[https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/318072068883349504/960360053796384808/Horns_2_copy.png]
CHAPTER XXI—TERMS FOR HONORABLE REVENGE
With narrowed eyes, Shōzu said, “My condition is that we choose champions!”
The crowd murmured and Rōkura snarled, her anger flaring. She didn’t want to choose champions—she wanted to rip Shōzu’s throat out! Kurso! “No!” she said.
“Wait!” interrupted Daichi. “His condition is honorable.”
“How?” asked Shinjiro. “Rōkura’s quarrel isn’t with Shōzu-sama’s champion.”
“Hmmm,” noised the shōgun in thought. “But for this instance, I cannot have her killing my daimyo. And besides,” said Daichi, “to further remove the personal factor of revenge from this litigation, I will allow that champions be appointed.”
“To what end?” asked Rōkura.
“To the end that this be resolved!” snapped Daichi. While a litigation this was, Daichi had no want to make a spectacle of it any more than it already was. That a nobody had managed to challenge one of his daimyos for the sake of honor was enough.
And she had only gotten this far because Daichi wished to see how this would resolve itself. More than anything, he was watching Shōzu Yonezawa, listening to him—listening to the lies he told.
Everyone told lies.
Everyone.
Especially anyone with power and ambition for rule, which Shōzu fell into that category. Daichi expected the lies, but to what extent did his loyalty lie? How effective of a daimyo administrator would he be versus the leadership abilities of Wenhui in the same position of leadership over Chōdaira?
Rōkura scowled. “Tch!”
She couldn’t believe what was happening, but she guessed it was too much to hope the shōgun was somehow on her side. Why he had let her get this far in the first place, she didn’t know.
One way or another, I will have my revenge.
“You must now decide,” said Daichi. “Choose to accept Shōzu’s conditions for your challenge, or withdraw your quarrel.”
“Tch!”
Rōkura balled her fists again, realizing how her revenge was being swept away from her from this bureaucrat. Even if he is the shōgun—what gives him the right to decide how matters of honor are to be resolved?!
“I will serve as Rōkura’s champion.”
Her eyes widened and her heart nearly burst as she whirled on Shinjiro. “No! You cannot. I forbid it.”
Shōzu burst out with a rapturous tone. “There! You see! You have no champion, so therefore you must withdraw your challenge.”
“I can do it,” said Shinjiro firmly. “Let me—“
“No,” Rōkura said, cutting in as she put her hand onto his shoulder. She turned over her shoulder. “I will be my own champion. Will this be allowed?”
“I am afraid,” said the shōgun, “that it would be unfair for you to risk your life and limb for honor while daimyo Shōzu does not. You cannot be allowed to duel his champion while representing yourself.”
“Fight me, Shōzu—you coward! Stop hiding behind your shōgun!”
“Enough!” spat Daichi. “You will not sully my daimyo or my decree of how this duel must be fought.”
She wanted to stamp her feet, and indeed she growled wordlessly while shaking her arms jerkily. “Hnnnnnnggggahhh!”
There were a few watchers in the audience, mainly high born nobles from Shōzu’s court and also some few from the Capital and even the shōgun’s entourage that smirked while watching Rōkura display her outrage. They believed this to be far more entertaining a display than the entertainments prepared for them within Awara Castle.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“I will ask you one final time,” said Daichi. “Do you accept the terms of the duel?”
Rōkura growled through her teeth as Shinjiro put his hand on her shoulder, a comforting gesture—one also meant to keep her from lunging at Shōzu’s throat like a savage beast.
She could barely contain herself, her rage and her anger, and after she had gone into her Rage state on more than one occasion to tear apart her enemies, Rōkura now had even more trouble holding herself back.
“And should my champion defeat his?” she asked with a fling of her hand indicating the murderous daimyo. “What then? What do I gain? Satisfaction that my man killed his? That resolves nothing.”
“You are right!” said the stern-faced man next to the shōgun. It was Hikaru Naga. He came forward between both parties. “A suitable recompense from each of the winners must be decided upon.”
As the top advisor and aide within the shōgun’s inner cabinet, Hikaru could speak in this matter with authority. Daichi Ashikaga did not contradict him.
“Then…” said Shōzu, “for my my victory, I demand the head of this false accuser who has come to me to sully my honor and to destroy my city!”
