Blackblade 0.06 - Of Dogs and Masters

“Shogun Osamu Miro to speak with you, my lords,” the servant announced timidly. Lord Tadashi Murakami looked up from what he was doing with a look of confusion.
“Shogun? I’ve heard nothing of this? And he’s here?” he asked. His younger son Haru looked up as well, questioning.
“Yes, lord.”
He paused for a moment, biting his lip and considering. “Send him in,” he finally commanded. The servant bowed and backed away. Lord Murakami and his son straightened the papers they were reviewing and stood as Lord Miro entered, flanked by the elder Murakami son. The two lords bowed to each other in greeting.
“Lord Murakami,” Osamu said cordially. He straightened, his bearing rigid and regal.
“Lord Miro,” the shogun replied almost hesitantly. “I...never heard anything about your father, if you don’t mind me inquiring.”
“He has passed on,” he said bluntly. “I am the shogun of Miyagi now.”
“I wasn’t aware he was ill…” he ventured.
“He was sick for many years, as I'm certain you know. It was the end of him.”
“I see…” Lord Murakami frowned. “I am terribly sorry to hear that.”
“Hmn,” Lord Miro’s acknowledgement was scarce. “As the new shogun, I am here on formal business. I am sorry for the lack of advance notice, but I have little time to dally and would like you informed of matters sooner rather than later in order to avoid issues arising between us.” Mako stood quietly throughout this, his posture at attention and his gaze pointedly looking at nothing and everything.
Lord Murakami looked over the two men who stood before him, judging quietly. Eventually, he ventured, “It must be serious indeed. Though first, if you don’t mind me asking...what have the both of you done with your eyes?”
Neither party flinched. Osamu replied calmly, though not very reassuringly, “A magical effect. Do not trouble yourself about it.”
It was Tadashi’s turn to make a hrm noise, but he pushed no further. “Alright, if you have business to discuss.” His gaze moved to his elder son, “I’m glad you returned. You are dismissed.” Mako did not move, though his lip flinched almost imperceptibly. When he didn’t leave, Tadashi pressed, “You are dismissed. Leave the room.”
“As my gensui rikogun taisho, he is ordered to stay here,” Lord Miro countered, his eyes never breaking contact from Lord Murakami. The elder shogun blinked a few times, processing this.
Haru, unable to contain himself, blurted out, “Traitor! You can’t just leave the family, you’re to serve us!” Mako’s teeth ground, but he kept his posture.
“Mako Murakami will lend his skill and service to whomever he wishes, and when I approached him with the position, he accepted. If he wishes to leave my employ and return to your father’s, that is his decision. I will not discuss this matter further with a child.” Osamu shot down Haru’s comment firmly and coldly. The tension in every Murakami man in the room was palpable, from the venom in Haru’s eyes to the rage in Mako’s jaw to the nervousness in Tadashi’s eyes. Only Lord Miro was calm, but he was eerily so, the calm of ice.
“Fine, then,” Tadashi relented. He sat down and looked at the two. “State your business.”
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“So you wish for our support then?”
“Yes,” Osamu stated calmly, patiently.
“This is a tall order you have presented me with.” Tadashi’s eyes still showed reserve. “When you start war with the others, you will inevitably come back to me begging for help...”
“When I start war with the others,” he cut him off coldly, “they will be crushed, and when they come to you, you will deny them assistance the same as you would me. You will keep Tottori apart and avoid the sting of war. Your disinvolvement and eventual vote of confidence is all I require from you.”
Tadashi sat quietly for a moment. Finally, he said in a low voice, “You are mad. You are mad, and will bring ruin upon your family, if you haven’t already.”
“I will return to hear your response once my plans are in motion. Whether you decide to fight me or surrender is a matter of convenience, nothing more. Keep that in mind,” Osamu replied, ignoring the other man’s words. He bowed, “Thank you for your time.” Turning he started towards the door. Mako followed behind.
“Mother was right!” Haru shouted out after them. “You’re nothing but a stupid dog!” Mako stopped in his tracks. Haru continued, his tone mocking, “Upset that you’re not good enough to be a lord, so you sulked off to your stupid mad friend?” He spit the last words, “I hope he gets you killed first.”
Mako stood perfectly still, gaze at the floor. Osamu had stopped as well, but he turned around smoothly and watched dispassionately. He looked calmly at Haru, whose expression was derisive, and at Tadashi, who’s nervousness had increased visibly. Saying nothing, manner flat, he waited, which served to unsettle the two. With slow deliberation, Mako reached for his sword and drew it painstakingly from its sheath. Haru yelled out for the guards; four armed men ran in behind Osamu, who held his arm out to signal them to stop, never turning away. The four took in the scene and hesitated, their swords drawn but lacking any resolve. No one wished to be the first one to cross Lord Miro or to reach Mako. Haru urged them to arrest them both, but they stood still, none wanting to risk their lives. Mako held his sword level in front of him, looking at the blade, his back still towards his father and brother.
“Alright then,” he said, voice low. “Alright. I’m a dog. That’s what God decided to make me, so that’s what I am. Let that be what is.” His voice was humourless, dangerous. Even Haru stopped making noise. “I’m a dog. Dogs need masters. A dog without a master is pointless. So, Osamu is and must be my master. No one else ever was, and no one else ever will be, so let that be what is.” His voice was even, his words each weighted evenly. “Since that is what is, I will serve as his dog. I will serve him in this life. I’ll serve him in Hell, for as long as eternity that is. As long as he needs a dog, I will keep serving, because he will always, always, need a dog. Because he is a master, and masters need dogs the way dogs need masters. That is how it is. Now,” he turned lithely, holding his sword still in front of his eyes but looking now over it to his family. “What does that make you, if all are dogs or masters? There's no question: you’re both dogs. But you're stupid, fluffy, spoiled lap-mutts. I am a true dog. I will hunt, and I will kill, and I will wage war for my master. I will bring him victory, and return to my praise knowing that the master is only successful because of me. As his battles are won and his game is killed, he will give praise because he knows that his success is all because of me. Meanwhile, you will sit and beg for scraps, growing fat on leftovers and hoping that master doesn’t kick you in foul temper, because that is all you know, being worthless lap-dogs. So you had best start begging for his good favour, because when he unleashes me, with all my fangs and fury, I will not relent. I will win the country for my master, and you had best pray that he doesn’t need to send me here, because a fat and spoiled lap-mutt won't last long against me.” He stood up straight. With a fluid motion, he flipped his sword behind his head and, securing it with his other hand, sliced cleanly through the base of his ponytail. He tossed the tied and severed hair on the table in front of them. “Now beg.”
Mako turned and sheathed his sword; the guards scuttled out of the way as he walked to stand behind Osamu. Through all of this, he had stood quietly, lacking in all emotion, his eyes cold and grey. When Mako stood behind him, waiting, he said with all manner of coolness, “I will return to hear your formal answer.”
Both Tadashi and Haru sat stunned, the fear apparent in their eyes. “Y...yes,” Tadashi stammered.
“Yes, who?” Mako barked as Osamu maintained his stare.
“Yes, Lo…” Mako’s eyes narrowed and his lips pulled back slightly. “Yes, Emperor Miro,” he practically cried.
Without further acknowledgement, Osamu turned and left, with Mako directly behind him.
Category:Banishment of the Blackblades