As an aside, in regards to Tetsuo Akahori's Black Book, here was how it came about back in the late 1870s...
In fear of the arrival of Commodore Matthew C. Perry's Black Ships back in 1852 and what they entailed (the Black Ships or Kurofune eventually came to symbolize to the Japanese the threat of advanced western technology), the Edo Era Japanese Government tasked four clans to help preserve the Japanese culture to protect its way of life, naming each of them after the Four Symbols of the Oriental Constellation or the Four Saint Beasts: Seiryu, Suzaku, Byakko, and Genbu.
However, as the Bakumatsu no Douran went underway, the four clans split up and chose their sides. These groups were now tasked to serve as the secret keepers of important military and political intelligence from the factions they chose to support.
To the victor went the spoils of war, including the confidential information from all four clans. One clan handled the classified hanbatsu (political faction) documents of the bakufu, while another clan handled the top secret gunbatsu (military faction) documents of the shogunate, particularly the files and plans connected to the Shinsengumi, Mimawarigumi, and Shinchogumi.
The remaining two clans were respectively responsible for the classified hanbatsu and gunbatsu files and plans of the Ishin Shishi patriots, specifically the information regarding their Four Butchers of the Bakumatsu, the Leaders of the Patriots, the Shadow Hitokiri, and the Strongest Hitokiri.
Because it was the Ishin Shishi that ultimately won the Bakumatsu, the clan assigned to collect intelligence on them continued to chronicle their exploits all throughout the Meiji Restoration. To be more specific, it was the clan that the Akahoris belonged to.
Naturally, as Akahori himself expected, the influential Meiji clique had set their sights on him and his family as soon as they saw no use for them any longer, seeing him and the knowledge he'd accrued through the years as a liability to them.
This came about even though he was also the one who masterminded the downfall of various Meiji enemies, including the Modern Hidden Christian Revolt in Shimabara (albeit with mixed results).
His demotion and reduced standing in the government was the final straw. The members of the clique had bared their fangs, and it was his turn to call their bluff by exposing one of their recent illicit schemes, since they'd long ago buried evidence of their past wrongdoings.
As per usual in their modus operandi of betraying the people that put them in power in the first place in the most underhanded ways possible, the Meiji Oligarchs hired Fake Jiyu Minken Undo mercenaries, assassins, or bounty hunters and had them target the Akahoris. They always had someone else do all their dirty work for them.
Just like how they knocked out their own Shadow Hitokiri, Makoto Shishio, and burned him alive during the chaos of the Boshin War.
Just like how they broke all their promises to the Peasant Army of the Sekihoutai, labeling them a false army and beheading their leader, Souzo Sagara.
Just like how they eagerly approved of Akahori's plan to double-cross the militant Kakure Kirishitan as soon as they handed to them their own leader, Shiro Amakusa the Second, on a silver platter for fear of their own lives.
But Akahori would not go down without a fight. As part of one of the four secret spy clans, he knew more about the past and present sins of the Meiji Government than even Shishio himself did.
Rurouni Yahiko
A Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction Continuation Story by Chester Castañeda
Here's the epilogue to the four-and-one-quarter-part Crimson Captain Arc as well as the Seiryu Arc's introduction.
Disclaimer: All characters used in this fanfic (save some others) are the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki, Shueisha, Shonen Jump, Viz, Sony Studios, Fuji TV, Studio Gallup, Studio Deen, and ADV. This disclaimer also covers all the other copyrighted material that are far too many to mention here. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.
Chapter 39: The Scourge of the Pacific
The wet, bleeding, and exhausted Masakichi Hananuma Inoue... the defeated Wokou captain of the now-seized steamship Hizoku... escaped from his battleship and Kairyu captors by latching onto the nearest escaping boat full of deserting Wokou he could find with his brass grappling cones. He then commandeered their vessel for himself while throwing the rest overboard.
Good thing that the boat was there too, or else he would've been dragged down into the murky depths of the Sea of Japan, sinking like a rock thanks to all his heavy gear. He paddled his way to freedom, specifically to the nearby patrolling warship, the Mazoku (Demon Race).
Like the octopus that Yahiko claimed him to be, Captain Inoue clambered unto the Mazoku with his spiked tendrils embedding themselves onto the hull of the black steamship. Once he ended up on the deck of the Wokou vessel, a welcoming party awaited him.
Specifically, right before the injured Inoue were multiple... Inoues: A whole army of Masakichi Hananuma Inoues. They came in all shapes and sizes, but more or less, they all shared the same "look" as the Captain of the Hizoku.
There were dozens of them, sporting similar armored black coats, clawed gloves, iron gauntlets, and signature weighted capes. Some had ropes with weighted spikes tied to the end like Captain Inoue had, while others wore knife-edge kilts that fanned out instead of stretched like tendrils. Many shared the Javanese male sarong design, with blades stitched into the lining.
The Inoues looked at the Wokou Captain with different expressions on their faces. Some with blank stares. Others with smirking sneers. Still others with furrowed eyebrows, eyes that could stab, and clenched teeth.
"...T-The Hizoku has been seized! I need the combined forces of all you Alchemists of the Brigands Guild to defeat the Scourge of the Pacific and her privateer crew! If we act now, we can still save my ship and my crew!"
One of the Inoues... a young and thin bespectacled Chinese man leaning against a nearby mast with a cigarette in his mouth... chuckled and slapped his knee. "Funny how a whipped dog like you is ordering us around. Who do you think you are? Shouldn't you know your place, maggot? Our fleet isn't yours to command."
"Listen here, you little piece of shit. Get out of my face before you fall in love with me and kiss me like the niangniangqiang that you are," responded a bristling Captain Masakichi Inoue in Mandarin, his fangs bared while essentially calling his fellow Inoue clone a "queer" or an "effeminate man". "Remember that I am a 415. I outrank you in every way possible. So it's you who should know your place."
"We heard from one of your surviving crewmembers that you were defeated by a woman and a child, 415. Maybe I should inherit your rank as captain and retrieve your lost ship as my own!" heckled another of the Hananumas.
"As expected of a lowly 426," Captain Inoue rebuked the Red Pole or Enforcer Masakichi, who shared ranks with the Su Shin/Su Shen. "Naturally, you'd rather steal from someone who earned his spot than actually work hard to get it. If any of you femboys have a problem with my orders, go tell it to my FACE."
"Well said, 415," said a voice that caused a stir among the gathered Inoues. "I'll do just that. Everyone, please step aside and let me talk to our esteemed Hizoku Captain."
Hizoku Captain Masakichi Hananuma Inoue gulped in recognition of that voice. Like the Red Sea would to Moses, like water would a "saitomo" plant (otherwise known as "taro" or "Colocasia esculenta esculenta"), the crowd of similarly dressed and armored Inoues parted to allow the Mazoku Captain Masakichi Hananuma Inoue to pass and meet up with his 415 "kagemusha" or "shadow warrior".
