Brush in hand, Hideo stepped back from the scroll to appraise his work while the ink was still wet. There, written in his own hand was his family name ‘Mitsue’, which came about from an amalgamation of ‘Shining’ and ‘Guardian’, words he’d practised thousands upon thousands of times. Rather than being centred on the scroll, he’d inscribed the two characters on the upper half, leaving the bottom portion utterly blank which ruined the overall balance of the composition and left it incomplete, because it was. Most would think he intended to write his own name on the scroll, but he already had such a scroll hanging on the wall of his room and had no need or desire for a second.
Mitsue Hideo, written Shining Guardian Chivalrous Person, or as Father had intended it be interpreted, Heroic Heavenly Guardian. A grandiose and ambitious name to bestow upon a baby only a hundred days old, but Father idolized his uncle, the famed Obsidian Shadow Mitsue Juichi, a man who rose to fame through military brilliance and exemplary personal Martial Strength. Considering his hero’s name was interpreted as ‘Immortal Heavenly Guardian’, one could see why Father had such high aspirations when choosing his own son’s name.
If he liked flamboyant names so much, then why didn’t Father change his own? Mitsue Hiroshi, Shining Guardian of Generosity was hardly fitting for a man with such high aspirations.
Luckily, Hideo proved deserving of Father’s pretension, unlike so many of his siblings and cousins whose names became the butt of a lifelong joke. So many of his underwhelming relatives cursed their pompous names when they failed to live up to expectations, for it opened the floodgates for others to speculate how to better interpret their names and what professions they were more suited for, besides following in the footsteps of the great Mitsue Juichi. ‘Bright Fortune’ the accountant, ‘Wise Guardian’ the doorman, ‘Vigorous Hunter’ the gigolo, Hideo had heard countless jokes like these and laughed at the expense of his less talented relatives, but only now did he realize what a curse these overbearing names truly were.
Mitsue Hideo, the Heroic Heavenly Guardian who’d fallen to Earthly Desires. Truly a joke for the ages, but this time, Hideo wasn’t laughing.
Even though he knew it would never come to be, the missing characters on the scroll weren’t intended for his name, but another’s. Zheng Luo, the greatest beauty of a generation and the woman he yearned to take as his wife, but alas, he wasn’t sure how to write her name. He’d only ever heard her name spoken, never written, except by Falling Rain who used the character for ‘Zither’ to represent Zheng and a nonsense character without meaning for ‘Luo’, but such a base and undignified name was hardly fitting for an empyrean beauty like Zheng Luo. An uneducated barbarian, Falling Rain likely picked two words which fit phonetically instead of asking Zheng Luo how to properly write her name, and as the lowly consort to a savage tribesman, she likely had no choice but to obey since correcting her idiot husband would only earn her a beating or worse. Oh how Hideo yearned to slaughter Falling Rain and save Zheng Luo from his clutches, but he was less than a stranger to her, and utterly unqualified to interfere in her life.
He dreamed of being her hero, but he didn’t even know how to write her name. ‘Zheng’ from zither was quite fitting since word of her phenomenal musical performances had taken the Empire by storm over the past few days, but which ‘Luo’ was suitable for a woman of her talents? Falling Rain’s meaningless interpretation was utterly unfit, nor did the ‘Luo’ from mule, for obvious reasons, but that only left ‘whorl’, ‘patrol’, and ‘arrange’ out of words which already existed. None were fitting for a Heavenly Fairy like herself, so all that was left was to create a character by himself, but nothing was ever good enough for the woman of his dreams. In the end, all he could do was stare at the blank space on his scroll for hours while imagining her perfect name written upon it, just as he imagined taking her from the crippled savage and bringing her home as his wife.
It wasn’t until a girlish titter shook him from his thoughts that he realized he wasn’t alone, and he turned to see the sweet little Eri standing beside him, her twin hair-buns embedded with leafy debris and dress dishevelled from climbing over the courtyard wall. “Mit – sue,” she read, enunciating each character as they were new to her, despite seeing these same two words over the gate every time she came to visit. “Big Brother Hideo, your cursive script is getting more and more beautiful, but why did you leave the scroll unfinished?” Giggling, she added, “Are you too shy to add this Eri-Hime’s name on it? If so, I can finish the scroll for you and make our marriage official...”
