For the next week, the company forged steadily on, enjoying the changed tranquility of the wilds. The brooding air of Osoroshi was long behind them, and they enjoyed pleasant, sunny days despite the ever-present heat. They maintained a considerable pace but took long, restful breaks, and ate well. They had more than enough supplies to last them the week, and soon they found villages in which they could buy more food.

Gintaro began to instruct Nō in the martial art of swordsmanship, being foundational in the training of a Kaijin. Although the boy was physically strong and adept with the staff and spear, he did not have much experience with the sword.

“I do not know quite how to go about this,” Gin admitted to his young apprentice. “When I was taught by my master, I trained under him for ten years. I cannot expect you to follow me for that long, nor would I have you do so, but I suppose we shall begin with the basics and go from there.”

He first asked Nō to fashion a practice sword out of wood, specifically white oak, and this process took a few days. Luckily, there was plenty of oak in the heights, and soon he was able to find wood with the suitable grain and hardness that his teacher was looking for. Then, Gin made him shave the wood down, which took the boy quite some time, as he could only work on it during periods of rest.

Of the entire company, Nō’s horse had it the hardest, for it was taxed by the heavy baggage upon it so that no one desired to burden it any further by riding it. Nō soon revealed that he had brought along the Tengu’s armor, for though the pair had resolved to leave it behind, the Sage commanded the boy to bring it with him.

“For a quest of your nature, I tend to agree with the Sage,” the boy said plainly. “You never know when you might be needing it, and for now, my horse can carry it.”

This seemed to satisfy the other travelers, as the main reason why they left it behind was that they thought that it would be too difficult to travel with.

“I don’t think I could part with it a second time,” Saru said greedily. She had a much harder time leaving it with the Truists than Gin did. She thought they were unworthy of it and would sooner destroy the armor than make use of it. It took Gintaro some convincing that it would be impossible to carry on their backs through the mountains. Therefore, she was quite pleased to see it come back to them.

One evening, the three made camp alongside one of the mountain streams. There was an abundance of thick, brown, shiitake mushrooms growing upon the bark of all the nearby trees. That evening they had fresh mushroom soup and grilled the remaining mushrooms to save for later. After the meal, they sat contemplatively around the campfire under the cloudless night sky.

Saru and Nō began to have a lively discussion on the names of the constellations, for the names differed greatly between the Truists and the people of the north.

“That one is the Virgin,” Nō explained, pointing above.

“Funny, we call her the Prostitute,” Saru replied.

Nō made a look of disgust but continued. “That's the Gate to Heaven.”

“Money Box,” Saru quipped.

Nō frowned. “Holy Lion, Incense Bowl, Cleansing Ladle,” he said, moving his pointer finger rapidly.

“Drunken Man, Chamber Pot, uh...well, I should let you use your imagination for that one.”

“How...” he started, turning red.

“Nō,” Gin interjected, trying to keep the peace. “May I ask you a question?”

It took a moment for the young monk to compose himself, and he slowly turned to address his teacher. “Yes, anything Sensei.”

“You never told us what the nature of your trial was. The Sage looked very grave when I asked about it.”

The boy seemed to search in the fire for an answer. “I am not sure if I am permitted to share it outside of the Order, Sensei. But then again I suppose it does not matter now.” He shifted uncomfortably. “When a Truist begins a trial, it is usually one specific to the order they intend to join. For some, it is a missionary journey, for others, it resembles a thesis or study. For Temple Guardians, it is often a mission requiring courage and industry. I was sent out to a secret temple in the very south of Minami-shima to discover why communication from that precinct had abruptly ceased.”

“You crossed Minami-shima on foot?” Gin asked, clearly impressed.

Nō nodded. “It was a challenge, but I eventually made it to the temple. This place was unlike most of our other temples which are used for worship, the housing of knowledge, the training of monks, and the refuge for the weary. This particular temple was built upon a grave secret - to keep an ancient artifact hidden from the world.”

“What artifact?” asked Saru.

