Tsuna arrives at her stall, setting her basket down on the countertop along with the rest that had been delivered by her helper for the day. She takes count, finding an oddity — a discrepancy. She takes a peek inside one of the baskets, the one place where the sunlight could not reach, and the darkness stares back at her.
“Good morning.”
The voice pulls her outside the basket to turn to the esteemed samurai that stood before her. While his identity eluded her, the scar on his cheek did not.
“Ah.. Good morning.” She bows. “I will finish organizing in a moment. Would you like to buy anything?”
“You seem… unsettled. Lack of sleep?”
“Ah… mm.” The Mother nods modestly.
His worries concretize with her response, but it would not be the first instance since the sun rose today.
“I am sorry for your loss.” Said the Samurai.
“M-my loss?”
“Mm.” He nods. “The storehouse went up in flames last night. My men saved much of what was inside, but the building is…” With a clenched jaw, his head shakes.
“Oh..”
“I know how hard it is to work the field” his hand lightly pats his chest, “my father was a farmer.”
“Oh.. did he grow up here?” Asked Tsuna.
“Afraid not, but the difficulties are not lost on me. Actually, the principle behind it is not that different from what I do.”
“And what is it that you do…”
“Yasu.” He nods.
“Yasu-sama.” Tsuna readily completes her query with his name. Seeing as how a conversation snowballed into fruition, she thought it productive to start her task of organizing her sales for the day. But to lower the risk of communicating disrespect, she does so sparingly.
“I am the commander-in-chief of Lord Homura’s forces. Part of my duties are to meticulously look after every man under my watch.” Yasu reaches for one of her many goods with his free hand, the other maintaining a hold on his trusted weapon — a well-decorated naginata.
“That must be difficult.” She chirpes whilst holding the basket in a one-armed embrace, arranging radishes for her customers to choose from.
“Quite” he nods, “though I would argue that sowing seeds in people is much harder than sowing them in soil.”
“Oh?” She straightens her back as she curves her intonation.
“The seeds you sow in the soil will, almost, always grow the same healthy row of crops.”
“With the right care.” She adds.
“Yes, yes.” Yasu smiles, expressing an amused huff. “However, the same lessons do not always result in the same quality of a man. Some grow ready for the harvest, some… “ he puts the radish down, “never even make it to the market.”
The Mother, while attentive, steps quicker in retrieving her next basket. She circles back around to display their harvest of sweet potatoes.
“So you could understand my… frustration… when a good man under my watch ends up as a but a bloodied head displayed in the center of town for all to see.” The Commander’s glare could pierce the back of her head.
“I… am sorry, but I do not understand why you come to me for this.”
“Your altercation with Isamu is hardly forgettable. And I find it… intriguing… that he was found dead after said altercation with you.”
Finally, their gaze met. The basket has been fully emptied, it was bound to happen. There were no more baskets for her to tend to — much to Tsuna’s dismay.
“I-I am no warrior, Yasu-sama.”
“I would have never taken you for one.” He quickly interjects, smiling. “As a wife, I take it you have shared in your husband’s grief when misfortune renders months of hard work to a waste.”
“Yes…”
“The weather has been fair lately. But the vermin…” His voice falls into a pit of darkness, a pit it dwelt comfortably. “A vermin hides in our midst, in these lands. You would agree that these pests are a peril, would you not?” Yasu begins to circle her small stall.
“I… would.” Like heat from a flame, Tsuna’s eyes follow Yasu diligently. “But again, I am hardly to blame for his passing…”
“Your neighbors would agree.” Yasu nodded, stopping by to admire her stall from an angle opposite his previous position. “A humble and soft-spoken wife to an industrious husband who tirelessly works the field; she could not possibly hurt a fly. That is what they said.”
Her embrace of the empty basket was all she had.
“But then, they said something… ‘she would do anything for her daughter’.” Yasu looks up while speaking to read her neighbor’s testimony word for word; the clouds were kind enough to help him remember them. “Would you say that it is… accurate?”
“It is just.” She substitutes it with her own term, her soft voice making a firm stance ever apparent. “Any mother would agree.”
“And I take it no mother would forgive a man for laying their hands on her daughter.” Yasu continues. “A mother might even pray for vermin.” He nods to himself. “For a… misfortune — cast a curse on the land if she had to. Such is a mother’s love, hm?”
“I—”
“I would know.” He says almost cockily. “My mother raised me alone, and she did so on a wing and a prayer herself.”
