Kakita Toshiken sighed, tortured breath rattling in his chest. His wrinkled hands folded in his lap as he sat hunched on his cushion, shoulders so weak from illness he required most of his focus to remain sitting upright. He had lived a long life, and for the most part it had been a good one. Now, he was merely a withered shadow of his former self. He was the Emerald Champion no more, that title having been stripped from him by Hantei Naseru, son of the Emperor. The court whispered their approval; Toshiken's feeble health left him unable to exercise his duties as the defender of the Emperor. The fact that the Empire currently had no Emperor was irrelevant; the time had come for another Test.

So the representatives of the eight Great Clans had gathered here today, erecting a small city of pavilions overnight in the shadows of Kyuden Seppun. A new Test of the Emerald Champion had begun. Tomorrow, the final challenge would be complete and Kakita Toshiken would be no more than an unpleasant memory. A footnote to history, shipped off to a monastery to be quietly forgotten.

The flap of the pavilion opened, and Toshiken turned to stare bleakly at his visitor. A tall man in emerald green courtly dress worked with patterns of chrysanthemums greeted him with a brief bow. A dark patch covered his right eye. This was Hantei Naseru, the man the courts called the Anvil. Since Emperor Toturi's death, Naseru and his three siblings - known collectively as the Four Winds - had begun separate quests to secure their succession to the throne. Naseru's road was one of manipulation and subtlety; his ruthless political acumen had gained numerous allies and cowed countless foes in recent months. Few doubted the Anvil's claim would be ignored easily, though the other heirs' claims were technically stronger.

"Are you feeling well, my friend?" Hantei Naseru said. As always, Naseru's voice was smooth and controlled, his face unreadable.

"As well as can be expected, Naseru-san," Toshiken answered in a harsh voice, rising weakly and bowing to the heir. Toshiken's gaze focused on Naseru's, punctuating his omission of the respectful "-sama" suffix.

"Hm," Naseru grunted, good eye narrowing. He sat beside the former champion with one swift motion, arranging his elaborate courtly dress expertly as he sat. "I for one hope that your mood improves as swiftly as your health, Toshiken-san. I speak for all the Clans gathered here today when I tell you that while we regret your retirement, we appreciate your wish to bless your successor."

"Indeed?" Toshiken said. "I was not aware that you spoke for the Empire. Not yet." The Emerald Champion met the Anvil's gaze without flinching.

"Indeed," Naseru nodded slightly, his voice mild. "I admit it will be a shame to see you leave Otosan Uchi. I find your frankness refreshing, Toshiken-san. Not all men are so... sincere."

"What use has a dead man with lies?" Toshiken hissed.

"What use indeed?" the Anvil said. "Even yet, it must be some small consolation to live to see one's own successor." Naseru nodded toward the tournament field. At that moment a young Crane raised his katana in salute to his defeated Unicorn opponent. Toshiken did not recognize the Unicorn, but knew the Crane as Yasuki Hachi. Once, he had been a minor gunso of the Daidoji family. Overnight, the machinations of the Anvil had propelled Hachi to the leadership of the Yasuki family, sparking a war with the Crane's neighbors in the Crab Clan.

Toshiken shrugged. "Hachi knows nothing of justice," he replied. "If my father had lived to see this day, he would be horrified to see us fighting our allies."

"Perhaps," Naseru cocked his head in assent. "But perhaps it is the nature of things to change? The Grey Crane is dead. This is no longer the Empire he knew."

Toshiken smiled bitterly. "No," he said. "This is the Empire scattered to the Four Winds, spoiled children tearing Rokugan apart for their own glory." Toshiken turned to face Naseru. His icy expression dared the Anvil to respond to the insult, but Naseru's face showed no anger, no resentment, nothing. The withered Emerald Champion's focus was shattered by a sudden wracking cough. A servant quickly shuffled forward to offer a cup of steaming tea. Toshiken sipped painfully, eyes closed to press out the pain. A young man in fine blue silken robes moved to his side, and Toshiken waved the boy away. Naseru regarded the newcomer curiously.

