to the events of The Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow.

Chapter One

By D.G. Laderoute

8th Day of the Month of Hida, 1123, Toshi Ranbo

Surely, they must be able to hear my heart beating.

“My lady,” Bayushi Yojiro said from where he knelt in the tea house, “your request for us to meet you here was framed in a most informal way. That certainly does not match your current demeanor.”

Bayushi Kachiko stopped, snowflakes on her cloak becoming glistening beads of water in the warmth of the tea house. She acknowledged that she’d heard Yojiro with brief eye contact, but her gaze locked on that of the other occupant, Doji Hotaru.

Hotaru can hear it, my heart. She knows that I’m afraid.

Hotaru had tensed, reflexively readying herself for battle, like the warrior she was. “Kachiko, what is it? What’s wrong?”

Kachiko had rehearsed what to say for her entire walk through the winter garden of the Toshi Ranbo Governor’s Palace. Yet, no matter how often she repeated them in her head, she could not fit the words properly into her mouth to say them aloud.

Shoju, what have you done?

Eschewing any courtly nuance or subtle subtext, she blurted, “It’s Shoju. He’s reclaimed the Regency, with the support of the Lion and the Imperial Legions.”

Yojiro exchanged a glance with Hotaru, then they both stood, their tea forgotten. “Reclaimed? How?”

“By seizing it with force. By spilling blood in the Forbidden City,” Kachiko said, her gaze still locked on that of Hotaru.

“And the Lion acceded to this?” Hotaru asked. “But Toturi was the one who denounced Shoju’s Regency as an attempt to seize the Emerald Throne. Why would the Lion then be party to this?”

“I do not know. And yet, they are. Or, at least, a faction of them is.” Kachiko looked into the snow-draped gardens, crossing her arms as she did, as though hugging herself.

Shoju, what have you done? We were already suspected of attempting a coup. What will happen to the Scorpion now? Can the clan even survive this?

“There’s more,” Hotaru said.

Kachiko nodded. It required effort.

“Upon reclaiming the Throne, he—”

Kachiko had to stop, swallow, collect herself. She finally turned back from the window.

“A moment, please. This is very…difficult.” Kachiko took a breath. “After he reclaimed the Throne, Shoju declared himself an ally of the Shadowlands.”

Hotaru snapped out a curse that would have made an Iron Warrior blush. Yojiro simply stared at his hands in his lap. Their knuckles had turned white.

“You’re wrong,” Yojiro finally said. “You must be. The Legions would never defend such depravity.”

Kachiko shook her head. “No one wishes for me to be wrong more than I do, believe me. But I would not have come to you with something this ruinous if I were not certain.”

She turned again to Hotaru, borrowing what she could of the Crane’s strength and conviction.

“How did you even hear of this?” Hotaru asked.

Yojiro nodded quickly. “Indeed, we’ve had no messages to this effect—”

“It is winter,” Kachiko said. “Couriers are likely on their way, but they may be days yet.” She sighed. “This news first came to me from a trusted source in Otosan Uchi, borne by the winds. I have since had the truth of the message corroborated by augury.”

Yojiro stood and looked, for a moment, in the gardens, as Kachiko had. “Do you really believe this to be true? You likely know the Master of Secrets better than anyone—to the extent anyone knows him at all.”

Kachiko glanced at him. Shoju, aligning himself with Jigoku? Of course not.

And yet, here they were.

“No, I do not,” Kachiko finally said. “I believe that Shoju has some other purpose in making such a claim.”

Hotaru shifted slightly, the floorboards creaking. “Several days ago, Shiba Katsuda’s shugenja, as well as those tending the memorial shrines here in Toshi Ranbo, claim to have experienced especially dark and unsettling dreams, all seemingly at the same time. Is it possible that Shoju actually has engaged with the darkness in some fashion? Perhaps even unwillingly?”

Kachiko started to shake her head, but it collapsed into a desolate shrug. “I don’t know. And does it matter? Shoju has publicly made this claim. Whatever his true purpose might be, he has labeled himself the most egregious sort of traitor to the Empire. The path he’s begun to walk has only one destination—”

Kachiko stopped, the words in her throat suddenly too painful to form. Hotaru, Yojiro and the teahouse blurred into smears of color. A lifetime of courtly discipline wasn’t enough to stop it from happening.

She didn’t care. And neither, apparently, did Hotaru, who finally stepped forward and took her in her arms. Kachiko sank gratefully into the embrace. Shoju was gone. Her only son was with the Dragon, but had he survived the coup? She might have no one else in her life besides Hotaru. And she needed the Doji at her side, to help her remain strong, and to keep reminding her what true and honest service to the Empire looked like.

But for how long will she be there? Can we survive this, or will I lose her, too?

Yojiro cleared his throat awkwardly.

Kachiko lifted her head. “Oh, for Benten’s sake, Yojiro, allow me a moment to grieve, at least. Shoju is my husband, and—” She pulled back from Hotaru. “And one of the people I love most in this world.”

Yojiro shuffled his feet. “I understand, of course. But I must ask, what of our clan, my lady? Our champion has apparently fallen to corruption.” He glanced at Hotaru. “Perhaps, after we’ve had some time to fully consider the ramifications, we should—”

Again, Kachiko cut him off, pulling herself back from Hotaru’s embrace and straightening her kimono.

“We do not have the luxury of such time. With the aid of the Lion, Shoju has seized control of the capital. They likely intend Toshi Ranbo to soon follow.”

Yojiro nodded. “Very well. At the very least, it is clear that the championship of our clan must be assumed by someone else. Bayushi Dairu is not yet of age. Moreover, our last reports have him in the custody of the Dragon in Otosan Uchi. And Shoju’s brother, Aramoro, is…”

“Accused of attempting to murder the Emerald Champion,” Hotaru saved either of the Scorpions from saying.

Yojiro continued. “You are Dairu’s mother. It must be you to lead our clan, my lady.”

Kachiko turned back toward the garden, suddenly caught on the verge of manic laughter she wouldn’t be able to stop. Champion of the Scorpion Clan. Such a title, together with that of Imperial Advisor, would cement her place as a fulcrum around which all politics would turn. She could repudiate Shoju, and make the Scorpion the beating heart of Rokugan.

She had spent a lifetime working toward this. Every scheme, every manipulation, every debt and favor had brought her closer… No longer would her power come from being the wife of the Scorpion Clan Champion, or the Emperor’s chief advisor. She would wield power of her own. And with it, she and Hotaru, the Scorpion and the Crane, could shape Rokugan into the mighty and glorious Empire it was meant to be.

All she had to do was say yes, and her next step would take her onto the path she’d sought for so long, the one leading to the fulfillment of her ambition.

Kachiko closed her eyes. Ambition. It was a drug, wasn’t it? A drug as insidious and potent as opium from the City of Lies—and just as destructive. The very same ambition that had driven her to seek the things she’d thought she’d wanted, the power and status, had ultimately brought them all to this terrible place, hadn’t it?

It had cost the Emperor his justice, and it had cost the Empire its princes.

It had cost her Shoju, and may have cost him his very soul.

What might it come to cost Hotaru?

You will help me set this right.

Kachiko turned back. “I accept the mantle of clan champion. And as my first and only action in that office, I am stepping down and naming you my successor, Bayushi Yojiro-ue.”

