Copyright: All credit for the world goes to the writers and publishers of L5R, but it wouldn't be right not to credit Phe for being an awesome GM.
Author's note: I created this character within the world of Rokugan, during a game run by Phe~. Though our actions during the game changed canon a bit, my character's backstory doesn't affect canon. Too much.
She climbed the stairs with some trepidation. Behind her, she could hear her family chatting and laughing, enjoying the brief respite from daily chores that her gempukku ceremony afforded them. Her father had even scraped enough zeni together to buy a bottle of sake, enough to share with everyone in the family. Her own cup had been filled, but she wouldn't be able to drink from it until she'd had the blessing of her grandfather. It was downstairs waiting for her, and, for a moment, she hesitated and wondered if she could merely pretend to have spoken to him, and return to the company of laughter and merriment to take that drink she needed so badly. But no, she couldn't. This was important.
The old man wasn't well, and his mind was failing. These days, you were lucky if he recognised you, or, better yet, was too comatose to respond. One of her older brothers, Kexing, had the misfortune of bringing grandfather his breakfast on a bad day: the old man had thrown the chamberpot at him, swearing and cursing about shadows and smoke.
The girl smoothed her hand over her kimono. It was new, a present for her gempukku, the finest, softest cotton she'd ever worn. It must have cost a fortune for her family. She really, really, didn't want to see her grandfather like that, especially not while she was wearing this wonderful gift from her parents. But she had little choice, kimono as an excuse or not. She had to speak to her grandfather, and gain his blessing for her gempukku.
She reached the sliding door and took a breath, then dropped into a bow. "I am sorry to intrude, grandfather. May I enter?"
There was no response from the other side of the door; the girl chewed her lip, nervously, then carefully pushed the screen aside, face pointed at the floor but her eyes tilted up to keep watch for flying chamberpots.
She saw her grandfather bundled up in his blanket, sitting with his back to her and his eyes turned out the window. Was he watching the stars? The moths fluttering around the lantern he had resting on the windowsill? Or was he just staring off into space?
The girl waited a moment, then shuffled quietly into the room. She could feel a sense of dread closing over her, the last thing she'd ever expected to feel on the day of her gempukku. It seemed unfair that she should be upstairs with misery when downstairs her brothers and sisters and mother and father were joking and singing and drinking…
Her thoughts were broken when her grandfather turned to look at her, head swivelling like a falcon's, his gaze just as sharp and piercing. The girl quickly dropped into a lower bow. She recognised the anger-madness, and breathed deep and lifted her head, ready to make her request before bolting back downstairs.
But before she could even speak, he'd moved. Her grandfather had flung aside the blanket and backed away from her, staring in wide-eyed… what? Horror? Awe? Relief?
"Saiyuri?" His old voice didn't sound so worn or tired anymore. "How… how did you find me?"
The girl didn't like the strange hungriness that was in her grandfather's eyes. "I am not Saiyuri," she murmured, uneasy.
Her grandfather shook his head, muttering something in denial, then fetched the lantern, swinging it dangerously close to the girl's face. She flinched back from the glare of the light, the moths, and the blow she was expecting, both hands up to protect herself. But she wasn't being struck. Just examined.
Her grandfather seemed disappointed. "You're not Saiyuri." He sighed, and sat back down. He set the lantern between them as he wrapped the blanket back around his shoulders.
"No, grandfather," the girl opted for a soft, calm voice, to prevent provoking the old man. "I am not."
A sliver of awareness shone in his eyes. "You… you're my granddaughter." As she nodded, he frowned, sucking on his lip thoughtfully. "Are you the youngest?"
"No, sir. Ke-ai is the youngest. She was born a few years ago." His memory was terrible at the best of times; the girl thought it best not mention too many details, in case he realised just how bad his mind was getting.
The intense falcon-gaze burned into her again. "Which one are you?"
She felt herself flushing, embarrassed, like she was on trial for some crime. Her eyes slipped to the floor for a second, then, bracing herself, she looked up and held his gaze. It was her gempukku; tonight, she was no longer a child. She wouldn't be shamed into quietness by a mad old man. "I am the fifth child."
The old man nodded to himself, but his eyes never left her face. He seemed disappointed, but yet so very relieved.
"Who is Saiyuri?"
She cursed herself the moment the words were out of her mouth. The old man had seemed like he was quieting down, but now there was a fire flaring up in his eyes that spoke of the anger-madness.
"Saiyuri? She…" The old man growled and rocked himself slightly. "No, not a word of her. You and your face, you poisonous beauty, take it away from me."
