Masami returned to the campsite exhausted. The action and adrenaline after a long day’s walk had left her legs feeling like lead. As she approached, she saw Toshiro standing over the cold fire pit, sword pointed outward. He was shaking and looking around frantically. Masami called out to him “Toshiro! It’s dead.”

The boy jumped, half-dropping, half-throwing his katana. It landed point down in the dirt. “O-oh. M-m-mrs Hisakawa. It?”

“Yeah. The giant monster whose attention you got with that fire I told you not to start. We got lucky this time and I surprised it. Next time might not go so well.” She sighed. “Not that there’s going to be a next time. Get some rest. You’re going home tomorrow.”

For the final time that night, the old samurai pulled her blanket over herself. She heard Toshiro mumble something that sounded like an apology, but she was far too tired to reply. Blissful, dreamless sleep took her.

The first rays of light filtering through the trees were what awoke Masami. She sat up slowly, reaching for her pack. Her stomach felt abnormally empty, so she pulled out two wrapped rice balls and began to eat. Toshiro was still asleep. He snored softly under his three blankets. Damn. Kid really did come prepared.

She let him lie there as she ate her breakfast and tidied up the camp. As soon as her bedroll was tied back to her pack tough, she shook the boy gently. “Toshiro. Sun’s been up for an hour. Get up.”

His eyes were bleary as he opened them. “Huh? Sun...oh!” With that he bolted upright. “Right! Time to go on our adventure!”

“Something like that. It’s clearly too dangerous out here to send you back alone.” The boy’s face lit up. “So you’re coming with me to the next town.”

Toshiro jumped to his feet. “Ha! I knew you’d realize you needed me!”

“I wasn’t finished. You’re coming with me to the next town so that I can hire a cart and guard to take you home.” Masami sighed. “This ‘adventure’ isn’t your burden to bear. And I couldn’t face your grandmother if you got hurt.”

“Mhm! Just until the next town. That’s all the time I need to prove that you should take me along for the rest of the journey!” With that the boy stuffed his blankets back into his pack and began bounding off down the road.

“Toshiro! Ugh, nevermind.”

Jiro, keep the eyes open today, will you? That damn kid’s going to attract every monster from here to the sea with how he’s acting.

Jiro cackled in her mind, a grating sound that rattled through her skull. Sure thing boss. You know, he reminds me of that boy Satoshi.

Masami tensed as she strode after Toshiro. Yeah. In every way. I don’t intend to let things go the same as they did with Satoshi though.

Of course not. The hero of Takayama wouldn’t let -

Masami pressed the tengu out of her mind mid-sentence. She shook her head and took a breath before sprinting up after the young farmhand. As she approached him she reached out and put her hand on his shoulder. “Toshiro! Goodness sakes, don’t you know I’m an old woman? It’s not a race, pace yourself.”

Toshiro slowed. “Right. Sorry Mrs. Hisakawa! Won’t happen again. So where are we headed again?”

Masami pointed down the road. “Northeast, to Ichinomiya. It’ll be a good place to restock my supplies, and we can hire a cart for you there. My old friend Takeo can make sure you get back safely.”

“Ichinomiya? The silk farmers, right?”

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Masami nodded. “Yes. They produce some of the finest silks in the country, I’m told. My wedding kimono came from there.” She looked ahead wistfully. “It’s a nice enough place. Not as busy as Amagasaki.”

The pair fell into silence for a time as they walked. Masami led the way, as she knew the path. The road wound through the deepest part of the woods, where the light could hardly reach. Even in the midday sun it seemed as though they had waded into their own personal twilight. The path narrowed as they walked, until they were forced to march in single file.

As they rounded a tight bend, a clearing of sorts opened up before them. At the center stood a massive oak nine feet across and nearly two hundred tall. Its venerable branches spread far overhead. No other tree grew near it, for its leaves grew thick, blanketing the clearing below in rustling shade.

Masami went to it and knelt. She waved Toshiro over. The boy obliged, kneeling down next to her, though his gaze was turned to the samurai and not the tree.

“Show some respect, Toshiro. This is the heart of the forest. One of the old places.” She murmured the words, not wanting to disturb the peaceful silence. With her head bowed reverently, she closed her eyes and took a breath.

Great oak, mother of the forest, bearer of life, I thank you for your bounteous gifts. May we pass through your domain without harm, and without doing ill.