She bowed deeply. Hotaru looked taken aback, but recovered quickly and bowed as well.

Yojiro just stared for a moment. “My lady, I cannot—”

“Yes, you can,” Kachiko said. “You must. The Scorpion needs you to be its leader.” She smiled sadly. “This is no gift I am giving you, Yojiro. This is a burden. You will be faced with leading our clan through a time of terrible ordeal.” She glanced at Hotaru. “The champion of a clan in such circumstances must possess a certain purity of spirit, a nobility and grace that—that I simply do not have. But you do. You can bear this millstone of responsibility about your neck, and still keep your gaze upon the Empire. I do not have that sort of strength.”

Yojiro’s gaze filled with doubts, even objections, but he finally just nodded. “Very well. I accept this duty you have given me.” He turned to Hotaru. “I must spend some time seeing to my clan’s affairs, Champion Doji. But I would ask for an audience with you at our earliest mutual convenience.”

Hotaru bowed her agreement. “Certainly, Champion Bayushi. However, I have affairs that I must attend to within my own clan first.”

“Your brother,” Yojiro said.

Kachiko blinked. She’d heard of Kuwanan’s arrival, but not what affairs it required Hotaru to address. Of course, she’d been profoundly distracted.

Hotaru nodded. “Yes. Kuwanan arrived yesterday. He has demanded to meet with me. I believe he intends to challenge me for the leadership of the Crane Clan.”

“He—what? Why?” Kachiko asked.

“I intend to find out when I meet with him shortly,” Hotaru replied. “If true, though, it means that the Championship of the Scorpion is not the only clan leadership issue today.”

Hotaru strode into the small courtyard known as Judgment’s Retreat, nestled between the

Governor’s Palace and the adjacent Chief Magistrate’s Estate. It was here that most formal matters of reputation and law were settled, whether that was a duel, a trial, or execution. A broad circle of clean, white sand dominated the courtyard, intended to reflect the light of Lady Sun onto whatever judgment was being rendered here. It was an impressive effect in the summer, but much less so amid the expansive white snows of winter.

Bayushi Yojiro walked at Hotaru’s side. Kachiko followed, no longer disguised as a guard but wearing a simple kimono and her signature mask. A small guard of Imperial Legionnaires trailed at a discreet distance.

Doji Kuwanan stood on the far side of the circle, one hand resting on the pommel of Omeka, his ancient Kakita blade forged almost four-hundred years ago. Behind him stood a pair of Daidoji Iron Warriors.

Hotaru frowned. Word had already come to her that Kakita Yoshi had apparently chosen to support Kuwanan’s claim for the Crane Championship. The presence of Daidoji warriors hinted that Uji might be leaning the same way. The thought made her heart sink, though not because of the apparent dissatisfaction with her leadership. Rather, it meant disunity fractured the clan much more deeply than she’d realized. Given the immense gravity of Shoju’s claim to have aligned himself with their most ancient and bitter enemy, now was not the time for disunity.

Hotaru stopped, and Kuwanan bowed. She returned it, then silence fell, filled only by the cold whisper of wind blowing out of the Lion lands to the west, and the Unicorn lands beyond them.

Kuwanan stepped forward, his thick jacket shifting in the inconstant breeze. “Sister, I have come to contest the leadership of the Crane Clan. I believe that you are unfit to continue in the office. It is my hope that you will step down willingly, but if you will not do so, then I will respond accordingly.” His hand tapped the pommel of Omeka, once.

Hotaru cocked her head. “Brother, I do not understand. You are impetuous, but not foolish. I must therefore believe that you have a rational reason for this—or that you think you do.”

Kuwanan sniffed. “The reason stands behind you. You have made your feelings regarding that…” He stopped, took a breath. “That woman clear.”

Hotaru glanced back at Kachiko. The Scorpion’s face remained impassive behind her mask, but Hotaru saw the concern darkening her gaze. She offered a smile meant to be reassuring, then turned back to Kuwanan. She wished she could have discussed what she was about to do with Kachiko. But as she herself had said, we do not have the luxury of such time.

Please, Lady Benten, help Kachiko to understand what I am about to do. But if she will no longer conceal herself, then neither will I.

“Yes,” Hotaru said. “I love Bayushi Kachiko. But neither of us would harm our clans in the pursuit of that love.”

Kuwanan barked a humorless laugh. “That is not what you told father, Hotaru. You made it abundantly clear to him where your loyalties lay.”

Hotaru just stared for a moment. Told father? Made it clear to him? How? She shook her head. “Kuwanan, I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“I am talking about the letter,” Kuwanan shot back. “The letter that you wrote to him, confessing your obsessive fascination with this woman. I found it, Hotaru, among father’s personal effects. It banished any doubt, and placed my feet on the path that has brought me here, to this moment. The Heavens themselves have endorsed this purpose.”

Kuwanan truly believed what he was saying.

Her heart began to race. In the next few moments, she faced losing either Kachiko, or her brother, or quite possibly both.

A dark thought. Had Kachiko done something? But a single glance back at her showed no subterfuge, no guilt in those dark, warm eyes. She was as mystified as Hotaru was.

“I wrote no letter to father about Kachiko, or anyone else,” Hotaru said.

Now it was Kuwanan’s turn to look confused. “It was written in your hand, sister, and secreted away in a false compartment among father’s effects, in the Crane Guesthouse in the Forbidden City.”

“Kuwanan, just a moment ago was the first time I have professed my love for Kachiko publicly. And I do so now without reservation,” Hotaru looked again at Kachiko. Her face had now gone as hard as stone, though.

Hotaru’s chest tightened. Had she gone too far after all, by announcing her love for Kachiko without consulting her first?

When Kachiko spoke, it had nothing to do with Hotaru, Kuwanan, or any letter to Doji Satsume.

“Hametsu,” she hissed, through clenched teeth. “His smell clings to it. He is the Shosuro daimyō, and has ready access to the best forgers, and to agents that could certainly plant a forged letter in your clan’s guesthouse.”

Hotaru turned back to Kuwanan. “I did not write this letter, Kuwanan.”

Hotaru could see her brother turning hers and Kachiko’s words in his mind, trying and failing to get them to mesh with what he’d obviously come to believe. Finally, he spoke.

“I must concede that you and this Scorpion woman are convincing. But being convincing is not the same as offering proof. In the aftermath of the Battle of Three Trees Village, you told me I should accept that the Emerald Magistrates had found no proof of foul play in father’s death. This time, I have found what appears to be proof, so it follows that your convincing words may be just that—words.” He shook his head. “I have learned to accept the judgment of the Heavens in matters such as this one. I will therefore do so again, now, in this place of judgment.”

He stepped toward the middle of the circle and lifted his hand, palm up, over Omeka’s hilt. “I challenge you, sister, to a duel to determine the truth of your claims about the letter I discovered. If you are lying, then you will die, and I will assume the championship. And if you are telling the truth, then I will die, and you will carry on leading the clan.”

“Brother—”

“It can be no other way. As long as the matter of that letter remains unresolved, it will be a yawning chasm between us.”

“And so Hametsu gets what he desires,” Kachiko said bitterly. “Hotaru dead—or you dead, and Hotaru heartbroken because of it. Damn him.”

