Author: Chaos

Note: This was inspired by a Dungeons & Dragons adventure my older brother took myself and my younger siblings on when I was about 15. I wrote it up last minute for a creative writing class and have been tweeking and updating it ever since.



Will this never end? Heideki Mishimiko stood in her simple, traditional ready position, with her feet shoulder width apart. Is this a kumite or a torture session? She glanced at the sun and gauged its height in the sky. This ordeal had started more than three hours ago.

The Imperial Kumite, the most prestigious martial arts competition in the whole of the realm, had begun with a clash of gongs that reverberated in the clear spring air as more than thirteen hundred entrants had filed slowly out onto the field. As each competitor reached his or her assigned spot on the field in orderly rows, he or she took up a ready stance of their choice. Once all were in place, the speeches by the Imperial Bureaucracy began, during which the entrants had to maintain their chosen position.

The speeches were long and most often quite boring, but each Imperial Minister of This or Chancellor of That had to have his say as a matter of honor and face. Those in the back of the field had two distinct advantages over those in the front. They were the last to take up their stances and so had to hold them a shorter time and they were farther from the stand from which the bureaucrats were speaking and thus had to hear less.

Many, misunderstanding the nature of the first round of elimination, had taken up elaborate positions, some with one foot in the air, to show off. Mishimiko and her best friend, Nikari Yuki, had been warned by their teacher, Master Yuan, and had taken up the simplest ready stance they knew. Neither had spent the last five years of their lives training for this day only to be weeded out in the opening ceremonies.

The foolish ones dropped like flies, but this far into the speeches-Gods, will they never end? -even those with simpler stances are falling. Even as she thought this a young gaijin in the row ahead of her collapsed. He actually did pretty well for a barbarian outlander. A healer immediately appeared at his side to check his life beat, then motioned for a guard. The guard sauntered over and, picking up the young man�s feet, proceeded to drag him from the field, blond head bouncing over the ground.

How humiliating! Even for a gaijin, who automatically has no honor. Mishimiko shuddered slightly. Dear Gods, do not let me dishonor my family, my teacher or myself by leaving the field in such a manner.

A warm, dry breeze ruffled her hair, white with a black stripe down the middle of her scalp. Yuki liked to tease her by asking what she used to bleach it. Mishimiko always replied that she did not use anything to change it�s color, Yuki�s cart driving was enough to scare all the color out of it. Both friends knew that it was completely natural. Both of her parents had possessed similar coloration.

She blinked her ice-blue eyes as the figures on the stand began to blur and waver. I will not dishonor myself. I will not dishonor myself. I will not dishonor . . . .


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Nikari Yuki stood rigid. Down block, outside block, down block, outside block, down block, outside block, outside block, punch. She concentrated, thinking her way through her katas , sets of practice moves for learning techniques, to keep her mind off the drone coming from behind the podium and the itches at her hairline and the back of her neck. As a kensi , one who practiced with a single weapon to the exclusion of all others except the body itself, Yuki had plenty of katas to choose from.

A fly landed on her cheek, attracted by the beads of sweat brought on by the blazing sun, and Yuki again regretted her decision to wear a linen blouse beneath her flare-shouldered tunic. Mishimiko had not.

When reciting her kata moves forward became too easy Yuki switched to imagining her way through the moves backwards. Outside block, down block, outside block, down block, punch, chop, chop, down block, . . . .

A flash of sky-blue out of the corner of her eye broke her concentration. Mishimiko had fallen! She tried her best. This does not reduce her honor in my eyes one bit! The healer was at her friend�s side. Should I break stance and go with her or should I stay? I�d want her to stay. What is he doing? Her eyes strained to see without turning her head. The healer had not summoned for a guard, but for the priests. Please don�t let her be dead! No one ever dies at a kumite . The healers always have a healing potion or two on hand, just in case, don�t they? The priests chanted briefly then motioned again and a litter was brought. Yuki strained her ears to catch what was said.

�She fell, but maintained her stance even in unconsciousness. She will remain in the kumite . Take her to a tent where . . . .� they were then too far away for Yuki to hear, but she had heard enough, the white haired kensi would still compete. Her confidence bolstered, she determined that her friend would not face her opponents alone. Kick-punch, upper block, kick-punch, upper block, punch, single outside, double outside, double down . . . .


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


�May your feet stay on the mat, your eyes be sharp, your mind quick to discern weakness and your hands blindingly swift.� Yuki bowed respectfully to Mishimiko.

�May you bring honor to yourself, your family and your school.� Mishimiko returned the bow, her white and black warrior�s lock bobbing. Then she clasped Yuki�s forearm in the way of friends. �And may we not meet in the ring.� Yuki nodded with a smile on her lips and the two parted, each going to her assigned ring to await their first match.

The second round of elimination was long gone along with more than half of the entrants. Yuki had passed it easily and the healers had allowed Mishimiko to sleep through it, waking her for the kata competitions. She won by a narrow margin with her sword kata , her blue hilted katana , a gift from Yuki, flashing in the afternoon sun.

