Chapter Text
Everyone had a favourite colour, that was one of the few things Kamui could be certain of.
Pink, blue, gold, grey, black, or green, everyone had a colour, or maybe even a set of colours that they preferred amongst the plethora of options offered to them. It may change over time, as their aesthetics and sensibilities changed but everyone had a favourite colour.
Kamui had long since decided that her favourite colour was red.
Not just any red though, deep red, like the red of roses, of pomegranates, of the dresses of royalty and of the pigment they sometimes were able to spread across the lips when they were called to serve the daimyō.
That was the red Kamui liked, the red she craved to look at forever.
The red of luxury, of fine things and richness Kamui could only covet but never truly own. Could only gaze at from a distance and cherish whenever it graced her presence.
Pretty, pretty, pretty red.
The type of red that was currently spilling from the daimyōs lips as chaos erupted across the banquet hall.
The daimyō’s wife, the beautiful and young chakusai, was crying next to him, clutching onto her gold robes, and shrieking in horror, blood staining her pristine gown as she scrambled away from the coughing and gargling old man. It was not obvious whether she was crying over him or the current state of her priceless robes.
Panic erupted across the noble advisors, ministers from foreign lands pushing away their still full plates, horror in their eyes and clear in the way their hands trembled. The hired guards ran around, at least ten going to try and assist the daimyō while the other thirty running around the hall as if the perpetrator would suddenly appear if they ran enough laps of the large gold banquet hall.
And Kamui watched them all with calm eyes, a hand reaching out to grab another piece of fruit of the gold platter to her left, a single eyebrow raising in tired ire as one of the running guards knocked it over with the hilt of his katana.
The other concubines continued to shriek, and she could start to feel a headache coming on as it bounced around the caverns of her skull.
Leaning back in her seat, Kamui took a large bite out of the red apple in her hand, her attention finally turning back to the choking daimyō.
Their eyes meet across the banquet hall, the daimyō’s blood shot eyes staring into her calm ones. He tried to choke out words, but to his frantic guards they are nothing but cries for help, the true meaning is lost in the chaos of the banquet hall, the sound of frantic footsteps and horrified screams too busy filling the gold room to take any notice of what the daimyō was actually trying to say, or how calm his favourite concubine seemed to be in the face of such an atrocity.
Kamui tilted her apple towards him in a mockery of acknowledgment, a smile tugging on the side of her lips as the daimyō gurgled and finally slumped onto the table. Around them the shouts continued in volume, a loyal advisor shaking the daimyō as if to wake him from a slumber but to no use, the decrepit man already shaking on the table as the royal doctors rushed forward, murmurs and screams of horror filling the gold room.
With a sigh, she placed the apple back down onto the table in front of her, wiping her juice coated fingertips on the gold embroidered tablecloth and clearing her throat slightly.
Only then, did Kamui begin to scream.
...
Evil, she had learnt very young (too young, too soon), was a simple matter of perspective.
What was vile to one group was forgivable to another, and while the tides of time and knowledge could change morals and perspectives no one could ever escape what they once thought.
The daimyō has been poisoned! They scream from the hilltops, people gathering around the goddesses temple and praying throughout the night. The daimyō has been poisoned!
By morning, their cries had changed, and their words are a soothing balm to Kamui’s pounding headache.
The daimyō is dead! The daimyō is dead!
Kamui isn’t smart, not like the scholars she’s sometimes asked to serve. The ones that can recite religious passages and compare her to fictional figures she could not ever hope to read about or understand. Nor is she powerful, like the foreign ninja that could control the will of the elements with a flick of their wrists and a single word.
Kamui is a concubine, it is not her place to be powerful or to be smart, it is her place to pretty and pleasing for all that find their way into her bed.
Is it truly her fault that she has always wanted to be more?
Other concubines aspire to be the chakusai, the main wife of the daimyō, a life of luxury, of being able to sit and be pampered, to be guaranteed a bed for the night and all the nights after, never being in threat of being removed once you are old and no longer viable. Kamui didn’t, she saw the woman in that damning crown and saw nothing but a woman in chains, tethered to a decaying aging man for the rest of the existence of her eternal soul.
Kamui wanted more.
Did that simple feature of her make her evil? She didn’t think so.
All Kamui wanted was a better leader for Tea, a true leader that would respect their culture, instead of just consuming all their riches. She wanted the Tea that was written of in ancient texts and poetry, a Tea she could see the foundations of yet never its fullest potential.