"4-4-438!" stuttered the Hizoku Captain and kagemusha.
Yes, he was the original (actually Japanese) Captain Masakichi Hananuma Inoue: This clean-shaven, peppermint-haired individual with the body of a 25-year-old strongman commanded the entire Wokou fleet working under the Three Harmonies Society (otherwise known to the Kenshingumi as the Shanghai Mafia that was formerly led by Enishi Yukishiro).
It was he who had enough wealth to fund a war and become a pirate king long after the Age of the Wokou had ended. It was he who handled the distribution of contraband goods for the Three Harmonies Society like advanced weaponry, prostitutes (human trafficking), and opium through the Wokou.
While Hong Kong was in British rule, all Chinese secret societies were defined as "Triads", taken from the name of the Three Harmonies Society or "Sanhehui" grouping of the Heaven and Earth Society or "Tiandihui".
Instead of a 415 ("White Paper Fan" Administrator) or a 426 ("Red Pole" Enforcer), the Mazoku Captain (arguably, Admiral of the Wokou Fleet) held the rank of 438 ("Deputy Mountain Master") in the Sanhehui, which effectively made him second-in-command of the entire operation, subordinate only to the current 489 ("Mountain Master") or the Sanhehui Dragon Head.
Thus, the true Inoue occupied the same spot as "Wu Heishin" did when the Shanghai Arms Dealers were still led by Enishi.
"'Good' job, my shadow," said the undisputable and genuine Captain Inoue to his doppelganger with a raised eyebrow and a cackle. "You've failed to defeat the privateer captain and had us Sanhehui lose one of the steamships of my fleet. What do you have to say for yourself?"
"Shadow? After everything I've done for you, you call me a shadow? I am no mere shadow of yours! I will not be your pawn or 'kagemusha' any longer, you filthy Jap scum!" said the Hizoku Captain before spitting on his supposed originator and master's face.
The Real McCoy (or in this case, the Real Inoue) harrumphed, his nose wrinkled while he wiped the glob of spit off of his face, grabbed both folds of his bladed sarong, and shook his head.
"Disgusting. To think, I actually allowed you the privilege to be my double. The wretched will always remain wretched. A leopard cannot change its spots. You'll always be that petty thief stowaway we picked up decades ago from Hong Kong."
"I don't want to hear that from you of all people! I fled here to survive. A mere pickpocket. But you've robbed entire shipyards, traded humans for profit, killed hundreds, and turned the sea red with blood. Who's really wretched? You or I?"
The "umeboshi's" eyes darted at all his former comrades. He knew he didn't stand a chance against all of them, but he wouldn't go down without a fight.
"You've proven yourself a subhuman homunculus, unworthy of being in the presence of Indo-Aryan nobility. Understand your position and receive proper punishment, you half-breed abomination. Eye of the Storm."
Fanning his sword-decorated cape out, the True Captain Inoue moved swifter than a coursing river yet with the strength of a great typhoon and the force of a raging fire.
Like what Captain Shura did to defeat him, the Fake Inoue sunk low, anchored himself by sticking his weighted ropes on the floorboards of the deck, and waited for the Real Inoue to complete the torsion-filled movement of spinning in one direction, gaining enough torque, then spinning in the other direction at even faster speeds.
"Two can play that game! I will be the new Captain Inoue! EYE OF THE STORM!"
As the Mazoku Captain ended his maelstrom and landed on his feet, the Hizoku Captain ambushed him with own Eye of the Storm. "Die, you dongyang guizi! Wo! Riben guizi!" screamed the Hizoku Captain, hurling various invectives and racial slurs at the "oriental devil".
However, something went wrong. The Hananuma kagemusha lost control of his spinning body, his counterstrike onslaught receiving too much extra force from the vortex left by the "perfected" version of the real Masakichi's Eye of the Storm.
"What's going oooon? NOOOO!"
The resulting combined opposing forces of torsion and empty air allowed the 438 Deputy Mountain Master to counter his shadow clone's counter.
"You are no Aryan Ubermensch. Impurities like you must be removed so pureness will prevail."
The gathered kagemusha of the original Inoue collectively winced and reeled, cringing at the rain of blood and... not-blood that suddenly turned their warship into a butcher's shop. Several of the homunculi even heaved.
So that was what happened when multiple Eye of the Storms collided against each other. Something, or someone, had to give.
Yet again, the Alchemist of the Brigands Guild (who had his own army of "Homunculi" kagemusha) turned the sea red with someone else's blood. "Show's over. Clean this filth up," he ordered his clone army while wiping his deadly kilt's metal weights with a rag.
"I apologize for the mess, 489. My shadow has shamed my good name," the one-and-only Captain Masakichi Hananuma Inoue addressed a silent spectator: An old man with snow-white hair and sallow skin, dressed in (expensive) silken Chinese robes who, like his immediate subordinate, also had a lithe form one would not expect from someone as wrinkled and aged as he.
"No worries, 438. He was a... big fool," replied the old Chinese man in Mandarin-accented Japanese while stroking his long, white facial hair and raising his glass of absinthe at Masakichi in seeming salute.
In Mandarin, the Dragon Head of the Sanhehui said, "Besides, I enjoyed the show. You don't suffer fools gladly. The shadow of a man can never stand up or walk on his own."
Back on Japanese soil a few days later, in Shikanoshima or Shikano Island (the island where Shura was born)...
"Sit still. It's only going to hurt a little, okay?" whispered Shura, who had her hair undone while the sea breeze tousled it. She shielded her eyes to get a better view of the waves of the golden sea, the afternoon sun setting with all its shining glory.
Sarujiro's eyes dilated larger than one of those freaky rat monkeys with plate-like "peepers" that the Crimson Captain first saw in her travels in various Pacific Islands like Borneo.
"Don't give me that look. Suck it up and be a man," said the new Hizoku Captain, applying the stinging herbal medication on her youngish-looking brother-from-another-mother's abdomen, stabbed by a Wokou during their ambush against them.
She then sighed and patted her boyish crewmate. Her only family. "Take it easy. Don't go playing too hard with the village kids like before. I don't want that injury to reopen, y'hear?"
Sarujiro crossed his arms and frowned (more like pouted).
Shura rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine. I know. You're a big boy now, and you don't play around. I get it. But don't come crying back to me if you get hurt again, ya son of a gun."
The monkeyish lad (that was actually older than Yahiko) grinned, rubbed his nose, and proceeded to play on the beach with the village kids anyway. The Crimson Captain palmed her face.
"How's the monkey boy doing, Cap?" asked Yahiko, who himself had a body covered in bandages and gauze while hobbling towards the seated Shura, who in turn watched Sarujiro's (for lack of a better term) monkey business.
