Common Erru weren’t allowed to carry weapons. They weren’t allowed to possess them either, but that was only if they were caught. In the town’s shed adjacent to the top of the rice fields, Tara found an old wooden sparring sword. Where this sword had originated from, she had no clue. It was probably stolen, that was for sure.
Tara had stalked off from her father, coming straight here, eager not to waste another moment. He hadn’t stopped her, but he tried. Once she was out the house, he likely understood his back wouldn’t hold up running after her.
“Where to begin,” Tara said. She looked around the black, sleeping town and realized how quiet everything was, how cold the air felt. She was out here, alone, gripping a sparring sword with no one to spar with. The candle she set at her feet might provide enough light, had she a partner. But then, she realized, there was only one old beaten sword in the shed. If she did find a partner, she would like to avoid sparring against a wielded shovel or pitchfork.
The moon was high and full tonight. No stars visible, blotted out by a blanket of clouds. Thinking of it, the air did seem a bit chillier than normal. Perhaps an impending Wailstorm amassed not far off.
She stepped forward and lifted her weapon, then swung the practice sword in an arch. She moved it between both hands, gaining a feel for the weapon. The hunk of wood felt more comfortable in her left.
Tara switched over and swung again, listening to the air whoosh. Much better. She swung some more, stopping herself, feeling silly. What the hell am I doing?
She listened to the cry of cicadas around her. This feels ridiculous. I don’t even know the first place to begin.
To add insult to injury, there were none in the town of Kun she could likely turn to either. It was a town of farmers and artisans, the furthest thing possible from wherever Jodai spent their youth training. Had her words been empty bravado?
Shaking her head, Tara swung again. I’ll be damned by the Sovereign herself if I give up that easily. One way or another, she’d figure it out. She batted at the air while thinking. Then she pictured an enemy before her. A dark shape, an outline of black. Imagining its attacks and counterattacks, she reacted. After a few minutes, she realized that this was doing her no good. She continued cutting the air over the next half hour, strengthening her feel for the weapon.
By the end of it her arms were a bit strained. Guess I should work on my endurance first.
She went home without a word and slept. Over the next four weeks, she trained at every point, if she could even call it that. During the days she helped farm the rice fields, and nights she took to herself, as she’d always done. After his first outburst, her father’s attempts to stop her became more dire. He told her she was stupid, acting strange and ungrateful. Finally, he realized he couldn’t stop her.
She continued her same routine, added on top of her daily chores in the town. Sometimes her wrists hurt. It gave her hope though, or at least some sense of purpose she’d been missing.
If only she had a proper idea of how to train as an Ushin. There was a path to it, one she knew innately, which she kept in the dark recesses of her mind. That path meant leaving Kun alone and doing what she could to survive until she found a way to fight properly, and could handle small jobs. Tara could then work her way up from there. Of course, she knew her chances of survival down that route were next to nothing. The most she had traveled outside of Kun were the occasional times she visited Kawanura, always with other townsfolk. She’d also been through a village called Garu once, nearby. They were sun beaten, humbled people, the same as Kun, and would probably admonish her as much as her father.
She even contemplated practicing in a Wailstorm that hit the town two days after her first night with the sword, since her father would not permit her to train in their house. In the end, she erred on the side of reason and stayed inside.
Equally important was keeping attentive and alert for any Jodai or nobles passing through, but none did so late at night. It never hurt to be careful, as nobles did not take so kindly to common folk seen holding anything they might act in violence with. More than ever, she found herself enamored with the sight of Jodai near the Hebi estate. Their blue armor, their fancy swords tied to their hilts, the stone confidence in their faces as they swaggered.
Tara made sure that the townsfolk never discovered her antics. She handled the sword so much, moving on less sleep after long days in the field and sometimes completing half her father’s work, that she felt sizable confidence she could handle herself in a fight with an untrained opponent, even if that confidence was unearned.
It made no difference, for she wouldn’t let anyone know about this. Tara had spoken brazenly, and if her father convinced her she actually was stupid, an obstinate girl stepping far outside the bounds of reason, she’d never be able to bear the shame.
