These events take place during the time of Fire and Shadow,
and relates to events from the 12th Crane Letter. It was written
to demonstrate the horror of the enemy we face, and the reason
we must fight with all our strength to oppose it.
Shadow Stolen
By Kakita Kaori
The middle-aged samurai knelt at his writing
desk, reviewing the document that had been sent him. It was a
report from the village yoriki, tallying the yield from the rice
crops taken in each of the village fields. His clothes were
simple, but well made, and his hair was bound up tightly in a
knot appropriate to a local administrator.
"Papa-san? Is this one right?" He lowered the paper to
look at his young daughter, stretched out on the ground with her
ink and brushes, practicing her calligraphy. The girl, no more
than four, held up a piece of rice paper with the simple kanji
for 'Woman' - Jo. The girl's black eyes shone with pride at her
accomplishment as the samurai said "Hai" and returned
to his reading.
A woman entered, cradling a baby in her arms, and, after bowing
to her husband, went to kneel next to her daughter and look at
the Kanji. "This is very good. Now, you must write the
kanji Kuni, Country. It is the one that looks like a
square." The baby laughed and reached up with pudgy hands
to grab his mother's black tresses. He pulled a fistful of hair
into his mouth and sucked on his hand contentedly until his
mother pulled it gently away from him. "No, no, little
one....I have work to do. Stay here with your sister." She went
to lay him down next to the little girl, wrapped tightly in his
blanket. The girl smiled. "I'll take care of him." The
woman turned to her husband, but he had returned to reading his
crop reports. She started humming a lullaby to the little boy as
she slipped out of the room to prepare dinner.
The man set down his crop reports. There seemed something
strange about them. He seemed to remember there being fifteen
rice fields in the village in production, yet his reports only
showed sufficient rice for eight. Which villagers had not
prepared their taxes? Surely the yoriki would have
mentioned...who? The administrator frowned, carefully going over
the list of farmers paying taxes this season. They were all
there...
"The meal is finished," the samurai's wife said as she
returned to the room.
His daughter looked up and put down her brush, leaving her
papers scattered about. "Good! Can I have a bean cake,
Mama-san?"
The woman surveyed the room with a critical eye. "Not
unless this room is tidied up. Look! You have left papers
everywhere! And what is this blanket doing on the floor? Were
you playing with it, daughter? It should not be out."
"But I didn't take it out, Mama-san. Really!"
The woman smiled and shook her head, carefully folding the
blanket to return it to the empty storage chest for the day that
the Fortunes granted her a second child. "I fear, then,
that you cannot have a bean cake....for the same mysterious
ninja who put this blanket on the floor must have eaten them
all."
The samurai laughed as he put down his documents, shooing his
little girl ahead of him into the dining room. "There will
be more tomorrow, I'm sure."
Some time later, the Samurai returned to the room. His wife
settled on the floor in the corner, carefully mending one of his
kimonos that had been torn. He looked down at the pile of papers
strewn across the floor, and the inkstone and brush laid to one
side. "Have you left the shoji screen open, my wife?"
The raven-haired woman turned to look. "It is open a crack,
husband. I can close it."
The samurai nodded slowly. "Please do. The wind must have
blown these papers all over the floor."
The woman slid the screen shut, and the samurai picked up the
papers and brushes. He ground the inkstone and added water,
mixing it with the brush to the right shade. He frowned at a
piece of paper, marked with the Kuni kanji. That wouldn't do. He
discarded it for a clean piece. He dipped brush in ink and
started to write.
Dear Buto-sama,
Please forgive me for troubling you with this small matter. Your
duties to Lord Uji-sama are far greater than any insignificant
troubles in these lands. However, a matter has arisen that will
mean a delay in sending the complete tax for this region to you
and Lord Uji. I have found that seven of our fields have not
produced rice this season, but cannot determine from my records
who is responsible for these fields. I am sure that there is
some minor confusion, easily resolved, however, I cannot send in
the koku of these fields until I determine who is responsible
for them. I am sure that the confusion is minor, and the rice
will be sent within a few days. Thank you for your indulgences
on this matter.
He marked it with his chop in red ink, sealing the message. He
would deliver the message in the morning, and then return to
resolve this matter with the field. Now, he had the whole
evening ahead of him to spend, as so many other evenings, alone.
The samurai surveyed the shadowed room. Outside, no crickets
chirped, and the moon was veiled. Only the light of his small
oil lamp let him see in the darkness, and everything was cold
and still. He wondered again why he had never married. There
never seemed to be time. He was so busy watching over the
village, troubling himself with rice yields and bothersome ronin.
Still, it was a pity. The house seemed so lonely.
The administrator stood. He blew out the oil lamp, tucking his
wakizashi into his belt. He slid open the shoji screen and
stepped outside. He carefully slid the screen shut, put on his
zori, and walked out into the night.
Lost in shadow, the home crumbled into dust behind him.
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