Leaping away from the fourteen-year-old girl as if she were a burning fire, Hideo pointed and whispered, “Wh-what are you doing here? I told you to go away and stop sneaking in to see me! I’ll be lashed if they learn I’ve been having visitors, regardless if I asked you to come or not.”
“Mean.” Plucking a stray leaf from her hair, Eri put her fists on her hips and bristled with indignation, speaking far too loudly for Hideo’s liking. “And whose fault do you think it is Eri-Hime has to sneak in like this? Four months you’ve been back in the city and not once did you come visit your betrothed. Do you ever think of your poor wife-to-be?”
“Nonsense.” Circling around to keep his calligraphy stand between them, Hideo said, “Our fathers were drunk when they made that pledge, and I wasn’t even born yet. Neither of them even had wives yet, so they had no business pledging their first-born children to be wed or become bosom friends. Your father had the pledge annulled the day you were born, and my father gladly allowed it because we’re more than a decade apart in age, so I’ll hear no more of this betrothed business.”
Having been born late in his life after a string of failed pregnancies, Eri was the little princess of the Ishida family and doted heavily upon by her entire family, hence the moniker Eri-Hime. Somehow, the girl learned of their supposed betrothal a few years ago and became utterly infatuated with her ‘big brother’ Hideo, who not only doted and treasured this charming ‘little sister’, but had also just emerged as a budding young Martial talent to match the likes of Tam Taewoong and Ryo Geom-Chi.
To call yourself a ‘match’ is too generous, for in the two years you served as a member of the Hwarang, not once did you defeat either of your seniors. What Heroic Heavenly Guardian?
“I don’t care,” Eri declared, undeterred by Hideo’s reluctance. “Eri-Hime is gonna marry Big Brother Hideo and no one else.” Beaming with confidence, she patted her lacklustre chest and said, “Don’t worry. When Eri-Hime grows up, she’ll be a beautiful princess worthy of Big Brother Hideo, just you wait and see.”
Having seen her plain, flat-chested mother, Hideo doubted Eri would suit his tastes even if given ten more years to mature, but he knew better than to argue the matter. The girl was wilful and headstrong, unwilling to ever step back or see reason since her father could never bear to scold her, but Hideo’s patience was wearing thin. “You can’t be here,” he said, wishing he had the courage to drag her away, but he didn’t dare reach out and touch her. “I’m being punished. You need to leave. Please go.”
“Then we’ll keep it our little secret. No one will ever know I was here.” Picking up Hideo’s discarded brush, Eri dipped it in the inkwell and used it to fill her name in on the scroll, her practised brushwork flowing beautifully as she completed his work. Two years ago, she’d run away from her calligraphy teacher and came to the Mitsue Manor to find him, crying about how she hated practising calligraphy and didn’t understand why she had to learn. It was only after he showed her his personal collection that she took an interest in the art, but only so she could insist on having him teach her, which was likely her scheme from the start. Hideo didn’t hate it, for what man would loathe the attentions of a darling young woman, but he never thought of taking sweet Eri as his wife and considered her affections as nothing more than a childish flight of fancy, one she would grow out of in a few more years.
Grinning like a cat, Eri stepped aside from the canvas to let Hideo evaluate her performance. Calming his nerves, he feigned the composure a teacher should have and studied her work with care. Pointing at a hitch in the brushwork, he said, “Calligraphy is more than just ink on parchment. The brush is your mind, the ink your emotions, and the words a portrayal of your innermost self. This blotch here caused by hesitation speaks of a conflicted mind and repressed emotions, this wavering line a detachment between intent and reality. Curious signs when the subject is your own name. What burdens your mind, little sister?”
“Besides Eri-Hime’s betrothed not coming to visit?” With a huff of displeasure, Eri puffed her cheeks, squished them flat with her fists, and kneaded them slowly to vent her frustrations. “This entire week, everyone’s been talking about how Big Brother Hideo isn’t around and saying he’s fallen from grace. You spent three full years as a member of the Hwarang, but just because you lost to some stinky slave, they forget all about your previous glory. They’re the worst. Forget about this silly punishment. You should go out and show them who you are, Mistue Hideo, Disciple and Grand-Nephew of the Obsidian Shadow and Eri-Hime’s future husband.”
