"A man makes his own destiny. Each wave that tears its mark upon the shore can show you that." - Kitsune Diro

The earth shook with each rumbling wave, and the tall towers of Kyuden Mantis stood like oak trees in a gale. Below them, scurrying peasants struggled to defend priceless treasures from the hunger of the earth, their shrieks and prayers to the Seven Fortunes rising toward the sun. Then, with a terrifying crack, one of the pillars at the gate of the castle sprang free, hurtling toward the ground and shattering into a thousand stones against the rage of the earthquake.

As quickly as it had come, it was gone. The trembling firmament shuddered once, and a creaking groan arose from the torn crevasses, hurtling foul-smelling gas and bitter fumes. The Mantis clan arose, counted their dead, and began the arduous process of rebuilding what had been lost.

Fires burned freely in the villages by the shore, and fishermen’s boats bobbed on the turbulent ocean, desperate to reach their homes. In the fields near the great palace, a boy stood beneath a swaying tree, watching as the last arcs of anger rolled through his father’s rice paddies. He was ten years old, tall and lean as a teenager, with a bitterness already embedded in his childlike features. With a careless hand, he pushed aside the lock of hair that had fallen in his eyes, swearing again to tie it back as his father did - no matter what the shugenja said. He glared angrily at the still shuddering tree and turned to continue his path toward the Mantis dojo.

Ten years old, and filled with anger.

Each strike of the sensei’s boken against his own was an offense. Every move he made, every twitch of his eyes infuriated the young man, making him strive harder. At last, with an effort, his sword clashed past his instructor’s guard, shattering the wooden boken against the sensei’s body. The man fell with a cry of pain, and the son of the Mantis daimyo stood over him, the broken sword pointed at his sensei’s throat.

"Yoritomo." His father’s voice, behind him, but the boy did not move. His eyes buried themselves in the crippled sensei’s soul, dangerous and feral.

"Yoritomo!" This time, it was a command, and the boy leaned back. With a shuddering gasp, the sensei lurched to his feet, nearly crumbling from the pain of his broken ribs. "There is no more need of you, Tokui-san." Leaning on his crutch, the Mantis daimyo walked to his son and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Put your sword away, my youngest son," he said gruffly, though his eyes were proud. "It is no longer time for childish things." Yoritomo nodded, pulling his sweat-stained hair from his forehead. As they walked from the dojo, the other students bowed in tribute to the young Master.

As the two walked from the gate, Yoshitsune looked down at his son. Tall for his age, his startling green eyes - incredibly rare in Rokugan - glared out from a sharp-featured face. Across the forehead and down one cheek, a treacherous scar sheared away the dark skin, leaving a trail of white. When they reached the cliffs surrounding the Mantis bay, the daimyo released his son’s shoulder. "You are much like me, in your anger." Yoshitsune looked down, his face hard as stone. "Sit, boy."

Surly, but compliant, the boy sat on the high cliff wall, looking down over the towering fortress of his clan. Below him, peasants rushed to and fro, attempting to restore the gate which had shattered in the morning’s earthquake. "Seven years ago today, Yoritomo," Yoshitsune began, "Your mother and your two brothers were murdered. This much, I have told you. The scar you bear, my leg, these are the remains of the past."

"The sensei" began the boy, ready to argue.
"Iie." His father snarled, and the boy was silent. "This is not about your loss of face." The ocean roared beneath them in silence as the Mantis daimyo paused, his face lined with long-suppressed grief and rage. "I must speak to you about the night your family was murdered. I can only tell you this tale once, my son, so you must listen closely. It is all you will ever have."

"You told me my family died in battle"

"Silence, child!"

Confused and angry, the boy stared at his aged father, but the man’s thoughts were already far away. "The night you were born, my son, the storms raged across the heavens, and your mother’s screams were echoed by the thunder of the kami. You have always been strong - as she was, though I see your father’s cunning behind your eyes. Three years later, your eldest brother came to me, speaking of treachery and betrayal."

"Betrayal?" The young Yoritomo’s eyes narrowed.

"Quiet, boy." The words were harsh, sharp. "There is much to tell, and little time." On the far distant horizon, the shadowed signs of a storm were beginning to gather, and the birds circled in a deadly blue sky. "It was late in the evening, and the servants had gone to their rest, leaving us alone in the chambers of the daimyo, deep in the heart of Kyuden Mantis. Your brother told me of the storehouses of silk beneath our palace, and of the gaijin - strangers from a far-distant land - who would trade much for our wares. He said they would be willing to take it from us if we did not bargain with them as petty merchants.

