NINE YEARS EARLIER
1547
"Hisashi-san!"
The farmer calls, straightening his back to stand and wave his hand in the air. Water trickled down his forearm, simultaneous to the sweat that rode the wrinkles on his face. He briefly puts his arm down to wipe said sweat with his sleeve, and by the time he realigns his sight, the samurai clad in an armor of black and gold had approached.
A quick tug on the rein commands his horse to stop at the right moment to provide shade to the farmer from the sun's pressure; Amaterasu sits high above the clouds, basking Kumitsukawa with rays of her light. The Samurai pulls his mask off and bestows a smile along with a small bow upon the older man, greeting him:
"Good morning, Ichiro-san."
"Good morning, my lord." The Farmer reciprocated.
"Please, there is no need for you to call me that." Hisashi smiled.
"Ah.." Ichiro chuckled. "Hisashi-san, I heard about the boy... Are they sure he was taken?" Asked the Ichiro.
"I was told the boy would often play in the woods, but would always come home before dark." Replied Hisashi.
"I hope he is alright. Be careful out there. There are not a lot of bandits in our forests, because it is their territory. If you can, make haste and travel the woods before nightfall. If it cannot be helped, stay on your horse — do not stumble." Warned Ichiro, deathly serious in doing so.
"Do not stumble?" Asked Hisashi. Though several of Ichiro's choice of words called his brow to arch, he thought it best to inquire about the prescription.
"Mmm. Kumitsukawa's forests are ripe with spirits and yōkai. My brother once told me that he saw a wolf stalking him on his way back home one night. When he lost his footing in the dark, it growled at him, until he pretended to sit and catch his breath." Ichiro raised his right hand, spreading his thumb and little finger apart while maintaining the rest of his fingers together. "He heard a bird fly by too, singing a strange song."
"Is he alright?"
Ichiro nods, "Thankfully, he got home safely. We told the story to our mother who told us that he was being followed by an Okuri Inu — a wolf that stalks you and attacks only if you stumble. And the bird he heard was warning him, it was a sparrow — a Yosuzume. She said if you hear it chirping, then the wolf has been stalking you for quite some time now."
"Hm..."Is there a way to avoid getting... eaten? If ever Hayato is otherwise unavailable to me."
"There is— She said that if you stumble, make it seem like you were merely taking a rest to catch your breath. And when you make it out of the forest, thank the wolf and prepare an offering at home."
"Thank the wolf?"
"Oh." He huffed affirmatively, nodding thereafter. "She said that in other stories, the wolf is a guide that sees you out of the forest it calls home. So as to not anger the yōkai — and allow yourself continuous passage in the same woods — you must prepare an offering of gratitude."
"Hmm..." Hisashi twists and turns the words of the humble farmer betwixt his fingers so as to see them from every possible angle. "Your advice is yet to fail me, Ichiro-san. I just hope I am not too late, Hayato will have to run faster than he ever has." Hisashi leans forward to brush the horse's side. "I must get going, thank you for the warning and the advice, and please extend my gratitude to your dear mother." Hisashi bows once more to announce his departure respectfully.
"Do not worry, you will find him, your senses are as shape as your sword. The best of luck to you, Hisashi-san." Ichiro bows as well.
Reapplying his mask, Hisashi rides past the paddy fields and ventures off into the forests where the child was said to frequently play. He departs from the dirt road and travels upon the grass that muffled Hayato's galloping. His keen eyes would soon spot the first sign of a child's presence in the woods — his toy.
Calling Hayato to stop, Hisashi alights from his steed and treads carefully toward the taketombo that was cradled by both soil and grass alike. He reaches for the toy, finding it still in one piece, and tucks it beneath his cuirass — the boy would want this back. The second clue came in the form of pressed grass; though the size of the area in which the grass was pressed differed, it did not go unnoticed that small feet stood upon them.
Much to his dismay, Hisashi would also find large foot marks.
He places his own foot into the imprint, finding it to be bigger than his by several inches. A tree stump could fit in it. A closer look at the imprints allows him to notice the outline of toes. The Samurai put two and two together; while the boy played in the forest, a large person had stepped forth and caused the child to fall in fear and drop his toy. It accounts for the small, big, and the irregularly shaped prints. Turning his head yonder into the forest, the trail is spotted. Wasting no haste, Hisashi climbs onto Hayato and sprints forth to follow their lead.