The girl refused to look away. "My face isn't poisonous, grandfather." It struck a chord, though. To be called beautiful, even by a mad old man like her grandfather… Something in her chest resonated; she felt taller. Stronger.
"You all say that at first," the old man wheezed, "But time proves you liars. Poisonous, proud, beautiful creatures." He shivered and hugged his bony knees. "She accused me right: yowamushi. Little cowardly bug. I failed them. Little bug. Poison face." He rocked himself, mumbling.
"Grandfather…" She hesitated, unsure of whether or not to interrupt his reverie. "Are you alright?"
He gave a bark of a laugh, and sanity returned to his eyes for a moment. "Oh, no, granddaughter. Not a word of that-of-me. It is best that death hang over the head of an old man, and not a lovely young doe like you." He tilted his head. "You're not bringing my dinner. Why are you here?"
She forced herself to press her lips into a smile, and bowed again. "Grandfather, I come to see you tonight, because I am no longer a child. Today is my gempukku. I would like your blessing."
The old man chewed on his lip; the silence dragged on for a long moment, and the girl was beginning to feel a crick in her neck from bowing as she was, but she didn't dare change position.
"Blessing," the old man muttered at last, getting to his feet and shuffling over to a chest of drawers. His arthritic joints cracked and popped as he searched for something. "I can give a blessing, yes…" He chuckled to himself, a dark and ominous sound from one so old.
The girl tilted her head, trying to see what he was looking for, but the glare of the lantern at this angle burned her vision, blinding her. She was forced to wait, forehead on the floor, for her grandfather to return.
"Saa," the old man sat down opposite her, an old lacquer box in his lap. "What gifts have you received for your gempukku?"
The girl sat up, smoothing her hands over the cloth covering her thighs. "I have received this kimono. And a cup filled with sake. Both are gifts I am honoured to accept."
"Is that all?" The old man looked surprised a moment, then nodded, slowly, as though remembering something. "Ah, yes. Of course. A peasant's gempukku."
She felt her face growing warm, a sense of anger rising in her. "There is no shame in that."
He looked bitter, and gripped the box with both hands as though he feared it would fly from him. "Only because you don't know what shame is, little doe." He gave a bitter laugh. "You carry it with you all the days of your life. It rots your bones, and poisons your mind, and every shadow is an old friend come to disapprove or take their revenge…"
The girl glanced towards the door, thinking to leave now before his ranting got any darker or stranger.
"No, don't go yet, little doe." Her grandfather fumbled with the lock on the box. "I have a blessing to give you, one better than a little robe or a glass of sake. The granddaughter of a Bayushi deserves better," he muttered to himself, as the lock continued to trouble his knuckled hands.
The girl felt her whole body go numb. Bayushi? It was a terrible thing to come to realise that you were not born to a peasant-merchant line, but from the blood of a ronin. But just as horrible, if not more so, was to realise that the name once worn by the old man - her own grandfather - was that of the Emperor's Underhand.
"You're a Scorpion," she breathed, feeling faint with terror.
The old man focused his intense gaze on her again. "No. Not anymore. Ronin. Coward. Fled. Hid, and remained hidden." He gave a small grunt of satisfaction as the lock finally opened. "But my legacy is following me; you wear the Bayushi face, little doe. The blood of the clan can't be hidden." He looked at her, afraid, as though the poison he saw in her face would be the very reason for his death. Then the slyness crept back in. "You need a new face; you deserve one. It is, after all, your gempukku."
She looked down at the box that was being pushed towards her. She opened it as though she expected it to bite her, and peeled apart the yellowing strips of linen and paper within, unwrapping her grandfather's blessing. What she saw made her catch her breath yet again.
A face was looking back at her from the inside of that box. A beautiful porcelain mask. It lacked any and all colour, and the only decoration were a few thin black lines to denote the eyebrows, the cheeks, the lips. It was a human face, but not. She had never seen a ghost before, but the girl knew in that moment exactly what one would look like if she ever saw one.
"Let me see you wear it, little doe," her grandfather said, sitting forward with that strange hunger on his face.
With trembling hands, the girl reached into the box and picked up the mask. It was lighter than she thought it would be, and yet the weight of a legacy was on it. She turned it, and gasped again; the binding ribbons and inside of the mask was a red material, a brilliant rich sheen. She touched it with her fingers. Silk. Blood-red silk.
She looked at her grandfather, wanting to object, but she saw the anger-madness in his eyes, and couldn't find the voice to object. So she buried her face in the silk and porcelain embrace of the mask, keeping her eyes closed as she bound the ribbon behind her head.