The Commander’s tongue was sharp enough to sever the stable foundation on which she stood. Her mouth lay agape, but nothing from within was brave enough to defend her from the accusations. It took but a moment for her frozen state to finally thaw, warmed by the presence of another as announced by the basket that sat on the counter top. Her irises were pulled to pierce through Yasu’s frame, prompting the Commander to shift his naginata to the other side to allow him to peek from over his own shoulder.
“Tsuna-chan.” Called the voice. “You forgot one last basket.”
More than his sudden arrival, Tsuna’s breath had been momentarily stifled by the thought of the Demon of Kumitsukawa using honorifics. Better yet, it stemmed from the thought that he seemed so uncharacteristic. And a puzzle with missing pieces tends to puzzle anyone.
“Ah— yes! I was wondering where that was… thank you…” She bowed her head.
With his curiosity piqued, Yasu could not help but fully turn toward the stranger.
“...You.”
“Pleasant morning, my lord.” Greeted Hisashi, bowing solemnly.
“Y-you should go back…” her pause could not have been better timed for a fool’s search for a name she could call him, “...Katashi might still need you.”
“I see no reason to rush” Hisashi lifts the basket, leaning it onto himself whilst his arm firmly fastens it in place for him to stock her stall. “I will arrange these for you before I leave.”
Yasu’s eyes follow the man like a wolf stalking a hare, unaware of the sharp teeth that loom over its head. “I have not seen you here before.”
“There is much to see if one never bothers to look.”
“An insult said with one’s back turned is a dull blade.”
As promptly as he could, Hisashi sets the basket down onto the floor and bows.
“My sincerest apologies, my lord. An insult is the last thing I would ever wish to visit upon you.” Hisashi’s bow brings him face to face with the basket he had just emptied. In it, he finds the reflection of his apology.
“Hm.” His gaze rivaling his naginata in sharpness.
“Please forgive him, Yasu-sama.” Tsuna joins Hisashi, and with a hand on the other’s back, she bows with him. “He is my eldest cousin. He came last night and was greatly worried for me and my family when he saw the large blaze in the storehouse. The long journey had tired him, but he was kept awake by the thought that a criminal was on the loose.”
Tsuna kept herself steady with all her might, but being unable to see the Commander only strengthened the internal tremors she fought against. Hisashi, on the other hand, could see the Commander clearly despite being bent at the waist. In fact, By observing Yasu’s feet — the firmness in which they stood and the distance of one foot from the other — he was certain of his conviction.
“A dull blade protects none, especially not the fool cowering behind it.”
Those firmly planted feet finally uprooted and away they went. Hisashi finally allows himself to take part in breathing, something that Tsuna catches on to. Hence, she slowly raises her head, followed by her trunk as soon as she sees that Yasu has gone.
“Do you think he noticed?” She asks cautiously in a volume only a fly could hear.
“I doubt it.” He replies, seeing as how his head remained between his shoulders.
His words drew out the last of her breath that she held onto so dearly.
“What did he want?”
“He was asking me about the samurai, the one that hit Seijun.”
“Isamu.” Hisashi interrupts, following her back behind the stall to collect the baskets they emptied.
“Yes, him.” Tsuna nodded. “Um…m-.. my lord…” the words themselves curled back in uncertainty, “it is no secret, to us at least, that last night was your doing. But if I would beg a request—”
“I cannot stop.” He avowed. “I will not.”
“Ah… no, my lord, that is not it. This town needs you,” she assured him, “I would be a fool not to see that. But please, do not let Katashi follow in your footsteps.”
The peculiarity of the request stole his attention away from the baskets.
“My husband is a strong man,” she continued, “but his strength is needed by his family. Last night, he came home late. He told me he lit the storehouse for you. Whether or not you asked him is… not important.” She smiled. “I know him well enough to know he would have done it either way.”
The gods must have their brows stitched so closely together, feasting their eyes upon a mortal woman who cherished the gaze of a foul demon.
“I… realize this may be a lot to ask, and I may be in no position to ask this of you. But to stop myself from telling you this would be to stop grass from growing. So please…”
The baskets were lifted from the ground, and the Demon’s gaze had been stolen back.
Without anything to hold on to, the mortal woman’s gaze fell.
“For as long as I breathe, you will all be safe.”
While Tsuna’s gaze fell, it met the ground with comfort. Her face lit up, but she bent forth to hide it.
“Thank you, my lord!” It was her turn to watch a pair of feet march forth. This time, she does so with glee.
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The length of the shadows around her grew with the passing of each hour, until such time that they covered the street in its long and thorough veil. Ever dutiful as she was, Tsuna began to close her stall, sprinkling a kind smile and a wave to the passersby that wished her a pleasant evening and onward. The evening’s veil nearly caused her to miss an oncoming gentleman. Thankfully for her, his very presence lit the way.