The further he went, the more that Kumitsukawa was reduced to a shadow behind overlapping trees. He began to notice that the footprints became more sporadic, appearing only once every few meters. Either the captor had unimaginably long legs, or they were jumping incredible distances in a single bound. As if to call his master's attention, Hayato briefly exhales while tilting his head sideward. Hisashi takes note of this behavior and casts his gaze to the sides, noticing that his left and right side were empty. It finally dawns upon him that while his periphery were devoid of anything of interest, the path they traveled on is decorated with leaves through and through. Considering that autumn was still months away, this was yet another oddity that raises the stakes of the mission. The Samurai lifts his head to gaze upon the tall trees, finding the complete cover they provided is now filled with holes.
They jumped so high that they broke through the tree leaves? Hisashi thought. "Why leave a trail that could be easily followed when you have just taken a child?" He asks himself, hoping to understand the mind of the perpetrator.
He knew that an answer could not be found here and that speaking his thoughts out loud was a moot point, unless Hayato would finally like to talk back to him. Onward they rode, following the trail of peculiar breadcrumbs. Eventually, they would find the end of the trail at the foot of a mountain. As they stood there, gazing upwards, Hisashi could say but one thing to his only companion:
"I have a bad feeling about this."
His horse concurs with a soft neigh.
"You are coming with me. I am not leaving you unguarded like the last time — that was one hell of a chase." Hisashi leads them up the mountain, careful to trek on the more leveled slices of land rather than the steeper slopes.
The symphony of nature persevered for some time. With their trail now non-existent, the harmony of rustling leaves, muffled footsteps and the momentary vocal performance of native birds was all that accompanied them. However, the horse's next step brings them just barely within the radius of a new sound that adds to the ensemble — running water. It went unsaid, but the two of them knew to go to it.
Drawing near, the Samurai and his steed break through the tree line where they find a calm stream, preceded by the impetus of a violent waterfall whose peak lies higher above the mountain. With the trees out of the way, he is finally able to see clearly in spite of the shade they cast, covering the piece of land with patches of shadows. Hisashi climbs down his horse and leads him closer to the stream so that he may partake of the blessing after their lengthy sprint through the woods. While Hayato drinks to his heart's content, Hisashi looks around for more clues; he strays from his companion, finding nothing of interest near the stream but twigs that could have been brought or broken by wandering animals, and scattered leaves that could have been blown by a passing wind. Just as he ponders on the wind, a breeze passes through the woods and provides him with a moment of freshness. The Samurai looks up to find a particularly large feather dancing in its descent.
"Miyahira Hisashi." The voice breaks the silence in a grand manner. It rings throughout the woods, louder than even the waterfall that crashes into the stream — the voice was clear and without flaw.
Hisashi quickly draws his katana and pivots his foot to turn behind him. However, the tip of his blade points at nothing, prompting his eyes to dart hastily from one corner of the forest to the other in search of the target. He did, however, follow the falling feather in the corner of his eye. Landing beside his steed, his resolve quakes once he realizes the feather is as big as Hayato.
"Who are you? Why did you take the boy?" Inquired the Samurai, still failing to see his adversary.
"I see you have followed my trail." Like a treacherous road, the voice boasted a broadness and thickness with a bountiful number of smooth and nigh playful curves in his intonation.
"It was easy to follow."
"Oh? BAHAHAHAHAA!" The volatile laughter is brought to a simmer. "The bird follows the crumbs."
Hisashi snaps his fingers, rallying his horse back to his side and away from danger. As if understanding the situation they were in, the horse complies and stands ready to sprint at a moment's notice.
"If it is me you want, let go of the boy." Said Hisashi, continuing the search.
"And allow you to leave my mountain so easily? You must be a little bird."
"I have no quarrel with you, and neither does Kumitsukawa. Let me have the boy, and we will leave your mountain in peace — you have my word." Bargained the Samurai.
The lengthy reply grants Hisashi some time. His next scan of the woods has finally become fruitful — a silhouette of a crouched human appears perched on an extremely distant tree opposite of the waterfall. His gentle push to the horse's side instructs him to hide behind the trees to his left. With their perpetrator located, the tip of his sword now points to the perched silhouette.
"They were right to send you after the boy, Miyahira Hisashi — to me."
"What do you want with me?" Hisashi humors the stranger and asks him.
"Ohh? What do you think it is that I want?"
"I am in no mood to play games."
