The Snake Pit

Renzo lounged by the bar at the back of the first public room of the Snake Pit. He was near to the door that led to the fighting arena in the back, keeping a half lidded eye on anyone coming and going. Although he looked relaxed, he was fully alert to anyone who might wish to enter the inner sanctum who would be unwelcome there. He was dressed in a crimson red kimono, the associations of the colour with blood would undoubtedly spring to mind. But both the red kimono and asagi-iro pale blue cloak were of top quality silk. He was, in many ways a walking advertisement for Yakumo's Silk Shop, his current client's other business. Gold glittered from various points from the chain of his cloak to the decoration on his sword hilts.

His back to the bar, he looked languid and content as he sipped a glass of sake and smiled at the patrons. Yakumo Teiko had a lot of money and influence. Normally Renzo wouldn't lower himself to work for gangsters, but Yakumo was no common criminal, he was someone whose values Renzo shared to a certain extent, and once having agreed to take on a commission from the Orchard Viper Triads he would do what he was bound until he got bored or was offered a better deal for his services.

Renzo peered sidelong at Yakumo as he snuck up so silently, but didn't give any sign that he was caught by surprise. Instead he lifted himself from his lounging posture in smooth movement that arched his back. “I have no complaints,” he said, accompanied by a slow shrug. “I don't have any personal desire to watch it, but if you wish me to, Yakumo-san, I will accompany you.” The idea of watching brutes beat each other senseless held little appeal. There was rarely any aesthetic value in it. He had tried to compose poems on his first night observing the fighting arena, but none of the images seemed satisfactory.

He slid from the bar stool and walked beside Yakumo at his right hand, closer than most of the henchmen dared. He had no reason to fear Yakumo, and every reason to protect him. He glanced around with a relaxed awareness for any trouble makers. There were trouble makers in every corner. It was the nature of the place. But it was nothing Yakumo need concern himself with.

Renzo sat down next to Yakumo in the space that the boss had left beside him, a seat of honour no doubt, and watched the fight with a kind of avid boredom as blood and sweat sprayed out from the sunken area, accompanied by grunts and bodily smells. “I fail to see it as 'art' but perhaps there is a certain craft to it,” he replied, carefully not contradicting Yakumo too much. He still failed to appreciate the spectacle of peasants brawling, but then Yakumo, cultured as he was, was a commoner after all.

He neither cheered nor clapped at the end of the fight, instead tutted vaguely at a spot of blood that had sprayed onto his expensive crimson kimono. He sighed and lowered his sleeve, then turned to hear what Yakumo had to say. “If we must suppose one was an artist, and the other a work of art, then the only answer is “'Jaku niku kyou shoku' The weak are meat, the strong eat. Or in this case, art and artist are one and the same, only the strong man weilds the brush, and the weak becomes the paint.” He took a sip of the sake. Like everything Yakumo possessed it was extremely high quality.

“My, my, you are quite the philosopher, O-Kashira-san,” Renzo replied. The narrowing of his eyes gave him a cat-like expression as his lip curled on one side. “I merely reached the conclusion based on your original hypothesis. My belief is rather different if you don't mind me saying so.” Wasn't this getting rather personal? He wasn't sure whether to feel insulted, or to enjoy the philosophical game that Yakumo had presented him with.

Since Yakumo had given his permission for Renzo to talk about what motivated him, he took a further sip from his sake cup to organise his thoughts before he continued, “I believe your metaphor is flawed, Yakumo-san, if you'll pardon me saying so. I have long ago reconciled that I, all of us in fact, are both art and artist. We are creation and creator. A belief or principle that separates one's self as an artist away from oneself as art, is merely self-delusion. To deny that one is art, is to deny that one is flesh and blood, that when one dies one will turn to smoke or fill a scavenger's belly. While gold is naturally an enticing reward, any fool can get rich. The only principle I live by is to live beautifully and create beauty in my work, only for the most select of patrons of course.” He raised an eyebrow at this last remark and waited for Yakumo's response.

