The road was muddy, and deep enough that the lats of his getta were insufficiently tall to keep his feet clean. The homes of the peasants were run down, and carrion crows loomed menacingly over them. A ragged peasant woman rushed into one home over which they were particularly thick, carrying a pot of steaming water. A shriek of pain followed by the wail of a baby was drowned out by the sudden cackle of the black birds.

No Kakita lord should permit such destitution. The hard looking fellows openly carrying "farming implements" that had been altered to do more raking of flesh than soil were a bad sign. If there were any samurai in the village itself, they were well-hidden ronin, and likely the very bandits who were reported to plague this region.

Kakita Soyoken walked with the air of one who owned the place, though his dignity was marred by the slogging pace he was forced to take. His kimono's hem was stained beyond recovery, and the fact that he had to wear his sugegasa low over his brow to keep Lord Sun from burning into his eyes while struggling in the humidity and mud left by a massive deluge only hours past did not help his mood. It did, however, lend him an appropriately grim expression of determination as he made his way towards the local lord's manor.

This village and its surroundings had been yielding more and more poorly over the last few years, and the incidents of banditry and disappearing travelers last known to be headed through this valley were on the rise. Kakita Miton, the lord of this small valley, seemed never to lack for luxuries nor fear for his own safety, but always pleaded difficult times and the hardship of his peasants should he be expected to yield up the full of his dues to his lord.

The rice paddies and arable fields lay half-fallow or trampled by lawless gangs of peasants and ronin, and it seemed Miton was unable or unwilling to do anything about it. His own retainers had sworn with nearby masters on any pretext they could find; it was rumored that he now had a house staffed entirely by greedy peasant criminals and guarded by ronin outlaws. Soyoken had only to look at the land and this village as he approached the only gem of order and finery in the region to see evidences of the truth of these rumors.

A lovely girl, from the wakizashi at her hip most likely a ronin's daughter, greeted him obsequiously at the gate. "Kakita-sama, please, come right in. Miton-sama is always honored to welcome his kinsmen."

With a brusque nod, he indicated the girl should lead on. She led him through the courtyard and down a long hallway, past fine décor in excellent taste (but well beyond the means of a lord of so minor a stature as Miton's, certainly with a village failing so badly as his), and paused at the sliding door behind which, doubtless, awaited the lord of this place. "If there is anything I can do to make your stay more…comfortable, Kakita-sama, just let me know," she purred.

Soyoken kept his face impassive as he looked her up and down. A pretty enough thing, she lacked the courtly refinement he had come to expect from a woman since marrying his wife. Aiko had been a Doji before their parents arranged for her to wed him, and the only thing this girl might have had over his wife was the lack of disappointment in her gaze. The greed that replaced it, however, was in its own way still more unattractive.

"Your hospitality does Lord Miton honor," he said with just the slightest hint of reproach in his tone. "But if he is ready, I must discuss the reason for which I have come."

After a moment of enduring his impassive gaze, the girl slid open the door, and Soyoken walked in. A ronin and six armed peasants greeted him, kneeling in attendance upon a Kakita who could only be Miton. "Greetings, welcome!" he sang out in a melodious voice. Miton was still a beautiful man, his white hair tied into a severe topknot that emphasized his features. "Can I offer you a drink, cousin? The finest Taka Label just arrived last week, and we have plenty to share."

Soyoken shook his head, frowning. A merchant's eta had made it to his lord's town, and reported bandits had attacked and killed all save him. Miton was mocking him. "No, thank you, cousin. I fear I am here on a matter which would make so fine a drink turn bitter on the tongue. Our lord, Kakita Hanabi, has bid me investigate the state of your village, since your last report requested further leniency, for the sake of your starving peasants."

Miton's expression turned grave. "I see. He had already sent a Doji and his Daidoji bodyguard this month, as well as several others last year. Surely, he has been satisfied as to the trials through which my people go. It would be naught but cruelty to force me to squeeze them for that which they do not have."