"A GAME? A GAME YOU SAY?! Well... even such barbaric acts can be called games, all a matter of perspective I suppose." A treacherous curve in the road that is his voice presents itself. "But I can assure you, little bird, this is no game."
"Then hand over the child. I will not be toyed with by some demon." Hisashi spits the title that equates the creature to the foulness of his crime.
"DEMON?!"
The reaction of disbelief shook the world, loud enough to compel the stern trees themselves to bow in an attempt to appease him. The voice makes his chest tight, but Hisashi stands his ground and reaffirms his hold on his weapon. With the target shrouded in shadows, it was a challenge to see what they were doing. However, he knew that with the offense taken, a nasty response brewed in the form of an attack.
He was correct.
The Silhouette raises their hand up, and sends it back down with a fury. Hisashi takes note of the tree branches that moved in succession — something was thrown. At the speed that the branches were being disturbed, he knew that he could neither deflect nor catch it — he had to evade. However, before he sees anything come out of the woods, Hisashi is thrown back towards a tree trunk. He meets the object with full contact, his armor seemingly doing little to soften the collision of his body with the trunk. The single attack renders him kneeling with the wind nearly knocked out of him as soon as he falls.
Despite this, the Samurai pushes himself back onto his feet and readies himself for the next attack.
What the hell did he throw at me? Thought the Samurai to himself.
Being unable to see the attack, he could not risk standing in place. He returns his blade to the scabbard and charges forth in a tactical dash, strafing from left to right. He must keep moving, he must become a target that is hard to hit. The perched silhouette makes his move again, and just like before, Hisashi is lifted high into the air and thrown back without seeing what was thrown at him. He flies across, landing hard on the ground just beside the body of water. Had he not adjusted his fall, his skill in swordsmanship would have been rendered moot. He struggles to rise up, gravity's pull and the prior collision to the tree further weakened his resolve.
The Silhouette sends another attack with but a single move of his hand.
Hisashi watches the same spectacle as before, with the added ripples that disturb the stream's natural flow. His heart stops, and in a sudden pump of adrenaline, the Samurai jumps across the stream and catches himself with a roll. The attack flies by him, splashing the falling water into the rocks behind it and sprinkling droplets upon him — it dawns upon him. For the first time, he evaded the attack successfully. Taking to this strategy, he equips his bow and nocks three arrows at a time to fire into the trees. The arrows knick leaves from the branches and litter them upon their battlefield. It mattered not that his quiver was almost empty, the fruits of his labor show in the way the ground is now decorated with leaves.
Now with a better chance, he sprints beside the waters and keeps his eyes upon his enemy. Just as before, the Silhouette retaliates with his invisible attacks, but with the indicators in place, the Samurai dodges them with ease.
Angered by the ineffectiveness of his advances, he spreads his fan to its full extent and unleashes a force of wind capable of cutting down trees and applying slash marks upon the soil. The lethal nature of his barrage almost cut the Samurai, but with his evasive maneuvers in play, only the tip of his helmet's crest fell victim to them.
"Tch— Pesky little bird." Cursed the Silhouette.
The Samurai gains confidence by way of his improvised strategy. He grips the handle of his katana as he pushes forward, nearing the woods once again to attack his perched adversary. The closer he got, the bigger the silhouette seemed to become. And soon enough, behind the creature sprouted a large set of wings.
His dash comes to a stop, following the Silhouette with his eyes as he flies to the sky through the cover of the trees, perfectly framed by the Amaterasu's light behind him. Like a boulder from heaven, the Silhouette crashes down into the Earth. The shockwave from his crash sends Hisashi back, this time plunging him right into the stream. The collision shook the mountain to its core. From the waters, the unrelenting Samurai rises. He pulls his helmet and his mask off, revealing his face to the enemy who now hides behind a cloud of dirt and smoke borne from the crash; it lags in its descent, providing a veil that continues to shroud the enemy's identity in mystery.
Hisashi snaps for Hayato to come running, mounting him while the horse is in motion.
"Just like we practiced." He tells Hayato — onward, they charge.
Another mad dash toward an enemy that now stood beyond the height of a torii gate. Hisashi slowly stands on Hayato's back, and upon his signal, Hayato launches his master toward the Silhouette by entering a sudden stop while simultaneously lifting his hind legs.
Hisashi soars through the sky with a hand on his sheathed katana.
He breaks through the smoke and gazes upon his enemy, much to his surprise.