“And I demand the same of Daimyo Shōzu—“
“No!” barked Hikaru. “Those cannot be the terms, otherwise you might as well duel each other now, here and leave your champions to watch. Do not waste any more time. You must choose a suitable recompense!”
Rōkura and Shōzu looked at one another, equal hate and frustration from them both, while Rōkura’s was personal revenge, Shōzu’s was based on a vengeance wanted out of spite and malignance to his rule.
In any event, the daimyo was very concerned about this whole matter, his anger reaching a smoldering peak, as this whole debacle may cost him the administration role he so much desired to be granted upon him by the shōgun.
Perhaps I will challenge this oni whore privately once we are all finished here… later, away from the eyes of the shōgun and anyone else who may interfere.
“Choose,” continued Hikaru Naga. “Choose your recompenses!” He glanced between Rōkura and Shōzu, waiting for them to state, aloud—to all present.
“I choose…” said Shōzu, and he smiled maliciously as he tucked his chin, his eyes peering up at Rōkura though his thick brows. The braziers crackled with hot flames, ominous of punishment to come. “I choose that this whore be publically humiliated, stripped and lashed and forever banned from Chōdaira and the surrounding wards associated with the city.”
Hikaru glanced at the shōgun and Daichi nodded his ascent to the punishment. “Very well,” said Hikaru loudly. “Daimyo Shōzu Yonezawa has spoken his recompense, should his champion win!” He turned to Rōkura. “Now, you must choose your recompense, challenger.”
She felt Shinjiro’s hand squeeze her shoulder reassuringly. But she could not choose a recompense—not not. Shinjiro would lose against Shōzu’s champion, she was certain. He was a good samurai, a strong swordsman.
But that’s all he was.
“I withdraw my challenge,” she breathed, her heart sinking and her rage smoldering down into a pit of ashes in her stomach. I will not sacrifice Shinjir—
“Rōkura!” Shinjiro called.
“Stop!” Hikaru called, and she glanced away from her samurai friend to the shōgun’s man. “You cannot withdraw now that Daimyo Shōzu has called his recompense.”
Her eyes flicked to him and he smiled darkly at her. He had just won, by way of disqualification. How could it come to this? How could Rōkura allow this foolishness to happen when she had come here to challenge the daimyo—to kill him.
She lifted her hand and snarled.
“Shinjiro… you need to run.”
“What?” he asked in a heavy breath. “Rōkura—what are you going to do?”
“Have no fear,” a voice called. “For I will stand in for Shinjiro as Rōkura’s champion.”
Everyone glanced about and muttered with surprise, including Shōzu. “Then come out and stop hiding!”
Rōkura’s heart was beating inside her chest like a drum. That voice… it had been—
“Why, of course. I am right here.” He strode between the samurai out into the center of the open space where Hikaru Naga stood. “Lord Hans Bellefeuille,” he bowed eloquently to Rōkura. “At your service, my lady!”
Voices abounded as hissed whispering and surprised filled the mouths of everyone present.
“Tch!” noised Shōzu. He had been about to win, and then this!
Shinjiro narrowed his gaze, watching as the small golden-haired man approached. Hans doesn’t fight with weapons…
The unbidden smile to Rōkura’s face was not her only reaction. Though Hans was a liar and duplicitous, she needed him now more than ever as hot tears stung her eyes. “You came back.”
“Of course, I did,” he said. “Now you have your champion, Oni-san. Please do not disqualify yourself by dawdling. Choose your recompense!” He put his flattened hand to his nose, and then slashed down as if he held a sword. “For I will soon be the victor over Daimyo Shōzu’s champion.”
Laughs abounded.
“He’s so small.”
“There is no way he will win.”
“Don’t underestimate him—I sense… something.”
“You sense nothing. I feel no aura.”
Rōkura nodded. “Mm!” Glancing up at the shōgun and that snake Shōzu, she did as her champion suggested. “My recompense will be complete forgiveness for any crimes I have committed within the daimyo’s sphere of influence, but also, that you name Daimyo Wenhui as next advisor for Chōdaira.”
Everyone gasped.
The skin on Shōzu’s face tightened with hot rage. What—no! That bitch!
Daichi Ashikaga laughed aloud. What an interesting turn of events. But it was fair. “Very well!” the shōgun called.
“My lord—“ said Shōzu in protest.
“You have dishonored us both enough,” said Daichi quietly. Then to the crowd he raised his arms and called, “Let both champions be presented!”