Finding Voice
30 November 1998
by Jason Postma

The Iris festival ended, and Jinjiro turned once again for his training grounds–the Kakita fencing school. Toshimoko and a small retinue walked beside him, with Naoki plodding along in the rear, seeming ill at ease upon and equally uncomfortable horse.

The going was swift, and the lands of the Emerald plain were beautiful, but Toshimoko saw how Jinjiro hung his head, and did not look at them. Naoki knew how to conduct himself remarkably well for a Crab, keeping up his end of any conversation, but Jinjiro was not showing the spirit Toshimoko knew his student usually contained only with the greatest of difficulty. Jinjiro was a proud samurai, perhaps even arrogant. This silence did not suit him. As Naoki spoke again of the contests at the festival Jinjiro would grow more and more distant, and his friend fell silent.

Though he had many duties as master of the Kakita school, and a daimyo in his clan, Toshimoko had kept a careful watch on this, one of his most favored students. He had seen during the match how well Jinjiro had handled his duel, how he had dropped into an excellent stance without thought, almost besting an opponent that was obviously more than a match for him. When he had been struck with a blow obviously intended to break bone he had hardly flinched, and had bowed honorably to his opponent. Toshimoko was proud of how far his student had progressed, but Jinjiro hadn't spoken a word since leaving the Asahina lands.

Something must be done.

"Bring Jinjiro-san to me."

Toshimoko made sure he was focused and balanced while his servant fetched his student. The inn was a Crane inn, and thus good, and this room should serve his purpose. Jinjiro entered the room, and bowed.

"You called, Toshimoko-sama?" as he rose Jinjiro started, his eye falling on the mon hanging behind Toshimoko–the mon of the Kakita fencing school, which Toshimoko only hung while he was acting as sensei. Toshimoko's kimono was the simple blue he wore as master of the Kakita school.

Jinjiro straightened. "Sensei."

"Jinjiro-san. What is the problem?"

Jinjiro considered, spoke. "To what problem do you refer, Toshimoko-sama?"

Toshimoko smiled inwardly. The boy was Crane. He would not reveal weakness. "I am sensei now, not daimyo. I have become your sensei again so that you may ask of me what you wish, and so that you may learn. Once again. What is the problem?" Toshimoko's voice allowed no argument, no subterfuge this time. Jinjiro sat before his teacher.

"Sensei, I am a poor reflection of your school. I have trained to become a duelist, and I find that I am not needed as such. I did not become the Topaz Champion–I lost to a Scorpion while Marako defeated him. I did not save Usagi castle–Naoki became the rallying point. I did not vanquish the oni of the ring–Ishi did so while I played the part of a farmer. I did not save the lives of my friends at Fukawa village–I ran while Kataji held his ground. It was not I who Yogo Junzo challenged to a duel, but Naoki, and it was he who won. I could not avenge my father's murderer, for he was killed by a geisha with no training as a samurai. I did not defeat Kohara–but was defeated. The only thing I am known for is the needless death of Doji Kuwanan, the son of the Emerald Champion. Sensei, I am not worthy to be your student. I am not worthy to say I was trained in the best school of Rokugan–I am..." Jinjiro searched for words. "I am not worthy to wear a sword presented the Topaz Champion by the Emperor." He took the katana from his obi and laid it before Toshimoko, his head sinking.

The room was silent for a moment. Jinjiro finally looked up to meet Toshimoko's gaze.

"I am sickened by this display of self-pity." Said the Gray Crane, master of the finest school of the Empire. His voice held only steel. Jinjiro reddened.

"Kakita Jinjiro! What are you?"

"Sensei?"

"What are you? What gives you the right to wear a sword?" Jinjiro looked Toshimoko in the eye.

"I am samurai."

"What does that mean?"

The answers came faster to Jinjiro now, part of a long-practiced pattern. "It means that I am one who serves."

"Whom do you serve?"

"My daimyo."

"By what do you live?"

"By Bushido–the way of the warrior." "Kakita Jinjiro. Where in the code of Bushido does it state that a samurai must win glory to be samurai? Where in the code of Bushido does it state that a samurai must win every battle, must slay every enemy, and must win every contest? Where?"

Jinjiro considered for a moment. He knew the words of Bushido well, knew what Toshimoko was asking of him.

"It does not say such things, sensei."

"What does the code say?"

"It says I must serve my daimyo, with honesty, courage, compassion, courtesy, honor, sincerity, and loyalty."

"Kakita Jinjiro, you are samurai. You understand Bushido. Why do you destroy

yourself with such thoughts? I am your sensei. You have done all that I have asked. You are one of Megumi's chosen. You are my student. Pick up your sword. I will continue to give you lessons until you learn them. And you will learn them. The Crane and Rokugan have need of men of your metal, and your name will be known for your deeds, in time. Let me hear no more of failure."

Jinjiro stood, placing the katana in his obi, bowed once, and strode from the tent. Without a glance at his master. Toshimoko smiled to himself. The boy would learn. It would take time, but he would learn.

Even Toshimoko's guards noticed the change in Jinjiro in the following days. He no longer failed to speak when spoken to. He gazed across the plains at the distant skyline of Otosan Uchi, drinking in the beauty of every sunrise. He carried himself not with the proud and arrogant swagger that he had once used, but with the movements of a duelist of the Kakita school–no wasted movement, yet every gesture graceful. Naoki saw him writing haiku again, and knew that something had changed. It had changed for the better.