Much like how the sun sat beyond the horizon of the known world, hidden beyond the purview of survival was life. Back in the homely vicinity of Somukawa, hands were hard at work, feet marched from here to there, and backs bent to the best of their ability. Having successfully overthrown their oppressors, the people could now rebuild in peace. At this point in time, axes, hammers, and adzes had become an extension of their hands. They cut, pounded, and scraped away at the wood with mastery — Somukawa rose with them with each passing day. It was inevitable that their ears had grown accustomed to it, and not long after, a melody was found. This melody coalesced into a symphony, and the people harvested with it, fished with it, sewed with it, cooked with it, built with it. Such a feat could not be achieved without a conductor, which is why the men all turned their eyes and ears to the Old Baker — Machida Hiroshi. The sweat of his brow was quelled by a piece of cloth, clearing his vision to feast on the sight of a newly constructed koshiki. And behind the wooden vat stood the newly renovated brewery.
“On three, lift. Understood?!”
“Yes!” Replied the score of men in chorus, surrounding the vat.
“One! Two! Three!”
Their fingers curled, their knees straightened, and their backs bared the weight of the vat in unison. Hoisted up, the men made their way through the doors of the brewery. Hiroshi followed closely, carefully watching for its alignment.
“Nahoko, grip the bottom firmly.” Hiroshi taps his shoulder.
“Usaku, watch your step.” He points to the man’s foot.
“Alright… stop!” Quickly, he makes his way behind the stove to grant himself a more advantageous point of view. “One, two, three!”
Their chests grew large with air, and their faces red with the blood needed to sustain the effort of hoisting the vat even higher.
“Slowly… slowly… down!” Called Hiroshi, continuing to hold his hand out.
Like a snowflake, it sits onto the stove. The men all back away to marvel at a successful endeavor just as the people marvel at them; an orchestra is never without its audience, and they were applauded for their symphony. Smiles reach from the tallest mountains to the bluest of seas, and the cheers they belt out could overcome either with ease. While the audience applauded the men, the men applauded Hiroshi. Humbled by this display, the Old Baker bows to them in gratitude. And they did the same.
GONG! Hiroshi struck the bell of Somukawa to deliver the announcement throughout the entirety of Somukawa — noon has come. A morning of hard work must be rewarded with a bounty worthy of a lord, especially if they were to equate their efforts of rebuilding the settlement. Proudly, he watched the men head off to claim their rewards, though it already seemed as if a well accomplished task was reward enough. He certainly felt this way. Though he was thankful for the light Amaterasu had brought to the settlement, and her enthusiasm in watching them, he certainly wished that they be spared the overwhelming intensity of her gaze. He clears his forehead of sweat yet again with a brush of his sleeve, allowing him to see an approaching messenger.
“Good afternoon.” Greeted Riku, bowing accordingly. “I am looking for a man named Hi… Hiroshi…? The… Demon of Kumitsukawa… sent me here.”
While the messenger’s statement brought him comfort in knowing that developments came swift, he felt a sense of apprehension in knowing why they came swift. The latter overshadows any trace that the former had on his visage.
Riku followed Hiroshi closely as they made their way through the settlement. From what he could see, a new day has dawned upon Somukawa. It certainly differed from when he was last here, and the answer as to why is evident by way of the three severed heads displayed by the entrance of the settlement. Because of him, Somukawa thrived like grass — greener after an episode of rain, followed by a spread of sunshine the day after. The thought was inescapable now, that he came ever so close to the storm that was capable of wiping out an entire army of samurai and will be living to tell the tale.
“Chiyo.” Hiroshi called her just as she was about to return to her establishment.
“Ohh! Hiroshi, I have not seen you all morning.”
“Ah, I have been keeping busy.”
The brightness of her smile in recognition of this deed could illuminate a home with ease.
“My apologies, but we have matters to discuss.”
“Oh?” Chiyo’s gaze breaks past the Old Baker. “Oh.”
Though being relatively new to this, she understood her place in the structure of the new Somukawa after having been acquainted with Hiroshi and his spearheading of the reconstruction of their lives. She was more than just a resident here now, and she must do what she can with her newfound capacity to aid in the survival of her home. In no time, she slides the door to her quarters to grant them entrance; Chiyo figures that the agenda at hand was far too sensitive for the living room walls to handle. With much gratitude to their host, the two bow before entering.
