Seijun clung onto the shirt of her father, as if relinquishing the fabric from her grasp meant instant death. It was at this time that she was extremely thankful her father was a farmer. Otherwise, he would not have come to her aid so quickly and so early in the morning.
Like his crops, Katashi planted his feet firmly into the soil. His fingers curled tightly around his kama, raised high up to easily bring it down upon the stranger should he step another foot closer. Although, it would be wrong to refer to this man as a stranger since he recognizes him greatly — Katashi would not easily forget the face of the man that saved his family, especially since he watched this face slowly be obscured by the dirt he used to bury him. The sun that barely reared its head from the horizon could not stave off the chill that ran down his spine.
Is this a yōkai? Thought Katashi. Whatever it was, he needed to be brave.
“Take a step further and it will be your insides that I harvest!” Katashi brandished his tool to raise its appeal as a weapon. “Leave my family alone! Go away! HEY! DO YOU HEAR ME?!” He raised his voice, watching the stranger struggle to stand still; his brows drew closer to one another in curiosity and concern.
Katashi’s eyes watched as the stranger’s hand rose. His chill worsened at the sight of it; living in a house for nearly half one’s life makes one accustomed to everything within it — he would recognize his cup anywhere. He swallowed, unsure of what to make of this. What was clear, however, was that his family was in danger.
“Katashi!”
If he could recognize the cup, he would certainly recognize his wife’s voice without ever having to turn his head. His eyes were glued to the being in front of them, as if doing so somehow kept him at bay. Conversely, it was Tsuna’s voice that kept her husband at bay. She approaches him with the same softness and serenity that a dew drop exhibits when it climbs down a leaf. Her hand held him at the forearm, urging him to lower his weapon.
“What are you doing?” Katashi’s gaze frantically alternated between the ominous being and his loving wife.
“Put it down, Katashi.”
“Are you crazy? He could be dangerous!”
“I do not think a cup stands a chance against a kama.” Tsuna lets go of his forearm, and instead, stands before him. “Trust me, please?”
The Father was gravely torn between two choices — to follow his instinct or his other half. While his grip remained firm on the kama, he would eventually lower his weapon; he has been faced with this choice countless times before, and choosing his other half has never led him astray. It has not then, and he believes it still would not now. The animosity leaves his being through an exhale. With the hostilities ended, the family found themselves dining with their savior for breakfast. Among them, only Tsuna really reveled in the spirit of a peaceful breakfast; the other two stole glances either behind locks of hair or as they took a bite of their meal. Seijun’s thoughts dwelled on the idea that he seems much less scarier in the sunlight, and after a wash. Katashi noticed how the man was now sitting himself properly, able to even hold his utensils with a level of etiquette that should be beyond a monster.
“How is it?” Tsuna asked, extending her question across the table to their savior.
His only reply was a satisfied nod.
“Someone as yourself may consider this meal a token of gratitude already, but I would like to properly say thank you. Could you share your name with us?”
“...”
“Please. I fear to dishonor you by thanking you as the Demon of Kumitsukawa.”
Hisashi himself stopped eating as soon as his moniker was laid out on the table. While it was too far out of the child’s reach, he watched the Father realize who it was that sat with them for breakfast. In an instant, Katashi removed himself from the table to gesture his respect and apology by kneeling and bowing on the ground itself.
“I— I did not know— P-please! Forgive me, vengeful spirit! Spare us, my lord! Spare them! It was I that raised the weapon against you!”
“I am not here for you.” Hisashi finally spoke, inadvertently granting Katashi his freedom to return to his seat.
“We are honored to have been saved by you, even more so that you sit with us.” Tsuna said. “Perhaps we could return the favor. Is there anything you need of us?”
“Information.” Said Hisashi. “How long have they been here?”
“Almost a week now.” Katashi interjected, hoping to compensate for his shortcomings with the bit of information he gathered from his friends in the town. “Are you here for them? Are you here to free us?”
Hisashi, once again, only nodded as a response.
“So the legends are true, you only punish the cruel samurai and the cruel lords.” Added Katashi.
“What you believe, and what you call me, is none of my concern.” Hisashi expressed sternly. “What have they been up to?”
“Other than pester us, we have no clue. They came all of a sudden, and the headman was foolish enough to let them in and let them stay.” Answered Katashi.
