Honor in Dishonor

~When archivists trace back the origin of the Amethyst Champion, this entry will be most significant. It will likely remain the most contentious because of this. I repeat that I want nothing altered of my thoughts on this page. I strive to present everything as I remember and as it was. I am sure there are many others that will give their accounts of this night and my memory is not above theirs. But when people ask how the Amethyst Champion came to be, it should be remembered that the title came about not because of my prowess as a warrior, but because I could not watch someone die when I had the power to save a life.~
 
It all began with the Sumai ceremony. My own fight was inconsequential, except for perhaps how my defeat influenced my later mindset. But for me, this began with a more private meeting between Akihiro and I, again in an environment that favored myself; the castle stables. He made every effort to be kind and genuine to me and I could not help but mistrust him. I had my reasons: my history with the Crane was contentious at best, hostile at worst and he had proven himself adept at courtly matters while I... had not. I was more suspicious and leery with him than I should have been, this I admit with great shame.
 
So it was that, by their gracious invitation, I was invited to sit with them at the martial ceremony, ignorant of Amayaiko's close familial relation to Kimiko-hime, putting me in close proximity to her. The competition filled me with such dread; this was a chance for me, a bushi, to prove herself, but my abilities in unarmed combat were lacking. While I came closer to victory than expected, my failure at this relatively trivial competition brought me great shame. I had such impossibly high expectations for myself at this point in my life. While you, dear reader, shall see how it led me to greatness, know that it also brought my life such immense misery.
 
Everyone forgot my own bout once the battle between East and West began. War and Peace. Students of history will no doubt be unsurprised that War won. But those of us in attendance... we had such hopes.
 
As if the Kami sought to demonstrate the results this match played in our fates, a pair of assassinss chose that moment to strike. The woman who would become my dearest friend, Makoto-san, reacted before anyone else, moving bolding and courageously to shield Kimiko-hime with her own body. She succeeded, but only just. The arrow tore at the sacred Imperial flesh rather than pierce her heart. Had that been a mundane arrow, no one would be reading this exercise in hubris, as I would not have the fame that I do.
 
I briefly met Shoshuro Nayoko, another of my now dear friends and fellow of gaijin blood. I had quite the play of emotions as both of our blue eyes locked, but while she wanted assistance to chase one of the assassins, I instead elected to help Kimiko-hime as she struggled for life. I sent Makoto to aid Nayoko while I... I prayed. I prayed to gods not present in Rokugan, as I am positive witnesses less enamoured by my title and status will recall. And then... the chest bindings that I wore for the sumai were removed by my own hands to staunch the bleeding and prevent the poisoin from spreading furtther within Kimiko-hime. I lay my unclean mouth upon the wound, touching Imperial blood, both sacred and profane, and sucked away what poision I could.
 
This is how I earned the respect of the Imperials and Crab alike; complete and utter debasement. Bringing honor through actions that defiled the Great Hall. Kimiko-hime survived, that is what mattered to me, what still matters to me. Let others describe my ugly, pale breasts in exquisite detail. I am secure in the knowledge that when someone needed help, I did something while they simply watched and let history be a thing that happened around them.