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Chapter Three: Unbreakable Promises
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Sometimes, I don't sleep. Sometimes, I can't sleep. Sometimes, nothing is right with the world at night. And, even when we're not being watched, sometimes I dread to sleep.
It's not fear, I tell myself. I know that I can match any opponent. It's just that my most vivid memory of ever having to wake up was the night when Sensei came to kill me. No, I don't fear sleeping, but sometimes I just don't relish the thought of waking up.
It happened so fast. All I knew is that I was being attacked, and that I had to defend. It wasn't until he fell backwards that I saw, I realized, I knew what had happened. Sensei, how could you try to kill me in my sleep? That is not the way. That was not -our- way. If you would have challenged me, forthright and honestly, I would have fought you. After all the things you taught me about honor, about courage, about loyalty, how could you have done such a thing?
Was it because you didn't want to look me in the eye when we fought? If you knew what you were doing was wrong... Then, why? You were always a good man, decent, fair and wise. Somehow, I feel as if your fall was partially my failing. I should have done something. I should have found a way for you to have a different option, one besides selling out the school to such a horrible and dishonorable fate.
Sometimes, I stay awake, thinking about these things.
Sensei always said I spent too much time thinking.
But, when we're lost in the woods, there's just too much time to think.
I think about what an absolute waste my life has been. I'm trained as a swordsman, but I was never in a war, never in the service of a respected lord. It wasn't until after I killed my own sensei that I began to put my sword skills to use in real situations. So, what meaning then does my life have? To merely protect myself? To survive, and nothing else?
Sensei, you destroyed me. You did not fail that night when you drew your sword and sought my life.
Why do I persist in living? If only one of them could kill me, this inane farce would end. Have I considered it? Considered slowing myself by just a fraction when one of sensei's other students lunges for my throat? Yes. I've considered it. But, allowing myself to die so easily would be contrary to the standards of fighting. That would be suicide, and if a man chooses to take his own life, he should do it through the ritual of seppuku. He should not thrust such a choice, such dark karma, upon another combatant.
No. I can not take my own life, or allow it so easily to be taken. Suicide would mean that I believe myself to be in the wrong, as far as my sensei's death is concerned. And, I do not believe that I acted inappropriately. Could I have acted in any other way?
Sensei, sensei... When my parents died, you took me into your dojo. You showed me boundless kindness and wisdom. I just can't... I can't believe...
It's night. Above, the moon looks like an ugly scar cut into the endless sky. The stars are glimmering pinpricks of blood. Deep within the forest, a lone cicada rouses from slumber and screams.
I feel my jaw clench, and I don't even know why.
I should go. I should leave these two. We're close enough to Nagasaki, so what does it matter? Forget my promise to Fuu. Forget killing Mugen. I need to forget this journey, and forget these people. I just need to focus, and I need to find...
Something. I need to find something. Some sort of proof. Proof of... Proof of what, exactly? It irks me that I don't know the answer.
I stand, pick up my straw hat, and look at them. Fuu is sleeping, but neglected to take off her shoes. Mugen is sleeping extremely close to the fire. Maybe he'll burn off his hair. Even I would laugh at that.
I put on my hat, and tie it tightly. I'll go east. No. North. The last village was three or four days ago. Yes, I'll go. This is sensible. This is proper.
Fuu has the sort of personality which can weather disappointments. She'll survive. And I've been traveling with them long enough to know that Mugen won't hurt her. Not intentionally. Even that barbarian doesn't rough up women unless that's the sort of thing they enjoy.
A man should always keep his promise. A man's word, his vow, his oath is not retractable. But, following such a tenet too blindly or fastidiously is improper. If one comes to the realization that one has erred in making such a promise, based on false assumptions, shouldn't one retract the promise based on one's moral misgivings?
It's a delicate ethical situation. In times past, I would have sought sensei's advice.
I must not waver. Hesitation is death. Fearing guilt leads to regret, and regret is a weakness a samurai can not abide.
North. I will go north.
I will not look at them as I leave. Yes, this is decided. I was never here. I will leave no trace of my existence behind. In a very short time, they won't even remember the other person with which they were traveling.
I won't look down at Fuu as I step past her. I won't glare at Mugen. I'll just go north.
It's deep summer, so there are few leaves to crunch underfoot. Between the trees lay soft tufts of shadowy green. In a few hours, dew will make the grass slick and dangerous. But, for now, I travel silently away from the camp, surefooted and determined.
With every step, I am lighter. If I walk far enough, will I find something? Will I find anything?
Surely, this is the best decision. It is the honorable decision. I will think no more about this. I will put it firmly out of mind and focus on what comes next. There is only one place to go. Back to Edo. Back to Edo.
I will write Fuu a letter once I am there. Though, I am not sure quite how I will get it to her. Nor am I certain what I should say. No, this is a preposterous idea. It is better if I just cut off all contact altogether.
I should meditate. Walking meditation. The monks do it sometimes. They walk a bit more slowly, however, concentrating on the mechanics of each step, attempting to feel each muscle as it flexes and contracts. When you concentrate on something you do naturally, it becomes a wonder. You realize the complexity of every movement of the human body.
When I was barely even old enough to be able to lift a real katana, Sensei used to make me walk around the dojo with the writings of Imagawa Ryoshun, author of many of the most respected tenets of bushido, balanced on my head. The lesson of this was twofold. First, extraneous movements quickly become apparent, and a person learns to only move deliberately. Second is the lesson that a man can not walk his path unless his entire body is balanced with bushido.
I hated it, at the time. But, it was a good lesson. Had I taken over the dojo, I would have taught the same lesson to my own students.
The forest becomes denser and lighter at irregular intervals. I must be choosy about my steps sometimes. Hakama aren't exactly designed for forest travel. No. They assist in obfuscating the leg movements of a samurai, so that his opponent can not as easily predict the next move. Good for duels on bridges. Less good when trying not to get tangled in the underbrush.
I've been walking for some time now, and have managed to keep my focus on the singular task of moving forward. Perhaps, come sunrise, I will find somewhere to sleep. A tree, maybe?
I think briefly of my mother, for some reason. I have very few memories of my parents. But, I do recall the plum tree in our yard, and how my mother used to lift me up to pluck fruit from the lowest branches. "Jin," she'd say, "Pick one for your father, too." I thought I was being some sort of great help to her. It wasn't until I went back to that house, some time after Sensei died, when I realized exactly how low those branches were, and that she could have picked those plums by herself. This is the betrayal of the mind, which leads you into thinking you're doing something good for someone else, when actually...you're useless.
Ahead, I spy a flickering light cutting a swatch of brilliance into the endless forest. A fire? Who knows what sort of people live in this area. Bandits, perhaps? Or hunters looking for game? I suppose I should check it out, especially since it is possible that they will know the shortest route out of this labyrinth of trees.
I'll approach cautiously. I should not wish to alarm anyone by...
What the...? This is impossible. I went north. I was walking north the entire time!
I make my way into the clearing, and stare with mild confusion at the occupants of the camp.
Since I left, Fuu has kicked off her shoes.
And Mugen has rolled away from the fire.
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In Our Next Chapter: A confrontation between Jin and Mugen. And, maybe I'll even give this story some plot, or something.
Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far. I'm glad you enjoy this somewhat rambling story about what goes on in Jin's head. So, special thanks to: peeps, Ouatic-7 (I fixed that error. Thanks for pointing it out.), Kaylana, poornmiserable, PegasusRider, ithilfea, enroute, Phi-Dono, Darkness-ninja, Maria, Elementary Magpie, randomperson, Pyrric Lotus, and Anrixan.