“The headman had no choice.” Tsuna chimed. “He had no way to resist them, you know that.” She reached over the table, placing her hand inside hers to soothe the volatility of his sentiments. “But my husband is right, they have been a nuisance to us, but nothing greater.”
“But there has to be.” Katashi added. “They would not just come back for no apparent reason. They have to be planning something. I can take a guess that Lord Homura is scouting for more warriors.”
Throughout their back and forth, Hisashi notices from the corner of his eye how the child’s head alternates between facing her mother and her father. All while slowly feeding herself more food from her bowl.
“I am telling you that is what it is.” Insisted Katashi. “He has not returned to Kumitsukawa in years. Why else would he come back now?”
“Maybe he has won? ”Answered Tsuna.
“If he did, then he should be here already. He should be in Kumitsukawa, yet we have not heard a word from the village. It is as if the village vanished!”
“Kumitsukawa is gone.” The Demon cuts through the bickering like an axe through wood, the swiftness of which brought the forest to a silence to properly hear the impact of the tree as it fell.
Katashi, struck with grief, bit his tongue deliberately. He holds tighter onto Tsuna’s hand and extends the other hand to brush his daughter’s hair; she was young, but even she understood that an entire village had been wiped from the land. And the fact that the Demon was here only told him that there were enough bodies in the village to have earned his wrath. Perhaps their continued living meant that the town was safe from meeting the same fate, however, knowing that they were capable of such a horror only exacerbated the need to expel them.
“I… We are truly sorry, my lord...” Katashi spoke softly. “P-please, you are welcome to stay here. It is a small house, but you are safe here.”
“I cannot stay here.” Hisashi refused, knowing he would become the flame that attracts all manner of beasts to their humble home.
“No one knows you are here.” Seijun chipped in, much to their surprise. Even more surprising was that the little girl blanketed her hand over Hisashi’s. “Everyone thinks you are dead, and our home is the farthest in the town.” She looked up at him.
“It would be an honor to have you.” Tsuna added.
Their sentiments were all taken in with a deep breath, bringing them straight to his chest for consideration. But it would not take long, deep down he knew they were right. The strategic advantage in making this home his hideout was numerous.
“So be it.” Said Hisashi, garnering a sense of satisfaction from them.
“Please, help yourself with what we have. We have food, a pump for water in the back, We can… find a place for you to sleep.” Tsuna briefly looked around, wondering where he would sleep in their small home.
“I have a horse.” Said Hisashi.
“That is fine…” She went into thought briefly. “We do not have stables, but we can find a place for her.”
“Him.” He corrected her.
“Yes, my apologies, my lord. We can accommodate the two of you.” She nodded confidently.
“Great, then it is settled.” Katashi rose from his seat. “I would like to tour you around my home, but my wife and I must get to the market. We have to catch their morning rush.”
“Papa?” Seijun called, confused. “Am I not coming?”
“Mm-mm.” His tone changed to fit a conversation with his daughter. Katashi knelt down and held her by the shoulders. “I’ll be going as Mama’s helper today. I want you to stay here and help around the house, okay? Keep our guest company too, he will need you.” He smiled, brushing her hair to the side. It was not lost on him that her bruise vanished — they are lucky to have Tsuna.
The haste they made proves productive as Tsuna met her beloved outside their home, already carrying their baskets for today’s sales. Together, they would begin their stroll into town.
“Something wrong?” Asked Tsuna. “If the legends are true, he really does mean us no harm. Seijun is safe with him.”
“No no, I know she is. I just…”
“What?”
“I expected him to look… different. Maybe older.” Katashi shrugged.
“Oh—” Tsuna loosened her shoulders, as she did her expression, melting into a smile. “How old is older?”
“Do you remember Toraki-san?”
“That old?” She chuckled, nudging Katashi’s arm playfully.
Eventually, Hisashi could no longer hear the sound of their footsteps. Thusly, he takes his bowl from the table and continues to finish his meal. It would have been an otherwise smooth affair, had it not been for the sharp gaze that threatened to pierce the side of his head. He turns to face the little girl that looked up at him, feeding her curiosity more than she fed her stomach. Normally, his attention would drive away others. And yet here she was, locking eyes with the vengeful demon said to eat the flesh of the tyrannous for breakfast.
“Have they not taught you that staring is rude?” Hisashi spoke after swallowing his recent bite.