"My son, Atoshi," Toshiken said in a gravely voice, gesturing at the young man.

"We've met," Naseru said simply.

Atoshi stepped back dutifully and bowed to Naseru. He was a small man with the delicate effete beauty once possessed by his father, so popular in the Crane courts. Unlike many Crane, he wore his hair a natural black, collected beneath a peaked black hat. He was the youngest - and only surviving - son of Kakita Toshiken.

"I apologize for my father's words, Naseru-sama," Atoshi said, bowing deeply to the Imperial heir. "Surely you understand that his condition has left him... unstable. I beg you to be lenient."

The son of Toturi rose and smoothed his robes with one hand, smiling faintly at Atoshi and not bothering to look upon the former champion. "Of course. Compassion breeds compassion, did not Shinsei say as much?"

"Indeed he did," Kakita Atoshi bowed deeply once again. Toshiken scowled and looked away. Hantei Naseru gave the Crane a final calculating gaze and was gone, exiting the pavilion without a sound.

"Father, why must you test him?" Atoshi said with a sigh. "The Anvil is not known for his mercy." He shook his head sadly. "Count yourself lucky that you are ill."

"I do," Toshiken hissed, scowling back at his son over blood-flecked lips. "I would rather die than watch manipulators tear apart the Empire. We should not ally ourselves with men like Naseru."

Kakita Atoshi said nothing.

Across the tournament field, the Crane fell smoothly into another practice kata. Yasuki Hachi's movements were graceful, his technique perfect. Thus far in the tournament, none had come close to matching his skill.

"Can I defeat him, father?" Miyako said softly. The young girl's face tightened in concern as she peered across the tournament field.

The old general at her side frowned and stroked his well-trimmed mustache. He was silent for a long moment. "Is that what is most important, daughter?" he said. "That you defeat Yasuki Hachi?"

"I've come so far already, father," she said. "Only three more challenges remain. If I defeat Hachi, and then go on to succeed in the final round, the tournament will be won."

"And you shall be Emerald Champion," her father continued, his gaze
distant, unfocused. "Is that what is most important, Miyako?"

"Of course," she replied. "I shall bring honor to our clan! I can do no less."

Miyako's father frowned, settling back on his heels with a disturbed expression. Miyako blinked, worried that she had said the wrong thing.

"Father?" Miyako said nervously. "Do you think that I can beat him?"

"I do not know," he said, "The only way to answer that question is to find out."

"Miyako, daughter of Toku, Lord of the Monkey Clan," the voice of Imperial Herald Miya Yumi shouted across the tournament field. "Come forth and meet your challenger, Yasuki Hachi, daimyo of the Yasuki."

"Carry the Fortunes, Miyako-chan," Toku said to her.

Miyako nodded soberly and stepped forward.

The iaijutsu duels of the Test of the Emerald Champion were not to the death, but merely contests of skill and competence. In fact, to cause one's opponent undue injury was seen as an act of gross incompetence, even if one won the duel. Thus far in the tournament, Yasuki Hachi had not left so much as a nick on the cheek of any of his opponents.

Hachi's eyes narrowed as he squared off against the Monkey girl. His right hand hovered inches above the hilt of his katana, as if offering a gift. His face was blank, expressionless. His long topknot whipped in the breeze.

His opponent's movements were subtle, graceful. Hachi could see that she possessed skill; she had learned much from her legendary father. He could also see that she lacked focus. Her eyes were clouded, her mind not on the moment.

A shame.

Hachi drew his breath slowly as his body moved more rapidly than thought. His left arm flung outward, a confusing, distracting gesture. His katana slid free with a brilliant, nearly musical note. Miyako's draw was barely an instant later, but her blade cleared its saya more swiftly. Hachi adjusted in mid stroke, slashing at her blade with a harsh chopping motion. The clang of steel echoed across the tournament field as Miyako's blade tumbled from her hand. A moment later, the tan mon of the Monkey Clan fluttered from Miyako's sleeve to the tournament field, sliced free by a single perfect cut of Yasuki Hachi's blade.