Did he not have evidence of his own eyes, and the weight of years of reports entrusted to him by his lord, Soyoken may have believed for a moment that Miton honestly cared for his people, so honest sounded his words. But it was not his sly tongue which had gotten him out of trouble up until now. "Each of these inspectors returned a similar report. They had challenged you on your claims, based on testimony and the evidence of their own eyes."

Nodding sadly, Miton replied gently, "They insulted me, called me a liar and a thief. Such slander could not go unchallenged."

"You dueled them, or their champions, and won. The matter was rightfully laid to rest." Therein lay his secret. Kakita Miton was an accomplished duelist, and had silenced the reports and quashed arrest attempts by defeating his accusers or their champions. Touch, first blood, surrender, all had been the condition, as the severity of the accusations rose and the squalor reported to exist in the village became more drastic.

The last inspector had not returned a report, merely his head and daisho came back, along with that of his champion. "The report from the last inspector seemed inconclusive, however. Could you elaborate on it, Miton-san?"

"A most unfortunate case. Doji Katsukira-san had taken a liking to young Mitoto," he nodded behind him, to the girl who had led Soyoken in here. "Tsorokai, her father, was obviously glad to see his daughter getting along so well with a Doji. But alas, Katsukira-san was too impatient, and grew loutish in his advances. It was truly shameful, though Mitoto was unsure how to respond. It shames me to say that I turned a blind eye to it, as Katsukira intimated that he would base his report on how much he enjoyed his stay. I could not let my pride get in the way of the well-being of my peasants, so I tolerated it.

"But then, after he went too far with her, and I had to restrain Tsorokai from challenging Doji Katsukira to a duel, the inspector turned upon me with the most vicious attack upon my honor and word. After his terrible treatment of poor Mitoto, and now his slanderous assault on me, I had little option but to challenge him to a duel to prove his words false. It grieves me that so great an insult as he had dealt me required it be fought to the death."

Soyoken grunted. "Obviously, Doji-san chose to have his bodyguard represent him as his champion."

"Of course. Doji-san was skilled with words, not weapons. Honor, however, was on my side; Daidoji-san fell to my blade, and Doji-san committed seppuku, as was proper, then and there. I, myself, was his second." Miton concluded the story with just a hint of smugness. Clearly, he felt he was in charge here. Soyoken's eyes did not have to dart about the room to see why; Soyoken was outnumbered and surrounded. For all he knew, "sweet innocent" Mitoto could have that wakizashi in his back before he.

But Kakita Hanabi-sama had not chosen him for his keen eye nor investigative skill. He already knew the outcome, and that the evidence piled so obviously that a Crab could not have missed it. If he had to flee, he would, for his lord had commanded that he not risk death for anything short of accomplishing his mission. And getting killed by peasants and a ronin was not his mission.

"I regret," began Soyoken, "that I must find fault with your story, Miton-san. I am in agreement with the assessment that was given by Doji Katsukira-san. You are corrupt, and you must step down as the lord of this place, and return with me to face Hanabi-sama for your failure as a lord."

Miton rose to his feet, picking up his daisho from the stand beside him as he did. "That's a shame, cousin. I had hoped to have a few evenings to share with you, to catch up on news at our lord's court. But by repeating Katsukira-san's insult to me, I fear you have forced my hand. I must challenge you to a duel to the death. I trust Hanabi-sama has already given permission for this duel, and will therefore be unsurprised when proof of my innocence arrives in the form of your head and daisho laid at his feet."

Good. His arrogance gave Soyoken a chance. No matter how good the duelist, he could not fight a castle full of ronin and peasant bandits. But Miton was giving him a duel. Doubtless, he expected to win, as he had against each previous inspector and their champions. Hanabi-sama had chosen Soyoken for this honor in a last-ditch effort to salvage this place. The young duelist craved chances to serve his lord with distinction, hungered for them. His wife was accustomed to the finest things, but a lowly duelist could not provide them in the abundance she craved.