Ignoring the last part, Hideo scoffed and waved her concerns aside. “Forget them. Not even the Emperor could make gossip and rumours go away, so why burden yourself caring about what the ignorant say?” In truth, he wanted to go out and do exactly as she said, but Father had confined him to this small courtyard ever since he returned from the front lines. Granted, Hideo had become unhinged and tried to kill Father in a moment of weakness, so solitary confinement was a small price to pay, but if word got out that he’d almost succumbed to the Father’s whispered lies, then Hideo would truly be finished, and the Mitsue Family alongside him. Cognizant of the necessary restrictions, he scowled at Eri and said, “Now off with you. Like I said, I’m not supposed to have visitors because... Well, just because.”
For good reason...
As if on cue to ruin everything, Hideo heard marching boots heading towards his manor and panicked at the thought of getting caught. Looking around for a place to hide Eri, he decided it was too dangerous to stash her in his room lest Father get the wrong idea if they were found out, but there was nowhere else to put her. This was a one room manor with only a bonsai tree and koi pond in the courtyard, a quiet, out of the way dwelling where members of the Mitsue family could come to mediate or face penance for their crimes. Just as he was about to despair, he realized he stood alone in the courtyard as little Eri must have made her escape during his momentary hysterics, a clever girl who knew her uncle Hiroshi would not be lenient as her father would if she were caught breaking Mitsue family rules.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Remembering his work at the last moment, he snatched the scroll off the stand and threw it into the bushes only seconds before Father strode in, with his four Peak Expert guards at his side. “Get dressed,” Father said, his tired eyes ringed with dark bags and crows feet as he tossed Hideo a set of unmarked warrior robes, similar to the ones his guards currently wore which were devoid of the Mitsue family crest. “I’ve been called away to the front lines and I’ll not leave you here unsupervised.”
Not even a greeting after their long separation, this was what their relationship had devolved to. Choked by guilt and anger, Hideo swallowed his words and slunk away to obey, wishing he hadn’t disappointed his father so deeply. It was all Falling Rain’s fault, the ignorant little bastard, fighting on the front lines for sixty days without end just because he didn’t know a Warrant Officer was supposed to ask for time off from the war efforts, rather than be instructed to take time off. In doing so, he sparked Hideo’s competitive streak and almost brought them both to ruin, though it was easy to say which of them was worse off. Falling Rain might be crippled, but Mitsue Hideo had almost given in to the Enemy’s lies. Had he taken that last step and fallen to become Defiled, then he would have been the sinner of a generation, the fool who betrayed family, Empire, and humanity itself to bring down a Hero of the Empire, for if the Disciple could turn Defiled, then the Mentor was either an incompetent or a sympathizer himself.
Thankfully, Father loved his son more than he idolized his uncle, else Hideo would’ve been quietly killed to protect Grand Uncle Juichi, who as far as he knew, was still unaware of his Disciple’s blunder of a lifetime. All hope was not yet lost, so Father made excuses and fended off questions while Hideo spent his days in secluded meditation, striving to cleanse himself of the Enemy’s foul ministrations and reach Balance once again. Almost five months had passed since he left the front lines, and while he’d come a long way in such a short time, Hideo was terrified of returning to the battlefield where the Enemy’s attention might fall on him once again.
No one but Father knows about my affliction. I could still kill him and seize control of the Mitsue family, for Mentor never cared about worldly wealth or mercantile endeavours...
After putting on the unmarked robes, he stepped out and found Father staring at the crumpled scroll which read ‘Mitsue Eri’, and for a moment, Hideo wondered who this tired, pathetic stranger was. Though no great warrior of renown, Mitsue Hiroshi was still a Peak Expert in the prime of life, fifty-two years young with another two decades of life before he would even begin to slow down, but as he stood there in the courtyard, he looked older than Mentor who had one foot in the grave, a gloomy, wretched old man mired in miserable despair.
He knew. He had to know. Father was the one who taught Hideo everything he knew about calligraphy, so surely he could see the truth hidden behind those four simple characters, but instead of erupting into anger, Father merely stood and stared with anguish etched across his weary face.
“Sorry Father,” Hideo said, not bothering to make excuses, for indeed, there were none. “I... I’m sorry.”