Placing down the emerald comb in front of her, Kamui stared at her reflection in the gold rimmed mirror before her.
A concubine is meant to be pretty and pleasing.
Not smart, not powerful, not cunning, not anything truly of worth.
Automatically, Kamui swept her dark hair out of her face, fixing it into the customary courtier updo, not breaking eye contact with her reflection as her hands twisted in practiced muscle memory, sliding the heavy jewelled kanzashi into her hair to keep the style in place. It was only when a heavy-handed knock on the door startled her did, she stop her ministrations, muttering an acknowledgement as she stood, brushing off her customary block mourning robes.
“Come in.” She called out, bowing her head slightly as they entered. “Councilman Banri, good morning.”
“A good morning indeed concubine Kamui.” The older man stated, bowing back, and sitting at the low table she had prepared for his arrival. “A very good morning indeed, I must congratulate you on the effectiveness of your method.”
“It was nothing.” Kamui waved off, preparing his drink with rigid perfectionism. “I have you to thank for the supplies after all.”
“To the new golden age of Tea.” Banri cheered, raising his teacup high and downing it like many minor nobles would down a glass of sake. “And its new rulers, just as soon as the new daimyō is legitimised, there will be no worries Kamui. Tea will prosper just like you wish. Under our rule and our guidance, and the people will live by our pleasures."
Ah, yes.
The problem of that.
“I’m very sorry about this senior councilman, but I’m afraid I cannot allow that.” Kamui hummed softly, delicately placing the pot back onto the low table between them. “There will be a golden age for the Land of Tea, but you do not have a place within it.”
“What do you mean?” Councilman Banri asked, following her ministrations with confused features.
That’s the problem with powerful men, they never seemed to acknowledge any power except their own. Never thought to even consider that anyone could aspire different from their own.
“Do you trust me, councilman?”
“Of course, you have been my strongest support and will be rewarded by being the new crown jewel of the court.”
“See, that is where the problem lies councilman.” Kamui stated, tilting her head as the man stared back at her. “I do not trust you. Ambitious men like you have been nothing but a parasite on Tea’s resources, comforted by palace of a gold while the people suffer beyond its borders.”
She has seen many clever men stumble into her bed the second they were allowed, and comfortable men have lax tongues. They spoke of corruption in the government, of people starving while the court grew fat on the finest meats, of the five great nations looking down on Tea as supposedly the last stronghold of the old religion while its government committed sin every time it opened its mouth.
(Kamui is young, too young when they drag her away because daimyō found her face pleasing to the eye, but she still remembers the horror on her Okaa-sans face as the village burned around them.)
The shouts outside are full of joy, for they no longer come from the court, they come from the people beyond the palace walls, their cries filling the tense silence in Kamui’s room, as if the goddess herself wanted to illustrate her point.
The daimyō is dead! The daimyō is dead!
Tea may not be a great nation, but it is Kamui’s home, and she wishes the very best for it.
And the best for Tea is not councilman Banri, a foreign-born minor noble who spent one night in her chambers and came out with delusions of grandeur and significance.
Men always underestimated civilian women, and disgraced kunoichi for being stronger than them, truly there was no way to win. However, Kamui had been in this position long enough, trained to dance, to smile, to please, and in that Kamui had been taught how to read others. Supposedly, it would be easier to please someone when you can read them, but Kamui had found better application for it.
That’s the problem with men like Banri and the daimyō trusting her, and therefore underestimating her, they never saw the poison she slipped into their drinks.
“A very amusing joke Kamui, now give me the antidote.”
“What part of this are you not getting?” She asked, her eyebrows pinching together as she looked at him in confusion, the councilman coughing into hands lifting his head back to stare in horror at the blood splattered across his fingertips. "I believe I've made myself perfectly clear."
Shooting to his feet, Banri made a move to shout for help, only for more coughing to force the sound only come out as a croak, Kamui stepping in front of him, placing a hand on his chest to stop him running out.
"No thank you Banri." She tutted, applying pressure to his chest until he fell back, blood dripping from his mouth, using his name for the first time. "I'm afraid I cannot have you doing that."
“I loved you, you bitch.” The councilman choked, Kamui resisting the urge to coo in pity as he fell to his knees, choking on his own lungs as the poison did its magic.
“I know, most men do.” She hummed softly, running her hand through his hair as the blood began to bubble in his mouth and spill from his lips, staining the tips of her fingers as she ran her hand across his face. “That’s why this whole thing was so easy.”