The Crimson Captain breathed in the salty sea breeze, her eyes closed. "A lot better than when we got to shore. He sure gave me a fright. I thought he'd end up in Davey Jones' Locker like Yousef did."
"Yousef?"
"My former first mate who died back in the Kobayashi Maru."
"Oh. My condolences." Yahiko bowed, then asked, "He's a Muslim?"
Shura pointed to the pendant around her neck bearing the symbols for the crescent moon and the star. "Yes. This was his keepsake he handed to me before going down with the ship."
The two of them stared at the veil of red in the sky and on the ground while Sarujiro gingerly chased (more like shuffled) towards the islander children of Shikanoshima.
"He should've seen the look on your face when you thought he was a goner," said Yahiko with a chuckle. "I wonder how he'd react, knowing that you cried like a baby."
"I DID NOT! THOSE WERE SILENT TEARS! TAKE THAT BACK!" The Crimson Captain went crimson. Or maybe the afternoon sky was playing tricks on Yahiko's eyes, he wasn't sure.
"You didn't tell Sarujiro what happened while he was unconscious, did you? I'll make you do more than kiss the gunner's daughter if you did!" she demanded, twisting Yahiko's (injured) arm and shoulder at an odd angle.
"Uncle, uncle! Of course, I wouldn't dream of it, Captain Scourge of the Pacific!" reassured Myojin while tapping out of the arm twist Shura did on him. After releasing the hold, she turned her back on him. "Captain...?"
"...About that man who defeated Himura with wattoujutsu. Yukishiro Enishi. What kind of man was he?" she asked.
"I can't say. He was obsessed with revenge. He wanted to kill everyone Kenshin loved and make him suffer like he did. Why do you ask?" said Yahiko.
"No reason," she said while tightening her grip on her sword handle with a weighted chain, not meeting Myojin's gaze. "What happened after he was defeated by Himura Kenshin?"
"I don't know either. It's like he disappeared right after or something. We never heard from him since," Yahiko answered.
"I see." Shura's eyes traveled towards Sarujiro and the sniggering village children, who had buried the poor monkey boy up to his neck in sand. She guffawed in spite of herself.
"So many people have died because of me. Good people. Some of those kids Sarujiro is playing with right now were orphaned after the Kobayashi Maru sunk."
"...Shura."
"That's Captain Shura to you." The bejeweled black silken curtain of twilight draped itself across the bloodstained heavens.
"Was it true what Kaoru wrote about Enishi meeting kind, rich Japanese folk willing to adopt and take care of him before he killed them and used their money to become part of a Chinese crime syndicate?"
"Uh, yeah. He told that story to everyone. He was doing it to taunt Kenshin into fighting him, but I don't think he was lying," said Yahiko, crossing his arms and idly kicking the sand around him.
"So he had a chance to turn his back on his revenge plot and live a normal life. Like I did."
"..."
Shura laughed at herself. A hollow laugh. "I'm no better than him, after all. At swordsmanship or life. Maybe Ginjo was right. I've bitten off more than I can chew, as usual."
"Aw, come on! Don't be like that! That one-eyed, muscle-bound idiot is never right about anything!" Myojin protested. "The money you've gathered helped support your village! Your privateers knew what they were getting into when they joined your crew!"
"If I had become a normal sailor or fisherwoman, would these orphaned children still have parents? Would their widowed mothers still have husbands? If only I had not angered the Wokou and the Shanghai Mafia, then Yousef would've... Sarujiro wouldn't have...!"
"Don't say such weak-willed things!"
"...Y-Yahiko-kun?"
"Don't tell me that you're afraid of the Shanghai Mafia now, after beating their top guy! You're the Scourge of the Pacific! If anything, they should be afraid of you! And your Kairyu!"
Shura scratched her head, slapped her face together with both hands, and punched Yahiko lightly on his (uninjured) shoulder. "Jeez. Fine. I get it. I'll take responsibility."
They both laughed at Sarujiro emerging from his sandy prison with a roar and playing tag with the kids while sand flowed behind him like a grainy cape.
"You know, it's not too late," said Yahiko. "If you really want to protect the smiles of these villagers, you can always turn your back on everything and start living a normal life. Disband the Kairyu. Stop policing the shores for the Wokou distributing contraband like you're the national coastguard."
"Nah. It's too late for me or any of the Kairyu now." She shook her head. "I've doomed myself and all these villagers into becoming possible targets of the Shanghai Arms Dealers. We even seized one of their ships. There's no turning back for any of us now, and it's all my fault."
At that moment, Yahiko realized something. When Shura sobbed over what she thought was the body of Sarujiro, he wasn't just reminded of Kenshin's breakdown over Kaoru's (fake) demise.
Her wretchedness at that particular junction also harkened back to Enishi's defeat in Kenshin's hands, when Tomoe... Himura's first wife and the silver-haired Mafia boss's sister... didn't smile for him anymore in his mind.
"You're right, though. I should stop being weak-willed and face my mistakes head on. I won't run away, even if I have to bring the Wokou down with me to the depths of the sea, right inside Davey Jones' Locker."
Myojin gulped and stared at the ground. He didn't know what else to say to that. He wanted to scream for her, because she couldn't. 'Don't say such weak-willed things? What right do I have to say that to her?'
"...You and your pals are going back to the mainland soon, right?" asked Shura after a whole minute of wordless staring at nothing in particular had passed.
"Yep. We're going to take the first boat back to Hakata tonight," said Yahiko.
"Say hello to Himura... I mean, Mister and Missus Kamiya for me when you get back to Tokyo. I miss them."
Back in 1879, only a year after the disastrous end of the "forgotten" Modern Shimabara War, Amakusa had little going for him save for becoming an urban legend: The killer of a thousand soldiers and policemen to save what remained of his people. His "cult".
Rumors of him dying back in that the relatively brief but casualty-ridden conflict (arguably a genocide) spread far and wide Nagasaki, so he managed to escape the authorities thanks to the belief that he was already dead.
So why have people of modern times never heard of him or the Second Shimabara Rebellion? Why was this new Amakusa not written down in history books a la happened to Makoto Shishio, the Shadow Hitokiri that succeeded his more famous predecessor, the Hitokiri Battousai?
It was because confirming the story of an embarrassing revolt that led to the massacre of hundreds of police officers and soldiers by the hands of one swordsman and untrained incognito Christian peasants was hardly in the best interests of a government desperate to paint itself as a rising superpower amongst its Asian Neighbors and in the eyes of the West.
Granted, had everything gone according to Akahori's plan and the attack at Nagasaki turned out to be a completely one-sided affair, then the government would've swept the news under the rug anyway or spun it as an overwhelming victory like what happened in the Chichibu Riots.
As it was, Shogo proved the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu's mass-killing worth, and Tetsuo had been suffering the consequences of his failure to bring down Amakusa ever since care of a stalled political career.