Ordinarily, temperatures halfway into spring crept into uncomfortably warm territory, which would rise to provokingly hot by summer. But today, a cloudy afternoon in the fourth week of Saka, Tara sat in the aftermath of a Wailstorm. Frost still clung to the air, a pleasant reprieve, though the day had warmed considerably. Wailstorms didn’t affect living things other than humans. Man was the only one to ever rebel against Her Sovereign despite her benevolence towards all. Additionally, the storms only ever affected one region at a time. When they were over, they simply dissipated. One was careful not to travel outdoors before then, lest frostsickle befall them.
Tara sat along the yellow-green grass pastures near the hilly road leading to the Hebi estate. The castle stood mostly rebuilt, blemished by a few scorched sections. Above was thick grayness, and in front of her, hilly plains that transitioned into forests in the distance. To her right side was the terrain’s dropoff, a portion of the hill that suddenly declined so steeply, the dirt road could not be seen from where she sat. The rest of the townspeople inhabited the fields or their shops, but Tara was here, gaze upturned.
A throat cleared behind her.
Tara spun to see Yohari standing there. Her heart skipped a beat. Suddenly, her face and chest warmed. Yohari’s smile was full of teeth, genuine. “What are you up to?”
Tara turned back to watching the sky. She said nothing. Then, trying to keep the conversation from becoming awkward, she answered, “Just sitting and thinking. All those rain clouds in the sky, they’re so big. I’ve always liked to look at them from down here and imagine they’re the Shinti. Or the Sovereign’s palace. Those clouds, they’re like all the things we don’t know about the world.” She couldn’t count the times she’d stared at the huge clusters of white and gray which carried waters from the heavens, enchanted. “Yohari-shen. I’m going to leave our town. I’m leaving to become an Ushin warrior, and I know I’ll get nowhere here. There’s an entire world out there worth discovering.”
There were also horrible things, like bandits, and the Ginju.
“Spirits,” Yohari replied in surprise. “You always were one for adventure. You’re serious?”
Tara nodded. She was going to be upfront and honest with Yohari. “I mean it. I swear by the spirits. I don’t want to grow old here like my father. It might be dangerous, but it’ll be more dangerous for me to stay here, to keep my spirit trapped in this place.”
Yohari came and sat next to her. “What about your father?”
Tara didn’t have an answer to that. The two sat in silence, appreciating the pleasantly soggy air storms always left behind. There was a touch of melancholy to it.
She thought of all the things she could say, then dropped them, going through one topic after another. There was so much. The emotional distance between them was further and yet closer than either of them could see. Two seventeen year old women contemplating their own paths at the foothill of life, where every decision was crucial. Every relationship, every touch and whisper of love, at the mercy of whims.
Yohari was empathetic, strong and supportive, with a tendency to fret, but Tara’s disposition kept her anxious, volatile, even abrasive. She recalled the many times Yohari supported her father in festive town games like Hopstick, when he’d been down five tallies or was on a losing team. She patiently cared for her siblings when they got hurt. In the same village, they lived in nearly two opposite worlds. Yohari had much to offer, much to contribute to the lives of others, while Tara wondered, often with a jadedness unbefitting of her age, what was her purpose, and what would it take to reach a baseline of happiness and respect? Was she wrong for wanting more than a life of meagerness and simplicity?
In an ideal world, her friend should be the one more fit for the sword, using it to protect. Tara wished to see her townspeople safe, even the common folk of Kawanura, and yet in the back of her mind, she wished for what the Jodai had, what Owa had and wouldn’t commit for their sake. For her own selfish purposes, she wanted power.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
As she saw it, becoming an Ushin was the only way towards it. She didn’t dare turn to face Yohari. It would hurt too much.
A clink of armor. Tara and Yohari both shot up to their right.
They hadn’t been mistaken. There was a heavy sound of armor, and then emerging from over the cutoff came three Jodai soldiers. Three stocky men, walking side by side.
“Jaikon, you baboon! Get the hell off me, son of a bitch!”
They mocked and laughed with each other, though with an aggressive air. The one in the middle pushed the one to his left. The two were of equal height, the Jodai to his right an inch shorter. The middle one had the longest hair which made him the most princely. When they got close, Tara could see his nose was bent in an odd shape.