The crockery rattled as his hand slumped onto the table, blood seeping into her pristine tablecloth, creating a halo of red as his eyes glazed over, staring vacantly into the distance. Scowling, Kamui openly rolled her eyes at the dramatics of it all, brushing her own bloodstained hands on the tablecloth, seeing as it was already ruined.
Now came the hard part.
Placing her index finger into Banri’s cup, leaning over his dead body to do so, Kamui placed the poison coated finger into her mouth, her other hand fisted into the tablecloth, pulling harshly, her entire set smashing to the floor the sound echoing around the room.
“Councilman Banri? Concubine Kamui?” There was a hesitant knock at the door, likely a passing guard that heard the commotion. “Is everything okay?”
Concubines were pretty, concubines were pleasing, concubines were faithful to the daimyō's every will and wish they will please and smile at every individual the daimyō points to no matter of race, gender, position or alleigance. The concubine was the last individual you'd expect to kill you.
Screaming, Kamui purposefully fell into the door backwards tumbling into hallway, choking on her own breath as a pair of arms shot out to catch her, preventing her back from colliding into the floor. Lifting a trembling finger, Kamui silently pointed into the room, allowing the blood in her mouth to choke her words, collapsing onto her knees, tears dripping down her face.
“Kamui.” The guard tried to reassure her, the female in question sobbing on her knees in the hallway. “Kamui, what happened?”
A pair of leather shoes stepped into her version, muddied with dirt, sand, and blood.
Ninja.
Since when did Tea have ninja roaming the hallways?
Never. Kamui would know, she had read every financial report on the daimyo's desk while he had threaded his hands through the many fabrics of her clothes, memorising where all the expenditures had went, and none of them involved ninja. Only guards, peasants trained from childhood, not ninja, never ninja. Tea had not had its own ninja force since the end of the first warring period.
So why were they here now?
“These people are from Sand.” The guard tried to reassure her, mistaking the dark look in her eyes as fear. “They’re here to escort their noble for the new daimyō selection. I’ve been tasked to escort them. Kamui, what happened here?”
“I-I don’t know.” She stammered pathetically, digging her nails into her palm so more tears sprung into her eyes, staring up at the guard through her eyelashes. “We- we we’re having tea and then all of a sudden he just collapsed and we both started coughing up blood. Oh Goddess, is he okay? I think he ingested more than me…"
“The councilman is dead.” A deep voice said bluntly, Kamui’s eyes shooting up to take in the appearance of the red haired Sand ninja before her. “What poison did you use? Come now, tell me, it’s very obvious this whole thing is staged.”
What?
Kamui hated ninja, they were always told to look underneath the underneath, they always thought themselves better than people like her just because they had some genetic disposition to do some magic tricks.
Her plan did not account for ninja.
“Kamui isn’t a ninja.” The guard said, jumping to her defence as she stared at the floor, trying desperately to regain her composure and her control over the situation. “She’s not some crazy or cunning kunoichi you lot get in Sand. She’s just a concubine and she’s been poisoned! Where would she even have gotten it anyway? The concubines are constantly monitored with what they buy and who they interact with.”
Damned ninja.
The Sand ninja did not look as if he was convinced, but stepped back regardless, Kamui clinging to the guards uniformed, staring at the floor as she grimaced at the taste of blood in her mouth.
“Kamui, was it?”
Blinking away the daze, she looked up, registering the sight of one of the hired kunoichi in front of her. Nodding in agreement, she openly narrowed her eyes at the neon green mist surrounding the woman’s hands, flinching back when she went to reach for her.
“Don’t be scared.” The kunoichi reassured, the horror on the concubine's face now very real as she stared at the twisting mist that clung to the woman’s muscular hands. “It’s just healing chakra, it isn’t going to hurt you.” Coughing, Kamui felt the blood drip down her chin, the ninja reaching for her throat while she was distracted. “Minor poison exposure, its corroding her throat but wasn’t ingested enough to reach her lungs. She’ll live.”
“Kamui,” The guard said, entering her line of vision once more as he looked down on her in concern. “Do you have any idea who could of done this to you and Councilman Banri?”
Staring at the floor, Kamui allowed her hair to fall into her eyes, resisting the smirk that was fighting its way onto her face.
“The poison is the same we suspected killed the daimyō.” The red haired ninja said flatly, as if it was just another fact and not something that had killed two people. “Whoever did this likely killed the daimyō as well.”
If she knew the whole set up was going to be this easy Kamui would’ve done it much sooner.
