Author's note: a Christmas-themed sermon brought this fanfiction to life in my head. Considering the season, I think it is apropos. Enjoy!
Surrounded. Aoshi coolly flicked his eyes around, quickly assessing the ranked soldiers solemnly escorting his small group forward through the elegant halls of the emperor's palace. The soldiers were a dozen strong, outnumbering Aoshi's group three to one, but such odds were almost laughable. Aoshi knew he could face down all twelve himself and walk away unscathed, especially since he had been allowed to retain the sheathed kodachi at his back. The again, "allowed" was rather a strong word: Aoshi had icily ignored all feeble attempts to claim his blades and the soldier escorts hadn't insisted that he walk into the emperor bare-handed. It would have gone poorly for the soldiers if they had insisted on taking Aoshi's kodachi from him: neither Aoshi nor Saito at his side would give up their weapons for anyone, not even the emperor.
Silently, Aoshi's footfalls padded across the fine tatami matting as he and the other three were escorted forwards, weaving deeper into the heart of the palace. The elegant splendor surrounding him might have awed a lesser man, but there was too much at stake for Aoshi to pay much heed to exquisite rice paper paintings and delicately carved wood. At his right shoulder, Saito walked with his normal stride: coolly arrogant yet upright and coiled to strike at the slightest provocation, a permanent cigarette dangling from his fingers. Sano was in the middle and had enough unearthed enough courtesy and common sense from somewhere to remove his hands from his pockets and let his arms swing loosely at his side, his face marked with unaccustomed seriousness. Anji lead them, his bandage-wrapped head and arms betraying nothing but calm, centered peace and the absolute assurance that they were being guided by a greater power, even into the mouth of the tiger's den.
Aoshi's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. It was a mistake for them to be in the emperor's palace; he grew more sure of this every step he took forward. Emperor Shishio Makoto would not welcome their arrival nor their tidings, Aoshi knew this. However, avoiding the palace was not an option: the four pilgrims were representatives of a well-known monastery in Aomori, and it was unthinkable that they would not pay homage to the emperor as they passed through Edo, following a star which had lead them for a month of travel. The star had pointed their small band through the capital of Japan, and it would not do for them to slink unannounced through the city. Shinomori Aoshi would have none of it, and neither would the men at his side: Anji out of absolute conviction that their quest was ordained by the heavens and his three companions out of pride.
Pride kills, the words of Aoshi's old master rang in his ear, and his mouth twitched just barely at the memory. It was not just his pride, nor Saito's but also the pride of an emperor like Shishio Makoto which would kill and kill and kill again, the blood lust that could never be sated driving him to further extremes. Shishio sat on a throne of skulls and the blood of a thousand men saturated the ragged blade at his side. It did not bode well for the one they sought, Aoshi knew this as well as his traveling companions. Nor indeed, for their own skins.
Yet Anji would not be dissuaded, had never once turned aside from the path he had set for himself, and by default the other three, exactly a month after a strange star had appeared in the heavens. Aoshi remembered that moment well: the black night had been pricked with stars as if the gods had scattered diamonds liberally against black silk, and Anji had been peering into the heavens for three hours without ceasing. However, the other three did not need Anji's training in astronomy to instantly spot the star, as bright as a planet, hanging low in the west. It had never appeared before, and it featured on no constellation chart.
"I have searched for this star nearly all my life," Anji had proclaimed solemnly, but the lightest tremor of excitement ran in his voice. "The prophecies have foretold it for centuries. It has arrived at last."
"What prophecies, master?" Sano questioned.
Anji said nothing for a moment, then pronounced simply, "It heralds the birth of the true priest of The One Way."
The One Way. Aoshi knew this term; it was a religion imported from the West that was growing throughout Japan. Followers of The One Way adhered to just one supreme god, spurning ancestor worship and the adoration of many gods to put their trust in one whom they claimed created all being and set the world's motions as he pleased. Anji studied this religion intently, neither abandoning his Shinto beliefs nor his duties as a monk, yet spurred with a strange fascination for this new belief. Sano, as befit a monk's apprentice, dutifully shared his master's studies of this new faith but with skepticism. Saito believed in no god save perhaps his own strength and Aoshi had only uncertainty where faith and devotion might have been. He found comfort in the chanting prayers and rituals of Shintoism, yet he could not deny that there was something appealing in the strange new faith that Anji found so fascinating.
