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Editor's Note: The following is a parody written by a player in response to the preponderance of peaches at the Iris Festival. The Iris Festival is held in the summer, at the time that peaches come into full bloom. The peach itself is a semi-holy object in the worship of Amaterasu, the sun-goddess, and as the Iris festival is Amaterasu's day, the peach thus figures heavily. Be that as it may, the reader is invited to enjoy what may be one of the few moments of samurai humor to come out of an L5R campaign.
The day would dawn with a peachy hue, they were all certain, but not for an hour more at least, when the heroes of the five rings were awakened by the attentive yet solicitous servants of the Asahina family. They were brought to the baths, which had been prepared lovingly with peach-petals and other subtle scents that were intended to rouse them with contemplations of the upcoming purification ceremonies. Well bathed, a new troupe of servants, well trained in the ablution-techniques so important to such activities, anointed the now refreshed samurai with oils carefully prepared from specially selected peaches by experienced artisans in the tasteful techniques of fruit-oil creation.
Donning armbands of red or blue (which indicated teams for the upcoming competitions), lovingly stitched with, of course, the outline of a peach on them, the intrepid heroes set forth to fortify themselves for the rituals to come at the tables in the dining hall, which the cooks of the temple had been laboring for hours to load with the finest offerings they could provide. They found a delicate stew with a base of rice and the milk of goats, heavily embedded with choice morsels of peaches and garnished with chopped exotic nuts.
The first sub-chef, Fra-An-Swa, whose duty was the oversight of the menu for this meal, had spent months refining the recipe for this dish that his grandmother had passed on to him, her only descendant, on her death-bed. Grammy would have been proud of little Swa now, as he looked out at the happily munching samurai so obviously enjoying the presentation he had achieved. The accompaniments to this centerpiece dish were many, too many to describe in detail sufficient to the tastes they offered, but suffice it to say that no person left the table that morning unsatisfied.
There was much good-natured rivalry along the line of competitors waiting to start the days first competitive activity, with calls of "peach-face", "cull", and "compost-fodder" rising merrily above the music provided by the talented musicians on a paviLion near the dais on which Riuchi-sama, Tadako-san, and the other observing dignitaries were found. Suddenly, the starting katana was flashed, and the contestants were off, with the good-natured jostling that one must expect from such healthy and motivated, but of course honorable, members of the samurai class.
Slow and steady characterized Hida Naoki, though in this event it described more his progress than the usual object of its application, which was his wits. He plodded (and saying it that way is generous) out to a lead, a grin plastered on his somewhat bleary eyes, the drool streaming from his mouth still slightly scented with the morning's peachy repast.
Togashi Takehai's mind, as ever, was on multiple topics. He saw Naoki, who was his opponent today, pulling away, and didn't want the advantage to go so early to the other side. With the same thought, though, he observed Tadako-san winking broadly in his direction, making smoochy noises and waving the end of her obi at him with a come-hither hint. Ever the ready monk, Takehai invoked his powerful Wallflower tattoo, which completely removed him from sight for a brief moment, thus allowing him simultaneously to avoid the potential, ah, entanglement with the lovely Tadako and also to appear, after that moment, several giant steps forward, well ahead of the Turtle-clan, no, no, wait, the Crab-clan member Naoki.
In the end, however, poor Takehai could not keep up the pace, as the magically enticing Tadako kept distracting him with visions of her desires, flashes of, well, let us say, her beauty, and the occasional occult compulsion to approach her, rather than the finish line. The plodding Naoki crashed headfirst into one of the poles marking the finish line several steps before any other contestant arrived. Though he hadn't actually passed the line, everyone good-naturedly agreed to assign him the appropriate time.
Well, the second sub-chef, Jin-Clodu, not to be outdone by his friend Fra-An-Swa, had, in a spirit of good-natured rivalry, prepared a luncheon befitting the Hantei himself. (Unfortunately the Hantei's third vice-under-secretary for regretful responses had sent a note indicating that the Hantei's allergy to peaches would regrettably bar his attendance at the ceremony.) The competitors therefore lucked out in finding before them, spread in copious abundance, the finest and most lovingly prepared peach maki-rolls. The rice for the rolls had been soaked in a mixture of pure mountain water with the juices of a single squeeze only of hundreds of peaches still on the tree (extra virgin peach juice), to achieve the freshest taste. It was then steamed to perfection and mixed with vinegars made from the peach-flavored sake that was to accompany the meal. The seaweed wrappings for the maki individually prepared, so as to avoid any imperfections that might otherwise mar Jin-Clodu's masterpieces, as he liked to call the final product. During the meal, everyone ate with good-natured abandon.