Hachi exhaled, grinning brightly as the duel concluded. Miyako's eyes were wide, hardly able to comprehend the speed with which she was defeated. She staggered backward, unbalanced by the loss of her blade, and fell solidly on her rear. A ripple of laughter echoed through the crowd.

"Yasuki Hachi, the victor," Miya Yumi's voice rolled across the field. The brilliant sapphire standard of the Crane rose above the field, flapping in the morning breeze. The standard of the Monkey was silently lowered.

Hachi grinned and offered his hand to Miyako. His blue eyes gleamed with amusement. The spectators had already begun to disperse, returning to Kyuden Seppun to rest and discuss the latest development.

"No thank you," Miyako said. She scowled, waving away his hand. She rolled backward and rose to her feet, nursing her twisted wrist and glancing about for any sign of her sword. Her face burned with humiliation.

"Please, don't take it personally," Hachi said with a bright laugh, ignoring her ill temper. "You nearly had me till the end. Pretty though they may be, a duelist cannot afford to lead with her eyes."

"I do not need your advice," she grumbled.

"Have it your way," Hachi shrugged. "By the way, I think your grandfather's soul went that way." He nodded to his left.

"My grandfather was a farmer," Miyako said slowly, glaring back at him. "We earned our name, Yasuki-sama." She stressed the "sama," nearly spitting as she did so.

Yasuki Hachi closed his mouth and arched one eyebrow. He smiled calmly at her glare. Miyako stared briefly, fire burning in her eyes. For a moment, the corner of her mouth turned mischievously. She quickly turned and strode off across the field, pausing only to snatch up her lost blade before disappearing into the Monkey Clan's pavilion. As she left, a young Crane in blue silken robes approached, sleeves fluttering on the wind like the wings of his clan's namesake.

"Hachi?" the Crane said, noting the Yasuki's smile.

"I like her, Nagori" Yasuki Hachi said simply.

"Restrain yourself, Hachi-sama," Doji Nagori said with a bemused grin. "You are here to win the tournament, not further your lecherous reputation."

"There is always time to further one's reputation Nagori-san," Hachi said, smiling as he bowed to the storyteller.

"I defer to your greater wisdom, mighty daimyo," Nagori said wryly, smoothing his long white braid against the wind. "Now. Go pay your respects to the Hantei."

"Of course," Hachi said, a momentary look of distaste crossing his features.

"Hachi," Nagori pressed, a warning note in his voice. "You know how important this is. Hantei Naseru is a very powerful ally. He is no man to cross."

"As if I could forget," Hachi said. "The last time we met I went from gunso to daimyo in one evening."

"And if you are clever enough you will become Emerald Champion in another," Nagori retorted. "Would you have it otherwise?"

"Of course not," Hachi answered. "Do not misunderstand me, Nagori, I know my duty and am prepared to fulfill it. It is only that before I began dealing with the likes of Atoshi and Naseru, my life was much less..."

"Worthwhile?" Nagori asked.

"I was going to say 'complex,'" Hachi said.

"Of course," Doji Nagori said with a nod. "Shall we attend the heir, mighty daimyo Yasuki-sama?" Nagori managed to keep a straight face despite the exaggerated honorific. The two had been friends too long to take one another completely seriously.

Hachi gave his friend an even stare, then nodded. "Yes," he said. "The sooner we finish this, the better."

"Eternal Shiba," Aikune whispered, eyes closed tightly in concentration as he knelt before the small shrine. "Give me strength. Help me find my place..."

Aikune reached out with his mind. He tried to hear the voices, tried to open himself to the spirits of the past Phoenix Champions.

He heard nothing.

The young samurai frowned and opened his eyes, a bitter taste welling in his mouth. It was always the same. The spirits would not answer. They would not hear him. He was his mother's son, but he would never be lord of the Phoenix. That was not the way of his clan. The Champion was not chosen by birth, but by Ofushikai, the sword of Shiba. After the Battle of Oblivion's Gate, the ancient sword had returned to the Celestial Heavens. When his mother retired, it was likely that the Elemental Council would choose the new Champion. The Masters would not choose Aikune. Like his mother he was brash, temperamental, unafraid to speak his mind. The Council of Masters had no use for a samurai who did his own thinking. Aikune would live out his life in obscurity.