The idea of a true priest heralded by a new star in the heaven intrigued Aoshi, as he suspected his companions as well. When Anji declared an intent to follow the star, the other three men followed. Sano was loyal to his master and Saito had his own purposes known only until himself. Aoshi's feet had put him on the same path and for reasons he did not know. Perhaps it was fealty to whom he had reluctantly come to call his friends and companions. Perhaps it was curiosity to learn more about the star which appeared every night, beckoning them forward. Whatever reason guided his footsteps, Aoshi had followed as Anji had lead, teaching as he went.
It had been a month's journey from Aomori to Edo and in that month, the star had never failed them. They rested by day and traveled at night, and the star remained in its fixed position in the heavens; even as the earth rotated through the night and the other constellations drew their tracks against the sky, the star was immobile, never moving as the night waxed and waned. Like the heavenly body that guided them, Anji's zeal also never wavered and some of his spirit began to pass on to his traveling companions. As as the days passed, Sano grew more serious and introspective, his accustomed indolent machismo refining into something like genuine intelligence and confidence. Even Saito's acerbic tongue was losing some of its edge, unlike the carefully maintained blade at his side. For Aoshi himself, he could not name the unaccustomed riot of emotions that refused to be quelled in his soul, not the growing impatience that niggled at his footsteps, driving him forward like a goad, right into the heart of the Japanese empire.
Edo. Aoshi had traveled there many times before, and the way had almost always rained blood until Shishio Makoto had finally grasped the power he so ardently desired. When the four travelers entered the capital city on a cool April evening, blood had not been there to greet them save from a collection of prominently displayed executed criminals hanging from the city walls as a stern warning to those who dare defy Shishio's iron law. It did not bode well for anyone who arrived with ill tidings and when the four travelers dutifully presented themselves at the emperor's palace, only Anji seemed confident that their visit would net them anything but trouble.
"The light of the heavens is our guide, my friends," Anji had solemnly declared more than once. "Not even the might of Shishio Makoto can bar our way." Aoshi wished that he possessed the monk's confidence for as the four travelers exited a long hallway and stepped into the vast, arching cavern that was the emperor's throne room, every sense in Aoshi's being was twanging in alarm. He held back the pangs of warning, keeping his eyes fixed coolly ahead as the four men moved forward. Custom dictated that they bow before the emperor, but not one pair of knees in four bent as the twelve guards fell to their knees, prostrating themselves before the lord of Japan.
For all his power, it was abundantly clear that Shishio Makoto cared little for the trappings of authority. He sat cross-legged on a pile of simple cushions resting on a dais, a deep blue robe wrapped negligently around the white bandages that covered almost every inch of his scorched flesh. Simple black gloves lined his hands and, in defiance of Japanese indoor etiquette, black boots were on his feet. The scarred, lipless mouth breathed tobacco through a thin pipe and two black eyes flashed in deep sockets.
At his side was a woman of breathtaking splendor, a rich robe of red encircling her loveliness as she elegantly fanned the emperor with graceful twitches of her slender fingers. Close by was a slight young figure, a youth barely in his teens, but Aoshi needed little time to note the markings of an expert swordsman on the boy's face. To the left was a tall man clad in Western clothes with a long, narrow face. Aoshi's eyes flicked over him once and saw nothing of note; the man was clearly in Shishio's presence for skills other than fighting, for Aoshi saw little that identified the other man as a warrior.
"Yukyuzan Anji," Shishio's voice broke through the tense quiet of the air. "Shinomori Aoshi. Hajime Saito. Saraga Sanosuke. Welcome. I've been expecting you." The emperor's voice was even and steady, slightly deeper than most men and with an undercurrent of raspiness giving it a sinister tone. The notes set Aoshi's teeth on edge, called to his blood a challenge that his being longed to answer, but he held himself in silence. It would be foolish to challenge the emperor in his own palace, much as Japan groaned to be loosened from the tyranny of Shishio's reign. Be still, he ordered himself sternly.
Anji was speaking. "Emperor Shishio," the monk began, his words solemn. "We four have come from Toshodaiji Temple bearing good will and a gift for the lord of Japan." In Anji's hand was their tribute, a pearl the size of a persimmon that had been gifted to the monastery by a poor fisherman who had found it last year. The pearl was priceless, without peer, and Aoshi hoped the extravagant gift would redirect the emperor's attention away from their quest. But hope was in vain as Shishio barely glanced at the pearl before nodding slightly to the woman at his side.
"A fitting tribute. I thank you," the emperor responded as the woman stepped gradefully forward to claim the pearl from Anji. It was wrapped in a length of ornate silk nearly as precious as the pearl it contained, and the wealth of the pearl and silk combined would easily buy a city. Shishio, however, kept his attention focused on the four pilgrims as he drew another long breath of tobacco through the slender pipe. As if acting on invisible orders, the guards in the room melted away into shadows, leaving the four travelers alone with the emperor and his three aides.