“...I am sorry.” Seijun quickly dropped her gaze, quickly finishing the rest of her food. The little girl rose from her seat and took her plates outside.
Finally at peace, Hisashi ate. With the food and the plates cleared from the table, he would lay out the pieces of information in his mind in exchange. Like Somukawa, Tachikawa’s resources were running out fast; its better longevity was only possible because this was a town in comparison to a small community. There were more samurai here, which meant that an overnight uprising was no longer an option; the presence of stronger forces also necessitates a more strategic plan. Homura’s high ranking samurai are said to be present, but there is no sign of the daimyo himself. His whereabouts, and his plans, must be uncovered — someone within his army should know something. Weakening morale and loyalty through fear might be a slow plan, but an effective one at that. And it is his only plan for the moment. Seeing as how a natural conclusion has been reached, Hisashi rises from his seat carrying his own bowl to be washed by the pump, where he assumes the little girl went to. Right on his assumption, he finds her ever as studious and industrious as his parents were. He stops behind her, his lack of interaction more so a result of contemplation than anything else. There was an impending guilt to giving his bowl to her, which is why he decides to find his own seat and help in her chores instead.
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Much to her surprise, the man had hoarded all of the bowls and utensils to wash. Seijun was once again free to dwell in her curiosity.
“Ask.” Said Hisashi.
“...What?”
“You have something you want to ask, so ask.”
“... I watched you die… how are you here…?”
“What did your mother call me?”
“A demon.”
Hisashi nodded. “My name is not without merit.”
“But you look like me.”
Hisashi stopped to look at her, gazing deep within and past the shallow interpretation of her remark; children and their purity gave them a way with words.
“Yes.” He answered, returning to washing the rest.
Seijun paused, seemingly stunned and confused by this response of his. She was told to ask him, and yet ended with more questions than answers.
“Your mother told me you had food for my horse.”
“Yes.”
“Come, we will feed him.”
Seijun had more curiosity than obedience in her young heart as she followed the Demon deep into the woods. Doubt momentarily turned her head to steal a glimpse of Tachikawa from behind the trees, but the sound of footsteps growing ever fainter would call her back to his side with a jog. She was careful, however, not to drop the vegetables she carried in her wicker backpack. She could not help but feel a sense of envy that he could carry the bucket of water with more ease. Not long after, their trek through the woods leads them deep enough to find Hayato patiently awaiting his master’s return. Seijun looked at him, just as he looked back after having seen a new face accompanying Hisashi. She watches him approach, laying his hands gently on the horse’s cheek and caressing him; she noted how its ears rose as soon as Hisashi came into view. With the bucket placed close, the horse displays no such hesitation in taking a hearty drink to free himself from thirst. In its steady state, she runs her gaze over its black hair coat, matching his owner in his attire. The saddle seemed worn and lackluster, unlike the horses the samurai in the town had. Hanging by the saddle were bags of what she could only make out to be food. A closer look leads her to believe that he was also in possession of a few metal cookware.
How does he cook if he has no hearth? She wondered.
Hisashi, finding the little one frozen in place, holds his hand out to her. The open palm called to her, compelling her feet to move one at a time in spite of her caution slowing them down. After what seemed like eternity, she was within arm’s reach; Seijun extended her own to give him the basket.
He frees her of the basket, but takes her hand into his open palm and slowly brings her closer to Hayato. She lightly tugs her hand back, just enough to communicate the spike of fear in her.
“He prefers the vegetables over your hand.” He assures her.
With the second attempt under way, Seijun holds her breath until her skin comes into contact with the horse’s poll. It felt as if her heart had stopped briefly, but with a few seconds passed, it was more so that their hearts beat in unison. This brought her both comfort and confidence, enough for her to stroke the steed gently.
“Feed him.” Hisashi offers her a vegetable from the basket.
Capitalizing on her newfound confidence, Seijun takes him up on his challenge and gently places her hand beneath the horse’s mouth. Her smile stretched wide when she felt the vegetable leave her hand. Its vanishing was successfully indicated by the sound of being ground up by the teeth. She turns to him, her accomplishment acknowledged by a simple nod.
“One at a time.” He reminds her, seeing as how she herself had taken a new vegetable from the basket to feed the horse.
“Does he have a name?” She asks, petting the horse softly; the sound of her voice alone seems to have soothed the horse’s breathing.