Hanabi-sama knew he could not permit Miton to continue, but messengers with orders to appear at court mysteriously disappeared, and inspectors reports were proven flawed by the string of duels this minor village lord fought. As Soyoken had passed through the valley, he realized that his mission may almost be a waste of time. If he failed, Hanabi-sama would have no choice but to order the valley burned. He could not permit the nest of bandits to thrive, and if Lord Miton could not be removed by any other means, a swift and bloody battle would be required.

Soyoken was sent to win the duel that would prove Miton's guilt, and remove him without destroying the valley. Hanabi-sama must not have known the horrid state to which it had fallen already, or he would have had no qualms about destroying it. But this was Soyoken's mission, and if he succeeded, he might rise in his lord's favor, and be better able to provide for Aiko.

The manor courtyard was lovely, if hot. The drainage gravel was of the highest quality; there was no mud here, just hard packed clay from which the sun drew a thick humidity. Miton's retainers surrounded the field as the two duelists bowed to each other. Soyoken and Miton dropped into simultaneous, seemingly identical stances. Miton presented the picture of the duelist, his fine kimono and neat topknot a stark contrast to his opponent's travel-worn and mud-stained garb. Were it not for his white hair and matching mons, an observer might have thought Soyoken a ronin, not a fellow member of Miton's Family and School.

Cicadas chirred loudly in the silence between the duelists. Sweat beaded on their brows, and rolled, ignored, down their faces, narrowly missing their eyes as each stared down the other. The intensity of the heat and the noise of the insects faded as their worlds narrowed down; they were alone.

A crow's raucous cry shattered the moment, drawing a fraction of Soyoken's attention for a critical moment. He saw motion, and reacted faster than thought. His katana leapt from its sheath, and severed a head from a neck. A woman screamed, and he noticed a pain in his left arm.

Time started again, and his world expanded just in time for him to get out of the way of his opponent's blade once more. Soyoken silently cursed that crow for breaking his concentration; first blood had gone to Miton. Both duelists resheathed their blades, in the art and style of the Kakita School. They flashed again; the pain in his arm was merely a minor distraction. The girl was still screaming, crouching over the fallen body, as the two fought a grim battle. Miton seemed surprised; he had almost missed Soyoken when the younger duelist's concentration broke, and now he found that he was unable to match the other's skill. Soyoken wasn't faster, just better.

Soyoken's smile was internal. This was his secret, and why he'd win this duel. This was why it had to be a duel to the death. He was not the best duelist in his school, but he was good enough. And he had studied simple kenjutsu, had mastered it as well as iaijutsu. He knew the battlefield better than most of his brethren, and that gave him an edge. One cut, two, three got through Miton's defenses. The cuts were slowing him down. Then, as the crow called out once more, and the girl's crying ceased for a moment, Miton missed the timing of his draw. Soyoken stepped into the opening, and cut the well-dressed Kakita in a perfect duelist's strike. Miton fell. Sparing him the indignity of a slow, gurgling death, Soyoken severed his head.

The peasant bandits serving as Miton's retainers dropped their weapons and fled. Four figures remained in the courtyard: Soyoken, bleeding from the wound in his arm; Miton, dead in the sodden clay; Tsorokai, headless on the ground where Soyoken had been standing at the start of the duel, a tanto near his outstretched hand; and Mitoto, weeping over the form of her fallen father.

The instants before he drew his blade came back to him in a flash, with a clarity for which he had lacked the time when they happened. The motion he saw was not Miton's draw, but Tsorokai's knife. Had his concentration not broken just then, he would have died before either duelist drew their blades. His sudden movement had stricken his attacker, rather than his opponent. Miton must have hit only Soyoken's arm on his own draw because the other samurai was turning to strike at the one interfering. Far from costing him the duel, the crow's cry had saved his life.

A minute passed in silence save for the cicadas. Soyoken looked upon the weeping girl with pity. "Come, Mitoto. Your father and his treacherous lord are dead. We will bring the eta to tend them. I must return to Hanabi-sama's castle to report. My task here is done."