"They spoke to him of battle, these gaijin, and of dangerous sorceries, and they encouraged him to speak to his father of their offers." The old man smiled, his wrinkled face creasing in a thousand directions."Your brother was a Mantis, and he knew what the answer would be: No trade, at any cost. The Imperial Decree has stood for over five hundred years, and the Mantis would not have their name sullied as the clan who chose to break that command." In the distance, the storm flashed faintly above a rolling sea.

The tsunami, legendary curse of the Mantis Isles, raced somewhere in the distance. Each earthquake that shattered the land, boiled the sea until the fortunes sent forth their power and moved the waves as one. Peasants scurried up the path toward Kyuden Mantis, carrying their few goods upon their backs. They helped each other as they abandoned the simple village, knowing it would never stand against the wave’s ferocity. It would be rebuilt when the storm was past. Practical, like their Crab ancestor; fiercely loyal, as the Lion - this was Mantis blood.

"Yet your brother did so." His voice was tired and strained, but Yoshitsune continued. "He sought out a traitor in the palace, and asked them to murder his father. He wanted them to ‘take his place in all things.’ The traitor was paid with 50 koku of gold, and gave his word to the bargain. Once the false daimyo had broken the Emperor’s decree, your brother intended to restore the family’s honor by killing the ‘traitor’, yet afterward, continue with his trade." Seeing the boy’s shocked face, Yoshitsune nodded sadly. "There are those who would have done worse."

"My brother was a traitor?"

"Yes, but there is more. If you are a Mantis, you can bear to hear it." The old man waited for the child’s arrogant nod, and the pride which followed, before he continued. "Your brother did not know that the gaijin had never planned to buy the silk, but to take it. They sent spies - strange, foreign men with twisted knives and red-painted faces - to murder the family of the daimyo while they slept.

"The gaijin crept into the hallways of the castle, silent and deadly, and where they touched the wall, they left it marked with the acid of their hands and feet. Strange beasts, they were, and their eyes were as bright and pale as your own."

"I have seen the marks," The boy interrupted, "on the castle walls."

His father raised a hand, and the boy was silent. "They are the sign of the gaijin sorcerers, who kill at night, without mercy and without honor. Remember them, when I am gone." Anger in his eyes, the child nodded grimly, his scar shining whitely under the fading sun. In the distance, the storm grew closer, and the seas began to rock with the coming of the Great Wave.

"They murdered your mother, as she slept. Their hands left only white bone in their passing, and the touch of their skin burned black holes in her flesh. She did not even scream, for their grasp choked her throat and removed all sound from her body." Anger and hate warred on the child’s face, echoed in the ancient lines of the man. "Your second brother leapt from his bed as he slept, hearing them in the hallway. He tried to raise the alarm, but the paper walls of our palace crumbled from their burning touch, and they tore his eyes from their sockets with their fingers.

"Of your oldest brother, the foulest tale must be told." The man looked down at the boy, seeing his young frame shake with fury. "The traitor was slaughtered with his own katana, as their red faces leered and grinned. The marks of their feet upon the floor carved such holes in the stone that your brother’s spilled blood remained for days. Even the darkest eta would not remove it."

"But the gaijin did not kill you, father."

"No, my son. They did not." He shifted upon his crutch, the stained wood twisting upon the stone of the cliff. "The servants had begun to scream, and the guards came quickly, finding the gaijin as they moved into your small room - the youngest child of Yoshitsume and Kirei. I fought them there, tearing at them with your ancestor’s sword until others could come. But they left us both with scars." Almost without thought, the Mantis daimyo reached to touch his crippled leg, the old scars crisscrossing the flesh as finely as spider’s silk.

"My face." his hand flew to the white trace down his cheek.

"Yes. I could not stop them entirely." The sorrow in the Mantis daimyo’s voice spoke volumes. "Yet I saved your life, as was my duty as your father, and so the family line will live on." Below them, the mighty wave crested the horizon, racing toward the shore with the fury of all the elements. Its lofty peak stood fifty men high beneath the black storm, and within seconds, the tiny seaside village would be crushed by the massive weight of the water.

"It was my duty to tell you this, as it is my place to give you your gempukku. My last duty to you, as your father." The boy stood still in the sprinkling rain, amazed, as Yoshitsune raised the ancient sword of the Mantis from his obi. "In all things."

"Your place." The boy whispered in comprehension. "The gaijin did not kill my father." The tsunami crashed into the land, throwing houses and trees into the air like chips of wood, and the young son of the Mantis closed his fist about his father’s sword. "You did."

"Fifty koku of gold, and my honor. That was what your life cost." The man whispered, stepping back as his crutch fell to the ground.

"But you will always be my son."

The crashing wave tore at the barricades of Kyuden Mantis as the old man threw his body into the sea. Above him, the storm tore at Yoritomo’s hair, and the thunder drowned his scream of rage.