“My darling wife.” Greeted Katashi.
“Just a moment and I—” Her quick glance stayed much longer than expected, but how could it not? “Oh Katashi…” She chimed.
The sun that was his smile generously showered the flowers he held in his hands with a vibrant glow. And thus, he offers her his gift.
Tsuna received them, dipping her head slowly to smell the day despite it having passed already.
“They are beautiful, ‘Tashi. Thank you.”
“Thank heavens you like them. I was worried.”
“Why would you be worried?”
“I picked these at random, I was not sure they… did the trick.”
“This man—” Tsuna looped her arm around his. “If you picked these at random, then the heart chose them free of interference.” With her husband in tow, she began their walk home.
“Mm… this is a perfect…” She proclaimed. “Did… the Demon tell you I needed cheering up?”
“The Demon?” Asked Katashi.
“Mm.” She hummed in approval.
“No… I did not see him at home.”
“He was not there?”
“Mm.” He hummed. “The baskets were back, but I had not seen him all day.”
“That is odd…” Tsuna pressed her cheek against his arm in thought. “Do you think he left?”
“I do not think so. The house still feels...”
“Still feels like…?” Tsuna urged for the thought’s completion.
“Do you remember when it rained for two days last year?”
“When… you slipped?” She smirked.
“Yes.” His nostrils fumed. “Do you remember how that sounded? That hard of a downpour on the roof? It was almost like Susanoo-sama was scolding you.”
“Ah yeah.” She nodded almost instantly.
The depth of their thought nearly blinded them from the shadow that pushed off the wall to stand in the middle of the empty street. Their laughter had been silenced far too quickly as soon as their sights set ahead of them. With the road so wide and empty, there was no mistaking that this was deliberate. Tsuna sets her sights forward first, tapping Katashi’s arm to lead his attention into the same direction. His footing immediately supersedes hers, as did the arm that once hung from behind her waist that now found itself in front of her. She obeyed the wordless command of his fingers and hid her smaller frame behind his. With her husband occupied by the blockage of the path ahead, she sees fit to search for an alternative.
A samurai stood in the shadows of the alley to their right.
A samurai stood in the opposite alley to their left.
Alas, the final nail to their coffin stood behind them.
All that was left was to lower them into the ground.
The walls of their coffin grew smaller with every step the warriors took toward them. With no weapon within reach, Katashi decides that calloused hands would have to do against their blades. The veil of darkness that concealed the warriors would be cast over them instead.
“You two are coming with us.” The voice was nigh bodiless. Rather, it was as if the voice was shared by all four of them.
“My wife and I are going home.” Katashi gazed fearlessly into the darkness where his eyes should be.
“You mistake my command for a request, peasant. Get going.”
“No.”
Distracted by the confrontation up front, a hand reaches from the side to grab Tsuna by the wrist. Her yelp sends Katashi onto the samurai like a dog that gnaws on his armored forearms with calloused fingers in lieu of teeth. But alas, Katashi is pulled away by the presence of a blade unsheathed and brandished before them. Like the dog that he is, Katashi shies away from the threatening bite that would hurt more than his. It does not, however, keep him from growling back.
All eyes are on Katashi and Tsuna now, but a pressing matter has effectively called them away.
“What is that…?” Asked the samurai in the front.
“...a horse?” Answered the samurai on the left.
Its hooves beckon their attention, but more than that, it beckons for their hand to drop and embrace the grip of their swords.
“Ready.” Commands the man, locking his eyes on the rider that sat high on the horse. And yet, his brows were thoroughly furrowed.
While the horse’s approach certainly brought their guard up, it was not the approach they expected. The rider sat too high and the horse galloped too slow for an offensive charge. These peculiarities bring the men’s gazes to one another, but the man in the front holds his steady. The moonlight is scarce, but at a certain proximity, it was adequate in revealing who the rider is.
“...Yori-dono…?” He chimed, recognizing the familiar shine of his friend’s shaved head.
It perplexed him how Yori set out with them for this task, but here he was riding — and without his armor.
But there was no mistaking it, Yori is the rider.
The horse slows to a trot as it moves past them. All eyes follow its movement, eventually resting on the samurai that stands guard behind them — to the man that is supposed to be Yori.
In his right hand, the impostor holds the unsheathed blade used to tame Katashi.
In his left hand, he holds a metal ball, one that he relinquishes from his grasp.