This "forced" the politician to resort to drastic measures to stay in power, like serving as a whistleblower to Kiyotaka Kuroda's Hokkaido Colonization Office Scandal in order to climb the political ladder once more.
Of course, the Meiji Government wanted Amakusa to remain as nothing more than an urban legend and the revolt as the actions of a cult driven mad by their charismatic leader.
As word of the failed rebellion spread all over Japan, something "amazing" took place. Newspapers downplayed the event, claimed that the rebels were simple bandits and criminals, or they intentionally omitted mention of the insurgency altogether, ignoring that it'd ever occurred.
Like the existence of Shishio and his own short-lived insurrection against the Meiji Government, the Second Shimabara Revolt served as one of the most noteworthy moments of collective amnesia among the Japanese populace. Historians would later on conjecture that the reason behind the Meiji Government's refusal to address the rebellion was because it put them in a severely bad light.
On one hand, they used an entire army to massacre a relative handful of insurgent Hidden Christians, which compared to the Chichibu Incident's five thousand to ten thousand rebels, was outright overkill.
On the other hand, they lost countless men numbering over a thousand (and hundreds more beforehand) against this handful of rebels, which was quite an embarrassment for a government striving to be taken seriously by its neighboring countries and the western superpowers at the time.
In any case, Amakusa's only family had passed away, some of his most loyal followers had become martyrs in his wake, Christians were subtly being branded as terrorists and cultists by the local government of Nagasaki, and he was left a fugitive alongside his own personal Judas Iscariot who stole away from him his former strength and his signature technique, the Rai Ryu Sen.
Like a bald, weakened Samson, Amakusa was hunted down by Philistines whose armies he massacred and was forced to join forces with the Delilah who betrayed him.
Like Job, his resolve wavered at times, questioning the Lord why he and his people had to suffer through injustices and hardships just so they could freely worship Him and His Divine Truth. Amakusa wouldn't be surprised if Job found the Christian leader's wretched state pitiful even by his standards.
Was believing in this limitless entity worth all this anguish? Was this a test of his faith or proof an uncaring, flawed God? Would an omnipotent and benevolent deity allow any of this to happen? Wouldn't He rather see Amakusa give up than let him and the rest of his children suffer needlessly for the right to worship Him?
Then there were the lies the cross-scarred religious insurgent's uncle told him about their past. Horrible, horrible lies that shook him to his core and, if true, justified his temptation to spit upon the image of his Lord and Savior in front of government witnesses to renounce his faith and end his hypocritical charade once and for all.
Nevertheless, everything that had happened did so in accordance to the Will of the Lord God Almighty. Shogo would do everything in his power to obey God's will forever.
One thing for sure, he would not make the same mistake his uncle made. He would not be beholden by simpleminded, black-and-white principles in a world full of shades of gray, especially not to the point of letting his people suffer for his own selfish desire to remain "pure" and "holy".
If he had to get his hands dirty to get something done, then so be it.
Ironically enough, the plans of his former benefactor, Kaio, had come to fruition. Amakusa had "died", and this began his legend. Like before, when he first arrived in Shimabara, he used his knowledge of western medicine and the healing balm of the Word of God to form a faith-healing service that enabled him to serve his people once more, while he lacked the strength to take up his sword in the meantime.
Destitute and on the run from the law, the former rebel leader had no choice but to turn to his tried-and-true, bread-and-butter tactics of winning his hidden brethren over with his magic tricks, free medical services, and ancient scripture readings, combining all three to earn him the financial resources he needed to start anew.
The Holy Spirit showed Amakusa the way to rebuild his life back from the ashes left in Akahori's wake. Amakusa dyed his hair red and went incognito as a Secret Christian Preacher who promised to his faithful the return of the so-called inheritor of Shiro Amakusa's rebellion: The new savior who would rescue the Japanese Christians from the sinfulness of the corrupt new government of the Meiji.
Although for all intents and purposes, Shiro Amakusa the Second remained as much a nonentity to the Meiji Government as Makoto Shishio did, Shogo Muto continued to have a major influence among the Secret Christian community.
Even though quite a lot of them were content with hiding their true selves and being slaves to their misfortune, there were also those who joined his cause for the right to not be executed or treated as second-class citizens just because of their difference in religion.
Besides which, preaching the Good News of the Lord brought new meaning and hope into his life and the lives of many others, which led to the reestablishment of his earlier church that he and his late sister built together a couple of years back.
As Shogo the Preacher, Amakusa served as a charismatic leader to his fellow brethren and a shining example of Christianity during the time when, ironically enough, the Shimabara Rebellion of 1878 was fresh in many a Hidden Christian's mind.
Even though he used his Christian faith to recruit nonbelievers who were dissatisfied with the government (and they were many of them) to his cause, his efforts to increase the size of his movement offered a lot of beneficial programs for his followers too.
With the funds he gathered from people's donations, he helped start housing projects and reach-out programs aimed to assist the poorer denizens of Nagasaki, fulfilling duties that the Meiji Government failed to accomplish.
Some towns became accepting of the Christians who decided to reveal their faith, while others merely called the authorities on them. Whichever the case, Amakusa was always there to rescue his brethren by hook or by crook.
He searched for possible outlets to spread the message of the bible to people within Nagasaki City as well as all the other neighboring regions within the Nagasaki Prefecture and even throughout the island of Kyushu.
Moreover, learning from the naive mistakes he made that allowed both the false prophet Kaio and the manipulative Akahori to take advantage of him and his flock, he also began recruiting soldiers for his cause among the disenchanted masses.
They were the Soldiers of Christ, of whom the late Shozo Lorenzo served as a patron saint of sorts.
Their mission was clear; to overthrow the present government in the same manner it overthrew the bakufu during the Bakumatsu with the help of the very people it victimized and neglected as it rose to power.
Even non-Christians as well as the outcasts of Meiji Era Japan were welcomed in Amakusa's peasant army.
It didn't matter if you were Buddhist or burakumin; as long as you wanted to bring the oppressive rule of Japan's corrupt leaders to an end, you were allowed into the group, conversion to Christianity optional despite it rendering the term "Soldier of Christ" a misnomer of sorts.
In a nutshell, Amakusa would do everything in his power to bring justice, sovereignty, the right to resources, and the recognition of independence for his people, the Hidden Christians.
At any rate, there was one more member of the Kakure Kirishitan that was present when the rebellion took place.
There were rumors of a man who served as Shogo's "Kagemusha" or "Shadow Warrior" around the time the Second Shimabara Rebellion happened:
The existence of this someone who served as Amakusa's double called into question how many of the cops killed were by his hand or by his master's hand.
Because there were so few survivors of the Modern Shimabara Revolt, no one knew the truth of the incident buried in the annals of time.
