A product of insomnia
Standard disclaimers apply.
A big thank you to all who'd reviewed. Thank you so much for your kind words.
The Okashira Who Never Smiles- Considerations
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The brilliance of the sky when Aoshi awoke was like a knife prizing its way into his eyes. He rolled over onto his stomach and shielded his face with his hands. He had slept fitfully during the night, and his head was clanging with fatigue. The grass beneath him smelled cloying and his whole body seemed to be drenched in dew.
"I though I'd let you sleep late, boy," said Akatsuki, the boom of his voice causing Aoshi definite physical pain, "but it's time now that we were on our way again."
Aoshi looked up, squinting against the brightness of the sunlight, and saw the stocky figure of his Okashira silhouetted by the backdrop of sky. The light filtered through the surprisingly thick lengthy tie of the old man's gray hair so that it seemed to shine like polished pewter. He was about to protest to ask for another hour's rest – when he reminded himself that it was the duty of Oniwabanshuu ninjas, even initiates, to push themselves forward when others would balk.
"Right," he said wearily, pulling himself to his feet. "If you'll just bear with me for a moment…"
"Of course."
***********
Minutes later, they were back on the road. Unlike their meticulous spying activity the night before, they could now effortlessly see where they were going and made good time.
As Aoshi had learnt in Kyoto, the best way of moving swiftly across level terrain was to run then walk intervals of a hundred yards, or so, throughout the journey. He was pleased to notice that he was better able to cope with this demanding regime than his Okashira. Yet Akatsuki, although he soon showed signs of tiredness, made no complaints.
At noon, they made a halt at the side of a stream. They bathed their faces and drank copiously: the water was wonderfully chilly. Aoshi was voraciously hungry but he said nothing: if Akatsuki could keep going without food, then so could he. He pushed the grumblings and mumblings of his stomach out of his mind.
***********
Aoshi and Akatsuki crouched behind a huge rock that jutted from the bleak hillside. The setting sun colored the sky an abstruse orange, marred with fringes of ocher and patches of amorphous black.
In a shallow col beneath them was a small encampment of lowly foots men. The feudal samurai in charge of the band was fast asleep, snoring loudly. Some of the former were likewise taking the opportunity to sleep, while others milled about, apparently bored and trying to think up of great tales that never quite happened, to boast about to each other.
After a while, Aoshi grew bored with watching them. He turned his back to the rock and looked out across the foothills over the great plains of Edo. He could see the neat fields of the farmers laid out across the land like a multi-hued gray checkerboard. It was too far to see individual figures, if there were any at this time of the day, but he could imagine farmers urging their horses forward to till the soil or reap the crops, could almost scent the dull cows plodding along as they grazed on the grass, could…
Suddenly, he felt a big warm hand over his mouth.
"It's time to leave," hissed the Okashira.
Taking care to make as little sound as possible, the two of them edged their way from the protection of their rock, moving backwards on their still empty stomachs. The sun was almost gone when they finally reached the corner of some straggly trees and could stand up to stretch their stiff muscles.
A bat fluttered across their line of sight as they gazed out over the plains of Edo.
"We must travel some distance tonight, boy" said Akatsuki. " I'd like to put a good distance between ourselves and them before we sleep." Aoshi nodded approvingly.
For over an hour, they scrambled and tripped down the hillside in increasing dense darkness. Once they were on level ground again, they made swifter progress. As they walked along the dirt track, they could occasionally hear nocturnal animals busily shuffling in the fields to either side.
Aoshi loped easily alongside his Okashira, feeling rather smug about the fact that Akatsuki was treating him as an equal rather than as a pupil. They walked in companionable silence before Akatsuki abruptly said, "It'll begin soon." The boy frowned quietly to himself, not liking the idea, before turning to look at his Okashira.
"The feudal war," Akatsuki began again and then coughed and did not speak for a few moments. "It's going to be an ugly business, this…It's been a long time… Japan isn't ready for any kind of war now, let alone resist the usurping powers… The northern feudal princes and lords are no longer happy with just their inheritance… they seek for more… They want the whole of Japan." He swerved to avoid a rock in the road.