The sun was hot, and the smell of the peach-blossom strewn plain lay lightly on the nose and tongue of every attendant and competitor at this final event of the Iris-toberfest celebration, the mock-skirmish, where the participating samurai would demonstrate for the observing samurai and the massed peach-munching heimin-hordes the efforts to which they were willing to go, in good natured, friendly, and honorable competition, to show them all a good time. "Peaches and Circuses," as we all know, has been a favorite saying of the Asahina Daimyo for generations.
The action was as hot as the sun, but it did not, unfortunately, smell nearly as nicely as the peach-blossom strewn field had done before they started. It was hard to see it all, but several events were of particular interest, in a good-natured, friendly, honorable, and peachy way.
The first occurred on the right side of the Daimyo's Dias. Ishi, an almost certainly honorable shugenja despite being ronin, was bedecked more in flecks of peach flesh than the blue robe that was his usual dapper ensemble, having spent every free moment stuffing his face, his pockets and his obi with abundantly available and opportune delicacy. At the moment being discussed, however, there were pieces of the fruit flying in all direction as the shugenja gesticulated and read from a flowing, and now peach-stained, scroll in preparation to a cast a spell that was certainly going to be sinister, but in a good-natured, friendly, and honorable way.
Otaku Marako, from the opposing team, rode into Ishi's vision as he completed the incantation, and, to her great chagrin, had to slam shut her eyes as the brightest of lights appeared apparently directly in front of them. Her startled movements were taken incorrectly by her valiant steed, Motoko, who, while uncertain that riding in a circle during a battle was a good idea, nevertheless obeyed the seeming commands of his mistress. Oh! What loud, but good-natured, friendly, and honorable imprecations the proud battle maiden suppressed at that moment, in that cute, silent fashion only the battle maidens possess. Wheeling around wildly, Marako finally succeeded in tying a strange, apparently gaijin, nose-holder around her face, which, cute as a button, also blocked out the light.
Across the field, another scene was unfolding. Kakita Jinjiro, duelist, no, duelist extraordinaire, found himself surrounded by the two Scorpions of the opposing team. He put aside his massive insectophobia, however, and decided on a brilliant, no, I will say, a right peachy strategy: He would challenge to a duel the better of the two, Shosuro Kohara, and thus avoid having to face both at once. He was sure that the little incident at Usagi Castle, in which Jinjiro had performed some impromptu plastic surgery on Kohara's face in another duel, would not alter the good-natured, friendly, honorable and peachy tone of the on-going celebrations.
Sheathing his katana, Jinjiro turned and pointed at Kohara. In a voice that was strangely different from his usual, and moving his lips in a way that did not match the words that came out, Jinjiro said, (in a good-natured, friendly, and honorable tone, of course,) "You! I know who you are, spider-boy. I am certain that my dice pool is bigger than yours, as is my face now, and many other parts of my body as well, to be sure! Come, we will fight, and I will prove that I speak with the truth of my ancestors!"
Kohara, with of course only half a sneer on his face, and also moving his lips in a way that did not match the words that came out, replied, (again in a good-natured, friendly, and honorable tone,) "I know you too! It is perhaps true that your face is bigger now, but my ego is certainly the largest on the field. My dice pool will overwhelm yours, let me assure you. Let us now fight, little bird, to see who is correct and who is incorrect!" Well, the good-natured, friendly, and honorable duel was then resolved, in a good-natured, friendly, honorable, and peachy way, of course.
The mock skirmish ended, the tallies were counted, and everyone retired to the sidelines, where fresh peaches were being provided.
The head chef, Maruselu, would never let his presentation be out-shone by the efforts of his underlings, and the spread awaiting the arriving competitors and dignitaries was every bit worthy of Amaterasu herself, though of course she would not be attending, despite the lovely embossed invitation she had been sent. The main course, which is the only part of the meal that the remaining time permits to be described, consisted of a lovely peach tempura, quickly fried, so that the crust was hot and crunchy yet the flesh of the peach itself remained firm, sweet, and juicy. The sauce was reminiscent of a peach demi-glaze, yet not overly sweet, a hint of red peppers complimenting the fruit hidden within. Everyone enjoyed themselves massively in a good-natured, friendly, and honorable way, eating with abandon, and complimenting each other's performances during the competitions. Eventually, however, the evening wore along, and, as these things have a tendency to do, there broke out a food fight, with everyone hurling softened and overly ripe peaches at one another.