When I looked back on my life, asking what loose ends I needed to tie up before death, I got lost in the blankness of my other self’s answering stare. There was nothing. No one would feel the loss of a traitorous son of an Earth Kumo. And with this conviction, I resolved against revisiting the Nagaishi domain or even Western Capital.
I camped in a forest of chestnut trees, west of the Eastern Capital, close enough to reach the city within a day’s travel. Princess Sachiko sent intelligence of Furi’s safe arrival within palace walls with promises to keep me faithfully informed of her movements, and then when all was ready, bring her to the appointed place. At that time, an envoy from Western Capital would bring Okugawa heir to the Imperial Mountain Springs for a bathing retreat. There they would meet, and Yasuhiro would fall.
I expected my uncle and a part of the army to rendezvous at my camp. As far as I was concerned, there was little left but to wait. The time had approached, but there were pieces of my uncle’s game that were yet to be played. That movement could take either weeks or months to bring to full maturity.
For me, this meant a long wait. And yet, I didn’t envy Furi’s time at Court. The Princess had promised to take care of her, but I knew what royal formalities would do to her, and I stifled a fresh spasm of guilt with every thought of her.
As for me, I would be idle for some time, and I cast my gaze from the embers in the fire pit to my sword, resting sheathed upon my bedroll. I brought out a wet stone from my satchel, unsheathed my longsword and began drawing it in one direction over the stone. Faint light streamed through pockets in the foliage, glinting off the steel of the blade.
With a slight rustling of dry brush, I glanced up and noticed a russet colored fox had approached close to my fire. It was a brazen move for a wild creature. He should know better. I stood, intent on frightening him off, but he only drew nearer, sat down, and let his long tail curl neatly around his forepaws.
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When I looked again, I saw no fox, but the old doctor who had mentored me at Western Capital, seated at my fireside. “You see strange things in these woods, I tell you. The longer you live, the more the oddities jump into the foreground.”
My jaw fell and I stared mute at my old friend who had guessed and kept my secret all these years since.
“But you will not have many more years for observing the strange, will you?”
“Sensei, you always were a sly one. Fox suits you. You couldn’t have chosen a better animal.”
He grunted, and waved a cloud of smoke from his face. “I didn’t choose my birthright any more than you did. And its aptness is proof of the honesty of the phenomenon. You couldn’t have chosen better than spider.”
I could only frown at this saying. And he looked up sharp as though he were the one offended. “I can’t think of another creature I would sooner have around.”
“You know much, Sensei. But you do not know the burdens of the Earth Kumo.”
“Truly spoken. But none live a life of leisure but those who are fattened for table. History will make a fine account of you and your sacrifice. Your work matters to more than yourself.”
I nodded, grimly, but could make no better acknowledgment.
He went on, “I thought I would tell you. I have tended your garden at Western Capital these several years. Your herbs are potent and have assuaged much suffering among the patients in my care.”
At this, I softened.
“That’s welcome news. Thank you.”
“Yes. Well. I could do that much. You turned out a fine healer.”
“In a better world, that would have been my whole occupation.”
“No. In a better world, we wouldn’t need healers, nor soldiers.”
I grunted agreement at this saying, and we fell silent, listening to the quiet chatter of forest creatures.