"What we were watching are only an advance guard, and as far as I could gather from what they were saying, and from the reports I had received from our informers… other clans too, have expressed similar… interests," he paused looking a little disturbed.
"We can expect a full scale civil war either this summer or the next…" the old man briefly averted his gaze away from the dirt road to look at his companion before returning it back just as quickly.
"We have sworn allegiance…. to protect the king and his kingdom. …But the Oniwabanshuu, by ourselves, aren't enough… Raising a united army in so short a time to repel these forces, isn't going to be easy."
Aoshi saw the jaws of his Okashira clenched and unclenched.
"Trouble is," he continued, "the people of Japan have become lackadaisical in recent years, assuming the peace will last forever…. Well, Aoshi, the peace could end in just a few months' time- a year, if we are lucky. But it's going to be hard to persuade them of it."
"But surely when we tell them…" Aoshi offered, though deep down he knew it was otherwise.
"People don't like to be told what they don't want to hear, Aoshi… Far too many farmers and artisans are going to bask in their complacency and tell us that we're just scare mongering. …I wish people were different, Aoshi, but that's the way the Gods made them."
The darkness was now so deep that it was almost impossible for them to make out the road ahead; Had it not been for Akatsuki's skills in tracking, they would have been hopelessly lost.
When the wind told them they were near a clump of trees, Akatsuki put his hand on the adolescent's shoulders and came to a halt.
"That's enough for tonight," he said. " We'll set camp here and carry on in the morning."
Aoshi was only too willing to acquiesce.
**************
They exchanged a few words over a well-deserved meal of roasted rice cakes and burnt sweet potatoes, downing the bulk with sake; but Aoshi had wisely kept to his supply of spring water. – A similar experience the previous day had unpleasantly reminded him of the lingering acrid aftertaste in his mouth that wouldn't go away even as he slept, not to mention, a throbbing headache that greeted him when he awoke. He had decided he did not like sake. And he watched horridly as the old man easily downed his share unflinchingly.
"You should go easy on the drink, Okashira."
Akatsuki almost laughed out loud at the boy but stopped himself when he saw the beautiful features of his youthful companion hardened and seemingly morphed into that of a resolved young man; twice his own age yet carries signs of wisdom multiple times beyond Akatsuki's own. He is interesting, this boy.
"Why?" he probed, more out of annoyance than curiosity.
"What would your granddaughter think if she saw you like this?" the boy answered him with a question.
"Hn." The elderly man snorted in reply and turned away from the fire.
Akatsuki could vividly recall the night he had summoned Aoshi into his room days ago. (*refer to chapter 2 of TOWNS- First Phase*) He knew Aoshi was no ordinary boy. This boy was aware and confident of his own capabilities. And though reserved, he could clearly think and plan well for himself and others; here is a boy who has the mind of a genius, despite his inexperience and tender age. And most important, he was not afraid to speak his mind and make mistakes.
//"To err is human, sir," Akatsuki remembered the boy saying that night. "Even the best leaders sometimes make mistakes."
"Then don't hesitate to tell me if I'm wrong, Aoshi," he had offered.
"I won't" the boy had answered almost immediately "… Likewise, Okashira, for I have much to learn still."
"Of course."
"…"
"…"
"…"
"…"
"Is that all, sir?" Aoshi had asked before retiring for the night.
"Yes. That's all." Akatsuki had remembered replying.
"I'll take my leave, then." The boy bowed his head and soundlessly stood up.
"Rest well, Aoshi," Akatsuki had told him just as the boy was turning to leave.
But the boy had halted at the door and looking sideways, called out softly to him, "Okashira?" Akatsuki said nothing but curiously watched him. "I respect you… I don't follow you because I fear you. I follow you because I want to…. There's no dread in that. Not if I can help it. … Good night."//
Akatsuki leaned back into the cold hard wood behind him, sighing softly. Surreptitiously, he pulled out the tiny teal box he had in his robe, admiring its beauty for a while, before lifting its lid open.