Realizing who he was up against, Hisashi dared not to draw his katana and would make the last minute effort of shifting his trajectory to pass over him instead. The winged giant pivots on his heel to follow the Samurai's trajectory behind him, readying his large fan for an attack. The Samurai enters a roll to soften his contact with the ground, and the Giant uses this opportunity to swing his fan and sever the little bird's head from his shoulders.
An effective method
if only it hit its mark.
Crouched from his landing, Hisashi quickly turns to face his opponent and presses both hands onto the floor with his forehead atop them, causing the invisible cleaver to leave its sharp mark on the soil just behind the samurai's toes.
The act of the Samurai stunned the Giant, enough to stop further plans of an attack. His fan is raised once again, ready to unleash a killing blow with but a single wave. Yet with his enemy in this position, he hesitates.
"Get up, samurai! Fight me!" He urged, the smoke starting to fall and reveal his mythic presence in its entirety.
Hisashi would not budge, remaining in his vulnerable position.
"RISE! Fight me and pay for your insolence!" His wings spread wide, shrouding his enemy in his shadow.
Even then, the Samurai would do nothing.
The Giant, in the silence of their standstill, would hear murmurs from the human. But with the stream so loud, and his curiosity as high as the arch of his own brow, he opted to lean closer. It was his turn to be surprised, hearing that the Samurai had been apologizing.
"Please forgive me, oh great deity. I was a fool to call you a demon. Punish me, but please, free the boy. He has done nothing to warrant your wrath — I have." The breath that carried his words was as straight as an arrow, both in form and trajectory. "Let me return the boy to the village, and I swear on my honor that I will return for the judgment I am due." Hisashi spoke in an apologetic tone, never once raising his head to gaze upon divinity.
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To place one's honor as collateral was no measly thing, especially to a samurai. If he returns, he faces divine justice by the Giant's hand to atone for his offense by means of an unknown punishment. If he refuses to return, he forfeits his honor as warrior and man, to which the only remedy to a crime this grave would be seppuku. The Giant sighs, pulling himself back up to speak.
"It seems the gods were right. What a pain." A chuckle bubbled beneath his disappointment, ending only with the sound of his fan folding to a close.
Hisashi notices that the shadow of the divine being had become slender with his wings tucked away. He still remains in his position.
"Rise and meet my gaze."
Granted permission to gaze upon him, the Samurai lifts his torso to sit upon his own legs. Finally, he could see the divine being clearly, and there was no mistaking it, he was in the presence of a Daitengu. His long hair was as white as snow, contrasted by a face that was as redder than the sunset and decorated with a nose as thick as a log. He was clothed in religious robes, accompanied by a wide set of wings and a large fan as his weapon. The Daitengu takes his seat opposite of Hisashi
Only when their eyes finally meet does the Daitengu speak his next words, but not without lightly tapping the top of Hisashi's head with his enormous fan.
"Miyahira Hisashi, you either share a bird's intelligence, or its spirit. HAHAHAHA!" His hearty laughter breathes life into the grass beneath them. "I cannot speak for all of my kind. However, consider me yet another god that looks upon you with favor." The Daitengu takes a moment to bow to Hisashi.
Despite being stunned by the sudden turn of events, he reciprocates with his own bow, rushing to it so as to catch up to the divine being. Their bow was long, and both heads would rise in unison. "Yet another god...?" Hisashi inquires.
"Mm." He nods. "Did you not hear the winds sing as you rode by? How the trees waved you off into your journey?" He points skyward, "The sun desperately peeks from behind the clouds to watch us battle. If I were the sun, I would have been gravely disappointed."
The questions ask for a recollection before he gives an answer. It is only now that he has come to notice such blanketed things, hiding beneath the veil of the mundane world. And yet, he finds himself bewildered at the thought that the memories of such instances span further still, before this very day. Now, he watches as the stream beside them flows from behind the Daitengu toward him.
"Oi." He calls the samurai's attention. "I do not suppose you saw the bones of those who came before you on your way up here? Be proud," he chuckled, "your bones will be the first not to join them, wherever they are — little birds." He gesticulates yonder using his fan.
"Little birds?"
"Mm," The Daitengu nods, "notice how they peck at every little thing that moves, perching anywhere that seems quiet. Worse is that those of the same feather stick together. Feeble little things. They accompany one another in everything — from feeding to stupidity. Why else would they all flock here to meet the same fate?" The Daitengu thinks himself bold to have won those battles. He led them there after all. "But you, you are different. Still a bird, but a strong one, like me. We follow no flock. We fly alone, hunt alone, fight alone. Because none can match our height." He taps his fan onto his own chest.