“I will get you some water.” Said Chiyo, closing the door before leaving.
Hiroshi takes his seat first, offering the empty space beside him to the messenger; the closer the distance the better chance they have of confidentiality.
“You have traveled far.” Hiroshi nodded as a sign of his commendation. “What is your name?”
“Amari Riku.”
“Riku, the message you bring with you is of great importance, and you have my gratitude for coming to me as instructed. Please, feel free to stay in the settlement for as long as you wish. It is the least we can do to repay you for your service.” Hiroshi bows deeply. “I do, however, hope you are still able to… go on… with the things you have… seen.”
“Hiroshi-san, I am able to go on because of the things I have seen.” Riku held his own chest.
“You are not… afraid… of him?”
“I was… am…—” he struggles, “...Only a creature from the darkest corner of hell could do what he did…” Riku drifts into a trance, the smell of blood still fresh in his mind. He recovers shortly. ”But these legs have taken me far, and one does not get far in this world without seeing its horrors.”
“I suppose…”
“I just… never expected to run into… him. He was here too, right?” The Messenger asks. “ Those heads,” he pointed to the direction of the settlement’s main entrance, where they sat on spikes, “ they are his mark.”
“He has. And they are.” Hiroshi is reminded of the visceral memory of the night of Somukawa’s liberation. The gods know that more than three were taken, but only three were displayed out of mercy.
“Hiroshi-san, have you ever been lost at night? Out there in the forest?”
Hiroshi nods, “Mm.” taken back to his earlier days as a baker having to run errands or traveling back home after a trip even in the dead of night.
“I will never forget my first time… The shadows hid everything — took everything — and it stops you from running, but you knew that doing that meant that death could catch up to you so easily.” Riku swallowed. “Every sound I heard froze my heart for a second. Every crunch, every rustle, it meant death was drawing near, but I could not see him.”
The Baker listening, found himself situated in his own recollection of his account as he stared off into the distance.
“I do not know which scared me more,” Riku continued, “Not seeing death, or seeing him.”
Hiroshi turned to Riku.
“The leaves parted just enough to let moonlight through, and there it stood, waiting for me on all fours covered in fur. That was the last time I saw death… until last night.”
Their eyes met, and in them sat the reflection of death.
“Death did not come to take me last night.” Riku continues, “He saved me.”
“Saved you?”
Riku nods in response.
There was something Hiroshi noticed with him. Not the word which he used, but more so in how he said it. It resonated so well with him that it triggered a sense of familiarity; it should, since he shared the same sentiments just days ago. Dwelling on it, he could only smile. And thusly, the two would share in this happiness.
Shook! The door slides open once again, with Chiyo entering to provide the Messenger with a cup of water and a plate of onigiri as an added token of gratitude. She takes her seat opposite him after closing the door to seal their room.
“Let us begin.” Said Hiroshi.
Riku took the message entrusted to him and gave it to the rightful receiver, handling it as if he was passing to Hiroshi a teardrop. While they read it, he thought to quench his thirst with the cup of water that he empties in mere seconds. Thanking the hostess quietly, he partakes of the rice balls she has given him.
“Lord Homura is coming?” Asked Chiyo.
“It would seem so.” Answered Hiroshi.
“...What do we do?”
The Baker supposes that although the message brought forth a lot of questions, it was this one that mattered the most. He regrets that despite it being the most pressing matter of concern, he could not conjure a response. Standing outside, Hiroshi was astounded to see that noon had almost passed them by — long conversations tend to hasten the passing of the hour. He watches Riku leave to find lodging in the settlement, believing the Messenger would have more luck in his search than he does in looking for an answer. In her old age, Chiyo knew better than to rush things. The weight of the problem kept Hiroshi’s words from making it to the surface, and these were shoes that were all too familiar.
“Have you seen Kaito?” Chiyo asks.
“What…?” Hiroshi pulls his gaze away from the curious Messenger who was seemingly approached by a woman.
“Have you seen Kaito yet?”
“No…”
“Find him.” She gently pats his arm. “He should be by the shore.”
“A little late for a trip to the shore, is it not?” Hiroshi took the dimming sky into account.