It explodes as soon as it hits the ground, consuming them all in a cloud of dense smoke. The three men struggle to find their bearings, only to be further disadvantaged as they are simultaneously shoved into the ground. Hoodwinked by the sudden turn of events, all they are left with are the distant sounds of a horse’s escape before them.
“Is everyone alright?”
“Yes—...”
“Agh… yes…”
The strain in their voice reveals more than they intend, prompting him to turn and check on his comrades. But his gaze seems to have overshot.
And the other two would follow.
They soon set their sights on the man they thought to be Yori wielding a sword, and kneeling beside him, the man they identified to be Yori. They have the misfortune of bearing witness to the impostor’s swing that severs Yori’s head from his body. Jaws drop simultaneously, but only Yori’s head reaches the ground.
“DEMON!” Shouts one of them, prompting all blades to be set free from their sheathes at last.
The breath in which he exclaims has a familiar sting, one Hisashi is often bathed in in the ungodly hours of the night. But sticks and stones are nothing to a hardened warrior. The Demon brandishes his sword in the moonlight, granting his victims one last glance at the very weapon that shall render their heartbeats as finite.
Despite the jouncy escape as a result of Hayato’s haste, Katashi is determined to steady himself and cloak his heart with his hardened back. Head glued to the horse’s crest, the journey passes him by rather quickly. In no time at all, the fierce galloping finally comes to a stop. Opening his eyes for the first time since their flight from the fight, he sets his sights on his heart.
Tsuna grips onto his collar almost as hard as he gripped on the horse.
“Are you okay?” Katashi asks, cupping her cheek in his hand to brush her hair away.
“Mm…” Tsuna nods. Her breathing finally slowed as soon as their eyes met.
“Mama! Papa!”
Their locked gaze parts to see their little girl burst out to meet them.
Hayato’s heavy hooves beckoned her interest, and their voices were reason enough for her to rush outside and meet them. Seijun spared no quarter in making her way to them, embracing them as soon as they alighted from the steed’s back; her small frame was immediately consumed by their own embrace, one that was tightened by the thought that this could be but fiction if the ungodly intervention had not came to be. Her cheeks and her forehead are seasoned well with their affection, and she welcomed it greatly.
“What happened?” she turned to them both alternatively, “Why were you on Hayato?”
“Hayato?” Asked Katashi.
“The horse” Seijun points to him, resulting in Hayato’s response in the form of a huff. “Hi— He… named him Hayato, it is his horse.” And yet, a quick scan reveals to her that Hisashi is nowhere in sight. “...Where is he?”
With Seijun’s gaze cast so far behind them, neither Katashi nor Tsuna could resist turning back. They both caught onto the exhale that came out of each other in unison. There was both a touch of peculiarity and a comfort in knowing that they both felt the same in seeing an empty path behind them — both shoulders sunken, both brows stitched together, both jaws tightly wound. The first to turn back around would be Katashi.
“He will return, Juno. But right now, it is not safe to stay outside. Okay?”
“...H-Hayato needs water. He ran far.”
“I will take care of Hayato.” Tsuna chimes in to save them from a lengthy back and forth.
It is her kind smile that softens Seijun’s stern look enough to reach an understanding. The little girl’s nod is Katashi’s signal to lift her into his arms and march her back into their home. Tsuna can see the remnants of her daughter’s worry as she peeks from above the horizon of husband’s shoulders just before she vanishes into their home. However, she was well aware that the Demon’s return is well outside her control. Tsuna took it upon herself to manage what she could control — she loops her hand into Hayato’s rein and leads him to the back of the house. Turning a corner brings her in full view of a bucket filled to the rim with water. With a planted foot, she takes a calculated step forward.
And then another.
Soon enough, she would not be able to tell when the next step ends and when the other begins, until the rein rattled with tension. Tsuna turns to find that Hayato anchored her back into reality, a gesture that brings a smile upon her face.
“Come.” She calls, her tone soft enough to brush the mighty steed.
Together, they reach the barrel of water. Hayato walks past the kind woman and partakes of the freshwater that the wooden barrel held steady for him. Whilst he drank, Tsuna tied his rein to keep him from roaming around.
“They will be looking for you.” She whispered. “You can stay here with your master for as long as you like.”
Hayato lifts its head from the bucket, looking as if he was dripping with gratitude from the muzzle. But, he formally extends such by way of a singular huff and a scratch of its hoof on the ground.
“Thank you.“
“OHMY—” The turn on her heel was quick, as well as the step taken away from the disembodied voice that emanated from behind her. Hayato, in the way, stops her from furthering herself from his master.