Hisashi pulls his focus away from the deity, searching his thoughts in their abundance. He sees fit to display them on the numerous blades of grass on the floor to help him in reviewing them more clearly; memories from his childhood, from his training in the dojo, and now as a kosho spoke to him in volumes. The conclusion is found soon enough, not in the individual blades of grass, but in the collective green that dances in and through the winds of time. Hisashi realigns his attention by looking upward, beholden to the Daitengu who was peering down at him all this time; his lips curve into a triumphant smile.
"Stories of a samurai from Kumitsukawa in black and gold had spread around the forest and among my kind — Miyahira Hisashi." His mere mention of the name calls for an applause from the trees that stand by them. While Hisashi looked up in awe, the Daitengu had a smirk upon him. "And now that I have come to test your worth, I have failed — there is hope for mankind."
"I am honored by your recognition, but please forgive me that I ask once more as to the whereabouts of the child. I must get him back to his parents." Though bestowed with great honor, Hisashi does not forget why he was here.
"Hmm? Worry not, the child is safe and in good health. You will have him, but first, you will have my gifts." He points back down at him with his closed fan. "What I will give you is a boon worthy of a bird like you. For you, Miyahira Hisashi, I shall grant you knowledge — three whispers of your future."
"I may be worthy of your adoration, but I know that I am not worthy of the secrets of a divine being."
"BAH! Nonsense. Now be quiet while I give you your gift."
Despite his own uttered protest, he could not bring himself to move his legs, let alone to turn away. Realizing the inevitability brought onto him by man's natural intrigue for the unknown, he dares not speak and simply readies himself to consume every word.
"First," a single fold from the Daitengu's fan was opens, "like the leaves through the seasons, you will watch empires rise and fall, and they shall know you by name.
"By name?"
"Mm." The Daitengu nodded.
"Second," a second fold opens. "evil is a seed that only grows in the garden of the hearts of men."
"...I think that might be obvious."
"I will thank you NOT to insult my gift, samurai." He leans over to shroud Hisashi in a darker shade of his divine shadow, if for but a moment. "Third," a third and final fold is opened, "you are intertwined with another, and they who are tied together will eventually meet."
"Intertwined?"
"Mm. The 'how' is irrelevant, do not bother asking. Your meeting is certain. Such is fate," he flexes his pinky on the hand he used to raise his fan, "treacherous little thing." The Daitengu nearly spat his afterthought into the river stream.
The kneeling samurai looks to his own pinky resting on his lap, flexing it as the deity had just done. Despite being seated in the middle of the stream, the water continues to flow past the Daitengu and to Hisashi. To him, these whispers of his future echo repeatedly in his mind. Others would argue that the vagueness of these whispers have rendered their value to that of a pebble beneath any river, but he knew better than to treat them as such.
"I will keep these in mind, thank you."
"Now, as promised—"
The Daitengu rises from his seated position and makes his way to the waterfall where he intercepts the water with his fan to part it and reveal a small cave behind it.
Hisashi is finally blessed with relief upon seeing the boy unharmed and comfortable in the deity's hiding spot, just as he promised. Truly, the divine one was as wise as they say. The boy waves at the Daitengu, and then at Hisashi in the distance. The Samurai reaches beneath his cuirass to retrieve the child's toy, and immediately upon seeing it, the boy's eyes sparkle like gemstones. Come nightfall, whilst Hayato journeyed them home, he was reminded of these eyes as he looked upward in thought. They may not be gemstones, but they sparkled nonetheless; Hayato's gentle rocking sent the boy into a slumber, snoring lightly whilst clenching his taketombo in his hands. His right thumb ran over the ends of his fingernails before feeling the pads of his fingers; the longer he looked skyward, the more he pondered upon the notion that perhaps the stars were really looking back at him.
And they did so with favor.
The gates of Kumitsukawa come into view. The busy paddy fields were now devoid of farmers, but lights from the lanterns of the village illuminated the forests well. At this point, the lights alone celebrated his return by blanketing him, his horse, and the boy in warmth. A light pat to the little one's arm awakens him, and a yawn comes pushing through. Strolling further through the gates, Hisashi pulls Hayato to stop at where the houses of the farmers were situated. He alights from his steed and carries the boy down thereafter.