“I am no wise sage, Hiroshi. I am just old. But I know one thing: taking a walk has done me more good than standing around ever has.” As if to prove her point, Chiyo herself began to walk back to her establishment.
Left to his own devices, Hiroshi decides to arm himself with his yari to clear his path and a lantern to light it. Onto the dirt path he goes, treading steadily yet carefully to find himself a fisherman who could catch themselves an answer to his dilemma. The length of this walk to the destination was considerable, and even with the lantern so close to him, he was still shrouded in the dark. As a matter of fact, it was as if the shadows were reaching for his toes. The Baker makes his way to the shore, being served with a slice of fresh air for the first time in a long while — a connoisseur of food knew better than to take a slice for granted. Whilst he savored the treat, a familiar voice resonated through the crashing waves.
“Oi! Hiroshi!”
The lantern made it easier for Kaito to spot him. Hence, even at a distance, he waves; it beckons Hiroshi to approach the Fisherman.
“Kaito.” He greets. “Bountiful catch?” Hiroshi casts his gaze beyond him to the score of men taking their own haul of their respective boats.
“I can barely carry the damn thing.” Kaito smiles despite struggling to lift the basket onto his back.
“Do you need any help?” Hiroshi is briefly reminded of the shoulder injury he sustained during the uprising.
“No no, please. If I keep getting help for this, I would never be able to carry another basket on my own. What brings you out here? Want to get out of baking and into fishing instead?” His brows shot up once.
“You have been working hard.” Hiroshi acknowledges this tenacity with a smile, but his worries soften the glee it held inside.
“I have.” Kaito nods. “Being free really helps you get up in the morning. What about you? What have you been up to?”
“Repairs.” The Baker throws his thumb behind him. “The brewery is just about ready to make wine again.”
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“The brewery?! Well what are we waiting for?” Kaito found a pip in his step, advancing past Hiroshi.
“You know that it will take time for the wine to be made, yes? We just finished rebuilding it this afternoon.”
“And…?” Kaito stopped, turning on his heel.
“I… need to ask you something.”
Kaito was prompted with a request, and to consider it, he must first surrender himself to a moment of silence. His hesitation was not so much a product of reluctance, but more so of the worry that he may not be able to deliver what was needed of him. Regardless, the silence that was within his fingertips was hooked away by the gills when others began to gather in a crowd. His look to yonder made Hiroshi turn on his heel, and together, their curiosities ringed them in.
“You cannot be serious!”
“Oh I am.”
“Vile. You are vile, Koji. What man steals another man’s catch?!”
“It is not stealing if it is my catch, Minoru.”
Through the crowd emerged Hiroshi and Kaito, feasting their eyes on the two fishermen that stood against one another with an enormous tuna setting them apart. Though it laid on the ground, Hiroshi could not possibly consider it to be resting in peace.
“Neither of us have caught anything this big, and you of all people would suggest a claim on such a bounty? For shame, Minoru.”
“I claim it because I caught it! It is mine!”
“You could not catch a fish even if it jumped into your boat!” Koji sets his hands onto his waist. “It cannot be helped, Minoru. You are just a bad fisherman. You should have stayed a farmer like your father, you already have the land.”
“You are wrong!”
“I am not alone in this.” Koji casts his finger outward. “Ask any man here, I dare you.”
Minoru follows the finger, casting his gaze outward as he would his equipment. But rather than help, he finds himself surrounded by sharks. He felt his legs shiver, it was as if he was back at sea, alone on his boat. And with the waves’ constant rocking, his stomach begins to churn; the shivering climbs up to his hands.
“See? This catch is mine.”
“But I—”
“Might I interject?” The sharks turn their heads to the Baker. He may have been a long way from his bakery, but his work here earned him a chance to swim among them without immediately getting consumed.
“Hiroshi-san.” Greeted Koji. He would be the first to bow, followed by everyone else in the crowd. “I am sorry that you have to see this.”
“A storm rains on all roofs, Minoru-san.” He bowed to him. “I can provide help in resolving this.”
“Aha” a breath of amusement left him, “I think it has been resolved already.”
All eyes continue to train themselves onto the Baker who approaches the tuna. His crouch proves fruitful, coming upon the wound of the fish that placed a finite number on its breath.
“Harpoon?” Asked Hiroshi.
“Yes.” Both men agreed in unison.
“Might I see them?”