Hotaru locked eyes on her brother. She had no desire to cross steel with him, much less harm him—or kill him. Kill her own brother. She would make one, final attempt to dissuade him.

“Kuwanan, before you do this, you need to know what has just transpired in the capital,” Hotaru said, then went on to describe the news Kachiko had brought just that morning. Perhaps the dire circumstances would be enough to convince Kuwanan to withdraw his challenge, to see that now was a time for unity, not confrontation.

Kuwanan’s face darkened, but he shook his head. “All the more reason to address this once and for all, sister. If you have been compromised by these Scorpion, and they are in league with—”

“Brother, no,” Hotaru snapped. “Do not presume to implicate an entire clan in the malfeasance of one of its members, even if it is the champion. After all, you believe that I have committed wrongdoing. Do you believe all Crane are culpable in it?”

“No, of course not,” Kuwanan said, then turned to Yojiro. “My apologies for implying such a thing, Bayushi-sama.”

Yojiro offered a slight bow, enough to acknowledge the intent of Kuwanan’s words, albeit just barely.

“Kuwanan,” Hotaru said, “is there no way I can convince you to put this aside? To focus on the greater good of the Empire?”

“That is what I’m doing, sister.”

She stifled the instinct to argue, as they had done so many times. What words of hers could reach him when he doubted her very integrity?

A sudden sorrow filled her, similar to when she’d killed Akodo Arasou only a short distance from where she now stood. She had caused the death of a good man then, the brother of one of her best friends, Toturi. And now faced the prospect of the same thing.

Except, this time, it was her own brother.

Hotaru turned to Yojiro. “Champion Bayushi—as magistrate, you are the lawful authority here. Do we have your leave to proceed with this matter?”

“You do,” Yojiro replied, his voice grave.

“Wait.”

Bayushi Kachiko stepped forward and faced Kuwanan. “This whole matter is predicated on your belief that your sister’s relationship with me is detrimental to your clan and, therefore, to the Empire. If that is so, then allow me to…” She stopped and swallowed. “Allow me to end that relationship, here and now—”

“No!” Hotaru snapped. “No, I will not accept that!” She gestured Kachiko back and assumed her stance. “Just as our two clans are stronger together, particularly in times such as these, so are we. I will not allow expediency to end either of those relationships. Your brother may have set this in motion with his vile scheming, but it is our burden to resolve it.”

Kuwanan’s gaze shifted from Kachiko to Hotaru. Again, a glimmer of uncertainty clouded his eyes, but as Hotaru readied herself to face him, it once more hardened into resolve.

Hotaru gripped her naginata and readied herself. She had divested herself of Shukujo, the Crane ancestral sword. She did not want this duel, but if it must happen, she would not risk drawing her own brother’s blood with the sacred blade.

Hotaru let her mind collapse into a single point of concentration, one that acknowledged the existence of Kuwanan and Omeka and nothing else. Her brother’s blade was preternaturally sharp, able to slice through armor with relative ease. She must adapt her tactics accordingly.

And yet, I must somehow not kill my own brother…

Time passed, their eyes locked. Hotaru had already planned her move, could trace in her mind the path her naginata would follow. She only awaited—

Kuwanan suddenly and minutely shifted his weight. Hotaru only knew it because it changed his position relative to Lady Sun’s light, altering the apparent color of his pupils slightly. Hotaru moved, tracing her naginata through the path she had already chosen for it, adjusting it a fraction to account for small variance in her brother’s strike. A soft tap, as the shaft of her naginata connected with the flat of Omeka and knocked it aside.

Kuwanan stumbled slightly, already compensating for a resistance to his strike that never occurred. That, and the momentum behind Omeka’s swing, gave Hotaru the perfect opportunity. She could flow as Water, reversing the course of her own blade, then strike as Fire, a ferocious killing blow delivered into the left side of Kuwanan’s back. Instead, she became Earth, using her own momentum to back up, opening a gap between her and her brother, one that would take advantage of her weapon’s longer reach.

Kuwanan nimbly spun about, Omeka raised. His gaze once more met Hotaru’s, and a truth passed between them.

Hotaru would not fight to win. She would fight, instead, to not lose. The inconclusive nature of the contest was, itself, a message to Kuwanan. She didn’t want to win, because she didn’t want to fight at all.

Kuwanan flung himself forward, kicking out with his left foot, Omeka’s strike right behind it. Hotaru again deflected his blade, dodged his foot, then spun and slammed the shaft of her naginata against his shoulder, bludgeoning him sideways. Again, it opened an opportunity for her. Again, she became Earth, and simply backed away in a defensive crouch.

So it went, one strike after another. Omeka would swing, and Hotaru would answer by avoiding and disengaging. They finally both broke apart, catching their breath.

“Kuwanan, please, I don’t want to kill you!”

“I don’t want your indulgence, sister,” he snapped back. “I only want you to treat me as a serious opponent—!”

Kuwanan flung himself forward in mid-word. Many times, Satsume and Toshimoko had both admonished Hotaru to not become lulled by an opponent’s voice. But even they had never likely envisioned her dueling her own brother. He gained a flicker of initiative, just a fraction of a heartbeat, but it was enough to prevent Hotaru from fully deflecting Omeka’s strike this time. Kuwanan kept enough control over his blade that he was able to reverse it, and slash it into her right side.

Omeka bit deep.

Hotaru heard Kachiko cry out, but fought to keep her focus on the battle. Pain, deceptively distant and dull, crept away from the wound and burrowed into her torso. She gritted her teeth in the face of a stark instant of truth.

With the next strike, one of them would die.

No. I will not lose my brother, but neither will I lose Kachiko.

Hotaru dropped her naginata with a soft thud.

Kuwanan had tensed to deliver another blow, but froze, his eyes widening. “You are conceding?”

Clutching her side, Hotaru shook her head. “No. But neither will I defend myself. If you truly believe in your righteousness, then you must strike me down.”

“I won’t slay an unarmed—”

“If it’s the only way to bridge this abyss you’ve placed between us, then you must.”

“You are subverting the judgment of the Heavens!”

Hotaru grimaced, swaying. Kachiko and Yojiro both stepped forward, Kachiko reaching for her, but Hotaru warned them back with a raised hand. “I am accepting that your decision is Tengoku’s judgment. So choose, brother, and end this. The darkness is gathering. There is no more time.”

Kuwanan gripped Omeka, staring at Hotaru past the blade.

She limped closer to her brother. “Kuwanan, father taught me that the Heavens may offer us guidance, but, in the end, our choices are our own. He believed that declaring oneself merely to be an instrument of the Heavens was a weakness, not a strength.”

Kuwanan’s eyes widened. “I don’t believe father would say such a thing!”

“Why not? Because he was noble and pure of spirit, a paragon of virtue?” Hotaru forced a thin smile. “Father could be those things, yes. But he could also be harsh—and demanding to the point of cruelty. He expected perfection—he expected the impossible.”

Hotaru realized she was trembling, although whether it was from anger, sadness, or pain, she was not sure.

“Brother, you saw him as the hero he was, but he was also a man. He recognized his flaws and failures, the greatest of which was his failure to protect our mother from herself.”

Father… I know now that you thought you were trying to strengthen and prepare us: her for the scrutiny of the Imperial capital, and me for the scrutiny of clan leadership.