Instead of replying, Father rolled the parchment up and tucked it away in his robes before gesturing for Hideo to follow behind. There was no carriage waiting at the gates, for Father Cloud-Stepped out of the manor and into the sky with two guards following closely behind to keep him safe from ambush. Though not yet able to Cloud-Step on his own, Hideo Lightened himself enough to follow suit with help from the two remaining guards, summoning his Domain to protect him from the harsh winds and high altitudes they would need to travel at to keep safe. Too close to the ground, and they might be attacked by their foes, or at the very least make a spectacle of themselves for the common folk.
As majestic as one would think Cloud-Stepping might be, it was an exhausting effort for all but a few true masters of Lightening, and no one could look imposing while red faced and heaving with exertion. Worse, what if they stumbled or tripped while travelling along?
With the guards rotating out to help Hideo along, they made the eight-day carriage ride to Sinuji in one and a half, and only because they had to stop every few hours so he could rest and replenish his Chi reserves. Head hung low and eyes pinned to the ground, he strode into Sinuji in the dead of night, unwilling to even look around for fear of attracting the Father’s foul attention. There was no fanfare to their entrance, as Father wouldn’t even give his name to the gate guards and instead relied on Sending for a contact to come vouch for them, claiming they were hired mercenaries here to join some Warrant Officer’s retinue. Once inside the fort, Father brought them to barge in on the Commander’s tent where Uncle Watanabe stood waiting, no doubt told to be there through Sending. “Cousin Hiroshi,” he said, greeting Father with a strained smile after the Sound Barrier went up. “What brings you here to Sinuji?”
“My idiot cousin Watanabe,” Father replied, his voice heated and unrestrained. “He seems to have lost his mind and is dead set on bringing the entire family to ruin. Would you happen to know why?”
“Careful cousin.” Dropping all pretenses, Uncle Watanabe puffed up his chest even as he retreated a step, no match for Father yet still unwilling to humble himself before his betters. “I am still the Field Commander here in Sinuji, and my word is Military Law.”
“Which is why I came in without giving a name, so nothing will be traced back to me if I’m forced to take your life.” After letting the gravity of his unspoken threat sink in, Father sighed and asked, “Why do you still insist on setting yourself against him? Even your father doesn’t approve of you meddling in Imperial affairs, but he’s naive enough to believe he still has enough influence to save you, which is why I’m here instead of him.”
“Oh? So the golden child no longer idolizes his hero? Disloyal snake.” Spitting on the ground, Uncle Watanabe sneered and said, “Father treated you like his own son, taught you everything you know and put you in charge of the family, and this is how you repay him?”
“In the last six decades, there’s not a single person who dared refuse him anything,” Father replied, staring Uncle Watanabe down. “Except me. If you go through with this foolishness, there will be a second, because even a Living Legend like Mitsue Juichi is worth less than Imperial face. The Legate will have you drawn and quartered if we’re lucky, and if not, then the entire Mitsue family will pay for your folly.”
“I told you already cousin, there will be no face lost. I have assurances from a high ranking Imperial Noble that no true Scion sees Falling Rain as one of their own.” The name shocked Hideo to the core, since the last he heard, the hateful savage had been crippled and would soon be dead or forgotten, so why was he still important enough to force Father to come to Sinuji just to argue with Uncle Watanabe? Waving at stack of reports, Uncle said, “Just read and you’ll see for yourself. He’s a doomed man, his title worth less than dog-shit. He keeps company with eunuchs, sleeps in a soldier’s tent, eats a soldier’s meals, begs for meetings with other officers, and spends hours ingratiating himself to the common soldiers in hopes they’ll take sympathy on his plight should he find trouble on the walls. A disgrace is what he is, and removing this blight on their honour would be a favour to the Imperial Clan, one they’ll reward us richly for doing.”
“You’re right,” Father replied, catching Uncle off-guard. “No self-respecting Imperial Scion would ever privately acknowledge Falling Rain’s title, even before he was crippled, but this is a public affair and the Imperial Clan must keep up appearances. Shen ZhenWu granted Falling Rain the title of Imperial Consort as reward for his accomplishments to boost public morale, but if it becomes known this title is worth less than dog-shit, then not only will the Legate lose face, but the Imperial Clan will as well, for it will be seen as forgetting favours and violating justice. Thus, even though you have assurances from his foes that you will not be charged for the murder of an Imperial Scion if you should kill Falling Rain, the Legate will have no choice but to insist on treating the savage’s death as the death of an Imperial Scion, because to do otherwise is to admit he rewarded the Number One talent in the Empire with an empty title. So tell me cousin,” Father asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “What is the penalty for killing an Imperial Scion, even one as lowly and disgraceful as Falling Rain?”