Meanwhile, inside the Yokohama Police Station, around August 1884 (before Yahiko battled against the old ninja veteran Takae and his vengeful employer, Hitokiri Gasuke of the Yakuza)...
"...It's the third courtesan mutilated this month? Jeez. What's Japan coming to?" said Lieutenant Yusuke Nishimura of the Yokohama Police in the Kanagawa District. He handed the police report back to his superior, Captain Kuniumi Yamada.
"It's been three months and we still haven't captured this pervert! The dirt sheets are all over us like flies on shit! We gotta do somethin', Capt'n," complained Officer Shuichi Hasegawa, who played with a toothpick in his mouth.
"That's what happens when you don't have some sort of war to lead," said Captain Yamada. "Some men get antsy and quench their aggression on innocent civilians. To relieve tension, they either fuck a lot or fuck people up. For this psychotic murderer, he just happens to do both on the same persons."
"War is the last thing Japan needs right now, Captain," said Lieutenant Nishimura while wiping the bead of chagrined sweat off of his brow. "Not that we need perverted killers roaming around Yokohama streets either, but..."
"It's not that I support war, I'm just saying that during peacetime, that's when these perverted killers really start crawling out of the woodwork," explained the captain. "Ironically, many of these loonies do well in combat as soldiers. Or manslayers. You know what? We should send them to the frontlines and let the problem sort itself out."
"What's really frightening about all this is that there are rumors that it's a foreigner who's responsible," said a smiling, toothy, chubby, and cherubic Officer Atsushi Dankichi. "At least, that's what the dirt sheets are saying."
Captain Kuniumi harrumphed. "Please. These tabloids write any damn thing they want just to get sales. Next they'll say kappa (water goblins) or ghosts are behind everything."
Many things happened around the world on August 1884. On August 7, Angra Pequena (Southwest Africa) was annexed by Germany. On August 10, a magnitude 5.5 earthquake hit the Northeast Atlantic Coast of the United States of America. On August 22, the Tonquin or Tonkin (Sino-French) War happened, and on August 23, in the Battle of Fuzhou, French Admiral Amedee Courbet's Far East Squadron wiped out China's Fujian Fleet.
Of the three world events, the Tonquin War (where China attempted to take control of North Vietnam) had the most impact on Asia (specifically Japan) for various reasons, chief among them rising fears of either the Chinese invasion of Asia or a Western invasion using their frighteningly advanced war technology (which Japan had experienced firsthand in the Bombardment of Kagoshima of 1863 that happened less than 20 years ago).
"Filthy gaijin scum; they're bullying the East again, huh?" sneered Officer Hasegawa while thumbing his nose at the police report. "As usual, they're barging in and doing anything they want, the fuckin' uncultured swine. We should give these foreign devils a taste of Yamato Damashi!"
"Yamato Damashi" or "Japanese Pride" (also known as "Japanese Spirit") was a term referring to the cultural characteristics and spiritual values unique to the Japanese people. It was coined during the Heian Period.
In the context of foreigners, Yamato Damashi served as a method of comparison between the culture of outsiders and native Japanese culture.
The Bushido concepts of valor and honor were also augmented by the use of the Yamato Damashi term by samurai and Edo Period writers alike, highlighting the "brave, daring, and indomitable spirit of the Japanese."
"We should look into the attempts on the Minakatas' lives, Captain," said Sergeant Satoru Sakaguchi (nee Kudo) to Captain Yamada, handing in a second report to him. "The modus operandi of the attempted assassination of the Minakatas are the same as these grisly prostitute murders, as though the killer is using the prostitutes as guinea pigs for his eventual attacks."
"That's a nice conspiracy theory, Sarge. But why should we bother serving as the personal detectives of these filthy rich ex-samurais who still think they're hot shit just because they saved enough money from when they were still the elite class?" Hasegawa asked his superior.
"What do you mean? It's part of the investigation. It might even be a lead," said Sergeant Sakaguchi in his defense.
Shuichi moved forward and invaded Satoru's personal space. "Aren't you more than a little bit biased, Sarge? After all, the Minakatas' precious heir just happens to come from the same sword school your father-in-law runs, is he not?"
"That has nothing to do with anything." Satoru stood his ground. "I'm more concerned about the fact that the autopsies have confirmed some of these victims were poisoned using the same agents. What do you have against the Minakata Family anyway?"
Hasegawa snarled, "You know damn well what I have against them."
"Gosh! We're all on the same side here! Sarge! Hasegawa-kun!" said Officer Dankichi. "Cool it! We're supposed to search for any clues or leads that we can scrounge in order to catch this perverted killer before he takes another victim! Not bite each others' heads off!"
"I don't appreciate all this anti-foreigner talk myself," said a high-pitched, melodic voice. "It makes me feel quite unwelcome in Japan. The Far East and its 'mysterious' ways indeed!"
"Who...?" was the sentiment everyone had while doing a collective spit-take, even though not everyone actually said that.
Before them waved a female of short stature, bright-red locks that shone like a Chinese lantern, and westerner garb. Her wide eyes, sharp nose, and complexion gave away her nationality (not Japanese, as far as everyone was concerned), and her four-something-foot (120-something centimeters) height and proportions revealed her age.
Her fluent (if accented) Japanese somewhat confused them, though. Like a meowing dog or a barking cat.
Without skipping a beat, Hasegawa turned to his fellow officers and asked, "Who let the little gaijin kid in here?"
"I AM NOT A LITTLE KID! I'M... F-FOR... T-T-WEN... F-Fift... Eighteen years old! More or less." What appeared like a ten-year-old girl made her cheeks balloon like a squirrel. "Well, it's rude to have to make a lady reveal her age, you know?"
"Even if you are eighteen... sure, whatever... as far as we're concerned, you're still a little kid, Honey!" said... or rather, cooed... Officer Atsushi while petting the girl's head.
She bit his fingers, which made him yelp and curse, "JEEPERS! Hehe. Isn't she the most adorable little eighteen year old you've ever seen on two legs?"
"She's a lot older than that."
The entire room went quiet enough to hear the soft footfalls of the man before them: A redheaded Oriental man with rusty hair not unlike the ginger woman that'd barged out of nowhere, except his mane had a brown tinge of it.
He wore a brown long coat with a high collar that almost doubled as a cape or a cloak, a white hakamashita (kimono), and a brownish-red hakama or Japanese trousers that matched his hair.
If one looked closely enough, a faint, x-shaped scar on the bridge of his nose that ran across his face could be seen. All the while, he flipped around a sen coin with one hand and caught it repeatedly.
"Minakata Kinta-san," said Captain Kuniumi before bowing. "It's nice to see you again. I'm presuming you're still here about your uncle's case. We're gathering as many witnesses as we could."