Yohari and Tara became rigid. They watched the soldiers pass by, hoping they wouldn’t be scolded for any reason. One could never predict a particular Jodai’s temper. But the men passed without so much as a glance at the two girls.
“Everyone always sings them nothing but praises,” Yohari said as she watched their trek towards the Hebi estate. “Why don’t they do anything on our roads, rid them of the bandits? Why couldn’t they protect my father?”
Tara almost fell into a trance watching them go with their swords at their waste. She got an idea, then formed a plan.
“Wait right here,” Tara whispered, standing up.
Yohari started. “What? Tara, no, where are you going?”
“It’ll only be a second.” The men were ten paces away. She hastened over to them, heart hammering in her chest. This is stupid. This is so stupid. What am I thinking? She was going to talk to these men, a commoner approaching nobles when they were clearly on some business. If they were of gentler stalk, which she doubted, they might just ignore her. They might also get angry and backhand her. She was going to make a fool of herself. Either way, it was a chance she would take.
Right when the men began to turn around, noticing her, she fell to her knees and bowed. “My lords of noble birth, forgive my humble intrusion. Please, hear out my request.”
She couldn’t see their faces because she had her head down, palms to the dirt, but judging by their stunned silence, she could imagine. At the very least, she had their attention.
“My name is Sanabaji Tara of Kun. I have worked everyday of my life, and dreamed of the outside world. My only wish now is that I would be able to protect my family from roadside bandits. Hear my plea. If my lords would be so kind, I ask that you would train your servant in the ways of the sword while you are near Kun, for I aspire to become an Ushin.”
Tara remained kneeling, feeling the weight of her words press down on her with each passing second. She waited for a response, holding her breath.
Seconds later, the Jodai burst into laughter. She dared to look up and saw them grinning widely, exchanging humored looks while they cackled. Tara’s stomach spiraled inside her, red flushing her face.
“It’s-it’s just like you were saying, Shihju-”
Laughter took the speaking man again, cutting off his words. It was short lived, and soon they were prowling on, backs turned. Heavens damn me, Tara thought.
The men only made it five or six feet from the still kneeling Tara before they came to a halt, slowly turning around. “Huh?”
Behind Tara, another man crested over the slope. He was old, short bearded and draped in light blue robes that were nearly white. He donned a straw hat atop his head, a wide pointed dome. At seemingly average height, he packed an impressive amount of brawn for his age. Tara saw he carried two swords at his waist and chewed on a long piece of straw in his mouth. This man was no Jodai.
“That’s him,” the middle warrior declared with a scowl. The three held their ground and didn’t budge.
Tara swiveled back and forth between the Jodai and the stranger. The former were giving pretty serious looks. Yohari watched the encounter from a distance with an expression of absolute dread.
“Who’s that?” Tara asked the men, surprised her voice didn’t catch in her throat.
The Jodai ignored her. The newcomer whistled a tune to his stride. A familiar tune. Perhaps ‘O’ Crowns of Chaos’. He strode until he was fifteen paces away. Planting his feet, his whistling ceased. The Jodai were like hawks, unrelenting gazes meant to cut and tear. At that moment, Tara knew she’d been caught in the middle of something dangerous, quite literally, and she froze in place, eyes darting for a way out.
“Oh, what do we have here? One young lady soaking up the cool weather in the grass, and three lordlings accompanied by another lady, rudely soaking it up in the middle of the road. Roads are for traveling, not for idling youth, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d wager this one is being blocked.”
The man’s face was inquisitive. There was an amused tone to his voice, which put him years younger than he appeared.
“Don’t get so rice-crazed, old bones,” said the middle Jodai. “You aren’t needed here anymore, so you’re more than welcome to turn around and go.”
The newcomer let on a quirky smile. “Funny, I seem to recall being summoned by Lord Owa himself. As I understand it, Lord Owa maintains his official estate in Kawanura, yet called me here, to this half-burnt pile of a castle. That smells of backwater business, high paying business, so I don’t think taking my leave is an option.”
“Then tell Owa you were chased off by dogs,” the Jodai growled. “We’re sure you can craft a clever excuse.”