You were trying to ready me for such a day as this.

She drew another breath and limped forward, gritting her teeth.

You wanted me to be perfect because you knew you were not.

Omeka’s tip now hovered a hand-span from her face. Pain flowed from her wound like liquid fire. “His successes and failures were not Tengoku’s, Kuwanan. They were his own, a result of the choices he made in his life. He must answer for them when Emma-Ō takes stock of his life. So, too, will you. So make this choice, brother, and be prepared to account for it to the Heavens, not to attribute it to them.”

Omeka’s tip trembled slightly.

“Hotaru,” Kuwanan finally said, “do you truly love this woman? Did you truly not write that letter?”

“Yes, I do. And no, I did not.”

Kuwanan lowered Omeka. “Doji Hotaru-ue, I concede this contest to you.”

“Good.” As she spoke, Hotaru's legs wobbled under her. “And as your next act of fealty, you can catch your champion before she falls over,” she gasped. Kuwanan sheathed Omeka and caught her as she began to topple. Kachiko moved in to assist, while Yojiro told his guards to call the healers.

“That is twice, now, that I have lost a duel to a wounded and unarmed opponent,” Kuwanan said ruefully, helping Hotaru out of Judgment’s Retreat. Hotaru managed to push a questioning glance through the fog of pain. “When you have recovered, sister, I will tell you about Matsu Kaitokura.”

They hobbled a few paces, then Kuwanan gave Kachiko a sidelong glance. “You claim that your brother was responsible for this forgery?”

“Without a doubt,” Kachiko replied.

“Then he is the one that must face judgment for this.”

“I agree. However, I ask only one thing,” Kachiko said.

Kuwanan lifted an eyebrow.

Kachiko smiled dangerously. “That you wait until I am there to watch.”

Despite the pain now flaring in her side like a lit torch, Hotaru laughed.

11th Day of the Month of Hida, 1123, Toshi Ranbo

Hotaru limped through the open gate. She winced against the icy wind that blew in from the rice fields sprawling around Toshi Ranbo. Yojiro clicked his tongue at her side.

“I assure you, this is not necessary. I am quite capable of doing this on my own.”

“I would never suggest otherwise, my lord. But I am the Champion of the Crane, this is Toshi Ranbo, and that—” She stopped and let her gaze wander across the massed ranks of troops smartly arrayed just beyond bowshot from the city walls. “That is a Lion army. They have put a great deal of effort in marching here amid the winter snows. It would be rude of me not to greet them.”

Hotaru kept her words light, but in truth, apprehensive uncertainty gnawed deep inside her, like her partly healed wound. The first hints of the approaching army had reached Toshi Ranbo only a few hours after her duel with Kuwanan. Now, three days later, it had finally arrived. To have marshaled so many troops and marched them through the harsh depravation of winter could only mean one thing—the intent of its commander was even more dire than the Lion Clan's deadly reputation.

The same clan that had apparently supported Shoju’s Tainted coup in Otosan Uchi. Hotaru saw nothing among the tawny ranks to suggest that similar corruption was present here, but the darkness did not always announce its presence with horror. Sometimes, it cloaked itself in noble intent.

Hotaru, Yojiro, and their escort of a dozen Imperial Legionnaires stopped a short distance from the small group that had detached itself from the Lion host. Kuwanan and Kachiko, both watching from the security of Toshi Ranbo’s wall, had vigorously counseled against parley, fearing treachery. Yojiro, though, had flatly dismissed their concerns.

“If Jigoku has already sewn so much distrust among us that we would put aside our ancient customs because of suspicion, then it has already won a victory.”

Hotaru ducked from another cold gust of wind. Yojiro advanced a few paces.

“I am Bayushi Yojiro,” he called out, “appointed by the Emperor as custodian of Toshi Ranbo on behalf of the Emerald Throne. What is your purpose here?”

A single, cloaked figure rode forward, stopping just short of Yojiro. But when the hood was cast back, the rider’s dark eyes were leveled firmly on Hotaru.

“I believe, Doji-sama, that you are standing very close to the place from which you slew my betrothed,” said Matsu Tsuko.

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The Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow: Ch. One

Published 1 March 2021 | Legend of the Five Rings LCG

The Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow: Ch. One

Presenting the First Chapter of the Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow Storyline

Greetings, Legend of the Five Rings readers, and welcome to Week 1 of the Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow event!

We have received word from the frontlines—the Battle of Cherry Blossom Snow is about to begin! Read on for the introduction to the storyline, and don't forget to participate in the first round of voting!

Chapter One

By Robert Denton III

9^th Day of the Month of Togashi, 1123, on the shores of Cherry Blossom Snow Lake

Hida Sukune knew the battle was lost the instant a spear broke through his father’s armor and pierced his belly. Kisada only noticed the wound after he’d flung his opponent screaming from the side of the battlements. He collapsed like the fortress gates, blood running free like the fire. The grim honor guard formed a circle around him, and as they withdrew, Kisada would not look at his son.

It was later said that the Castle of the Forgotten fell only after the Great Bear did.

Kyūden Hida's halls thundered with the wet hasty script of rushed scribes and scrolls rolled before the ink fully dried. Heralds would carry them to the Great Clan families, to the Imperial Palace, and beyond. They would learn the Crab’s shame and be warned of what was coming.

It is my failure, not yours. Kisada’s words echoed in Sukune’s head even now. Yakamo had protested. If the other clans had heeded the Crab—if they’d sent the jade, the resources, then…

Kisada’s wound left him unable to fight. You must lead now, Sukune. Redeem the clan. Do what you can. Stop Akuma’s march.

At any cost.

Sukune banished the memory and traced the invaders’ course on the map. Akuma no Oni’s forces had an uncontested path straight to Otosan Uchi.

But he wasn’t going there. Instead, the horde marched northwest, to the Shinomen Forest.

Why? He could shatter the seat of Rokugan’s power. So why not go straight for the capital?

“I have a theory,” said Genzo. The silver-streaked sergeant bore the symbol of the Falcon Clan. The Toritaka were only a Minor Clan family, but they had maps of Maemikake and the marshes surrounding the Lakes of Cherry Blossom Snow, and more importantly, they’d offered to help.

“The Council of Twilight was explicit that the Oni Lord cannot be permitted to enter the marsh. It is dangerous. There is quicksand, predators… and the remains of its victims,” he emphasized.

Sukune remembered how Akuma’s forces multiplied at the Castle of the Forgotten, broken bodies rising beneath the oni’s trisected gaze. Warrior puppets. Undead.

The Rokugani cremated their dead. But as he discovered the last time he ventured into the Shinomen, there were generations of bodies preserved in the muck. Generations of dead.

Was that his plan? In Akodo’s Leadership, clever generals did not burn lands and slay farmers, instead using enemy resources to build and replenish their own…

Sukune frowned. “I am in agreement with your council.”

They’d overcommitted at the Castle of the Forgotten. Sukune had thought so, but chose not to speak, trusting his father’s experience and judgement. They had not known their enemy well. Now, with only a third of the Crab’s mustering forces intact, they were less than a bump in the road. A last-ditch effort to buy the other clans time to mount their own defenses would put the Crab’s very future at risk, and perhaps make the Oni Lord even stronger.