"It fits perfectly," her grandfather breathes, awed.
The girl opened her eyes. The mask should have felt like a cage, and her vision and ability to breathe should have been hindered. But her grandfather was right. It fit perfectly… like a new face.
Her grandfather chuckled to himself, that same dark sound. "Oh, Saiyuri, look at this. Look at my granddaughter. She has the dangerous Bayushi face, and now a kamen to make her even more beautiful. She would have been your biggest rival. But you won't have her, you poisonous bitch!" He threw back his head and laughed. "You don't even know her name!"
"Tell me who Saiyuri is."
The mouthpiece of the mask - perhaps even the mask itself - gave her word an iciness, a coldness, an undeniable authority. She hadn't meant to frighten her grandfather into silence, but before she could apologise, he bowed to her. She said nothing, but found herself savouring the feeling of power for a brief moment.
"She was my sister," the old man said, picking up the blanket and wrapping himself tightly in it, shivering. "A darling of the court. My father's pride, my mother's joy. She outshone me, eclipsed me, in all things." He sighed, staring off into space. "Through all the arts, I was lucky if I ever found myself coming second, or even third. She was trusted to her duty, and excel at it. But despite my failings, I was still the son of my father. It would not be… seemly… for the son of a great lord to be so inept."
The girl found herself leaning forward, drinking in every word. In her mind was spinning visions of the courts, and she imagined her grandfather, much younger, walking through the hallways and rooms of the places where the Scorpion's reach was found. Everyone was wearing rich blood-red silk kimonos, and the air was thick with incense and intrigue. It was beautiful. Intoxicating.
"I was given simple tasks," the old man continued, holding up a finger, interrupting the girl's hungry daydreaming. "Ones that drew on my abilities, rather than tested them. But I was sick of being my sister's shadow. I faced her, challenging her, in front of my father and mother." His eyes narrowed with the memory, still angry and jealous even now. "A test of blood and guile. She mocked me, laughing. Said I had no right to do so, let alone the balls to go through with what I had proposed. And she left me, simmering and humiliated and knowing she was right." He bowed his head. "I could not live with the shame."
"So you fled." Again, the words came out colder, crueller, than the girl intended.
"I fled," the old man nodded, all the past bleeding out of him as he returned to being the old man wrapped in a rough blanket, living in fear and madness in a small peasant village. "I was yowamushi, after all." He looked at the girl, and smiled. "But you are no coward. You wear that face better than even she ever could."
There was a strange tone to his words, almost like the words of a spell. The weave of a net, or a noose. The girl felt it, and licked her lips behind the porcelain and silk, suddenly nervous. "I… I should return to my father and mother. They will be waiting to hear you have given me your blessing."
"Sou." He pointed to the box. "Hide your face, little doe." He watched, stoic, as the girl fumbled with the ribbon and set the mask reverently back into the box. As she bowed to him, he placed a hand on her head. "Listen, girl: mark my words. You are the granddaughter of a Bayushi, the greatest of all the Scorpion. The namesake of the Emperor's own guardian. You leave behind your childhood tonight, and become an adult. You have a birthright to claim, and, with it, a destiny." He paused, glancing towards the open window, then back again. "Will you claim it? Or will you be a cowardly little bug like your grandfather?"
"I am no coward," came the reply.
The old man smiled at the vehemence in the girl's voice, and sat back to nod to himself, muttering nonsense as the madness rolled back into his mind like clouds over the moon.
The girl left the room and climbed slowly back down the stairs, mind buzzing with what she'd been told. She touched her face, remembering the soft embrace of the silk. For a moment, she hadn't been a peasant, hadn't been a merchant's daughter. For a moment, she'd been a courtier: a rich noble woman in a palace, perhaps even the palace of the emperor himself. It was what she would have been. It was what it was her destiny to reclaim.
She forced herself to focus on the present as her family welcomed her back into their tiny living room, and the cup of sake was placed in her hands. Her younger brother was asking if she had picked her gempukku name yet.
"Yes," the girl nodded, as she stared at her reflection in the sake, noting now the beauty that she had never noticed before. Seeing, for the first time, that her face was not the face of a Unicorn peasant, but that of a deadly beauty. A Bayushi… but not a Bayushi.
"What is it, then?"
"Bu," she murmured as she readied herself to drain the cup, "Bu Keneng."
Her family laughed at the pun - the depth of which they didn't realise they didn't understand - and at the girl's coughing and spluttering over the potent alcohol.