“The… the chakusai…” She made her hesitation obvious, eyes darting between her three spectator, choosing to remain on the floor while the two ninja stared down at her. “The chakusai gave me the tea, she said it was a-a gift once she knew Banri would come and see me… you don’t think that-”
She cut herself off, coughing loudly into her hands, a beautiful array of red droplets smattering like stars across her hands.
“The chakusai killed the daimyō.” The kunoichi concluded, standing up from her kneeling position and staring at her teammate. “Councilman Banri was a favourite for the position, and the chakusai rules every second there is not a daimyō in power. She may have wanted to disrupt the event and keep herself in charge of Tea.”
Well, that would’ve been a brilliant conclusion, if the chakusai wasn’t thicker than two planks of wood and more concerned with gold than any legitimate power she could wield.
Looking up, Kamui caught the eye of the red haired Sand ninja, noting how he was staring down at her almost accusingly. Kamui stared back, putting on her best horrified face.
You may suspect something, but no one will listen to you once they find the poison in the chakusai’ s quarters.
Kamui would know, she was the one that planted it there.
…
"Tea will prosper with this knew alliance with Iron." The man was speaking, but Shino could barely hear him through the blood rushing in her ears. "An alliance with Iron with best, and we will trade only with Iron and in turn they will favour and support us. The practices of this land are outdated, and the practices of the mainland are more beneficial to this modern world. Do you want them to see you as savages? No! The old religion is behind us and a new era of wonderful new oppurtunities awaits."
"May the rabbit goddess smite him where he stands." A fellow concubine muttered lowly, Kamui humming in agreement, though inside she was shaking with fury.
What?
No.
No.
This wasn’t what was meant to happen.
They were meant to be diplomatic, to better themselves for Tea.
The council was meant to be wise, yet all Kamui saw before her were foreign power-hungry liars that would suck out the life and moral purity from the very core of Tea. That had been Kamui’s plan, that was how this was meant to go, everything else had been followed to the letter and yet at the most crucial stage her luck ran out. Clenching her teeth, Kamui resisted the urge to scream as she pushed through the crowd of handmaidens and fellow concubines, glaring at the back of the official that was speaking.
This wasn’t how this was meant to go.
They were meant to see, they were meant to understand the plight of the people after the death of a tyrant. The country was meant to reform. That was the plan. That was what happened in all the tales the scholars told her so why was it not happening now?
This wasn’t right.
All these men spoke of his how they could use Tea’s resources, many of them foreign born minor nobles with hunger for some real power in their eyes, others members of the previous court that were practically salivating at the though of taking up the seat while in the same breath wailing about the loss of such a kind daimyō. They spoke of their influence in foreign lands, the ninja they could hire to protect them.
But they didn’t understand that tea wanted none of that.
These men promised prosperity but the prosperity came at the price of Tea’s religion. Letting go off their title as the last stronghold of the old ways. These people, the crowd of the ordinary folk below, the had prayed throughout the night to that old religion for Tea’s prosperity and here these men were besmirching it in front of their very eyes.
If Kamui had her way, she would ask the rabbit goddess in the moon to come down this very moment and rid her of these slobbering fools.
The parasites were still speaking beginning to argue amongst themselves and nothing of actual merit was being done.
Kamui could not let this continue, not in good conscience not after everything she had done to get this far. The months of planning, the months of commitment, the nights spent filled with prayers and preparation for what was to be done.
“Objection!” She screamed out, slipping through the guards, and standing on the edge of the balcony, catching the eye of the overseer as she ripped the black veil away from her eyes, customary for all the concubines who were still mourning the loss of their ‘loving daimyō’. “Objection to the proceedings.”
Kamui is a concubine, meant to be pretty and pleasing.
There is nothing pleasing about her in this moment, not with blood still on her tongue, and fury in her eyes. Black had never been Kamui’s colour, she was more personally inclined to red.
Kamui had done too much, planned too much, and risked her own life too much for these men to put all her efforts down the drain.
“Anyone can speak in these proceedings, no?” She asked, tugging her arm back from the grip of a guard when one tried to gently remove her from the stage. “Regardless of gender, or position anyone in the court can speak?”
“Of course, Tea prides itself on equality and diplomacy.” The overseer nodded, staring at her in confusion. “Anyone from the court is allowed to put their name forward to be considered the next power, especially now with such a hole in our integral powers.”
The worst mistake the daimyō ever made was allowing scholars into Kamui’s bed, smart men always liked other people to know how smart they were. They just never expected Kamui to actually be taking in what they said.