Everyone else bowed along with the Yokohama Captain except for a sneering Hasegawa, who clenched his teeth so hard, his toothpick broke off from his mouth. "We have bigger fish to fry, Minakata. Go baby-sit your gaijin somewhere else."
The girl blinked, looked around, and then bowed as well. "Oh, how rude of me! I haven't introduced myself. I'm Abelia La Cerca, and I'm a pharmacist and poisons expert from... um, London, England. I've been working as an assistant to doctors from all over Europe. I came here to assist Minakata-san's investigation at the request of the Minakata Family. How do you do?"
"..."
Abelia then backed away, overwhelmed by the multiple pair of eyes on her. "Um, yes?"
"...'Aberia-chan', huh?" swooned Dankichi at the doll-like small wonder. "It's so cute how she's playing grownup now!"
"A-Aberia-chan...?" A tearful La Cerca turned towards the stone-faced Minakata. "They're being mean to me, Minakata-san! They're not taking me seriously at all!"
With an unchanging expression, the redhead patted Abelia on her ginger head, which only made her sniffle louder. "You're not taking me seriously either!"
Sergeant Satoru cleared his throat. "Your suspicions were confirmed by the coroner, Minakata-san," said the Yokohama Sergeant. "Some of the victims of this gaijin killer were poisoned using arsenic. Like your uncle. It was a good thing Abelia-san was there to save his life with that imported stomach pump."
Everyone stared at "Aberia" once again, which made the Londoner gulp, giggle, and scratch the back of her head. "I-It's an A-Arnold & Sons Stomach Pump, in case you fine gentlemen are wondering what it was. Proudly London-made."
"No way! This little bilingual midget is for real? She's a doctor? Where the hell did you find her, Minakata-san?" asked the Yokohama Lieutenant with salty and rude language not fit for a child, his brain not registering the fact that La Cerca could understand Japanese perfectly.
With closed eyes and a smirking grin, Officer Dankichi nodded his head and said, "She'd be a great asset to the force! A poisons expert and a mascot in one!"
Abelia kicked Atsushi's leg and stuck her tongue at him.
"You're so uncute yet cute too! Golly!" said the smiley officer.
The Yokohama Captain rubbed his chin. "If there is a connection between the attempts at the lives of the Minakatas and the prostitute killings, then that's our first real lead! Good work, Sarge. The Minakatas will be pleased by these turn of events. The chief should hear about this."
"Oh, come on! You aren't taking this shit seriously, are you, Captain?" said Shuichi, scowling and gesturing at the red-haired ex-hatamoto-class retainer. "Samurai don't exist anymore, so we shouldn't have to give Mister Blue Blood here special treatment when it comes to criminal cases. Lawyer uncles or no. Huge conglomerates or no."
Just then, Officers Horio Shimizu (a sallow, thin, and hook-nosed young lad) and Masaya Ishimaru (a portly fellow with a beard) arrived. They were running and out of breath while carrying a box.
"Captain, we received this in the mail! It came with a letter addressed to us in Japanese, but we couldn't read the letter inside!" said Shimizu.
Kuniumi took the letter, his almond eyes dilating. "It's... Western lettering." He turned towards the wheezing Ishimaru. "What's in the box?"
The policeman bit his lip and handed the container. The captain opened it, and everyone peered inside.
It was a human ear with dried blood crusting on its edge. Below it was the English word, "Listen," marked in blood.
Back in November 1884, three months later, on the first boat to Hakata, half-past midnight...
Yahiko yawned, rubbed his eyes, and smacked his lips while rowing the boat he was on. He didn't know how he did it, but he did it. He ditched Kaori Whatserface.
Now if only he could do the same to Munenori Minoe and Gan, who were steering and... snoring respectively.
At least with Munenori (or Morinaga or the Battousai of Speed or the Artist Formerly Known as Kaede), Yahiko knew to keep his friends close and his (potential mass-murdering) friends closer.
To hell with the Goofy Gan, though.
The "Great" Gan's eyes fluttered and asked, "Are we there yet? Have we reached Hakuna Hakata?"
"You. Keep quiet or start paddling. Your choice," said Yahiko, which earned him mumbled curses and something about not being circumcised. "I heard that! The hell does that have to do with anything?!"
Minoe scratched his wig and "whistled" (more like blew air on pursed lips and made a hissing sound). As innocently as a cross-dressing woman with a wig, a sword-guard eye patch, and wild mood swings would whistle.
Myojin raised an eyebrow at this. The weirdo almost never whistled like one of those plays where the actor used that action as a shorthand for hiding something.
'So is he hiding something?' Yahiko looked at the huge mound of a suspicious something hidden behind a tarp that took up half of the length of the boat.
He'd presumed it merely housed their immediate possessions, but could it be that...?
What was the eye-patched "man" hiding there? Explosives? Gold? An extensive collection of swords that would make even Katana Hunter Cho salivate? Or maybe... 'No. No, he wouldn't. There's no reason why he would...!'
Feigning a yawn this time around, Yahiko said to Minoe, "My arms are getting tired doing all this rowing, Minoe. Would you be a pal and take over for me?"
With Munenori's head jerking towards Myojin like a one of those creepy marionettes from western grandfather clocks that came out whenever it was midnight, the self-styled ninja wannabe said, "Oh, I'm sure Gan-chi can handle it."
The Pretentious Gan "snored" louder. Without taking his eyes away from Yahiko, though, Minoe unsheathed his blade and stuck it on the floor near the bandanna-wearing hooligan.
"I'm up! I'm up!" said the thug.
As they exchanged places, the Trembling Gan whispered to Yahiko, "Sometimes, Patches scares me, Yoshi-boy."
And so the "Generous" Gan took over paddling duties while Munenori kept manning the rudder and Myojin was left... contemplating existence, he guessed, while sitting Indian-yogi-style on the place where Gan slept earlier.
His hand on his chin, Yahiko asked, "Maybe I should handle the rudder now, Minoe."
"Er, aren't your arms tired from all that rowing, Yahiko-chi? You should take a rest now," insisted the ex-Togakudan while covering the Tokyo Samurai Descendant's line of sight with his body whenever he attempted to peek at whatever it was that was covered in that tarp.
Tired and irritated at having to wake up early just to get to Hakata and avoid Chizuru, Yahiko snapped, "Fine. I will," and jumped right into the tarp, turning it into his bed.
"WAH! W-W-Wait...!" protested the eye-patched non-pirate too late.
In fairness, Myojin had a soft landing.
"OOF!"
And what a noisy, feminine-sounding makeshift bed he had. Yahiko peeled the tarp off to reveal underneath it what he'd been suspecting all that time: A fetal-positioned Chizuru with a sheepish grin.
"Um... Fancy meeting you here, stranger!"
With half-lidded eyes, Myojin covered Raikouji up again and lay there on top of her like she were filling for a futon. Meanwhile, huge dollops of sweat formed from behind the heads of the Flummoxed Gan and Minoe from watching the bizarre proceedings.