“Oh, ho. While I am convinced of my own gift for creative storytelling as well, I have no intention of doing so. Forgive me if I’m wrong, but I sense quite a bit of hostility coming from you, and it seems to be scaring these two elegant beauties.”
The middle Jodai laughed again, this time more harshly. “Your senses haven’t completely shriveled away after all! Not completely. Heh, you should be on the ground kneeling like this bitch in front of me.” He stepped forward, his comrades right behind at either side. “Listen you old fool. My name is Shihju, and my clan name bears no relevance to the likes of you. I’m more well trained with the sword than almost everyone I know, which is why I’m almost a lieutenant. We’ve heard of your…reputation. I’m not so arrogant that I would try to take you on alone, as much as I despise admitting it. But if it’s three against one, well, I’d wager even you would be wise turning away with your tail between your legs.”
The newcomer paused, eyes downturned. He met Shihju’s face again. “Young man, is that a threat?”
Before he had even finished, three hands went to their hilts in a single motion, startling Tara. “No,” said Shihju, “It’s your final warning.”
Tara tried calming her jumping heart. Things were serious now. These men were about to fight to the death. She gained some measure of control over her body and, wide-eyed, scrambled from the ground onto the grass. She stumbled and turned back to the scene with morbid fascination.
The old man looked at her, eyes relaxed in a way that made it seem he knew something she didn’t. “Stand back and marvel, young one. For what you are about to witness is the Double-Hand Sword technique. It will be your first and last time ever seeing it.”
With a smile, he brandished his weapons.
No sooner did the Jodai warriors release their own blades. The simultaneous ring of three blades sliding from their scabbards settled it. The exchange of words hadn’t been empty.
The newcomer held his blades forth at the same time. A short one was held in front, upturned. The other was longer, held back with a raised arm, running across his forehead and under his straw hat.
The Jodai wasted no time. They ran and pounced on him, Shihju switching over and taking the old man at his right side. The other two attacked head on.
“Stop!” Tara shouted, knowing her futile words would not save the old man from being shredded.
The attacks didn’t land.
With a single blade, the newcomer blocked the two Jodai in front. In a flash of bladework, his sword caught the tips headed for his chest and eyes and redirected them outwards. The two stunned Jodai stumbled back.
In the same breath, the old man met the blade of Shihju aimed for his side. His sword slid across his opponent’s before gliding on Shihju’s wrist. Shihju didn’t cry out. The newcomer brought the flat of his second blade down on his wrist, and this time Shihju yelped in pain.
The old man spun and evaded the follow up attacks of his supplementary opponents. “I could have taken your soft hands as a souvenir just now! Instead I left you with a reminder.” He grinned.
Shihju lunged in fury. A single blade against two became child’s play. Every one of his attacks were deflected. Shihju snarled. His anger did him no good, even as his comrades joined in.
The old man’s strikes were quick as lightning, attacking and counter attacking with each movement. Tara could hardly keep up. The Jodai pounced on him. Each time he whipped them back with a new injury.
He crashed his hilt on the back of one’s skull, then knocked the wind out of another and sent the Jodai to his knees.
Shihju stepped back in disbelief.
The newcomer chuckled. “Too late to run.”
He advanced on Shihju. Before the man could react, the newcomer nearly cracked his forehead. Shihju toppled to the ground, sword clattering beside him. He was out cold.
“You bastard!” the last felled Jodai wheezed. The newcomer stepped beside him, and then he was out too, hilt to the back of his head.
Three Jodai downed, just like that. Tara gaped. The old man tugged his hat. He hadn’t broken a sweat.
Tara’s gaze went to Yohari, who seemed stuck between a state of morbid curiosity and fleeing for her dear life, then went to the newcomer by the sound of him sheathing his blades. “That was harder than I made it look,” he said. “Still, you should never underestimate an opponent, even if you have twice their skill at three times their age.” He sounded out of breath.
Tara stood and stepped forward, saying nothing.
“What, you’ve never seen someone my age rumple a few dogs before? You’ve got a lot left to see.”
At that moment, Tara seized the opportunity she had been searching for. “This Double-Hand Sword technique. Teach it to me.”