The sweet scent of lilies wafted into the air, invading his senses. That made him smile, if even a little; made him feel a small nuance of happiness reaching into him, though it was ephemeral. It is impossibly hard to stay happy when war was impendingly near.
In times of protected peace as now, people began to think that war would never come again, at least not in their lifetimes – and swords were used as sickles or allowed to become rusty and blunt. Akatsuki had been unfortunate enough to have had witness it once, when he was a mere child himself, very much like Aoshi. And he was going to experience it again, this time in his old age.
Yes, he was acutely aware of his dwindling years and the lack of what was left of it. He only wanted to make sure that the Oniwabanshuu would be left in good and capable hands before his days were numbered.
Nenji, his key right hand man, had always made it clear from the start that he had no desire, whatsoever, to succeed him. It was a pity for he was such a suitable candidate. But in consolation, he had reassured Akatsuki that the perfect replacement would come along in time – one who is wiser and more gifted than himself. And that he would continue to support the next Okashira as enthusiastically as he had supported him.
Akatsuki's own two sons were passable omittsus but hardly talented enough to lead. It was probably the reason why he was still dominating as Okashira despite being far beyond his prime. Then he had set his sights on Hannya.
Hannya was the son of his wife's maid; a scrawny little boy who was pleasantly well-mannered. His father had died soon after the boy turned five, leaving both mother and son with nothing except for the clothes on their backs and an abyss of debts.
Often, he was bullied by the older children in the area - but he never told on them nor did he even attempt to fight them back. That had surprised Akatsuki, for he had sometimes seen Hannya lurking in the shadows, secretively joining whatever lessons he could.
And it was evident that the boy was a natural. So Akatsuki did the only thing he should do: he recruited Hannya when his long-suffering mother passed on. Hannya was only nine when that happened.
Ever smiling, he was very easy to like. And his ability to learn fast and his gifted agility won him countless songs of praises. Yet he was forever humble to all. And irrespective of his strength, he remained docile to orders.
He was like Nenji; almost perfect – sharp senses, keen fighter, steadfast and dependable. But the boy lack innovativeness. He does everything as exactly told, fight as unerringly as taught and even plan as uncompromisingly as trained. And that was his flaw.
Hannya doesn't question, isn't flexible, could not decide – his lead wanes when posed with a dilemma. …But he makes an excellent follower, the perfect soldier.
He's at least five years Aoshi's senior and was hence, more of a man than Aoshi. But where he falters, Aoshi shines; where he's good, Aoshi's brilliant. Perhaps the younger boy holds more promise. A little cold, but he's worth the consideration. He could very well be the one.
What would a dying old man want as he gradually makes his exit out of the living world? Surely peace and, at least, the safety of all he loves and cares for.
Sighing heavy-heartedly, Akatsuki fished out the golden hair clip from the netsuke and somberly watched the light from the fire began to play an intricate dance on its surface.
"It's beautiful… I'm sure your granddaughter will love it," the boy had spoken tersely over the mildly crackling fire.
Akatsuki darted his eyes to Aoshi, who in turn, was indolently watching the sky. "T… Thank you," he replied uncertainly, as his gaze fell back to the vanity ornament in his right palm. "…but I don't know if I'd ever live to see her old enough to wear it," he revealed.
"You will," Aoshi quietly assured, though his face remained cast skywards still. "If you were to be as good as a grandfather you wish to be, even if you're no longer here, I'm sure you'll be watching over her everyday."
Akatsuki found himself smiling, grinning wide from ear to ear. "Ah." He settled himself in, put away his personals, smoothen his blanket and bid the boy goodnight. At least there's still hope. Tomorrow's a brand new day. A lot more things need to be done tomorrow.
The boy relapsed into silence once more as his Okashira slumbered. For the thousandth time that night, he caressed the hilt of his sword, and wondered what it would be like if he should have to really use it. Would he be incapable of killing another intelligent being, no matter how evil or wrong his believes and intentions are? He didn't know and a large part of him hoped that he might never know…