Forgotten. Unimportant. Mundane. He would not have it.

The Test of the Emerald Champion was personal for Shiba Aikune. So far, he had been fortunate enough to meet opponents whose skill was beneath him, but luck could only carry one so far. Soon, he would have to face the Crane, Hachi. Aikune was not certain he could beat him.

"I beg you, ancestors," Aikune said, rising one fist before the small shrine. "Give me the strength I need to become the Emerald Champion. Give me a chance to leave my mark upon this world!"

Aikune waited for their response. He knelt until the sun rose high in the sky and his knees ached from exhaustion. He knelt until a dull ache crept into the base of his spine and a throbbing fire burned in his eyes. Behind him, a heimin messenger cleared her throat quietly, signaling that it was time for Aikune to return to the tournament.

Aikune looked at the shrine a final time, waiting for any sign of the Kami's blessing. He saw nothing.

"So be it," Aikune said hoarsely. The young Phoenix lifted his swords from the floor, tucked them beneath his obi, and departed for the tournament field.

A soft ripple of laughter echoed through the assembled spectators as Bayushi Kwanchai emerged from the Scorpion Clan's pavilion. The young bushi paid them no mind. They were all fools. He adjusted his scaly red mask, smoothed his immaculate red kimono over his slim chest, and paced the field as he awaited his challenger.

He heard their whispers. He knew the rumors they muttered. They spoke of the weakness of his technique, how only the manipulations of his clan had allowed him to progress this far. They said that Shiba Aikune would end his bizarre winning streak and the Scorpion Clan's last representative would finally be removed.

They knew nothing. The legacy of the Dark Sword of Bitter Lies was strong within Kwanchai, and he knew his duty.

At the far edge of the field, his eyes met Bayushi Sunetra, the samurai who had arranged for his invitation to the tournament. Her lips formed in a fragile smile. Her eyes were hooded and unknowable. Kwanchai nodded to her, and lifted his sword in salute. His blood burned at the sight of her. He would not fail her.

Across the field Shiba Aikune had finally arrived. The Phoenix lifted his blade as well, mistakenly believing that Kwanchai had saluted him. Kwanchai scowled, made a rude gesture, and returned his blade to its scabbard. Aikune frowned. The two duelists approached one another, appraising one another. Aikune's lip curled in disgust. Kwanchai could feel the Phoenix's disdain, his disrespect for Kwanchai's unconventional technique. Kwanchai smiled behind his mask.

Aikune intended to win the duel and survive intact.

Kwanchai only had one task; defeating Aikune was irrelevant.

Shiba Aikune had seriously underestimated Bayushi Kwanchai.

In a flash of steel, blades flew free. Aikune's blade struck first. The Bayushi mon was sliced from Kwanchai's sleeve. Kwanchai's sword struck a fraction of a moment later. His strike was brutal, intentional, slicing through the tendons at the back of Aikune's left leg.

To his merit, Shiba Aikune did not cry out but only fell backward with a sneer as his leg refused to support him. Bayushi Kwanchai lifted his blade once more, high, as if preparing to finish the Phoenix. Fear glinted in the Phoenix boy's eyes, and Kwanchai snickered. The crowd gasped in outrage, shocked by Kwanchai's savage, dishonorable act. A trio of shugenja rushed to Aikune's side, the holy power of the kami suffusing their hands as they prepared to heal their fallen kinsman's wound.

The Scorpion ignored Aikune and the shugenja, circling to face each spectator in turn. His eyes gleamed with dark triumph. Kwanchai finally flicked the Phoenix's blood from his sword, sheathed his blade, and stalked back to the Scorpion pavilion.

"Shiba Aikune, the victor," Miya Yumi said, shock apparent in her voice. The blood-red standard of the Scorpion was lowered. The setting sun reflected brightly against the triumphant orange standard of the Phoenix.

In his own mind, Bayushi Kwanchai knew who had truly won the day.