“Then I want to put my name forward.” She said, swallowing around the fear ravaging her throat. “I want to be considered.”
“And what does the favoured concubine have to say?” The overseer asked as she stepped onto the podium, her stomach churning as she registered just how high the palace balcony was from the crowds below.
One little push and it was all over.
Swallowing around her fear, Kamui turned to the crowd, nervously eyeing the symbols scratched into the stand that made her voice louder.
“People of Tea, this week we have faced nothing but tragedy and betrayal.” Her voice boomed across the air, amplified by the symbols in front of her, trying to keep the shock off of her face while the crowd below stared up at her, many of them glancing between themselves in confusion of who she was and why she was speaking.
Why was Kamui speaking?
She had nothing to offer these people, she may have been the one to rid them of the daimyō, but they could never know that, and she could never admit it. She did not have the qualifications of a scholar, the power of a ninja, or the wealth of a son of a noble from one of the great nations on the mainland.
But she did have something all the parasites behind her didn’t.
She loved Tea.
She has grown up on the ancient religions and customs of this island and knew far more than any of these foreign parasites ever could know or ever bother to learn.
If you want a job done properly, then you may as well do it yourself.
“We are known for our tea houses, we are known for being a beautiful land filled with rolling hills and bright colours. We are known for being small, quiet, and diminutive. These foreign powers wish to take Tea for their own gain, they wish to chip away at our traditions and our position, simply because they cannot fit our traditions, the traditions that keep our land beautiful, into their own life. Tea has provoked no one. Tea wishes to provoke no one. Yet, these foreign officials,” with this she gestured wildly towards the men behind her, the crowd below starting to shift and talk to each other, mumbles of agreement filling the air, “they seek to suck out the very soul of Tea like some form of parasite.”
“Objection!” A voice shouted behind her, turning to see an older man glaring at the overseer of the proceedings, gesturing wildly to the ninjas next to him. A minor nobleman from Sand if his facial markings and tan where anything to go off of. “Get the whore off of the stage!”
“I’m seventeen!” Kamui screamed back, turning on her heel to stare back at the man decked out in more luxuries than she could ever afford. “And I’m not a whore, I’m a concubine. On the mainland I am not even old enough to do this profession. You seek to profit off of Tea and yet you do not understand our customs.”
“Your objection is denied.” The overseer decided, nodding for Kamui to continue. “With the daimyō in eternal slumber in the arms of the goddess and the chakusai disgraced, Kamui holds the highest seat of current legitimate power with her position as the daimyō’s favoured concubine. Please continue Kamui.”
Oh.
No one had told her that.
Before her eyes, the men quietened under her stare, glancing at each other and the floor. Silenced when they realised just who they had spoken to.
Perhaps that is why they did not tell her, because if Shino did not speak up it would be presumed, she was agreeable to the proceedings, making her sway over the matter null.
They had not wanted her interfering.
But by doing that they had forced her hand.
“If these foreign men will not freely give their support, then Tea does not need them. We are the last nation to cling to old traditions and when we die these traditions will die with us.” Shouts of protest filled the air from the crowd below, at least five individuals had taken to praying. “If they do not supply food from their farms, Tea will make its own. If they do not supply metal, then Tea will take our own bounties elsewhere. If they do not supply care for all of Tea, then Tea itself shall learn medical care so we look after our own.” Kamui took in a deep breath, a few in the crowd still looked uncertain. “If they do not supply protection, then Tea will create its own ninja force. Why have we let officials from foreign lands filled with ninja tell us that we cannot do the same. The question you need to be asking these corrupt men tonight is why they leave Tea without protection, unless it is the one that they provide?” Kamui turned fully back to the officials, councilmen, advisors and daimyō prospects, the crowd yelling their agreements and accusations at them.
None of them are worthy enough.
But she was.
She had read the financial reports, she knew the weaknesses in their expenditure, she knew the culture, she knew the religious practices, she knew the history. She knew the glorious place Tea used to be and she saw the potential in what it could be. They were away from the mainland, untarnished by the constant skirmishes and tension that plagued them, they had the resources, they had the output, the only reason they were not great was because men like this used the money to only better themselves.
“I believe it’s time for to leave.” She states without room for argument, and the shock on their faces and the noise of the crowd cheering loud enough to drown out her own thoughts is almost worth the years she has spent under their control.
No one notices the plant like creature slip back into the shadows of the palace, it’s yellow eyes fixed on the woman on the podium.