Now the field was littered with sparring mats, each with an attending crowd. The crowds consisted of officials to oversee the match, healers to clean up after each match and interested competitors, wishing to watch potential rivals fight. Throughout it all, the Imperial guards maintained order and the Imperial wu jens , magic users of the highest caliber, cast their spells and watched to see that no one cheated.

When Mishimiko�s name was called, she strode onto the mat to face her first opponent. At the command of the official, as demanded by honor and respect, both fighters turned to face the Imperial Bureaucrats and bowed, faced the official and bowed, faced each other, bowed. �Ready!� Mishimiko jerked back into a fighting stance with a loud kiai to give herself strength, the power shout startling her opponent only a little. �Begin!�

Her opponent rushed in and she rolled her tilted, almond shaped eyes. Please! What kind of self-respecting school teaches this? Swiftly, she chambered her knee tight into her chest and snapped it back out as a side kick right into his ribs. Elbows way too high. His charge stopped dead, she followed up with a backfist-ridgehand combination. Hands too far away from the head to block. She ended with a sweeping take down and a reverse punch to his solar plexus, driving the wind out of him and causing him to black out.

�Break!� Mishimiko moved back from the fallen man and assumed a ready position. In rushed the healer. The man was out cold, but, aside from a bump on the head, was unhurt. The match was hers.

The next couple of fights, with changes only in the techniques she used, went the same way, much to her disgust. But, as the novices were weeded out, the matches became harder, the wins taking longer to attain.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


�Hey, Miko. You got time to talk?�

�Yuki, sure, my next fight isn�t for an hour. When�s yours?�

Yuki pouted slightly. �I was beaten in the last bout by Sensei Lu-che. He�s really good. Watch out for his hook kick if you have to fight him. It comes out of nowhere to hit you in the side of the head.� She rubbed the pertinent portion of her anatomy. �Master Yuan and the rest of us are going for an early dinner. Do you want to come?�

�No, I want to watch the other fights. There are so few of opponents now and I want to study their fighting styles.�


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Three fights, count them, three fights with Sensei Lu-che. I can�t believe he wasn�t cheating. I know I hit him hard enough and often enough to put him down, but he refused to drop! Well, they said he fell immediately after I did each time, but I still had to fight him three times. Potions of healing may take the pain away and heal the wounds, but I�m still tired. I suppose it was rather fair of them to let us both go on after the third try. Gods, I hope I don�t have to fight him again!

Mishimiko knelt in the cool confines of a healer�s tent, waiting for the outcome of the current match. Who ever won would be her opponent in the final bout. Yuki and their classmates had came and congratulated her. Master Yuan had just stood off to one side with a kind of knowing half smile, like he had expected her to do this well all along.

There was a polite cough from outside the tent. �Yes?�

�Heideki- san , the fight is over. You will face Awang Sophir in the final match.�

�Thank you.�


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


An hour later, as the sun began to chin itself on the edge of the topmost spectator�s seats, Mishimiko and Sophir stepped onto the only mat left on the field. Once again they bowed, to the bureaucrats, to the official and to each other. The fight began.

His style was like nothing she had even seen before, but she had seen that he liked to kick so she kept the fight in close as much as she could, where his longer legs were a disadvantage rather than an asset. Her hands were very fast and though she could not cause as much damage with her hands as with her feet, she was faster than he. She worked in extra close and tried for an elbow to the chin, which unexpectedly missed. He hit her with a spin back kick as she tried to recover and bruised her ribs causing her to curl slightly to protect herself. Why do I keep missing? Mishimiko�s mind was spinning furiously, trying to come up with an answer. These same moves hit anyone else I threw them at . She continued to take a beating, only occasionally getting in a good shot. Once when Awang worked in close himself trying for a grapple she leaned way back, ignoring the aches of ribs and hips, and gave him a ringing hook kick to the head. He was a long time recovering, but through it all she just could not hit him. Through it all the man�s students cheered him on.

Then the last blow landed. It was a clearly telegraphed roundhouse kick that she simply no longer had the strength to avoid.

The crowd was still cheering when the kensi came to again. She woke just in time to see a wu jen in an Imperial-red and gold robe stride to the center of the mat and hold his hands up for silence. When the crowd had quieted, he turned to Awang Sophir and jerked a little jade earring from his ear. Mishimiko had not noticed it before now, as it had been hidden by the man�s long hair.

�For cheating and using a Charm of Luck, Awang Sophir is cast out of these proceedings and neither he nor his followers will ever be welcome again.� The wu jen dropped the earring and ground it to dust under his heal. �Heideki Mishimiko is the winner of the Imperial Kumite! �

I�ve won? Mishimiko�s mind could not quite grasp what had happened. Another healing potion was brought to her and her mind began to clear itself of the cobwebs. I�ve won! The first woman ever to do so! Mishimiko stood and over the roaring of the crowd she could hear people beginning to shout a name. �Tetsu ko! Tetsu ko!� It was shouted over and over, becoming a chant. She was their Lady of Steel.