“I am not sure,” Nō answered, shaking his head. “That information is far above an initiate monk such as me. When I got there, I knew right away why the precinct had not responded to our inquiries. It had been raided, and all the monks and guardians were captured and taken away.” The young monk looked deeper into the fire. It cracked and popped before his dark eyes.

His voice grew quiet as if he were afraid to say the rest. “I examined the temple thoroughly. Not only was everyone gone, but whatever artifact that was housed there had been stolen. That is why I had to hurry back so quickly. That temple had been quiet for centuries. That secret had remained a secret for many lives of men. Now that secret is out.”

A long-protracted silence followed as Nō’s sorrowful words hung in the air.

“These are dark days for the Order,” Gin said quietly.

“Dark days indeed. Sensei, have you given any thought to the yomi we encountered on the strait?”

Gin shook his head. “I have not,” he admitted. “I have been focusing my energies on the future, not on the past.”

“Well,” said the boy, “I have given it some thought, but I should say that I do not know everything, so this is only conjecture. However, a few days after I left the temple, I tried to figure out what happened to the Truists who were supposed to be there. From the locals, I heard stories of monks being carried out to sea aboard strange wooden ships. The ships were then burned and then vanished into the ocean. No one seemed to know who was piloting these ships, but I heard rumors of a strange voice, a pale light, a ghastly power in the depths before they were burned. At that time, I thought it was just the imagination of country folk, but now...”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“Do you think the murder of those Truists created the yomi that attacked us on the water?” Gin asked, his gaze intensifying.

“It could explain why I was able to pacify it, and why it was so eager for revenge.”

“It seems possible,” Saru agreed. “It said it wanted revenge for the blood of the ‘holy ones’.”

“When I returned and reported my findings to the Elder Superior and the Sage, they did not give up much information,” Nō continued. “But, when I told them of the stories, they were visibly disturbed, as if this was not the first time that they had heard of it. Then, from others who had recently come to the congregation, I learned that other coastal temples had been sacked and the same strange punishment was meted out against their clergy. They are always taken out to sea and then…”

Gin cracked his knuckles. “The blind persecution of Truists is unfortunately not a new occurrence, but this seems deliberate. Yet why would someone want to create a yomi? They have no master, and they heed no man. They simply destroy. What kind of person would create such an abomination?” His face had taken a horrified expression, but with a shake of his head, it shifted back to serenity. “This is all too great for us three. We cannot stop every evil, everywhere. We must focus on the task at hand. Perhaps in the process, we will find the answers to this riddle. For now, let us get some rest. Tomorrow we will continue, and you must complete that sword of yours.”

“Sensei,” Nō began, cautiously. “You have spoken little of your quest to me. Before, it was not my business. Now, if it is possible, may I know where we are going, and why?”

Gintaro looked over to Saru who nodded her head. Only she knew his heart on the matter, for they had spoken much in their time at the Truist camp.

“Very well,” he said with a sigh. “You already know that my daughter was taken from me. Well, I believe that the Shōgun himself is responsible.”

Nō’s eyes widened in amazement. “The Shōgun?”

“Yes, him or one very close to him.”

“But...why?”

Gin shook his head. “I do not know. I fought against him in my youth, and for that, he may want to punish me. But why now, all these years later, and why not finish it quickly? Why draw me out by taking my only child from me? These are the questions that disturb my dreams, though I do not expect to find out the answer so easily.”

Nō could tell that speaking about this openly pained his teacher, so he bowed his head and turned aside. Saru laid her head down upon her rucksack. They kept the fire burning bright that evening and fell asleep to the sundering of the fuel.

After a week had gone by, their path began to gently slope downwards, as they were steadily leaving the Middle Country for the fertile region outside the Old Capital. Both the realms of the Tsuru and Buta tapered inwards to lay claim on these lands so that it was much safer and thus easier for villages and towns to exist. The Old Capital itself was an immensely populous region, inside the boundaries of the city and beyond, making it a nexus of hundreds of neighboring communities. Thus, in the second leg of their journey, they began to find many such villages, ranging from small and isolated, to large hubs which sat along crossroads. Farms and terraced rice paddies were numerous, as well as standalone inns for weary travelers. They were able to stay at a few of these quaint establishments, mostly for the benefit of a hot bath.