“Oh— Oh my… “ She finally lets out a breath of relief, seeing as how it was not Hayato that spoke. “Please forgive me, I did not hear you.” She bows on behalf of her untoward reaction to her guest.
Tsuna took her time raising her torso back up, running her eyes across the Demon and his ghastly appearance; it was truly haunting to see that it was as if he was clothed by the shadows themselves. Had her eyes not adjusted, she would never have seen him even if she turned. And yet, even then, only the glimmer of his sharp teeth and his eyes were visible.
“Are you alright?” The Demon inquired.
“I am,” she nodded, “we are, thank you.” She thought it quite warm of him to ask with such soft words in such an unholy voice.
Hisashi returns the acknowledgement with a nod of his own before making his way to his steed. His steady breathing indicated a lack of injuries sustained in their getaway — just thirst and tiredness for his companion.
“...What is that?” She points behind him. “...Is that an arrow?”
“It is none of your concern.”
“I can help you..”
A meek step is taken forward, but a sharp look is fired into her direction that reduces that meek step into the only one she takes — his wicked growl planting the seed of doubt as to whether or not this was a good idea. And yet, Tsuna swallows that which kept her voice from freely reaching him.
“Please… Allow me to return the favor for saving us.”
“I did not save you.”
“My daughter would think otherwise..” she gestures to their home, from where the faintest hint of a man’s singing voice was emanating from. “She is in there now, getting tucked in by her father.”
Hisashi takes the moment to turn and look behind him, to the bright and warm structure lit by song and solicitude that stood amidst the dark and damp.
Hayato stands witness to the strength that the farmer’s wife mustered to yank the arrow from the warrior’s back; she resists the urge to step on Hisashi’s bareback in order to push down as she pulls up. The endeavor is not without its noise, she only hopes that neither her daughter nor her husband are awoken to the sound of flesh being ripped — just as she expected, the Demon made no sound at all. Nevertheless, success came with many drops of sweat later. Tsuna sets the arrow aside before collecting her breath.
“Alright, the next part should be much quicker.” Said Tsuna, placing both her hands around his open wound.
“You are a kinso’i?”
“I am not. But I believe I can do just as good a job.”
Hisashi is silenced with the predicament as to her qualification for tending to a wound sustained in battle. Even more bewildered was he when the farmer’s wife began to serenade him, with the winds and trees as close to musical accompaniments as can be. A glow radiates from behind him, but he could only turn his head far enough to watch Hayato come closer. The manner in which he moves, the expression on his face, resemble nothing of a trance. Rather, it felt much more natural than that — such as bees flying into flowers, or the blue of the sky. Upon the song’s conclusion, a light pinch is administered on his shoulder. And yet, the pain of an open wound is absent.
Tsuna watches as he turns to face her. Without his mask, she could fully grasp his disbelief despite his attempts to hide it. She considers it as a welcome surprise, and so, she smiles.
“...Who are you?” Hisashi cuts straight to the point, standing as he does it.
“I… I am not sure I understand your question…”
“There are no women onmyoji, and it cannot be that a simple farmer’s wife has knowledge of such magic, let alone one that is not written in any scroll, even the ones in Kyoto.” Hisashi easily observes that the pace of her heart matches that of her eyes, darting around. “I ask again, who are you?”
No matter where she looks, the walls of his intimidation prove impenetrable. Hence, she prepares herself to shoulder through the challenge of answering with a chest filled with new air.
“...I am Aikawa, Tsuna — the Last Priestess of the Aikawa Clan.” She shrugs, turning away after such a toilsome affair.
In nearly an instant, Hisashi’s expression is relaxed by the truth. “How long have you been in hiding?” Hisashi asks.
“I grew up here,” She turns back to look at him. “made friends here, made a living here, fell in love, and had a family here. So I beg of you, my lord… keep my secret as we have kept yours. No one must know that I am here. This is not only for my protection, but the world’s protection — Kotodama is not a power that man is meant to have.”
A task from a priestess is never a small favor. But a true samurai never shies away from a noble task.
“On my honor.” His nod came as stern as his word.
Tsuna’s shoulders fell, a surprise even to her that they rose to such heights without her knowing. Regardless of this, she welcomes their relaxed state. And more than that, she welcomes the honor of the Demon before her.
“Thank you. I will… leave you now. I can mend your clothes in the morning… Thank you.” Tsuna finally takes her leave, her comfort maintained even thereafter.
Once again, Hayato paws at the ground, calling his master’s attention. Thusly, Hisashi takes his steed’s rein into his hands and leads him off to slumber.
“Good job.” Hisashi whispers, petting the horse.