Miyako stood quietly at the window of her chambers, watching the night sky. She heard the creak of the floor, the soft slide of the shoji screen behind her, but did not turn to see who it was.

"Miyako?" her father said softly.

"I am sorry, father," she replied. "I have brought you shame."

"Do not be," he replied with a light laugh. "You made me proud today. No other bushi in our clan could have progressed so far in the Test. When I was your age... well when I was your age I was tilling a field. I suppose that's irrelevant."

"I failed, father," she answered. "That is all they will remember." She looked back at him, face full of pain.

"You failed because your mind was burdened with trivialities," said a deep voice. "Hachi's mind was on the moment, and so he triumphed."

A dark figure appeared in the room, or perhaps had always been there. He wore robes of pitch black, glittering sporadically as if sprinkled with gem dust. His hair fell in long braids, woven with strange talismans. His dark eyes blazed with wisdom, power, and a hint of madness. Toku and Miyako quickly bowed to Naka Tokei, Grand Master of the Elements.

"Master, you missed the tournament," Miyako said, peering up at her teacher with a disappointed frown.

"I saw," Tokei said simply. "From my own unique vantage point."

Toku looked at Tokei curiously. "Did you not wish to pay your respects to Naseru-sama, old friend?" he asked. "I am certain Toturi's son would have been honored to meet one of his old comrades."

Tokei shrugged. "I pay my respect to those worthy of respect," Tokei said. "The Anvil is not his father. Those who need know of my return are already aware." Tokei waved a dismissive hand. "At any rate, I must return to my studies. There are dark portents this evening. Congratulations, Miyako." He nodded to the girl.

"Congratulations?" she asked, "but I lost."

"Did you?" Tokei smiled for the briefest moment, then was gone.

Toku watched his daughter quietly. Her short-cropped hair, round face, midnight black eyes full of fire. He could not help but smile.

"You're laughing at me, father," she said morosely, hugging her arms against her slim body.

"No, I'm remembering," Toku said, resting one hand on his daughter's shoulder. "Remembering a young man obsessed with proving himself. A brash hero prepared to risk everything for his own vision of honor. I was like you once, Miyako."

"Well," Miyako peered up at her father, "maybe you still can be."

Toku paused, surprised by her reply. A wide grin split his features.

"I am proud of you, Miyako," he said, squeezing her shoulder. "Never doubt that."

The morning sun blazed bright; even Lord Yakamo seemed to be eager to witness the final day of the Test. The other gathered visitors were no less curious. As Yasuki Hachi entered the tournament field, however, he could sense that something was wrong. Shiba Aikune was not present. At the far end of the field, a Phoenix shugenja seemed to be in heated discussion with Hantei Naseru and a dark-robed Scorpion woman. Near the three of them, Kakita Atoshi waited patiently, feigning disinterest as he absorbed every word. Doji Nagori also waited nearby. When Nagori noted Hachi's presence, he subtly gestured to him. Hachi quickly approached the group, feeling the Scorpion woman's eyes upon him all the while. When he met her gaze, she looked away with a faint, enigmatic smile.

"This is outrageous, Naseru-sama," the Phoenix said. The shugenja's expression was furious, but her fury was not directed at the Anvil. Instead, it fell upon the Scorpion.

"I do not see it so, Isawa-san," Naseru said in a clipped, uninterested tone.

"Pardon me for the interruption, Hantei-sama," Hachi said, bowing deeply to the Imperial Heir. "Might I ask why the tournament has been interrupted? Is Aikune-san capable of continuing?"

"The Phoenix have violated Imperial protocol," Bayushi Sunetra said, her voice as smooth as oil on water. "Yesterday evening they called upon magic in the presence of the Imperial Heir, when only the clan of the Scorpion were granted leave to invoke the kami's favor upon this tournament."

"They invoked the kami?" Hachi asked.

"We healed our fallen kinsman!" the Phoenix exclaimed. "The wound your clumsy brute inflicted upon him would have killed him!"

"I have given you your options," Hantei Naseru said, "This discussion is concluded." He turned to the Scorpion, and then the Phoenix. The Scorpion said nothing.