“Hmm...” Renzo looked slyly at Yakumo, enjoying his metaphor of drawing realistic guts. Seppuku was ridiculous in his opinion. What did a man truly own except his life? To throw that away was foolishness beyond compare. His thoughts started to drift off a little bit at that, but he refocused instantly when Yakumo seemed to take offence at his words.

He bowed to Yakumo, his eyelids lowered as he smiled. “Just because a fool can get rich, it does not follow that all rich men are fools, O-Kashira-sama,” he said, with exaggerated politeness. “If I believed you such, I would not be here. My apologies if my words offend you, I was under the impression that you wished me to be candid. I shall know my place better next time, and speak only what you desire to hear.”

There was the bearest hint of the sardonic in his voice, despite his dignified way of speaking. Renzo found it somewhat irritating that Yakumo felt he needed to be reminded of his place in such a fashion, while Yakumo took his honest reply as an insult. He had thought the man someone with greater depth of character, and was somewhat disappointed. “Of course, Yakumo-sama. You are my employer, and it would be grossly incompetent of me to put my feelings before your own, on points of principle or otherwise.”

It seemed that Yakumo had now finished with needlessly asserting his own power, and instead the topic changed as the Triad boss relaxed a little. Renzo raised a hand to sweep a long lock of hair away from his face, and considered Yakumo's question. “The Zodiac Beasts? I have read something of the legend. 'Back in the mists of time, the Jade Emperor of all the Eastern Islands was endowed with spiritual abilities granted by the gods who saw that he was good. In order to protect his empire, from the enemies without, he bound the spirits of the zodiac into thirteen jade masks which he gave to his most trusted warriors....'” Renzo finished quoting the text he had once read, and gave a curious look to his employer. “Do you mind me asking of the relevance of this? Should I continue?” he asked, more cautious now about what he said in front of Yakumo.

“Please don't misunderstand me, I am very fond of gold,” Renzo replied, and there was an avaricious glint in his eye that revealed he was not lying. “Gold is far easier to trust than 'principles',” he added, raising an eyebrow as he took a sip of sake. He bowed graciously once again as Yakumo said he wanted to get to know him. He would come to know Renzo as well as anyone did, but there were of course many things that the ronin would reveal to no-one. “If that is what you wish,” he replied.

“I have a good memory,” he said. While it was far from eidetic, he did not find it hard to memorise or recall things he had read, once they piqued his interest. “Who doesn't like tales of heroic adventures? But such stories of long ago may or may not be true. It's as likely to be allegorical as literal,” he shrugged. Legends grew easily and faded slowly. Renzo knew that more than most, and while he had little faith in them himself, they were to some degree the building blocks of his reputation. They were useful if not reliable. “In my experience, power is not given, but taken,” he added.

Taking Yakumo's point, he continued. “'To the wisest of his warriors, he gave the mask of the Rat; to the most diligent, the Boar. The bravest wore the mask of the Tiger and the most prudent advisor, the Rabbit. His strongest warrior was given the mask of the Dragon, his most flexible, the Snake. To the warrior of the strongest will, he gave the mask of the Horse. To the Head Abbot, the peaceful Sheep. His wily scout wore the mask of the Monkey, and the captain of the guard, the Rooster mask. His own wife, the Jade Empress and his closest friend, wore the mask of the Dog and that of the Pig. And to the onmitsu who was the Emperor's shadow, he bestowed the mask of the Cat.' The story goes on to tell of how the giants of the north were defeated, along with the Emperor's enemies, and the demons that came from the seas, and countless other chapters. Some featuring groups of the Jade Guardians, some with one or two alone, and occasionally an adventure with all thirteen of them. Each mask gave the wearer powers of some kind that enabled them to defeat various threats. But at the end, the masks are scattered. The deaths of some of the Guardians are told, but not all, but the power of the Guardians eventually passed from the world.” He looked to Yakumo to see what he made of this story. “I hear there are other versions.”