At his request, both men fetch their harpoons for Hiroshi’s perusal. One at a time, he inserts them through the wound. His gaze shroudes over its body like its natural slime coat, thoroughly examining the circumference and fit of both the wound and the tools that caused it. Thereafter, he uses one of the harpoons to push himself back up, and thusly, he turns to face the two fishermen.
“I have made my decision.”
The crowd subtly inches closer to the Baker who raises both harpoons, one in each hand.
“Neither of you will be given sole ownership of this catch.” He pushes the harpoons back to their owners, who were insurmountably stunned.
And so on their behalf, the crowd is sent into an uproar mounted on confusion.
“Instead” he continued, “this will be given to Chiyo-san and her restaurant, so that she can prepare it and feed the whole village equally.”
“That is not fair!” Decried Koji, firmly planting one of his feet in front of the other.
“Hiroshi-san, p-please reconsider!” Minoru held his own collar tightly.
“Unfortunately, I cannot.” Hiroshi shook his head. “Neither of you can prove beyond doubt that the fish is your own.” He briefly shakes the harpoons in hand. “Both of these fit the hole in the fish well. And since no one here can stand witness to you catching it…” The blankness of everyone’s expression punctuated his statement. “It would simply not be fair to grant either of you sole ownership.”
“W-wait, Hiroshi—” Kaito finally casts himself into the ring of sharks. “If you are wrong about this, then Minoru has nothing. This was his only catch today.”
“Are you sure it is his?” The Baker asks.
“N-...no…” His hesitation only widened the veil of doubt.
Hiroshi’s nostrils are warmed by the air on their way out. “Then it would not be right to give him this catch, even if it is his only catch.”
The familiar sound of knees striking the ground calls their attention to Minoru. He stands lower than any man, but looks up only to Hiroshi.
“H-Hiroshi-san. Please… have mercy— My sons, they will have nothing to eat!”
“Hiroshi, listen to him. He has four sons. Four.” Kaito chimed in.
“The fish is big enough to feed him and his family for a night if we share this with the village as planned.” Replied Hiroshi.
“That is cruel, Hiroshi. The man can barely catch—”
“I do not decide these on a whim, Kaito-san.” The Baker immediately inserted himself. “Make no mistake men, our decisions must not be made with this alone.” He points to his chest. “It must be tempered with this” he points to his head, “and all that rings true for all time, like what is right and what is wrong. I cannot in good conscience give it to either man because they cannot prove beyond doubt that the fish is theirs, nor can I put it to waste or take it as my own.”
Kaito has never been seasick, but his stomach churns despite standing on solid ground, the same ground on which Minoru began to rest his forehead and whisper his petitions.
“Then the gods deem it so. Right is right, wrong is wrong. Men,” he called, “carry this together, and carry it to Chiyo’s—”
“Wait.”
The waves crash over them and usher in a blanket of silence with Koji standing tall by his voice alone.
“Minoru should have it.” Said Koji, prompting the next wave to sweep the silence away as murmurs simmered quietly.
Minoru lifts his head from the ground, eyes open widely to ascertain that they did not deceive him. If he could widen his ears, he would.
“Minoru needs it” Koji continues, “more than I do. It would not be right to deprive his sons of a restful evening on the count of growling stomachs.”
As open as they are, tears easily pour from Minoru’s eyes. He races them to the ground, lowering his head once again to express his deep gratitude.
“Thank you!” His voice was a boat out at sea in a storm of emotions. What would have been a downpour was halted by the presence of a warm hand that sat on his shoulder.
“The fish is yours, Minoru.” Said Hiroshi. “Could anyone help the man carry it back?” He turned to the crowd who nodded and moved without hesitation at his request.
Whatever it was that swirled inside his stomach was gone now. The world no longer spun, and so, he steadily watched as the men carried the large tuna back to the village. Having stood beside Hiroshi, Minoru’s whispered gratitude was blown into his ear by a stray gust of breeze; he watches the simple fisherman jog to catch his peers.
“Wow…” he shook his head, “you are something else, Hiroshi.”
“Hahaha, that was… nothing.”
“Did you know it was his fish?”
“Who?”
“Minoru.”
“No, I never saw him catch it. But how did you know it was his.”
“Well everyone else’s boat was full. His was the only one that could carry that big a fish and not sink.”