The Phoenix shook her head, mumbled a brief apology, bowed to the Anvil, and departed. Though her tone was sincere, it was clear she was unsatisfied with the judgment.

"Excellent," Naseru said with a nod. He fixed his single eye on Hachi. "Then it is decided. Congratulations, Yasuki Hachi. It seems that you are now Emerald Champion. We shall hold the formal ceremony in one hour." With a swirl of emerald green robes, the Anvil departed. The Scorpion looked at Hachi a final time, a predatory glint in her ice-blue eyes. She turned and followed Naseru.

Hachi looked at Kakita Atoshi, confused. "What just happened here?" he asked the young courtier.

"You are Emerald Champion, now," Atoshi said with a bow. "Father will be most pleased!"

"You know that's not what I mean, Atoshi," Hachi said tersely. "What game is being played here?"

"It is complicated," Atoshi stammered.

"Confuse me," Hachi pressed, eyes narrowing as he loomed over the smaller man. The courtier cleared his throat quietly, clearly intimidated by Hachi's darkening mood.

"You had best humor him, Atoshi," Doji Nagori said. "If I were you, I would do well to recall that Hachi-sama entered this field looking for a fight. Remember, he was once Daidoji. They are a rough lot, or so I hear."

The courtier's face turned even paler than usual. His peaked hat toppled from his head. "Very well," he said, snatching up his hat in one hand. "As you know, shugenja are forbidden to call upon magic in the Emperor's presence without his permission. It seems that the Phoenix used magic to heal Shiba Aikune's wound. The Scorpion took offense, as Hantei Naseru - may his wisdom shine upon us all - promised that only the blessings of Scorpion shugenja would shine upon this tournament."

"That is ridiculous," Hachi snapped. "Naseru isn't Emperor. He can't make proclamations like that."

"Ah... correction," Atoshi raised one finger nervously. "As per the agreement the Great Clans entered into for the purposes of this tournament he is Emperor. So to speak. We agreed that for the duration of this tournament, as a means of assisting in bringing unity to the clans, we would defer to him as we would the Emperor. Even the Phoenix agreed. Clearly they must have misunderstood."

"So why don't they apologize?" Hachi asked.

"You try apologizing to a Scorpion, Hachi-sama," Nagori said, chuckling. "Let me know what comes of that."

"The Scorpion agreed to forget the incident," Atoshi said with a faint smile, "so long as they were allowed to place their own blessings upon Aikune prior to the duel. The Isawa declined, and forfeited on Aikune's behalf."

"No surprise there," Nagori said. "I wouldn't want to go into a duel with a Scorpion spells on me."

"All in all, a victory for the Crane," Atoshi said with mild satisfaction, returning his hat to his head. "Congratulations, Hachi-sama. You seem to be the most fortunate man in Rokugan." Atoshi bowed deeply and hurried away.

"Indeed," Hachi said as the courtier departed.

"Oh dear," Doji Nagori said, studying Hachi's stubborn frown intently. "I know that look."

"This isn't a victory, Nagori," Hachi spat. "This is a stain. The Emerald Champion is supposed to be a symbol of justice. Yet here I am, gaining my position through treachery and manipulation."

"What do you think the Scorpion have to gain?" Nagori said.

"The Scorpion, the Anvil, Atoshi, what do any of them have to gain by making a fool of the Emerald Champion?" Hachi said with a sigh. "Chaos. They keep us at each other's throats, sowing chaos as they bid for power."

"So what will you do?" Nagori asked.

"I will be Emerald Champion," Hachi said firmly. "And if they think that I will be their pawn, they are sorely mistaken."

"Temper courage with practicality, my friend," Nagori said. "Better men than you have fallen to manipulators like Naseru and Atoshi." He grinned slightly. "Even more to women like Sunetra."

"I will not bend to anyone's whim," Yasuki Hachi said, turning back toward the Crane pavilion. "Honor is my guide."

"Then I wish you good fortune, Hachi-sama," Doji Nagori said with a sigh, following his friend's path. "I wish us all good fortune. I think we shall need it."

Behind them, the standard of the Crane Clan flapped proudly in the wind, victorious.