He had a good idea about his character? Renzo did not like that at all, and his eyes narrowed a little though he kept most expression from his face. Yakumo could choose to believe whatever he liked. There was no principle that gold couldn't override, unless one was a fool, and he didn't appreciate being taken for such. Instead, he glanced towards the fighting pit, finishing his own sake. It was vicious, brutal, undoubtedly pointless. Except that the winner would get paid, of course. He stood in a smooth motion, inclining his head in a bow towards Yakumo, and followed the Mountain Master out into the cool night air. Even in the centre of the city like this, cicadas chirped. Approving of Yakumo's comment about power, he smiled to himself as Yakumo laughed.

“No, of course not,” Renzo replied, although he really did not know where Yakumo was going with the Jade Guardians story. “You found one?” for a moment, he wasn't sure what he meant and a hundred possibilities ran through his mind before Yakumo qualified the statement. Even more taken aback he raised his eyes to meet Yakumo's quizzically. Was he mocking him? But no, he seemed quite serious. “You have found one of the Jade Masks?” his scepticism was probably fairly obvious, “Its not what I expected you to say... I admit I'm intrigued.”

Renzo was quiet and serious as he followed Yakumo to the rickshaw, letting his boss get in first before he joined him. The man began to walk and then break into a trot as they jounced through the streets of the city, Renzo alert for any trouble. “May I ask how you came across such a thing? And what makes you think it is one of the Jade Masks?” The thought of legendary power was as intriguing to him as it seemed to be intoxicating to Yakumo. If this was real, who knew what it could mean? And if it wasn't, but Yakumo believed it so, Renzo would have to humour him for the duration of the contract. Awkward but by far the worst thing he had been required to do for a client.

“Hmm,” Renzo looked as casually alert as a cat, and his slightly narrowed eyes held an undercurrent of suppressed menace should Yakumo be mocking him with this mask business. But for all that he was curious. “I suppose you must know a great many people,” he commented, and his story seemed convincing to Renzo as he listened. There were all kinds of important, half-forgotten things hidden in all sorts of places in this ancient land of theirs. If there were Jade Masks, then it did not surprise him that Yakumo might be the person to ferret one of them out. In some ways, he reminded Renzo of a spider sitting at the centre of a finely spun web, waiting for someone, somewhere to set a strand twitching. It was quite fascinating in many ways, that level of subtle control.

“Indeed.” Gold bought power, and power bought gold, the two were interchangeable. He looked around him with greater intensity as the rickshaw stopped next to an ancient shrine that sat bordering onto an overgrown area that might once have been a park or garden. “Wait,” he said, putting out a hand in front of Yakumo's chest. “Allow me to go first. For your safety.” He glided down from the rickshaw and slid Tsujikaze from the back of his belt, not yet releasing the blades of the sickles, but ready to pop them out like a tiger's claws should anyone attack. Since Yakumo knew the way through the overgrown greenery and Renzo didn't, he contented himself with walking by his side. Petals from sprawling rhodadendrons crushed underfoot, releasing their sweet scent, as the two walked by, mixing with the aroma of moss and wood, and from somewhere in the distance, smoke. Moonlight illuminated the path barely as clouds crossed from time to time in front of the moon's face. After a time, he stopped, dropping into a battle ready stance, “There is someone up ahead,” he whispered, and glanced sideways at Yakumo to receive his command.

Hitsufune glared out under his rice hat he had been wearing on his journey from northern Kiyonai to Jeoncho and Xuandao.
"Yakumo-dono..." he said and bowed to Yakumo. "I'm sorry for saying, but this trip has taken a toll on me. You've asked me to steal my clan's most prized possession, become a fiend in the eyes of my older sister and to cover my tracks using any means possible." he said reluctantly and with a certain bitterness to his voice.

"I did that, and in this sack I have that item you say have the power to change the fate of Tawakoshi - and everyone here." he said and held the sack up in one arm hesitating a little. "But now that I am here, I don't know if I can give it to you." Hitsufune said and clenched it even more tightly. "You claimed to want to change the ill fate of Tawakoshi and inflamed something inside my heart... but now I'm asking myself... to what end?" Hitsufune said and took a closer look at Renzo at his side. Yakumo's thug looked like a cold son of a bitch and Hitsufune narrowed his eyes thinking he'd better be aware of that one.

[EXIT: thefantasysandbox.boards.net/thread/3181/abandoned-park]