The Legend Of The Five Rings

The Hiruma Daimyo

This book contains material protected under international and federal copyright laws and treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is strictly prohibited. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system without permission in writing from the publisher.

-------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------

Pronounced: Toe-mo-way (Tomoe)

​
My eyes fluttered open with the dawn, and with it came a peaceful silence, my soul hearing something soothing that my ears could not. It sent shimmering rays over my beds' comforter, bestowing a golden path from my window seat to my bedroom doorway. I sat upright in my sheets, blinking towards the sun that brought the day I was never promised, yet was glad to see. I let the moment sink in, calming me from my core right out to where the nascent rays touched my skin.

I stretched my arms upwards, yawning softly as I did. I pushed the quilt and thin sheeting off of my body and got out of the bed. I silently walked over to the pane window seat and looked curiously out the window, the eastern sky filling with blended tones of rosy pinks, sandy yellows, and lavendered purples. It was a subtle way to welcome a new day.

I figured it was around 5:15 in the morning, which means that not even the housekeepers were up yet. I had enough time to get out of here before they tried to help with any easy tasks. I walked over to my kurōzetto, rummaging through my festive kimonos to get to my normal attire. When I found the uniform, I plucked it off of its hanger and walked back over to my bed. I laid the apparel on my comforter gently before stripping myself of my night clothing. The light beams of the early sun traced the scars on my back, which belonged to someone who was in the forays.

Once I had finished dressing, I strolled over to my vanity where a simple brush waited on the wooden top of the smooth table. I sat down on the small chair and ran the brush through my wavy, silver hair. My bangs glazed over my eyebrows, slightly hiding my cognac eyes. I then proceeded to put my long hair into twin tails, making them sit high on the sides of my head.

I left out some strands of my hair to lightly frame my face. I scratched the back of my neck, feeling the etched, inked marking of the blue Crab Clans' symbol. I closed my eyes, the feeling of the carving sending tingles down my spine. I opened my eyes, and stared back at my reflection in the mirror before me. The rays of light were glared off of the glass, making it hard for me to see how I looked, but I had no need for it.

I got up and dusted myself off before walking over to the door. My hand grazed over the knob, pondering if I should go out just yet or not. I take a deep breath before turning the doorknob slowly, pushing the door open with a slight squeak. I walk into the hall, the door closing automatically behind me because of its weight. I was afraid of waking anyone, especially the housekeepers. I've never liked getting their attention for anything.

I also didn't like it when they asked to do certain things for you, even though they knew that you were fine on your own. I let out a puff of air I didn't know I was holding in before walking down the stretched and narrow corridor. A few sliding doors were closed, indicating that some of the household was still, in fact, asleep. However, the ones that were open were left emptied, allowing me to assume that the person that once inhabited it for sleeping was elsewhere.

When I got to the stairs, I walked down them silently, taking them two at a time. When I reached the bottom, comforting lavender with a slight acrid undertone of tea filled my senses. I felt good and, after a deep, relaxing breath, walked over towards the kitchen doors and opened them. The distant promise of tea grew stronger, and I walked over to the stove, noticing a steaming pot of tea sitting innocently on the cooking grates.