Perspective
25 July 1999
by Jason Postma

The night smelled of scents Jinjiro couldn't identify–the scents of flowers and spices from lands far outside Rokugan. Some were sweet, others somehow sharp. The tall and blocky gaijin building on Teardrop Isle was the only building in the city that had "balconies"–an outlandish name for a sort of battlement built entirely to provide a view rather than defense. Jinjiro enjoyed looking out over the city from the balcony–looking out over a city whose order was now his responsibility.

He had wondered long over why the Emerald Champion had chosen to make him a magistrate, and why over Ryoko Owari–the hub of the opium trade in Rokugan; but Jinjiro had come to no solid conclusions. Part of it must be a form of penance for the death of Kuwanan, the Champion's favorite son. Placing Jinjiro in this nest of Scorpions, the city where their power was perhaps greater than any other place in Rokugan, had worried Jinjiro from the beginning. It was no great secret that he disliked the Scorpion clan more than the average samurai. He had found within himself a grudging respect for their power and audacity, but not for their honor. They had none. Still, it was not Satsume-sama's practice to punish someone by placing him in a position of responsibility. Beyond penance, he was giving Jinjiro another chance.

The city was beautiful at night, the most beautiful Jinjiro had seen outside of Crane lands–as long as he didn't look close enough to see the Scorpions pulling the strings. Jinjiro had had to fight two duels in the city, both minor servants of the real powers of the city–the people really testing his strength. He had taken no pleasure in the deaths of their servants. Both had been average duelists at best, and Jinjiro had been trained by the best. Had they been his real opponents, Jinjiro may have taken more interest in them, but as it was they fell quickly. It was a waste to send Scorpions against a Crane in an honorable duel.

Having discovered him a capable duelist, the powers of the city had simply begun to probe other areas for weaknesses. Jinjiro's days in the Emperor's court had served him well in saving face before their attacks. He was practiced enough at seeing the true intent beneath the veneer of courtly manners to fend off their strikes, though not as handily as he had their servant's steel.

A grudging acceptance had finally taken the place of their attacks, although the Scorpions still sent a barb or two at him now and then to keep him on his toes. They seemed to have decided that he was here to stay, and set about at how to work around him rather than get rid of him.

Looking out over the city, Jinjiro couldn't help but meditate on the name - Ryoko Owari Toshi–Journey's End City. For him it had formed an end to the days when he traveled Rokugan in the company of worthy companions. Perhaps he would be allowed to visit Unicorn lands at times, or receive emissaries from the Phoenix, but he doubted he would see Naoki-san again; and he had no desire to set his eyes on Ishi again–not after the way the Ronin had brushed off their efforts to save him from an Oni.

In the beginning Jinjiro had not trusted Ishi. He had journeyed with him long enough to see what Ishi would and would not do, but the Ronin Shugenja had still surprised him in the end with his total lack of gratitude and honor. It was only because of their shared experiences that Jinjiro had not called Ishi out immediately. That and perhaps what Naoki-san may have done if his cousin had been killed. Ah, those were days of freedom. If only he hadn't been so consumed with his quest for his father's killer. That had, in the end, gone nowhere. So much of his adult life had been spent in that pursuit that he had floundered a bit once that quest was ended. Coming to Ryoko Owari Toshi had been an end to that journey, a beginning of new responsibilities.

"Jinjiro-chan, stop brooding at my balcony and come back to bed."

The accent was as exotic as it's owner. Jinjiro turned to regard the yellow hair (natural, not dyed!) and strangely angled eyes of Magda, waiting for him on her bed.

Responsibilities, but rewards as well.

All journeys must end
Days of freedom do not last
With honor, duty