When the last of the guards' quiet footfalls had died away, Shishio spoke again. "Let us be plain with each other. You did not travel all this way from Aomori just to place a pearl in my hand." Another long drag of the pipe and the emperor's ink-black eyes grew keen, piercing to marrow. "Why are you here? What do you seek?"
Anji spoke, and Aoshi knew him well enough to surmise that the monk had mentally practiced the speech during on their long journey to Edo. "My emperor, you know that at Toshodaiji Temple, we monks scour the heavens to learn secrets of what will come to pass," he began.
"Fairy tales for children," Shishio interrupted dismissively. "Don't tell me men like yourselves, known for your fighting skills, look for guidance in astrology."
"If I may, my emperor," Anji continued respectfully, "My studies have shown that for centuries, wise men of old have prophesied the coming of a great one who will rise up as the priest of priests." The black eyes of the emperor grew even sharper at the words, and Aoshi could sense a shifting underneath the bandages as thought and muscle quickly redirected their attention.
"In all my years, I have searched the heavens for a sign of this one who was to come," Anji moved forward with their tale. "A month ago to this date, my lord, his star appeared in the sky. With my three companions, I have followed this star, and it has never failed us. It will lead us to him." Anji was being sparing with the truth, and Aoshi silently thanked him. The prophecy in its fullness would incur nothing but wrath from Shishio Makoto for it claimed that this priest of priests would subjugate all of Japan under his hand and lead the people of the country into a new era of freedom and prosperity, united under The One Way religion.
From what Aoshi had seen of the belief structure underpinning this religion, it seemed a great improvement on the reign of terror that gripped the land under Shishio Makoto's rule, but his heart and mind were still undecided, as he suspected was true of Sano and even Saito. Aoshi had made the journey mostly for the sake of Anji and, standing in the presence of the emperor, he hoped that the monk's blind faith in this new religion would not get the four of them killed. The emperor had legions at his command, and Aoshi knew that while he and his three companions made a fearsome fighting unit, even the strongest of warriors could not withstand a multitude for long.
Silence fell again, and it was clear that the emperor was mentally digesting their words. When the silence had grown prolonged, he spoke again. "A priest of priests, eh? Hmm." Shisiho's nearly lidless eyes closed for a long moment as if in thought, then opened. "I have little need for religion," he pronounced decidedly, "but even I know that authority deserves respect. If what you say is true, I would see it with my own eyes." One elbow planted on a bandaged knee as Shishio rested his chin on his fist and looked each man in the eye.
"Go," he ordered evenly. "You have my permission to seek throughout my lands for this priest of priests. And when you find him," a small smile distorted the lipless mouth, "bring him to me so that I too can give him the respect he deserves." The slight smile also flittered on the elegant lips of the woman and the bright glassiness of the young boy's eyes. Only the tall man did not let loose of his dark frown.
Sensing that their audience was at an end, Anji bent his massive head in Shishio's direction, Sano following clumsily. Aoshi's pride and Saito's cool arrogance only permitted them the barest of head inclinations at the emperor, but Shishio seemed curiously uncaring of the lack of proper protocol.
As the four turned to leave, the emperor's words caught them. "Don't be tardy. I expect word soon." His tone was even but the significance as heavy as lead and the weight of his words followed the four pilgrims as they gratefully left the palace behind them, the star ever guiding them forward into the dark night.
Author's note: If you are not that familiar with the historical account of Jesus' birth, I suggest you read Matthew Chapter 2 for some background content. There are common misconceptions about the Nativity Scene that many people hold, and here are two important points.
1) Jesus was very likely not born in December. This is because prior to his birth, Caeser Augustus declared a census throughout the Roman world (Luke 2: 1-7). All men had to return to their hometowns to be counted in the census. It is very unlikely Caeser would have decreed this census during the winter when traveling was difficult.
2) The Wise Men were not there the night Jesus was born. They came from the east and had months of travel to get to Bethlehem. Also, there was probably more than just three Wise Men: they likely traveled in a great caravan.
I've always wondered why the Wise Men presented themselves to Herod and asked, "Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews?" (Matthew 2:2). Herod was well-known as a bloodthirsty tyrant and he would have become enraged at the news of a new king. However, a huge caravan traveling from another country was expected to present themselves in front of the king to show proper respect and etiquette, so most likely the Wise Men were just following proper form. Similarily, Anji, Aoshi, Saito, and Sano are traveling from a well-known monastery through Edo, so it would be proper for them to present themselves to the emperor.
There will be more historical tidbits coming up in later chapters. Thanks for reading!