Huh. Wouldn’t have thought you one for prayer.

Shut it Jiro. Spirits are listening.

Sure enough, Masami could feel the power of the place. It was a gentle thing, a thrumming warmth that pulsated from the great tree. For an instant, Masami could feel every trunk, leaf, and branch in the forest. The feeling passed quickly though, and she soon stood. She reached over and tapped Toshiro’s shoulder.

“C’mon. Let’s have some lunch, and maybe we can take a look at that sword of yours. Where’d you find it anyhow?”

Toshiro sprung to his feet. “Grandmother said it was father’s! And his father’s before him, and his father’s father’s before him, and...well, you know. It’s very old!” He beamed, removing the sword from his belt and offering it to Masami.

“I can tell.” She took it, drawing the blade carefully and peering down its length. “Did you have it sharpened?”

The boy shook his head. “No, why would I? Don’t katanas stay sharp forever?”

“Ha! Nope.” Masami snorted. “That’ll be lesson one then. You’re nothing without a blade that can cut. Here, let’s find a stream and I’ll show you.”

They left the clearing, straying from the path. Masami followed the sound of flowing water, and soon they came upon a small stream.

“There we go. Thought there was one around here.” She kicked off her sandals and hiked up her hakama, wading slightly into the stream. Near the deepest part of the water she crouched down and unslung her pack. She produced a pair of flat rectangular stones wrapped in cloth from within and set them in the water to soak.

“It’s important to let the sharpening stones sit in the water for long enough. You can’t use them dry, they’ll ruin the edge. C’mere, I’m not doing this all for you.”

Toshiro splashed his way over, grinning ear to ear. “Alright! So this is how I get a sword that can cut a monster in half?”

Masami couldn’t help but to chuckle. “Yes, something like that. It’ll certainly be sharper. Now, you have some idea how to use these, right?”

“You push the blade over them and it sharpens the edge. I’ve done it with the hatchet before.”

“Pretty much right. We’re going to go a fair bit sharper than you would with a hatchet though. And it’s imperative you sharpen equally on both sides, and keep a nice shallow angle. Otherwise you’ll dull the thing.”

The boy nodded along as she spoke. She lifted the sharpening stones from the water and set them in the shallows.

“Okay, the stones should be ready. I’ll show you first with mine, then you do yours. Okay?”

“Yep! Lead away, teach!”

Masami drew her katana from its scabbard slowly. She wrapped her right hand around the hilt, letting her left fall from its sleeve to place its fingers on the blade itself. The folds around the one open eye quickly closed. With that she set the sword over the stone, edge facing away. With gentle pressure and long, fluid motions, she began to draw the blade across the stone and away from herself. Ten strokes on one side, ten strokes on the other. After a few moments she paused to draw her finger across the blade.

“There. Good enough for now, given the abuse it got last night. Your turn. Start with the coarser stone, the black one.”

Toshiro did his best to repeat what he’d been shown, placing his hands in much the same way over his own sword. He held steady as he pushed the blade across the sharpening stone. Masami nodded along behind him as she watched.

He continued for several minutes before offering the blade up to Masami. “This look alright?”

She took it, looking down the length and tapping the edge with a finger. “It’s better than it was before. Do the same with the finer stone now. And be careful to keep the same angle as before, or you’ll dull the edge.”

The boy did as he was bade, and soon he could no longer feel resistance as the sword glided across the stone. Masami nodded her approval. “Good. Now rinse your sword in the stream. We should get a move on.”

Masami returned the stones to their cloth wrappings and buried them safely in her pack. Seeing Toshiro bounding up behind her, she pointed back the way they had come, and set off again on her march. She bowed her head once more as they passed the great oak and returned to the cool shade of the woods.

That night they camped beneath a willow tree. Its drooping branches seemed to drape over them like a protector, and for the first time on the journey, Masami felt safe. Before sleep took them, Toshiro piped up from his bedroll.

“Mrs. Hisakawa?”

“What is it, Toshiro?”

“Why won’t you take me with you?”

Masami sat up, sighing. “You know I fought in the old war, yes?” The boy nodded.

“Let me tell you a story. It is not a happy tale, and in some ways even I died at the end of it. It is the memory that stripped me of my sense of duty, and drove me to lay down my sword forevermore. This is the story of Takayama, the final battle of the war. Where my old life ended. Where I was the only lucky one to be given a second chance.”