An anonymous letter from the Kaiu Wall

I am dying my son.
For twenty years now, I have served on this great wall of ours. For twenty years now I have taken up my dai-tsuchi and swung it at all comers. For twenty years I have spent day in and day out watching the south. For twenty years I have done my duty to the Crab, to the Hida and to all the Empire.

Yet as I feel my joints begin to seize and this disease of mine slowly sap me of my strength. I find myself thinking of you my son, thinking of what I wish I had done of what I missed.

I missed your birth, the Wall needed me. Your mother gave me an earful, but when I saw you, I couldn't help but agree, there was you, this tiny little thing, so soft, so precious and for a moment I wondered if this was what the Crane felt when they looked at their 'beauty'.

Then you bit my finger and the moment was gone. I always did take that to mean you were my son, a fighter, just like me.

I missed your first steps, the Wall needed me. Your mother again gave me an earful, of how you were so determined, so ready to stand and walk, so that you could walk to see me. You never did see me very much ,but I could never understand the look of wonder on your face when I did return home.

I missed your entrance into the dojo, the Wall needed me. Your mother though a strong woman of that Unicorn, had to be the one to take you to the dojo of our ancestors. It was she who had to tell you the story of our family. How your great grand father slew one of the great demons in single combat, how my great grandmother defended our family in a duel against the greatest duelist of the Crane. Yet, you took to your training with all the fierce strength and will that made you walk.

I missed your gempukku, the Wall needed me. Your mother never did forgive me for that, and I suspect that is when the fire of our marriage ended. I do not blame her, it was the proudest moment for either of us, for you to stand as a full blooded Hida warrior. I remember hearing word and how my heart felt like it would burst from the sheer joy and pride I felt in my boy. My boy who for his gempukku defeated an ogre rather than a mere goblin.

I missed your wedding, the Wall needed me. Your mother stood with you as our family joined with the Kuni again. My daughter in law is a good woman, strong, willful, and proud, everything a good Hida should be. I always wondered if I could have arranged as fine a match for you as your mother did. There were more than a few young samurai-ko of good breeding and character that I mused upon asking for permission to wed you too. Yet, you married and began your own family.

I missed your ascension from a Hohei to Guso, the Wall needed me. Those who had raised you, taught you, loved you, stood with you in triumph as you proved to not only have your old man's will but your mother's mind. To take a small platoon and drive off a full troop of Goblins? You were destined to go far, I knew then, and I prayed for your success.

I missed so many things in your life my son. Do not think it was because I did not love you. They teach that love is a dangerous thing in this land of ours and so it is. The danger comes from the power and depth of that feeling, that makes a man's heart grow too large for him, and his mind leave him.

So as I feel my strength leave me and my arms grow weary, I write you my son, to tell you this.
You are my son.
And I could never ask for any better.

Farewell.

They say that Hida Kozomi spent a day outside his home, looking at the field where he and his father used to play. Some say that he was furious at his father, others that he was paying his respects as he best knew. Yet, a few say quietly, when the sake is all drunk and the people's lips are loose, that Kozomi spent that day weeping as a child would for his father.

For myself? I do not know, but let it be said that the Crab are not heartless savages. They feel just as deeply as any of us and they sacrifice more than we can ever know for that Wall that needs them.