"Go home, your mother has been waiting." He gives the boy a smile and ruffles his hair.
He watches the boy run between houses on his own with excitement. His gleeful sprint is rewarded by being enveloped in the embrace of his home's brightest light whose arms longed for her little boy's presence after such terrible news.
"Come, Hayato." Hisashi makes his escape, not wanting to be delayed by the inevitable heartwarming gratitude. Under any other circumstance, he would have delivered the child to their very doorstep. For now, he would settle for the faint sound of a mother's cheerful cries.
As the two walk the main road of Kumitsukawa, he pulls his helmet and mask off to allow Fujin's breeze to brush through his long hair and glide against the shaved portion in the middle. Temporarily, he places his helmet on the saddle while his mask is hung on his wakizashi. And just as he did, the bakery comes into view.
"Hisashi!" Called an old man, peeking from the door of his establishment.
"Hiroshi-san." He called back, stopping by the bakery just as the old man appeared.
The two greet each other with bows of equal respect, though Hisashi purposefully prolongs his.
"I see you had a long day. Come, I can fix you some dinner." Hiroshi presents the doorway that widened in his wake.
"Thank you for the offer, Hiroshi-san, but I must decline." Hisashi lowers his head and raises a hand to protest kindly. "I still need to report to Lord Ataru."
"I understand, you are a hardworking man, Hisashi. Just do not forget to reward yourself at ti— What happened to your helmet? Are you okay?" Hiroshi leans to the side to inspect the severed crest on the Samurai's helmet.
Hisashi smiles in lieu of laughter, too tired to do the latter. "That... is a long story, and as much as I would love to stay, Lord Ataru is expecting me. I must take my leave, have a good evening Hiroshi-san."
"Alright, stop by any time, Hisashi. You are always welcome here."
The Samurai departs, furthering through the village, past the central market and the rest of the houses to make his way to the temple that doubled as Kumitsukawa's castle. The temple is a wooden pagoda that was five-storeys tall; this, along with the fact that it was built on a slightly elevated patch of land, allowed the reigning lord to overlook and oversee the entire village — watching over those that are under his protection and rule. He arrives at the gates, and they part without hesitation. The castle was accompanied by only one other building in the compound — the living quarters of the monks and the servants — and both were surrounded by a simple garden. This was an oddity considering that a temple was usually part of a garan. Past the gates, Hisashi dismounts Hayato and furthers into the compound to meet with Lord Ataru. Much to his surprise, his lord had been waiting for him at the wooden steps of his castle, illuminated by his mere presence which nearly put the braziers to shame.
Hisashi approaches, stopping before him to bow, steadily bending at the waist with extreme depth to bestow a great sense of respect.
"At the crest of the world's end, the steady rock sits and gazes outward." Greeted Ataru.
"The wind rewards its patience, delivering the honored bird." Greeted Hisashi.
The two of them would intrude beyond each other's eightfold fence without ever leaving the comfort of their own, a feat achievable by way of an exchange in smiles.
"I expected you to return before nightfall." He said to his trusted vassal.
"I intended to, Lord Ataru." Says Hisashi. "However, the drizzle turned out to be quite the storm — I encountered... a Daitengu."
He sees a nearly clear reflection of himself in Lord Ataru's eyes, made possible by them being widened in shock. And with the lord's interest in the topic at hand piqued, he seats himself on the wooden steps of his castle, patting the empty space beside him for Hisashi to take. The Samurai complies and proceeds to detail his journey to his liege lord, from the moment he left the village to the moment he knelt before the great deity. Much of his tale focused on this relatively ambiguous trial that the Daitengu sprung on him. Disbelief sought to corrupt what memory he had of the encounter, but his memory protests. It remains as vivid as flowers beneath the perfect shade on a summer afternoon.
"I assume that with you here, you passed his trial." Ataru said with a playful smile.
"I suppose so. My head remains on my shoulders, and I delivered the boy safely back home...—"
"Then you have succeeded."
"Yes, my lord."
"Oh" he nodded, "then why the frown?" Ataru respected the young samurai for his dutiful nature, even allowing himself to remain an open book to him — his liege lord. The only downside is that he could tell just how troubled he was at times, and at such a young age.
"My lord," he continued to fiddle with his own fingers as he spoke, "how do you fare against riddles?"