“You knew from the beginning?” Kaito finally turns to look at him.
“I had a strong guess. But anyways, I did want to ask you something.” Hiroshi wisps the pride away with a gesture and returns them to what he originally came here for.
As soon as their eyes met, the Fisherman took his basket to the fallen log sprawled on the shore, taking his seat.
“Is something wrong?” Asked Hiroshi.
“I know that look. Come, let us sit.”
“We can talk while walking.” Insisted the Baker.
“Nooo no no no.” Kaito shook his head, offering a seat beside him. “I can tell this will take a while, so we take all the while we have.”
Despite his reluctance, Hiroshi concedes and seats himself beside the Fisherman; it would seem his earlier conversation with Riku was starting to get the better of him.
“There must not be a lot of times I can say this to you, especially not after that, but what can I do for you?” Kaito asked.
“...Lord Homura is coming. He is gathering all his men in Tachikawa, and then personally overseeing the spread of his men from there all the way back to Kumitsukawa.”
“.... See…? Sitting down was the right idea.” Kaito finally lets go of the breath he held in as he listened with intent.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah, just… go on, go on.” He gestured for the continuation to proceed. “I believe this is the part where you tell me what you had in mind for his return.”
“It is.” Hiroshi nodded. “I have nothing.”
The most recent wave pulled Kaito’s attention yonder to the raging blue ocean. One arm stood on top of the other while his fingers clasped the stubble on his chin inquisitively — grasping at straws more like. He exhales and turns his head back to face Hiroshi, who in turn was looking at him.
“...What? Were you waiting on me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?!”
“Sigh… It took us three whole days to finish rebuilding that brewery. If I told you what I had in mind, there would be no one left to rebuild it when it collapses again.”
“You want us to run?”
“I want us to fight.” The Baker crumpled his fist, slamming it quietly onto his lap. “There is no reasoning with Lord Homura, or his men. But there is no stopping an army.”
“Hiroshi, you cannot expect me to choose here! I think a daimyo would be smart enough not to bite on my hook if I dangle it in front of him. And I am certainly smart enough not to dangle it in front of a monster.”
It was the Baker’s turn now to cast his gaze yonder in search for answers, but the Fisherman keeps him from searching too far by way of a nudge.
“But I have faith in you.” Kaito continued, “Whatever decision you make, I trust it to be the right one.”
“You trust me?”
“Yes.”
“You trust an old baker to decide the fate of the settlement?”
“...Yes…”
“...You hesitated.” Hiroshi squints.
“Okay okay, ask me again.”
“I do not think you understand the gravity of the decision to be made here.” Pushing himself up to stand, Hiroshi unearths his spear and picks up his lantern, having left them here prior to the commotion from earlier.
“My wife came back.” Kaito, remaining seated, caught Hiroshi’s stunned gaze. “I saw her on my way back the other day, and I could not believe my eyes. But there she was.” He smiles. “I took her back, fed her, cared for her—”
“Your wife is back…” Reiterated Hiroshi.
“Yes.”
“Why is this the first I am hearing of it?”
“Ah, she did not want to make a fuss. People like to talk. She was afraid of what they would say about her. I could not care less, but I honored her wish and…” Kaito lifted his hand as if he had caught a snowflake in his palm, “before I left this morning, I held her hand and kissed her goodbye before going out to sea just like I always do. And tomorrow, I get to do it again.”
The Fisherman rose from the log and took the basket back into his possession.
“I have everything to lose now, Hiroshi. So if you tell me to run, I will take nothing but her. If you tell me to fight, I will catch every arrow and every blade for her. So make your decision, tell them, and I will stand with you.”
“I suppose I could reach out to a few…” He began to walk, taking the same path back.
“A few? Everyone will listen to the man who has set us free.” Kaito reached to perch on his shoulder the same comfort he afforded Minoru. “What you did back there? Only one man has both calmed and inspired men like that, and Lord Ataru has long since been buried.” He gently squeezes the Baker’s shoulder. “Like I said, just call us — we will heed your call.”
In his words, Hiroshi found his lantern to glow much brighter. He found it unjust to question his ability on the grounds of his being but a simple baker when he himself asked them to take up arms when they were but simple farmers and fishermen. The path ahead of him is much clearer now, and the Old Baker takes his steps in stride.