I should have said something. But what? That Crab stubbornness and tenacity, their greatest strengths, would undo them? That they had to become something that they were not? They would not have listened. They hadn’t before!

The canvas parted. Hida O-Ushi entered, face dusty as her unwashed armor. Sukune was certain she’d been sleeping in it. Hida Yakamo followed, his tall frame blocking the light.

“The villages are evacuated,” O-Ushi said. “Only a few conscripts worth taking.”

“Any rōnin?”

She ran frustrated fingers through her hair. “A few. Not enough to form a unit. But there were some volunteers among the peasants. Refugees from Ishigaki Province. Katsuo, their spokesman…. spokes-boy, really… offered some insight that we might use.”

Well that was something. He turned to Yakamo. “Train them with the Sparrow. The Suzume family seems to work well with farmers.”

“You can keep handing me Minor Clan samurai, little brother, but I sure as hell can’t train them.”

Sukune pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yakamo, please—”

“A testubō is too heavy even for their strongest!” Yakamo argued. “They have no armor, which eliminates nearly all our formations! And the Fox have nothing resembling real military training at all!”

“Drill them as ashigaru, then,” O-Ushi shouted. “Do I have to hold your hand?”

“Then they’ll be hewn like wheat!” Yakamo snapped back. “Worthless like the Falcon, who cannot even hold their swords correctly!”

Toritaka Genzo frowned. “I’m standing right here.”

Enough! Sukune slammed his fist into the table. “Damn it, Yakamo! You know what is worthless? Excuses.”

Silence. O-Ushi blinked at her brother. Yakamo’s jaw was slack. Even the Falcon seemed especially interested in a spot on the table.

Sukune slowly unclenched his jaw. He’d never had an outburst like that before, especially not to his tyrannical older brother. But he hadn’t been feeling much like himself lately. Too much loss. Too little sleep. Too much at stake. Didn’t Yakamo realize that if they failed—

Yakamo met Sukune’s eyes. “Our ways are not compatible.”

He was right. Their tactics, compiled over generations, were developed for those with Crab Clan training. But the Minor Clans who had pledged to help… the Sparrow, the Fox, the Falcon, the Otter… were too different from the Crab. They were as a castle mismatched to its foundation: it would never stand.

A messenger in turquoise and gold entered and bowed, extending a scroll with the Mantis Clan seal. Between the three Hida siblings, he seemed unsure who to offer it to. “The Son of Storms offers an exchange of information and possible cooperation.”

That language was quite deliberate. Yoritomo was offering to join, but not beneath the Crab’s command. He would not follow any orders but his own.

I should have expected that. But Sukune had hoped that the Lord-Captain knew that too many generals tore an army in half. Is this how things fall apart, before the fight even begins?

Of course, there was another option.

Kikyo sat at empty attention in the corner. Recovered from deep in the Shinomen, the legendary armor seemed to be watching the proceedings. Waiting.

He could don it. The spirits it enchained, the massive gashadokuro formed from their skeletal remains, would follow his orders. He might not need the other clans.

Months ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated. But if Akuma could bolster his own forces with the dead, could he also seize control of those the armor summoned? Would using it inadvertently deliver a gashadokuro directly into the Oni Lord’s hands? The Kuni weren’t certain…

O-Ushi stiffened. “What is that?”

Just beneath the silence came the ring of steel, and distant shouts.

Then a shattering crash as a body tore through the tent, limply smashing into the table.

Sukune followed the others outside. Fires tore haphazardly through the camp, illuminating bodies locked in desperate struggle. Mounted warriors raised their moonlit blades to bask in the cries of the dying.

A bloody Hiruma scout knelt at Sukune’s feet. “An ambush! It is the Lost! They must have infiltrated us at the Castle of the Forgotten!”

Sukune’s blood turned to ice. In his desperation for numbers, had he unwittingly allowed Tainted samurai who could pass for humans into their ranks?

Yakamo let loose a battle cry as he crashed into one of the Lost and broke her neck. O-Ushi darted behind him, heaving her warhammer upward until it collided with another Tainted samurai. Sukune’s sword found its way into his hands. He was swept into his siblings’ wake.

Do what you can.

Sukune chose his opponents, yielding stronger warriors to his siblings. He let his instincts guide him through the churn, careful not to overexert. But before long came the familiar pains. Shards in his chest. Joints locking up. The world spinning.

He pulled away, panting against a tree. Just a moment to catch his breath…

“You Kisada’s son?”

He tossed his gaze to a rough-looking woman. Leaning on a strung bow, scars criss-crossing her cheek, she bore no sword, no sign of family or clan. Just some rōnin, then?

The woman spoke in a husky voice. “You look short on archers, Hida-san. Luckily for you, I’ve got a business proposition.”

Fewer rōnin than he’d expected had joined his forces. Most seemed only interested in putting as much space between them and the incoming horde as possible.

Sukune gestured to the battle around them. “This is poor timing for discussing business.”

“From here, it looks like my timing is pretty good.” Procuring a bottle, she brought it to her lips.

That’s enough of that. There was no time to waste on some flippant and drunk—

She flung the bottle. “Behind.”

Ceramic shattered against a snarling mempō Sukune hadn’t seen coming. The would-be attacker fell as another drew blades. Sukune backpedaled, but his parry came too slow, too late…

A humming-bulb arrow hammered his sword, correcting his swing just enough to deflect the attack. Two more arrows, launched simultaneously, planted in his enemy’s throat. Sukune finished the first before he could rise again.

And as the world steadied itself again, realized he knew her after all.

“You are the Scorpion’s princess-thief,” he deduced. “The Little Wasp.” Tsuruchi.

She grunted. “I only stole what was mine by birthright.”

He’d heard stories of the disowned samurai with the Lion mother and Scorpion father. The Scorpion’s enemies were quick to recall how the she’d captured Traitor’s Keep, her father’s castle, with just a handful of rōnin. They called it the “Castle of the Wasp” now. One of Doji Satsume’s last acts as Emerald Champion had been to grant her the protections and status of a Minor Clan, perhaps just to spite the Crane’s enemies. But had the Emperor ever actually approved this? The Scorpion claimed that he had not, that he’d died before he could. But then again, the Scorpion hadn’t proved themselves particularly trustworthy as of late…

“Traveling covertly,” he observed. “Rōnin disguise?”

“Northern lands aren’t so friendly,” she replied. “And some still doubt what I’ve earned. Maybe, after I’ve helped you deal with pressing matters, the Crab can help with that.”

So she didn’t want money, this time, but political support to refute the Scorpion. Perhaps word of the Crab’s support of the Mantis had rippled through the Minor Clans?

“You’re hired. Report to my sister. She should get a real kick out of you.”

Tsuruchi dove into the fray. Sukune followed with his gaze. Nearby, three Sparrows sent a mounted Lost crashing with their slings. Another Lost leaped on an unarmed Kitsune shugenja, only to be batted aside by a gossamer silhouette that Sukune swore resembled a bear. A riverboat guard of the Otter disarmed an attacker with a boat oar and sent him sprawling. A Toritaka hunter, spinning a spear around his body, abruptly stabbed an empty space. A robed opponent materialized on the weapon and fell dead.

It was as if the Lost simply didn’t know how to deal with them. They had expected Crab, not a ragtag band of Minor Clans. They were too unpredictable…

Do what you can.