"Riddles... I am a novice. But, one could argue that a riddle is merely a playful poem." He nodded, shuffling his robes pompously. "Did you hear a difficult one?"
"The Daitengu," open as he was, the weight of the thought caused the words to nearly struggle in escaping his lips, "gave me three whispers of my future.
"Your future?" The lord leans back in thought. " I suppose such fortune is not beyond a Daitengu..."
"He told me that I would watch empires rise and fall, and that I would be known by them by name."
"By name?"
"Mm." Hisasho nods.
"Well, 'Hisashi' is a strong name. Worthy of recognition. What else?"
"He said that evil is in the hearts of men, and that I was intertwined with another." Hisashi recounts, successfully committing them to memory.
The Samurai turns to his Master with the same look of curiosity that he shared with the divine being hours ago. Much to their amusement, his Master turns to him even more dumbfounded than he was. Finding the silliness beneath the obscurity of the whispers and their own puzzled faces, they erupt into a light chuckle that curved their lip muscles into a much needed smile.
"I see now why you think them to be riddles." His shoulders shook with the last of his bubbling chuckles. "I know I am wise, but I am not wise enough to decipher such things. The last one, however..." Ataru turns to his kosho, his lungs seemingly raring to fill themselves with air. "Are you familiar with the red string of fate?"
Hisashi's ears perked up at the mention of the word, but Ataru was more concerned with the visible spark in his eye. "I have heard of it, but I cannot say I am familiar."
Happy was his lord to have found an opportunity to indulge his enthusiastic lungs. "It is said that when we are born, we have a string in our little finger." Ataru raises his little finger. "It is a red string that survives distance and time of all measures, and tethers us to the people we are supposed to meet — fate."
"Why the little finger?"
"Because the string in the little finger has a direct connection to the heart."
"It does?"
Ataru shrugs, "Or so they say." He drops his hand. "That is all I know. But, one thing is certain," He finally leans back, "in the realm's current state, there is no doubt that you will see empires rise and fall. The length of your string stretches still in distances that span far across the seas. Mine, on the other hand, only reaches as far as the village gates."
Hisashi could not deny the thorny sensation he gets when his lord speaks in this manner, but such is the outcome of trekking through a garden that was not his own. He has a feeling that very few had seen this garden of his, at the center of which his liege lord tends to his third heart. That would explain the soft smile that Lord Ataru put on.
"I have seen my fair share of rises and falls. I only hope the empire that you see come into power is the right one." Ataru extends a warm hand to hold Hisashi by the shoulder.
"How will I know if it is the right one, my lord?" Hisashi asks.
Ataru looked skyward in thought, but traced the outline of the temple rather than gaze at the stars. "There is a temple, just like this one, in the town of Tachikawa."
"The town on the other side of the Kaga?"
"Mm." Ataru nods. "They were built so that our people, and travelers passing by, could pray and receive their blessings when they enter and leave the province. But, when enemy lords sought to take Kaga, the temples were destroyed. Lord Homura gathered all our warriors, all the samurai at the time, and pushed them back out. He instructed me to look after his fief in his absence."
Hisashi nods to affirm his liege lord of his attention.
"Being the loyal servant that I am, I rebuilt the province — Kumitsukawa, Somukawa, and Tachikawa —" he points to the temple behind them, "and I rebuilt this temple to double as the castle."
"Why?" Hisashi wonders out loud.
"Well, I thought living in a temple would temper my soul. I planted myself where water would be freshest and the soil would be most nurturing, so that my fruits would be bountiful," he leans closer, "and without rancor." Ataru threw his hands out. "Where else would that be but here on holy grounds?"
"Ohh... Your wisdom persists, my lord."
"Yes it does!" Ataru chuckles. "So they rebuilt the temples as I commanded but I had them add floors and designs to serve as my office and living quarters. I even had them add a balcony."
"But, curiosity begs another question — If you had the temple rebuilt in the town as well, why settle here? Tachikawa is the town, this is but a village."
To which Ataru simply shrugs and raises his little finger to flex it playfully. The child-like display carves a smile on both their faces, with Hisashi nodding thereafter.
"Summers and winters came to pass by during the reconstruction of Kumitsukawa. For the longest time, I heard them complain to me that it was either too hot or too cold to work." Lord Ataru chuckles, "So, how will you know if it is the right empire? When the only thing that the people have to worry about all year round is the weather." Ataru responds, with a smile.
