Nightshade: Ch'lana

[Nightshade]

"It is never a burden to share the load of another.  And living in the moment is our creed for a reason.  The past only teaches you lessons, sometimes, painful ones, yes, but it does not have any power of you, unless you let it.  Every decision you make is made in the moment, tempered by who you are and who your lessons have shaped you into.  And I have seen nothing that should make you  question your honor or your commitment to your path."

The conviction of the Shinobi teachings is obvious and the older man can tell it is a refuge that Nightshade has returned to again and again throughout his life.

"It would be an great pleasure to share tea with someone who understands how to make it properly," he says, turning to lighter matters.  "I have yet to find a droid or machine that understands the process at all.  What these gaijin see in their machines I don't fully understand."

[GM Craig]

He smiles. "This evening then, after dinner in the forward cargo bay. I look forward to it."

He gives you an appropriate bow (perhaps a little too deep). He waits for you to respond, and withdraws.

[pausing for reaction, if any.]

[Nightshade]

"As do I."  Nightshade returns the bow and waits until Ch'lana has left before finishing his unpacking.  He then looks for an empty part of a cargo bay to work through his forms both with blade and unarmed before spending some time in meditation.

[GM Craig]

[Going to leave the tea ceremony offscreen. He's at the skilled novice level, which is much more skilled than you would have expected for someone not born of the Shinobi.]

As you sip your tea, Ch'lana smiles.

"Thank you again for this. It has been a long time."

You sense he has more to say and simply smile, letting him come to it in his own time.

Eventually he says, "You have your Grandfather's quiet way about you. You remind me of him a great deal."

And that's when the realization hits you. Akarui Burēdo is a name from your family history. According to family history, Akariui was a Shinobi warrior who served the clan with distinction. He was a close friend of your paternal grandfather Takehiko - your father said they were close as brothers. You had never linked the name of Akarui to an outsider, which is why you missed the connection at first. Akarui left the clan under a cloud of scandal. When he left, your grandfather left as well, disgracing the family. It took your father many years to restore the family honour, and it is a stain on the family that you still labour against.

Your father never spoke ill of Akarui - barely spoke of him at all, in fact. You never remember him saying that name - you heard it occasionally from others. But you do recall your father speaking about your grandfather's 'betrayal.' He said, "Honour is a difficult thing, my son. Sometimes the demands of honour are contradictory. My father once was faced with a choice, and he chose the bonds of friendship and heart-family over that of the clan. I do not blame my father for staining our honour. He understood what he was doing, and felt the cost of leaving was less than the cost of staying. It is not my place to debate his wisdom."

Your grandfather was never seen among the Shinobi again. It was thought he died far from home, though no one was ever sure.

[Nightshade]

The bolt of recognition almost jars Nightshade from his silence, yet his training comes through again and he holds his tongue for a few moments before speaking, "it seems I will face a decision much as he did as well."

He returns to his silence waiting to see what the older man may add.  The Shinobi are taught from a young age that they have two ears and one mouth for a reason, and that wisdom is rarely found in many words.

[GM Craig]

Ch'lana's composure remains intact, but he's no Shinobi - you've rattled him.

He takes a moment to sip his tea before setting down the cup.

"I did not think you knew. Though I suppose I have always underestimated the Shinobi skills of perception." He takes a breath, clearly gathering his thoughts. "It was never my intention to put you in the same situation. When I asked you to come, I was not sure who you were. But you gave me your name. Then I saw how you move like him in your exercises - you even hold and sip your tea like him."

His eyes loose focus for a moment, then he returns to the here and now. "I tried to dissuade him, you know. He merely ignored me - would not even speak of it. The Shinobi will is not easily swayed, the house of Yoshida even more so." He looks a little confused then. "You are under no obligation to me. You do not face the same dilemma."

[Nightshade]

"I do not mean to be rude, but I do not speak of an obligation to you, but rather to myself.  If I cannot finish my current bond then you know what faces me, and it seems that the chances of doing that fade like the morning fog in the noon sun." 

"I doubt my grandfather would have obligated either, our family has come to realize from his example that honor is ultimately an obligation to oneself, expressed in your actions towards others."

[GM Craig]

Ch'lana smiles. "Your grandfather said those exact words about obligation to me, long ago. Yoshida-san, know that for my part, you are free to come and go as you please - I hold no obligation against you. But I would welcome your company, for as long as you offer to share it with me."

[Nightshade]

Another bow from Yoshida is the reply to Ch'lana's offer.  "I feel bound to Niil for now, as he is my only link to finishing my current contract.  I welcome the time that our paths align."

He hesitates for a moment, the first time he has done so in a long time, before asking, "Can you tell me of grandfather's passing to the ancestors?"

[GM Craig]

Ch'lana frowns. "Ask me again another time and I will tell you in full. But know that he died with honour and courage, with a warrior's death."

He pauses, and you sense he has more. A moment later he reaches up to his neck and removes a thong there. At the end is a small lacquered tube about 2 inches in length. He cradles it for a moment before offering it to you as he bows, his head down.

You take the token, and Ch'lana wordlessly withdraws to leave you alone with what comes, a kindness and consideration both.

The tube has a removable side, and you thumb it out of the precision groves. Inside, you see a folded piece of parchment.

As you reverently remove the parchment, you see the firm strong strokes of the Kana of the Shinobi. Only then is your suspicion confirmed.

You hold your grandfather's Jisei, the last words of a warrior written before certain death.

You take a moment to centre yourself, and kneel on the floor, touching your head to the parchment out of respect. Rising, you unfold it, and let it sit there for a moment without looking at it, preparing your spirit to receive his words.

Finally, you take a breath and read.

There is no death; there is no life.
Indeed, the skies are cloudless
And the river waters clear.

[Nightshade]

Toshiro truly had no words, so it was fortunate that this moment called for none. How does one describe the joy, the awe, the sheer experience of holding something in your hands that the very depths of your being knew would never happen?  Ch'lana could have given him a king's ransom in gold and precious stones and its value would be as chaff in the wind beside the incomparable gift of having his grandfather's Jisei.

Moments pass unnoticed as the warrior contemplates the parchment before him, and the moments stretch out even more as he contemplates the simple beauty of these final words, the final lesson in philosophy and the meaning of existence.

Hours later he gathers the slip of paper and places it back into its cradle before placing the thong around his neck.  Wordlessly he ghosts through the ship to find Ch'lana and drop into the most formal of bows with his forehead to the deck of the ship.  After a silent moment he rises and returns to his room.

[GM Craig]

You can feel nervousness radiating from Ch;lana as you approach, as if he does not know what to expect. When you bow, the nervousness changes to surprise. You feel his urge to say something, but he knows enough of the Shinobi ways to hold his tongue and accept your gift in silence, returning the bow far deeper than he should.

You can feel his eyes on your back as you depart. The weight of unspoken words hangs between you, impatient for the appropriate time for their release.