Another week later, Nō had finally completed his wooden sword, the next lesson was to work on the most basic move in fencing, the midline-vertical slash. Gin taught him how to properly grip the sword, then hold the sword, and position his body. Then he told him how to execute the attack, which if successful, would hit the opponent on the center of the skull. Once Nō was competent enough, his teacher had him follow behind them on the path, stepping, slashing, and shouting as he did so. This greatly annoyed Saru, who began to regret her recent kindness to the young initiate monk.

“Couldn’t you teach him anything else?” she grumbled, holding her hands over her ears.

Gin shook his head with an amused look. “He needs to teach his muscles how to strike, and the voice is an important part of generating the power in which to do so. It builds ki, or energy, which he needs to be an effective fighter, and it is especially useful for a Kaijin.”

Saru groaned. “It’s driving me mad!”

“Well,” Gin started, looking incredibly pleased with himself. “How about a change of scenery to calm your nerves?”

He said that just as they reached the crest of a steep hill, so that all that was below them was suddenly displayed before their eyes. Saru stopped in her tracks, and when Nō caught up with them, his shouts instantly ceased. There before them, sitting in a wide basin surrounded by gentle forested mountains, sat a great city, glittering in the afternoon sun. Two pristine rivers ran through it going north to south, and even from that distance, they could see the high pagodas of uncountable temples, and green, lush gardens scattered about generously.

“The Old Capital...” Nō whispered with hushed reverence.

“I never thought I’d actually see it,” said Saru softly. “It’s beautiful.”

Gin smiled and stepped forward. “It’s even better close up.”

They made their way down the path into the valley, which eventually merged with several other roads, becoming a kind of thoroughfare leading into the west side of the city. As they drew closer, buildings popped up, and the traffic increased. The architecture reminded them of the splendor of days long gone, before all the wars, when brilliant artisans could focus on their craft without disturbance or worry to stymie them.

The Old Capital was built in the time of the glory of the Emperors, and as their power was relatively secure, walls were not required around the city to defend it. However, after the Emperors failed and the Shōguns replaced them, walls were constructed, primarily around the Shōgunal estates. The Old Capital was so large that there was not an overwhelming presence of guards. There were just enough of them to police major crimes, but there were no checkpoints, and the likelihood of being spotted by a soldier was low. Most of the problems in the Old Capital were still settled the old way, with swords. Gintaro, who knew this city perhaps better than he knew anywhere else, did not feel nervous entering. If anything, it felt like he was coming home.

They crossed the long western bridge over the river Hana, as the sun was setting on the horizon. It took quite some time to cross into the city, for the traffic was great, and the bridge was congested with horses, carts, rickshaws, and a great swell of humanity. Yet the blazing orange sun reflected upon the glassy river was enough to dispel their frustrations and put them at ease.

As they passed into the city itself, they saw many well-worn wooden buildings that had survived the years and stood as a testament to the majesty of the old days. The city itself was planned as a large grid so that streets, though narrow, were evenly spaced. Every so often they would pass a great temple or shrine, with stately stone steps leading up to the hall of worship. Old, thick cherry trees and lovely arching willows lined many of the streets. Canals that came off the main rivers made for romantic thoroughfares. Women and men in fine silk kimono passed them by, as did all manner of trade and craftsmen. The smell of a thousand dishes being cooked filled the air, and grey smoke billowed from the chimneys. By the time they had found a reasonably priced inn and ate dinner, it was well into the evening.

As both Nō and Saru laid down upon their feathered futons and fell asleep, Gintaro sat along the veranda, staring out into the deep sky glittering with stars.

“I never thought I would be here again,” he whispered to himself. “This city is where we first met. Do you remember?” He smiled, but then, a profound thought crossed his mind. “I first came here as Gintaro, the apprentice of a Kaijin. I left here as the Raijin, Captain of the Kurogumi. Who, or what am I now?”

He could not answer, for he did not know. He rose and gave one last look to the stars arrayed in the sky like the crystals of the Shinjin’s fabled robe. He then turned and went inside, sliding the paper door shut behind him.