Of course. He’d been looking at it all wrong!

The were neither hammer nor anvil. They were saw and axe, awl and chisel, cord and net. He’d been trying to organize them like Crab, hammer them into those tactics, that role. But they had their own unique ways. He just had to judge which tool to use and when.

And he could. He knew how. Like the winning move of shogi, the solution to winning this war materialized before his eyes...

A wave of green fire. Shadows thrown like fishermen's nets. Flames crashed through the skirmish, charring the screaming Lost, leaving the rest untouched.

Sukune blinked. What?

Beneath renewed battle cries, the tide turned and the Lost fell back. Whoever had invoked the jade flames just delivered them victory. But it could not have been the Kuni, or it would have happened at the battle’s start. So who had aided them? Who came?

Across the lake, Sukune finally spotted the fluttering banners. Red and orange. The symbol of the Phoenix. And beyond, a force bearing the heraldry of the Inferno Guard.

He almost didn’t believe his own eyes. What were the Phoenix doing here? It would be days, perhaps weeks before any message reached their lands.

Distantly by the lakeside, Hida Yakamo towered over a young Shiba woman and an older Asako. Even in the dim light, Sukune recognized the woman’s sword and the gentle glow of her purple eye. She was Shiba Tsukune, Phoenix Clan Champion.

And her hand was on her blade. And Yakamo was yelling.

No!

Sukune broke into a sprint. His chest tightened with the exertion, but he pushed on.

Why would his brother pick a fight with the Phoenix Champion? Especially now? Yakamo’s impulsive streak earned him many enemies. Had something happened between them?

O-Ushi matched his stride. “It’s the Phoenix! They must have—” She paused. “What is it?”

His lungs were on fire. Between gasps, he managed two words. “Yakamo. Diplomacy.”

She blanched and matched Sukune’s sprint.

He had no breath left when they both tumbled into the confrontation. Yakamo’s tetsubō was in hand, the young champion looking defiantly into his face. “You are mistaken,” she said. “Asako Tsuki would never have consorted with such forces. You are a liar.”

“Challenge me if you wish,” Yakamo growled. “But first prepare two pyres.”

Sukune hesitated. Was the champion looking for someone? Who was Tsuki?

Tsukune spoke to the man beside her. “Maezawa-san, show him reason.”

The sage offered a withered smile. “Bloodshed is unnecessary. Simply take us to Tsuki, and we’ll sort all this out.”

“Impossible,” Yakamo replied. “For now.”

The Phoenix were silent as Yakamo spoke. Plainly he recounted the battle that led them here, purposefully calling Akuma no Oni by name. The Phoenix paled as he did, but none matched the alarm of the Phoenix Champion’s face, as if in dire realization.

Sukune almost missed his brother’s glance, a look that seemed to say, “I can handle this.” Was he attempting a trade, the messenger’s fate for aid from the Phoenix? Yakamo was a brute, but he was not the dullard many believed him to be.

The Shiba tilted her head, as if something invisible whispered in her ear. At last, her hand withdrew from her blade. “Show me where I am needed,” she said. “I’ll do my best.”

“That is the plan,” Sukune finished. Officers from the other clans exchanged quiet looks as he spoke. “It is eccentric. Unconventional. But it is based on what I’ve observed of your strengths. It will come together if we trust each-other.” He regarded the room with all the confidence he could muster. “Questions?”

Yoritomo approached.

Sukune’s jaw locked as the pirate loomed over the map. All eyes followed him, the only champion that hadn't deferred his command. If the Son of Storms disagreed with the plan, then he would simply disregard it. He could ruin everything. Yakamo tensed. O-Ushi held her breath.

Yoritomo tapped the image of a narrow pass. “Deploy me there.”

A collective gaze shifted to Sukune.

“By yourself?”

Yoritomo nodded. “Deploy the rest of the Mantis where you think they are strongest. Put me in the pass, and not a twisted soul will cross it.”

That would spare valuable fighters from what could become a death trap, allowing a bolstering of the front and reserves. But it also meant an entire flank relied on one warrior.

“You see a problem?”

Not quite a challenge. Sukune chose his words carefully. “Not on its face, Yoritomo-sama. However, one would normally entrust such a position with at least twenty of one’s strongest men.”

A few knowing snickers arose from the Mantis officers.

Yoritomo crossed his arms. “I’ll manage.”

As the others filed out to prepare, Yakamo approached, regarding the map with a sneer. “It’s not what father would have devised.”

I know. But we have to change. The Crab are the wall, and that’s the problem.

Instead, Sukune said, “I’m willing to consider something better.”

The Crab could not absorb another heavy loss. They could not stand aside, but another loss like their last against the Oni Lord would mean the death of the clan, in more ways than one.

A heavy hand on his shoulder. Yakamo shook his head. “No. This will work.” He paused. “I trust you.”

Sukune’s chest rumbled as he watched his brother leave. Yakamo had never said anything like that before. Not even when they were children.

He hoped he would be worthy of it. Even if everything went as planned, he still wasn’t sure it would work.

14^th Day of the Month of Togashi, 1123, somewhere in the Shadowlands

There is a darkness within you, Tadaka.

Isawa Tadaka gasped. This time the vision spoke not with his ancestor’s voice, but that of his teacher. His eyes searched the broken horizon. He wondered where Rujo was now…

“Master Tadaka?”

Asako Tsuki pinched her brow as her eyes narrowed.

He pulled back his sleeve, revealing a string of jade beads. By now over half had lost their luster, dimming to the dull shade of exhausted charcoal. But the other orbs did not burn his flesh. He wasn’t Tainted.

“It’s not that,” Tsuki said. “You looked like you were in pain.”

“I’m okay.” But he did not know if that was true. His hand wandered to the handle of Kuni Yori’s wakizashi at his hip, as if he could borrow some of the strength of the Kaiu sword.

“We’re here,” said Kuni Yori.

Yori halted on a small hill overlooking the wastes. The land beneath was a massive bowl-shaped indentation in the cracked earth, as if a Fortune had pressed a massive thumb into the ground.

Tsuki frowned. “It’s… an empty plain.”

“Okay,” squeaked Spike. “We saw it. We can go back now.”

Kuni Yori ignored them, fixated on something beneath him. “What is the story of the Seven Thunders?”

The aragoto-style makeup, fashioned after a kabuki stock character, rendered Yori’s expression unreadable. After all this time, he’d never actually seen Yori’s face.

Tsuki answered. “During the first War Against Darkness, when all seemed lost, the Little Teacher gathered seven warriors to confront Hantei’s fallen brother. These were the ‘Seven Thunders,’ one from each of the newly formed Great Clans. They followed Shinsei into the Shadowlands and defeated the Ninth Kami, saving the Empire.”

Yori nodded. “And the rest?”

Tsuki looked confused. But then, few knew the whole story.

Tadaka continued. “Shiba could not abandon the Phoenix Clan Thunder—Isawa, his rival and friend. Seeking him in the Shadowlands, he instead found Shinsei and a gravely wounded Shosuro, carrying twelve scrolls that Isawa had written. Shiba gave his life to save them.”

Yori gestured to the crater. “This is where it happened. This is where the Seven Thunders fought the Ninth Kami. This is where Fu Leng fell.”