Nine Familial Extermination. It didn’t need to be said, because everyone and their mother knew the blood price demanded, nine generations of family all wiped out of existence. Being Mitsue Juichi’s son, Watanabe’s crime would implicate even Hideo’s legendary Mentor, and if Father was right, then the Legate wouldn’t blink twice about killing a Colonel General just to save face.
Finally understanding the gravity of the situation, Uncle Watanabe staggered back and slumped into his chair, his powdered face unable to hide the sickly pallor of his skin. Relief and horror intermingling as he considered how close he came to death, and Hideo had nothing but sympathy for his uncle and wished him all the best. He’d experienced much of the same a few hours into his first day of secluded meditation, when it became apparent how far gone he’d become, but he didn’t dare open his mouth to console uncle Watanabe while Father was in such a dark mood.
His point made, Father’s tone softened as he said, “It’s good that you listened and didn’t act directly. The savage brat’s humble demeanour almost had me fooled as well. He’s still an Imperial Scion, but he wants his enemies to forget so they’ll step out of line, which will afford his Patron an excuse to step in and set things right. The Disciplinary Corps accuse him of nepotism, so he fights back by affecting humility and allowing himself to be unfairly treated all so he can accuse his enemies of the same crimes he was convicted of and expose his plight for what it is: unjust discrimination. Do what you must to placate your Imperial Patron and let those slave soldiers fight and die, but you cannot give Falling Rain or the Legate reason to accuse you of misconduct. Remember cousin, in a battle between Imperials, it’s best to smile at both sides and do as little as possible, lest you find yourself eating shit and thanking someone for the opportunity.”
Stating that they’d be staying in Sinuji until Falling Rain left, Father brought Hideo away before Uncle even noticed his presence. Once inside their borrowed quarters, Father pointed at the innermost cot and claimed the outermost one for himself, leaving his four guards between them just to be safe. Lamenting the loss of his father’s trust, Hideo Sent, “Must you treat me so coldly, Father? Have you lost all affection for your son?”
Slumping at the accusation, Father silently studied Hideo for long, silent seconds, his eyes tearing up as if he were staring at his son’s cold, dead corpse. “If I didn’t still love my son ,” Father Sent, his voice laden with pain and regret, “Would I have gone to such great lengths to protect you? Would I have hidden all trace of your crimes? Would I have kept silent while my oldest friend slowly went mad with grief as the search for his missing daughter stretched on?”
The truth hit Hideo like a hammer to the gut and the world closed in around him as he came face to face with reality. The calligraphy scroll had been written by his hand, the conflict and detachment in his mind clear as day now that Father would no longer let him lie to himself. Eri-Hime was gone, slain by his own hand when she snuck in to see him after he returned from the front lines, and this was not even the worst of his crimes. No, the worst came after, in the form of unspeakable acts committed using her cold, dead corpse, and when Father finally found them, there was barely anything of her left. Sweet, smiling Eri, with only her head still intact, because Hideo had wanted her to see her dreams come true as the two of them were united as one.
She never should have come. He’d been living in isolation for an entire month, and the moment he laid eyes upon her, he could no longer resist. No, he didn’t want to resist, because she looked so beautiful beneath the moonlight as she ran into his arms, smelling of dirt, flowers, and perfume. A budding innocent ready to blossom into a lovely young woman, and he still remembered his first taste of her flesh, so sweet and delectable as she shrieked and struggled...
A Sound Barrier closed in around Hideo moments before a scream erupted from his throat, and he continued screaming as Father’s Sending echoed in his mind. “You are my son, and I would go to the ends of the earth to keep you safe, but I worry the man I see before me is no longer the Hideo I know and merely a monster wearing his flesh. Prove to me my son still lives, not with words or contrition, but with your actions, and only then will we be father and son once more.”
Mired in horror and insanity, a small part of Hideo wanted to tell Father he was too far gone and to end things now, but the voices wouldn’t allow it. ‘Seek calm,’ they said, ‘and walk the razor’s edge, for you still have a part to play. Indulgence will come later, when you hold the reins of the Mitsue family firmly in hand, but until then, you must be patient.’
Help was on the way, they told him, and Hideo only had to wait a week or two, for then he would have the freedom he so feared and desired...
Chapter Meme