Read L5r - scroll 03 - The Crane for Free Online Page A

"Tell him to step forward before he steps forward." It was an impossible task. The joke was an old one, and several of the Kakita students on the field smiled.
    "I think Kakita Moshi needs to be shown before I can allow him to represent his school on the tournament field. Can you assist me?"
    Although Hoturi seemed to weigh the request against his courtly obligations, Toshimoko could see that it was only a political maneuver.
    Shizue knelt beside her half-brother and whispered polite words of greeting.
    "Please, Lord Hoturi," she smiled. "Allow me to entertain your guests with a story while you aid your fallen cousin in his studies."
    Good girl, Toshimoko thought, smiling. No matter how arrogant or impatient, no guest could refuse a story from the emperor's own tale spinner.
    Hoturi nodded seriously and smoothly stood from the cushion. Removing his elaborate vest and headpiece, he offered them to a nearby Daidoji bodyguard for safekeeping. Taking the proffered weapon from Toshimoko's hand, he stepped from the dais and motioned for Kakita Moshi to stand. The two bowed formally to each other and settled into position.
    Warily, the youth took a solid stance. He shifted the sword in his hand to a defensive shite position and awaited Hoturi's attack.
    Toshimoko strode around the two for a moment, well aware their actions were being watched by half the samurai on the practice field. "Moshi!"
    "Hai, Sensei!"
    "You are too old to be reminded of your timing." Behind his back, Toshimoko shifted his fingers, knowing Hoturi could see them. "Ma-ai, the essence of superior timing, is critical. Your opponent will not warn you of his strike." Toshimoko's voice was deliberately rhythmic. He watched as the student absorbed each syllable. "You cannot expect the strike, for it will come when you least—" With a hidden movement, he commanded Hoturi to attack.
    The Crane Champion responded with blinding swiftness. The single motion, feebly blocked, glanced into the Kakita's belly. With bokken pressed against the student's abdomen, Hoturi stood calmly. His face twitched, suppressing a grin.
    "Who are you?" Toshimoko shouted to his student, invoking the ancient oath of the academy.
    "Kakita!" the call resounded from twenty throats, echoed by the duelists in the gathering crowd,
    Hoturi stepped back, lowering the bokken and nodding his head to the defeated Kakita Moshi. Echoing the shout, Hoturi raised his fist into the air and listened to the resonant voices of the gathered Crane samurai.
    Some said a champion's place was not beside his men, but in front of them. The whispers of courtiers proved only that they had never touched the true sword of a Kakita duelist, never known the hand of a sword brother, or fought, eaten, and lived at the side of students, masters, and ancestors.
    Remembering his years of study at their side, Doji Hoturi lifted his fist again, and again the name of Kakita rang in the crisp autumn morning. In that moment, Hoturi was only another member of the school, another brother who owed his life to his brothers' swords.
    Smiling as the cheers faded, Doji Hoturi handed the bokken to his opponent.
    "It was my honor to fight you, Lord Hoturi-sama." The young man said reverently. "No matter how I do in the tournament, on this day I have been defeated by the two finest swordsmen our clan has to offer." He turned, bowed respectfully to his sensei, and gathered the bokken.
    Hoturi chuckled.
    Toshimoko saw the stress fade from the champion's eyes.
    A low voice from the crowd caught his ear. "Of course he does well against a half-educated boy. It is too bad we cannot see how the champion of the Crane would fight against a fully trained Lion."
    Anger leapt into Hoturi's gray eyes, obscuring the pride that had filled them.
    The words had come from the Ikoma. In full battle armor, he leaned arrogantly on the length of a wooden bo staff. His brown eyes were hard and cold, his gloved hands twisted about the bo, and his lips curved into a