"ALL RIGHT! I GET IT! I'M SORRY I STOWED AWAY! OKAY? GET OFF ME, YOU PERV!" came Chizuru's muffled shouts.
A minute later, the tarp had been folded and put aside while Chizuru knelt in front of a sitting, arms-crossed Yahiko.
"A-Are you going to turn the boat around and bring me back to Captain Shura?"
Yahiko grumbled. "Hell no. We're already halfway to Hakata."
"...Matata."
Myojin slapped (The Meta? The Post-Modern?) Gan's face with his cloth-wrapped, sheathed, and (technically illegal) reverse-edged sword.
Chizuru sighed with a closed-mouth, closed-eyed smile, her shoulders dropping. She then saw Myojin's scowl after lifting her head and peering at him, which prompted her to bow again. "Should I apologize some more?"
"If you had to ask, then I guess you shouldn't bother, since you probably won't mean it." Yahiko snorted, then turned towards their rudder-boy, Minoe, to ask a simple question: "Why?"
Munenori stuttered, his head shrinking into his body like a turtle poking its head out from his shell. "U-U-Um..."
Earlier...
"Hey, Minoe!"
"Oh, Chizuru-chi! What's going on?"
"I have a sinking feeling that Yahiko is going to ditch me later, so could you be a dear and help me stowaway on your boat to wherever you're going?"
"Um, isn't it safer for you stay with Captain Shura-chi until you can get on the next boat to Naoetsu Port or Sado Island...?"
"...So how come you haven't told them you're a girl pretending to be a boy yet?"
"!?"
Back at the boat to Hakata (Matata)...
"...N-No particular reason!" Munenori grinned with both rows of teeth, wide eyes, and pinprick irises, which made Yahiko inch away from the Battousai of Speed pretending to be a kooky cuckoo bird of an effeminate man.
"Ugh. Do whatever you want," said Myojin before unfolding the tarp and resting inside it along with the rest of their baggage like it were a sleeping bag.
If the absentminded Minoe didn't have memory problems, he would've remembered that Yahiko already knew "his" secret long ago.
Really, the only one who didn't know at that point was the Out-of-Place, Ignorant Gan.
At one of many back alleys of the Namamugi Fish Market, behind one of many warehouses, half-past midnight on August 1884...
Bodies flew everywhere. Dozens. The Yokohama Police was on a high alert regarding the serial killer after he, emboldened by how long he remained uncaptured, sent a letter to the police (in English) making fun of all the speculation on the rags and tabloids.
The straw that broke the camel's back that led to this showdown was him hawking bits and pieces of his latest victim as fresh meat in the wet market.
Eyewitnesses identified him and the chase was on. He was not hard to miss. He truly was a foreigner of European descent (the dirt sheets were right, for once).
Whistles were blown, civilians went inside and locked their doors, and the police came after the whore killer, one after another. They fell down like flies before him.
Every time the serial murderer spotted policemen with rifles, he threw glass orbs with knockout gas inside it. This allowed the gaijin to tear the sleepy officers apart with his sharp weapons and the efficiency of a butcher or a surgeon without fearing their guns.
"When the wind is slow, and the fire is hot, the vulture waits to see what rots. Oh, how pretty, all the scenery. This is nature's sacrifice," said what appeared like a 25-year-old man of medium height and stocky build in a three-piece suit, while sporting a cloak, a dagger, and a bloody longsword.
Gurgles and death rattles were his enemies' only responses. "Bloody hell. What a waste. You have no idea what I'm talking about, don't you? Pearls among swine indeed."
More officers came out of the woodwork, their standard-issue sabers unsheathed. The killer (who was quickly turning into a mass murderer) scoffed at their blades. "You call those sabres? Oriental pig metal is no match against superior European steel."
When everything was said and done, after 17 minutes of fighting, all three fell; their swords chipped, bent, and broken; and their bodies frozen in... shock? Fear? They weren't sure.
The "Battousai" harrumphed at the one intact sword left by one of the coppers. "So the rumors are true. They fold their weapons because they're made from inferior steel. My Durandal wasn't even chipped by these fragile blades!"
"W-Who are you?" stuttered the last surviving policeman. "W-Why...?" his lips froze while nausea set in.
"Speak up, you bow-legged Chinaman. I don't understand your ching-chong language. Is this how inscrutable the Orient is?"
With a smile that threatened to split his face, he introduced himself, saying, "I'm pulling your leg, of course. I'm known by many names, but right now, as far as you're concerned, I'm the Battousai."
The officer couldn't understand a word the man said save for the last word. He couldn't believe his ears, thinking he misheard. That was the last thing on his mind before "Battousai" pierced his jugular with his dagger.
"Halt!" the squadron of Captain Kuniumi Yamada, Lieutenant Yusuke Nishimura, Sergeant Satoru Sakaguchi, Officer Atsushi Dankichi, Officer Shuichi Hasegawa, Officer Horio Shimizu, and Officer Masaya Ishimaru came on the scene, with some of them drawing out katana instead of sabers.
"A gaijin calling himself 'Bahtowsai', huh? Now I've seen everything. You wish you're the Battousai!" said Officer Ishimaru while mocking the foreigner's accent.
"You don't even know what that name means, you stupid, uncultured foreign swine!" chimed in Officer Shimizu.
The inaccurately self-proclaimed "Battoujutsu Master" (who probably didn't even know what battoujutsu meant, much less practice it) cackled. "You really think those puny swords can hurt me? They're the size of cutlasses!"
Hasegawa boasted, "Western swords are simple and clumsy. Made in the crudest way possible. They're no match against the pride of Japanese workmanship: The katana! A testament to Yamato Damashi!"
In turn, Officer Dankichi cried, "YAMATO DAMASHI!" and Shimizu and Ishimaru followed suit. The gaijin could only chuckle and shrug. The quartet of Shuichi, Atsushi, Horio, and Masaya... all the lower-ranked officers... charged.
"Yamato Damashi" did not save these four Yokohama police officers assigned to track the newest Battousai impersonator down, surround him, and corner him like the vermin that he was.
As soon as the foreigner's blade clashed with the Japanese sword, the latter was cracked and bent by the sturdier, more carbon-rich European weapon in a brief shower of sparks.
"W-Wha...?" Hasegawa stuttered before he got run through by the Foreign Battousai.
"What an overrated weapon. One-handed blades with overly long two-handed handles. Is that all there is to these samurai swords?" asked the chuckling gaijin, pronouncing the word, "Samurai" as "Samyurai". "Suffer and marvel at European superiority, you inferior Chinamen!"
"We aren't from China. Stop calling us Chinamen, gaijin."