“Hayato.” He replies after having been stalled by a few seconds of hesitation.
“Hayato.” She repeats, directing her gaze into the horse’s eyes after he seemingly acknowledged the calling of his name. “Hello Hayato.” She greets him properly. “My name is Seijun. Oh…—” She turns to look at him. “I have not properly introduced myself.”
The little girl rose to her feet, dusting herself off and wiping her hand on her lap. With her arms and legs tucked properly, she bends at the waist and offers the stranger a bow. “I am Seijun.”
The man bore witness to her parents’ teachings; a proper bow, proper etiquette, and the makings of a proper lady at such a young age. He expected no less from a household of farmers. “Hisashi.” He responds after offering her his own bow to honor her.
“Hisashi-san…” She repeats, just as she did the horse’s name. “Hisashi-san and Hayato-san.” A smile brightens her face.
“My name shall be a secret to you.” He says.
“A secret? Why?”
“Because it is.”
“Well… if it is a secret, then why tell me?”
Hisashi stares blankly at her as a response.
“...I can keep a secret.” She assures him.
“Good.”
“My father is Katashi, and my mother is Tsuna.” She says, almost blurting it out. “I just— they never had a chance to properly introduce themselves.”
Perhaps the little one had forgotten, but Hisashi was well aware of their names already. Nevertheless, she did him a kindness; he simply nodded to acknowledge her efforts in acquainting him with her parents. Solemn moments were often honored with silence, the world around them had fallen so quiet that the slightest nose could be heard. And unfortunately, Hisashi hears it.
“Why do they call you a demon?”
“Shh.”
His sudden action of raising his finger nails her lips shut instantly. While she heard the silence swept away by the wind brushing through the grass and leaves, he heard it chased away by footsteps. Hisashi quickly carries the basket and hides it behind the tree, just as he did the bucket of water. Hayato follows, returning to his eating.
“Stay with the horse, and do not make a sound.” He instructs the little girl, retrieving his bow, his quiver, and his sword from behind Hayato.
Although a query was ready, fear effectively quells her urge to ask. Seeing him take to his weapons stunned her with awe, but also with a reminder of what happened just yesterday. Seijun nods obediently, watching her new friend run off deeper into the forest.
Imitating the abundant timber that populated the woods, two samurai stood tall in-between their wagon and whoever it was that joined the trees in surrounding them. The blades of their weapons glisten, reflecting the brightness of their souls’ might. While one holds his yari nearer to the chest with hope of inviting his enemies for an intimate encounter, the other raises his sword overhead to cast its gleam further and keep the enemies at bay. Like moths to a flame, the bandits finally come pouring out of their hiding places with the strategy of drowning the opposition with their advantage in numbers. The decorated warriors meet the swarm, clashing against them in a violent dance with death providing the tune. The polearm swings wide, cutting the momentum of their charge and the stomach of one poor bastard who thought himself invincible. Swift in the recovery, the polearm finds its next victim by sinking its blade deep into their chest followed by a twisted pull to eliminate them permanently. The bandits follow its trajectory, allowing several hands to intercept the nuisance of a weapon that quelled them so quickly. These hands soon find themselves without the wrists that bound them as they were severed by a quick cut of the sword. Much focus on the polearm leads to a blind spot that the bandits quickly capitalized on, tackling the one samurai to the ground. Try as he did, his sword is swatted away. With his ally occupied by his own struggle, he is left to defend himself as they continuously pile onto him.
BANG!
While the loudness of it stunned them, fear of the unknown compelled them to scurry away. The samurai rises back onto his feet with a smoking arquebus in hand in lieu of a shimmering blade. He tosses the firearm toward them as a distraction, quickly diving into the wagon to pry a box open. Wielding a number of them in hand, he sends them to the afterlife with but a pull of the triggers. Enlightened by their new advantage, the other samurai uses his polearm to collect as much of their weapons in a stalemate as possible to line them up either for a clear and fatal shot or for their throats to be slit open. The bandits were not geniuses of war, but it did not require much wisdom to know when they have taken a fight they cannot win. Cutting their losses, the bandits saw fit to run back from whence they came, leaving with nothing but regrets. The Demon peers down from the tree he had used as a vantage point, bearing witness to the skirmish that had found its conclusion. Below him, he watches as two samurai approach their wagon, now free to tend to the broken wheel. Aboard the wagon were a number of boxes, the content of which had been revealed to him by fate; a higher concentration of these in Tachikawa suggests that those in the town might be more proficient with this weapon, much like these warriors in his sight. His observant eye, however, brings him to wonder as to why the decision was made to fire multiple of these in succession instead of repeatedly pulling the trigger of just one. Perched and steady, he nocks an arrow on his bowstring, passively yet readily seating his bow on his lap.