Reaching into his satchel, Yori withdrew a smooth mask. Porcelain. Featureless. White.

He offered it to Tadaka.

“This is what I wanted to show you. You may turn away if you wish. We can return to Rokugan. Or you can kill me here. That might be better.” Yori shrugged. “But I believe this is what you seek, Tadaka. It’s what you’ve always sought. It called to you.”

Tadaka regarded him carefully. “How long have you known?”

“Does it matter?”

No. It didn’t. Perhaps Yori knew about the visions and planned all this. But all his life, Tadaka’s heart beat in this direction; all his dreams pulled him here. He had one last step. His life was meaningless if he didn’t take it.

He accepted the mask. “Tsuki-san. Spike-in-the-Gut. Kindly remove my head if something goes wrong.”

Then, before they could object, he placed it over his face.

Before him rose a black fortress. Glossy stone formed a triangular foundation upon which a nine-tiered temple arose, the highest seeming to vanish into the sky. Purple and red orbs cast the temple in nightmarish hues, while faceless beings in monk trappings dragged themselves across its cursed decks.

Yori had brought them to a temple built by misguided souls. The Temple of the Ninth Kami. The resting place of Fu Leng himself.

Perhaps Yori could see it because he was Tainted. Invisible to the others, this mask, whatever it was, unveiled it to Tadaka.

“By Lady Sun,” he whispered.

Tsuki and Spike must have misunderstood, because no sooner had Tsuki cried out Tadaka’s name than Spike leaped forward, smoothly drawing the wakizashi from its sheath at Tadaka’s side. But instead of bringing the Kaiu-forged blade to his throat, the ratling lunged at the sword’s owner. Yori did not resist as it slid beneath his sternum.

Indeed, he barely seemed to even notice.

“What have you done?” Tadaka demanded, “He hasn’t harmed me! He was—”

“It is fine,” Kuni Yori said, sliding to his knees. “I wasn’t coming back from this in any case. Besides, this ratling may have just saved your life.”

A dagger, hidden in Yori’s sleeve, clattered to the ground.

Spike kicked it away. “Nice try, zakseker.”

Of course. This close to the temple, even Yori would not be able to resist the Taint’s whispers. He knelt by Yori’s side.

“Listen.” Yori’s breath was shallow. Blood flecked his lips. “When Shinsei and Shosuro returned with the Black Scrolls, Kuni himself met them… as did Togashi-no-Kami, who had expected them. Before succumbing to her wounds, Shosuro gave Kuni an account of the battle between the Thunders and Fu Leng. They kept the record secret, guarded.” He licked his bloody lips. “Until it was stolen by your ancestor, the Elemental Master who gave his name to an oni.”

Isawa Akuma. The one who appeared in his dreams. The one who led him to those secret teachings, techniques that his teacher had tried to bury. The one who begged for absolution. For redemption.

“I believe it was brought here,” Yori continued. “I believe it rests inside.” He grabbed Tadaka’s collar, steadying himself. “That firsthand account tells how the Thunders defeated Fu Leng. It could contain details, clues that could reveal his weaknesses… how to do it again. How to do it for good. Because he’s coming, isn’t he?” Yori met Tadaka’s eyes. “He’s grown stronger over the years, hasn’t he?”

The Kami Who Fell. Was that the darkness he’d felt? Was that the threat that haunted him ever since he first opened his eyes and saw his ancestor’s face? Was the oldest of the Empire’s enemies somehow behind their misfortunes? Not a thousand cuts, but one. Not mortals, but gods?

Perhaps not. Perhaps their calamities were always by their own human hands. He couldn’t fix that. But this was something he could fix. This was something he could solve.

“But you’re not certain,” Tsuki said.

“No,” Yori admitted. “I could be in error.” He looked to Tadaka. His yellowed eyes looked so tired. “It is up to you, my student. It is your choice.”

All his life, Tadaka felt that something terrible was coming and that, whatever it was, the Empire was not prepared. He felt this so deeply that he’d dedicated his life to preparing the Phoenix. And now, here he was. Everything he’d given, every doubtful look and second-guess he’d endured, had led him here. Knowledge, long lost, could save the Empire. Their past, through the lens of the present, could save their future.

Tadaka turned toward the obelisks and took his first step.

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Available Now: February 19

Published 19 February 2021 | Arkham Horror: The Card Game

Available Now: February 19

New Arkham Horror and Legend of the Five Rings Products Are Now Available

Take a look at the latest products from Fantasy Flight Games, now available at your local retailer!

A Light in the Fog

Since you first awoke in a dank and gloomy tidal cavern, you’ve attempted to pull together the disparate pieces of your shipwrecked memories. You’ve learned some of why you came to Innsmouth, and you’ve battled the evils rising from the ocean deeps… but as you escape from the Deep Ones overrunning Innsmouth and race toward the Falcon Point lighthouse, you find yourself at the threshold of the next mystery. Who was it that first captured you and left you for dead? The keeper of the lighthouse may hide the answers you seek.

As the next chapter of your evolving story, A Light in the Fog expands your adventures in Innsmouth with Arkham Horror: The Card Game, picking up right where your frantic car chase left off at the end of Horror in High Gear, and promising new revelations as you push deeper into the heart of the tangled conspiracy that surrounds Innsmouth. Along with a new scenario, this expansion brings new options to your decks with a slew of new mid-level cards to shape and enhance your deck as you gain experience. But as your experiences unlock new skills, will they also open to door to deeper shades of madness?

Not a standalone expansion. Arkham Horror: The Card Game Core Set and The Innsmouth Conspiracy deluxe expansion required to play.

Pick up your own copy of A Light in the Fog (AHC56) at your local retailer or online through our webstore today.

The Temptation of the Scorpion

New crises strain the Emerald Empire to its breaking point, and every Great Clan will be tempted and tested—but perhaps none will be more tested than the Scorpion Clan. The survival of the Emerald Empire hangs in the balance, as does the heart of the Scorpion. Will they, and the rest of Rokugan, succumb to the rising darkness?

The Temptation of the Scorpion follows the pattern of the Temptations cycle for Legend of the Five Rings: The Card Game, as new dire abilities force every clan to carefully consider how to invest fate in their characters. Will you take advantage of new Shadowlands creatures and Mahō blood magic to taint your deck, or will you rise above these temptations to pursue a path of righteousness?

This is not a standalone product. A copy of the Legend of the Five Rings: The Card Game Core Set is required to play.

Pick up your own copy of The Temptation of the Scorpion (L5C39) at your local retailer or online through our webstore today.

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Under Fu Leng's Shadow

Published 17 February 2021 | Legend of the Five Rings LCG

Under Fu Leng's Shadow

Announcing a New Premium Expansion for Legend of the Five Rings: The Card Game

“Akuma no Oni will not stop until all of Rokugan burns.”
–Isawa Tadaka

Order your own copy of Realms of Terrinoth at your local retailer or online through our website today!

Fantasy Flight Games is proud to announce Under Fu Leng’s Shadow, a new Premium Expansion for Legend of the Five Rings: The Card Game!