"Then I believe I have seen the right one, I have met the right man to rule the country, and he sits here with me." Hisashi says confidently.
"Ha! Your flattery is almost as good as your swordsmanship!" Ataru huffs a laugh, amused by the Samurai's attempt to give him a swell head.
"If so, then my flattery is impeccable." He humbly shares in his liege lord's joy. "But even then, flattery is not lying, my lord. None of us have stormed your castle asking to be fed, clothed, housed and secured. Outside the village, the most they fear are rabid animals." Hisashi throws his hand out to exaggerate his point. "You have made it easy to forget that the realm is in chaos."
"Ah but therein lies the problem. Kumitsukawa and its neighbors have known nothing but peace, yes. However, the whole country must be brought to peace as well. We must not forget that there are others beyond our borders. It is one thing to rule a province and another to rule the entire land. What I do here could not possibly translate well to an entire country. Remember your lectures, Hisashi: Therefore, just as water retains no constant shape, so in warfare there are no constant conditions. While I fully understand the general's lessons, I am in no place to wage war and rally warlords to my cause. Compared to more ambitious lords out there, I am but a grain of sand amidst boulders." Ataru retaliates with his own philosophy, referencing the Chinese general — Sun Tzu. "—But you, Hisashi," continued Ataru, "you will be remembered as one of the most honorable samurai there is. You have served me and your people without failure. You have kept to your code as samurai — the true code — and I believe this is why the Daitengu saw fit to bestow onto you such a gift." He continued, holding back a tear. The task became more difficult as he spoke, "The Miyahira Clan's flame burns bright in you."
Hisashi holds back a tear of his own, braving through the feeling of sorrow that seemingly rose out of nowhere with a soft smile and a nod. All his rebuttals were swept away in an instant, and he was left with only gratitude — his lord was a wise man indeed.
"You honor me, Lord Ataru."
"And you honor me, Hisashi."
Their gaze said more than words could ever express, but they did not mind to leave it as it is.
Their solemn moment would suddenly be disturbed by a woman's voice that came from a distance, calling out a name in a whispered shout from behind them. This prompted both men to turn and find a teenage boy peeking from the corner of the castle, caught by a middle-aged woman. She sees that the two men noticed her, and he bows to apologize for her intrusion; she drags the boy away, the wooden veranda sounding off more quietly as they vanish back inside.
"My son." He says with a heavy breath.
"I would not worry about his behavior now, my lord. He is still a boy." Hisashi said in amusement, remembering his own days as a spirited child.
"A boy whose shoulders will carry a heavy burden. He must be ready by then." Replied Ataru."Hisashi, I must confess something to you." Ataru's smile perseveres. "I fear that I do not have much longer to live."
Stunned by such news, Hisashi struggles to find his words. And because of this, Ataru continues unhindered:
"Lord Homura remains occupied with his war, wherever he is. But though these battles are days away, we who wish to live quietly in the safety of our walls are not free from its effects — from suffering.
Ataru's places a hand on his shoulder, and the unwavering strength with which his liege lord uses to clamp down onto him stupefied him.
"Masahiko, my son, needs.... guidance, and my life is destined to end before I can make a decent man out of him. I must place that burden on you. When I die, he will take my place. You will become Masahiko's most trusted ally. Teach him, guide him, make sure that he continues our legacy. What we have here and among Kumitsukawa's neighbors is something rare — peace during chaos. I cannot endeavor to replicate this peace elsewhere, but this must endure here, we must not squander this — promise me, Hisashi."
Silence followed the request, but it would not take long for Hisashi to rise and stand before him. He bows until he sees only his own feet, and only then does he respond.
"I will not fail you." Hisashi, like countless times before, pledges himself to the wishes of Lord Ataru.
"And you never will." Ataru looks at the young man with hope and comfort, that his legacy has now been entrusted and will be continued through the service of someone like Hisashi.
"Now go and rest, tomorrow is another day." Ataru gives his final bow and departs back into the castle to settle for the evening.
Hisashi watches his lord vanish into the castle before leaving the grounds with Hayato and starting their walk back home. Until just now, Hisashi had been troubled by the day's events. Thankfully, a good chat quelled his worries, and Lord Ataru shall have his gratitude. He casts his gaze skywards once more. While he could not hope to ponder on the enigma that is life in a single night, he could continue his mandate, certain that he has a responsibility to fulfill as a servant.
To his people.
To his master.
Tomorrow was another day indeed.