“Are you alright?”
“Bruised, but alright.”
The two struggled to catch their breath, but would not stop from trying.
“I did what I had to…”
“I know, if you had not used these, they would have killed us.” He takes his ally by the shoulder. “I will tell them of your ingenuity here.”
“How many more of these do we need to get?” He returns the firearms he had used into the box, making sure that they remain on top of the others.
“They did not say, only that we have to make a few more trips. Everything needs to be moved to Tachikawa within the next few days.”
“Do you think we will get to use them?”
“We just did, you more than I.”
“I mean do you think we will be trained too?”
“Hmmm… How far can you see clearly?”
“Not that far…”
“Well I can see far. So… I guess that answers your question.” Once more, he reaches over to him and pats his back. “You seem proficient at close-range, perhaps there is a chance.”
He nods, reveling in this reassurance he was given.“ Sigh… Few more trips.” He repeats. “Do you think Lord Homura rides back with us on the last trip?”
“You expect Lord Homura to ride back with us? On this?” He gestures to the tilted wagon.
“He could have his own horse, of course. But it will be the last trip, the camp will be empty by then.”
“It would be unwise to speak on his behalf, especially when I know no more than you do.”
“...Could you tell me why the others referred to him as The Blue Moon?”
“Shh!”
“What…?”
“I heard something.”
Hisashi, having been so absorbed in the situation, could not pinpoint the source of the noise they heard. However, the fact that their gaze was directed toward the direction from whence he had come from spoke for itself. He quickly draws his bow, holding for a steadier target; both men acquire a used firearm, looking deep into the barrel and pouring some sort of powder inside before stuffing it further with what looks to be a stick. At this angle, he could only kill one. The other would need to be fought directly. Immense strength sharpened by discipline allows him to hold the bow with the bowstring pulled for an excruciatingly long period of time. His trained eye never leaves the target closest to him, giving him a clear view of his neck from where he sat perched. Fortunately for them, they thought to disregard the noise as but a wild creature passing through. As such, they relieve themselves of their firearms. All tension in the area was drained, even the one in his bowstring; their time will come soon enough. For now, Hisashi decides to return to Seijun. There he finds her, exactly where he left her, only now she was seated. They looked deeply into one another, moving in unison; it almost felt like Seijun sat before still waters and played with her reflection.
“I thought I told you not to make a sound.” Says Hisashi.
“Huh…?” She says in confusion.
“The samurai by the road almost thought to hunt you down for that noise you made. I told you not to make a sound.”
“...But I did not make a sound, I was quiet and so was Hayato.”
Hisashi stood tall and looked deeply into her eyes in search of the truth. More importantly, he was searching for a lie; the latter manifested itself much more conspicuously than the former. What led him to believe her was that she looked deeply back into his eyes, never even displaying something as small as a shiver.
Could it be…? He thought.
Finally, he breaks from his minor investigation, and returns his weapons onto Hayato’s back. Once secure, he collects the basket and the bucket next.
“Come, it is time to go.”
Confused as she was, Seijun saw no point in staying here; she wondered if she could disregard his reprimand, or be worried about it. With all their things stowed away on the horse, Hisashi lifts the little girl onto Hayato, finding his own seat behind her. Together, he rides them back to the town, escaping the detection of the samurai forces by taking the same route they used to get here. The steady pace of Hayato jogged Hisashi’s thoughts. A deep dive into today’s events brought the next mysteries into light, those that needed immediate attention.
Why fire only one shot?
How lethal are these new weapons?
Not all were trained in its use, but which ones were?
Why was Homura called The Blue Moon?
His pondering had significantly reduced their travel time, at least it did in thought. The farmstead soon came into view, and with it, the advantages they promised — the practicality, the inherent alibi, and the strategic location it has as it lies somewhat outside of the majority of the town’s residences.
The Demon has work to do.