This Premium Expansion is stuffed with 271 new cards for Legend of the Five Rings: The Card Game, and at the same time, it introduces two brand-new ways to play the game! Almost half of the new cards contained in this expansion are fully dedicated to the brand-new Shadowlands faction, and you can battle against the awe-inspiring might of the Shadowlands using two new game variants. You might choose to play the cooperative variant, either playing solo or teaming up with your friends to take on a mighty Shadowlands warlord. Or, you could embrace the darkness in a challenge variant, allowing one player to lead the forces of the Shadowlands into battle against two to four other players.

This expansion also serves as a capstone for the game, marking the completion of Legend of the Five Rings: The Card Game. For more information on the future of Legend of the Five Rings universe, Organized Play, and the future of the story, you can read our article here.

The Power of the Shadowlands

For the first time with Under Fu Leng’s Shadow, you have the chance to play Legend of the Five Rings: The Card Game with two entirely new variants: cooperative and challenge. Whether you’re playing the fully cooperative mode or taking command of the Shadowlands creatures yourself, there’s one essential element of the Shadowlands armies—their warlord.

As a disconnected rabble of undead, tainted samurai, goblins, ogres, oni, and other monstrosities, the Shadowlands forces have no stronghold to rally around and defend. They are united only by the might of a single warlord, who forms the centerpiece of their armies in the game. There are three distinct warlords included in Under Fu Leng’s Shadow, represented by double-sided cards with tweaked abilities to reflect the cooperative variant or the challenge variant. No matter which way you’re playing, each of these warlords brings a different flavor to the battle against the Shadowlands.

For example, you may choose the monstrous Akuma no Oni (Under Fu Leng’s Shadow, 1B) to lead your Shadowlands army into battle. As the replacement for the stronghold, the warlord determines how much fate the Shadowlands will generate each round—in this case, five per player. Your warlord isn’t always in play as a character, but its abilities are always active and you can use them to shape the battlefield even when the warlord is out-of-play, such as Akuma no Oni forcing your opponents to choose between losing all fate from their best character or giving you an additional military conflict.

Your warlord can bring its formidable skill to bear in your conflicts by playing certain Shadowlands cards, such as Direct Assault (Under Fu Leng’s Shadow, 57). When it enters play, Akuma no Oni’s skills are further enhanced by the corrupted keyword, which brings Akuma no Oni into play with a new Tainted status card.

This status card can be given to characters or provinces, and it increases the character’s skill or the province’s strength—but you must sacrifice honor to use your Tainted card. Of course, the Shadowlands abominations care nothing for Rokugan’s concepts of honor. In cooperative or challenge variants alike, the Shadowlands have no honor, and never need to pay honor for effects like the Tainted status card, making this a powerful benefit to their forces.

This disregard for honor also changes some of the victory conditions you might expect in a standard game. The samurai of Rokugan cannot beat back the Shadowlands by accumulating enough honor—they can only achieve victory by breaking all of the Shadowlands provinces or surviving the onslaught long enough for the Shadowlands dynasty deck to run dry, at which point the Rokugani players win the game! However, if the Shadowlands can break each player’s stronghold (in stronghold format), or all of their provinces (in skirmish format), the Shadowlands are victorious!

And as you’ll soon discover, the Shadowlands plenty powerful enough to take on multiple opponents at once. Luring the samurai into dread provinces like Blood Fields (Under Fu Leng’s Shadow, 4) or Haunted Jungles (Under Fu Leng’s Shadow, 10) can lead to a sticky end—to say nothing of the horrors that lie in wait for even the boldest samurai.

Even a simple Goblin like Fouleye's Elite (Under Fu Leng’s Shadow, 15) can be more persistent than it would first appear. When a Shadowlands creature enters play, rather than paying additional fate to keep this character in play longer, the character automatically gains fate from the fate supply equal to its reinforcement number. For example, the Shadowlands must pay three fate to bring Fouleye’s Elite into play, and then they place two additional fate on this character. And there are far more dangerous creatures than goblins lurking within this expansion.

The dark Shugenja Kitsu Sokori (Under Fu Leng’s Shadow, 23) raises legions of the dead from the dynasty discard pile, amassing an army of Tainted samurai that fight alongside her. A Dark Moto (Under Fu Leng’s Shadow, 26) is a foul reminder of the Unicorn Clan’s greatest failure. And a Shrine to Jigoku (Under Fu Leng’s Shadow, 39) can strip cards from a player’s hand. The conflict deck is equally packed with devastating attachments and events, such as Horrific Scarring (Under Fu Leng’s Shadow, 46) to keep characters out of political conflicts, or the marks of Despair (Under Fu Leng’s Shadow, 66), which can hamper any samurai events. Whether you’re all uniting against the Shadowlands in cooperative mode, or you’re looking to take on your friends in the challenge variant, the untold dangers of Fu Leng’s domain are an exceptional test of skill for all loyal samurai.

Ready for War

Though the new Shadowlands cards offer exciting new challenges for every player, this Premium Expansion is also filled with new cards that are valid in your standard stronghold and skirmish games.

Two new strongholds burst onto the field to introduce new possibilities for the Phoenix and Scorpion Clans. With Twin Soul Temple (Under Fu Leng’s Shadow, 74), the Phoenix Clan can twist the very elements to fit their needs, unlocking the powers of their Shugenja. Or perhaps, you’ll make your opponent feel the sting of dishonor with Shiro Yogo (Under Fu Leng’s Shadow, 75)—when you bow this stronghold, you can choose a dishonored character and prevent it from triggering its abilities this phase.

Though the Great Clans of Rokugan are dedicated to fighting against the power of the Shadowlands, that doesn’t mean that they’ve escaped untainted by its dark influence. In fact, you’ll soon find that many of the new cards included in this expansion, such as Exiled Guardian (Under Fu Leng’s Shadow, 76), feature the corrupted keyword, which means they enter play with the Tainted status token. If you’re willing to pay with your honor, however, Tainted characters can be a powerful asset in your battle against another clan.

Even in the fight against the Shadowlands, you can reap the benefits of honoring your own characters. The Crane Clan gains the Daidoji Strategist (Under Fu Leng’s Shadow, 80), who can move an honored character home during a conflict, potentially allowing you to manipulate the flow of battle. The Dragon can rely on Centered Breath (Under Fu Leng’s Shadow, 104) to chain their Kihō events together, while the Lion Clan may be found Directing the Battle (Under Fu Leng’s Shadow, 107)—a card that is especially useful when playing the cooperative or challenge variant with a team of other players. You may even arm your Unicorn warriors with a Daikyū (Under Fu Leng’s Shadow, 115) giving them the ability to bow enemy characters from afar before the conflict even begins.

For every clan, you’ll find exciting new options contained within Under Fu Leng’s Shadow. And with the new deckbuilding questions posed by the cooperative and challenge variants introduced in this box, you’ll have another chance to plumb deep into the cardpool for every clan, perhaps reevaluating cards that had previously been overlooked!

We Are All Defenders of Rokugan

The Crab Clan’s defenses are formidable, but they cannot stand against the hordes of Akuma no Oni on their own. Every Great Clan must unite against their common threat, but even then, victory is not assured. Strike your own blow against the Shadowlands or lead their forces into battle with the Under Fu Leng’s Shadow Premium Expansion, planned for release in May 2021.

You can pre-order your own copy of Under Fu Leng’s Shadow (L5C42) at your local retailer or online through our webstore today!

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