Before the "Battousai" could slash the throat of the nearest of the officers (Dankichi, who pissed himself), he backpedaled before he "lost his head" thanks to an iaijutsu (sword-drawing) masterstroke from out of left field, while the sergeant's back was turned.
"O-ho... Interesting. An actual challenge."
"Captain! Lieutenant! He doesn't know that much about swordsmanship! We can take him down together!" said the Sarge.
After hearing this, the Captain whipped out a pistol with his free hand while holding a sword in his dominant sword hand.
As for the Lieutenant, he backed up his iaido-practicing subordinate with his own kenjutsu school, two of Yokohama's finest fighting side-by-side against a demented psychopath.
Fast forward to November 1884, at the Port of Hakata, in an area that would soon be known as Fukuoka City four to five years later...
After arriving at Hakata Bay, the quartet of the Sleepy Gan, Munenori Minoe, Chizuru Raikouji, and Yahiko Myojin headed straight for the nearest inn for the night after days of frolicking in the beach, relaxing under the sun, and... to those who were injured... recuperating from their injuries.
On April 1, 1889, the modern city of Fukuoka was formed thanks to the merger between the cities of Fukuoka and Hakata, which was about four to five years after the relative present (November 1884).
Before the merger, Hakata served mostly as a merchant district and port. As such, even in the future, the area's culture was more associated with Hakata than Fukuoka, thus the Hakata area remained a commercial hub even in the 21st Century.
Incidentally, Hakata was the name still used to refer to the Hakata area of Fukuoka City even after the 1889 merger. Most famously, it referred to the local dialect (Hakata-ben) and the city's train station, Hakata Station.
In contrast, the area of Fukuoka prior to its merger with Hakata served as home to a multitude of samurai. The name "Fukuoka" had been in use since the times of Kuroda Nagamasa, who himself was the Chikuren Province's first daimyo. Also, Fukuoka served as a home to a multitude of samurai, if it wasn't mentioned yet.
Nagamasa named the area after his Okayama Prefecture birthplace, while the "Old" or "Original" Fukuoka eventually turned into a main shopping area called Tenjin. Regardless, was it already mentioned that the "New" Fukuoka served as home to a multitude of samurai? Sure, having samurai blood in that day and age didn't matter anymore since the abolition of the samurai class, but still...
During his entire time at Shikanoshima... with its clear waters, white-sanded beaches, and friendly locals... Yahiko could barely crack anything other than a wan smile.
However, in the middle of night in Hakata, the Son of Tokyo Samurai couldn't stop smiling. He couldn't even sleep even though the rest of his companions went out like blown candle lights.
Yahiko couldn't contain his grin after arriving at Hakata Port. Just beyond the port town was Samurai City.
A Samurai City in the Meiji Era. Imagine that.
When the merger between Fukuoka and Hakata did happen in 1889, the decision formerly was to name the merged city "Hakata". However, a group of "New" Fukuoka samurai crashed into the meeting place and demanded... demanded... that the merged city be named Fukuoka.
When the Yahiko from five years from then (1889 Yahiko, as opposed to 1884 Yahiko) learned of that amazing feat through the news, he swooned. Swooned. Imagine, a grown man of about twenty-something years of age, swooning.
Regardless, the teenaged 1884 version of Yahiko had plenty to grin about at the relative present. His visit to Fukuoka City (of the Fukuoka District) could wait.
He had supplies to buy (with the reward money he gathered from the Akahori and Kairyu missions) at Hakata. It was going to be a busy day at the Fish Market in Hakata.
"Yahiko-kun, you're... creeping me out. Stop... squealing to yourself. Or smiling without blinking. Seriously," said a deadpanning Chizuru.
Her boots, hakama, and non-pony-tailed hair for that late noon made her look less of a Kaoru look-alike than usual.
"Shush, you. If you have problems with the way I act, you shouldn't have tagged along with our merry band of idiots," said Myojin.
"'San' means three. You're not part of the Sanbaka, Kaori-neechan!" said the Prolixitous Gan before he ended up hopping on one foot once Chizuru literally put her foot down on his.
"Why would I want to be part of a group that admits to being populated by idiots? Idiots."
The Hopping Gan shrugged while jumping on one foot, making him appear like a self-demonstrating member of the Three Stooges. "We weren't the ones who came up with the name. Patches did."
"Patches? Oh, you mean, Minoe, huh?" Raikouji batted her eyelashes and smiled a closed-mouth smile while purring at Munenori, "You've been a naughty boy, Minoe-chan."
'Chan...?' thought Gan.
Minoe let out a small "Eeep!" upon seeing Chizuru set her eyes on him. "W-W-Why is that, Raikouji Chizuru-chi-sama?" Electricity ran through his spine when "Chizuru-chi-sama" slung her arm around his neck and twirled her finger on his... chest. To punctuate a point, perhaps.
'...Sama!' Gan pondered further.
"It's not nice to passive-aggressively call your so-called comrades idiots, even if you do end up calling yourself a stooge too," admonished a smirking Chizuru with a wag of her finger.
No, the English psychology term "passive-aggressiveness" (present since DSMV-I in 1952) didn't exist in 19th Century Japan, but the untranslatable concept of indirect aggression and expression of hostility was something the Japanese were immensely familiar with, so it should be an adequate "translation convention".
Minoe reddened and looked away, adjusting his eye patch and wig. "I-I didn't mean it that way..."
Like she would a huge doll (or a small child), Chizuru grabbed Minoe and squealed while hugging the life out of him. "You're just sooo cute! How can anyone get mad at a face like that? You can call them morons, goons, and doofuses all you want!"
"...Hey!" the Moronic, Goony, and Doofusy Gan complained, then asked, "Once you're done, can I hug Patches too?" while scratching his sideburns.
"'Patches' is not a toy or a dolly!" hissed Chizuru. Although she didn't exactly let go of Munenori either.
"Umm," broached Minoe while his wigs' bangs obstructed his already limited vision.
"I don't know about you guys, but I'm ready!" said Yahiko while hauling a huge amount of folded tarp used for sails, mounds and mounds of rope, a net, several sticks, and many other wrapped-up packages. He had enough junk on him to look like a street peddler.
"..."
The trio of Minoe, Chizuru, and Gan stared at Yahiko for all of five minutes.
"...What?" asked the Tokyo Samurai Descendant.
To Be Continued...
Shura knowing wattoujutsu made perfect sense to me since she was the first person I thought of as soon as I learned the origins of Enishi's sword style (i.e., it came about thanks to Japanese pirate culture intermingling with Chinese maritime culture, thus resulting in an amalgamated fighting style that was a mix of kung fu and kenjutsu).
The quote about vultures came from the OST of Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance, specifically from the lyrics of the song entitled, "Red Sun". Also, the Three Harmonies Society are connected with the Wokou because they hired them to assist in smuggling their arms and drugs to many countries across Asia.
Arrivederci,
Abdiel