"And as you wish that others would do to you, do so to them." – Luke 6:31
#2:First Blood
Many travelers had passed through the quiet roads to Himawari. Some were mere merchants, or peasants, seeking to make a living. Others were ronin, driftless as the spring breeze. A quiet town called for quiet visitors.
Loud as a roaring thunder, the animal pulled its cargo as its heavy paws struck the rocky soil. It was a massive black bear, clad in a horned samurai helmet, fitted for its broad head.
"Be quiet, Akuma."
The rider's cold voice was all the bear needed to calm down.
The man wore armor of blackened metal. The plating was of foreign design, unfamiliar to the Japanese blacksmith, plates layered like the scales of a dragon.
On the cuirass, the scales formed the visage of a dragon torso, complete with shoulders extending their spikes. Hanging out of place from the black metal was an orange fur collar around the man's neck, dully gleaming like a spark amid the coals.
What wasn't covered by his armored cuirass, gloves, and boots was the dark brown yukata. But from the stiff movement of the rider's limbs and the clanking of metal, one could tell there was yet more steel underneath, clothing him like an extension of his skin.
On his head rested a three-horned helmet. If it wasn't for the eyes visible through the helmet, he'd almost seem inhuman.
The rider kept the reins in one hand, as calm as still water when the man in a red yukata ran towards the carriage.
"You!" the man shouted, barely keeping his breath. "You have to help me!"
With one glance at the man's belt, the rider noticed two empty sheaths hanging limply at his sides. Useless.
"In that town over there," the man frantically pointed ahead. "A fool in a gaudy dress took my swords! He was a peasant, probably even a burakumin!"
The rider stopped the carriage. Akuma the bear quietly growled at the swordless man, who only then noticed him.
"Is that... a bear?" he stared at the animal as the rider stepped down from the carriage. It was only then apparent that the rider was more than a head taller than the man desperate for his attention.
"Your swords..." the man pointed at the rider's belt. "I've never seen anything like them."
Indeed, his belt hosted a pair of swords unlike other ronin, a katana and a wakizashi, the black handles of which were decorated with patterns of golden flowers.
"With swords like that, everyone will fear me!" the man handed him a sack of coins. "Come on, I'll buy them off you, just name the price."
"Buy them off me?" the rider's voice almost made the man drop his coins. "You think someone like you can lay your hand on them?"
The rider looked down on him. He could see the man for what he was, a shivering, shambling wretch of a man who hadn't the skill to keep his own steel. And yet had the arrogance to beg for his own.
Empty as the sheaths he carried.
A mockery of samurai and men.
An affront to the ground he walked on.
Such a samurai would never have made it in Matsuhira-sama's time.
The rider unsheathed his katana in a slow draw. The man could see the grace of its blade - sharp and clean without a shred of human error, on gleaming metal never before seen in all of Japan.
"This blade..." the man stared at it as if he witnessed a god. "No one gonna say no to me when I have this! Not the stingy merchants, not the know-it-all daimyos, and definitely not stuck-up women!"
"You said someone took your swords away," the rider asked.
"Some masked nobody used a cheap trick on me, threw my swords in the river, right when I was about to show that woman her place!" the man scoffed. "But with these swords, he ain't gonna get the better of me! Please, sir, I'll pay you anything!"
There could be only one course of action with such a worm.
"Then pay with your life," the rider raised his blade. The man flinched, eyes widening in fear, but it was short-lived. One horizontal slice to the neck, and the coward's head was obscured under the rush of blood.
Limp and headless, the body fell on the side of the road next to the head. Akuma the bear excitedly turned to the corpse, the saliva from his mouth betraying his intentions.
"No, Akuma, you can't eat him," the rider wiped the blood off his katana with a small white cloth.
The bear whined in protest.
"He's filthy," the rider sheathed his blade. "When we're at Himawari, we will feed you proper food."
"You didn't have to kill him, Korin-san," an old man opened the carriage door from the inside. "He certainly was no threat to anyone."
It was Ryujiama Reijiro. With his bald head and plain blue robes, the old man wouldn't look out of place among the smiling visitors of the temples.
Yet something always felt off in his smile for Korin. Far too cheery. Much too happy. As if he had spent his life preoccupied only with sake and shogi in that old monastery of his.
"You killed him way too fast," a coarse female voice was heard from the carriage. "It's not any fun if you can't see the fear in their eyes."
The woman exited the carriage next. While Reijiro could be thought of as any monk traveling the mountain roads, Jo's attire was far from inclusive. From her flame-patterned orange kimono, the paper lanterns that hung from her belt, to the bandages that wrapped around her skin like coiled snakes.
Only Masako's unblinking eyes could be seen through the layers of bandages.
"Your sentimentality disgusts me," he said dryly.
"Hey, let me at least set fire to his corpse!" Jo's laugh was shrill as she ran to the body, lantern in hand.
"A dead man doesn't suffer," Reijiro sighed as he looked down at the body. "And it is a waste of oil."
"Both of you, go back inside," Korin climbed back onto his seat. "Let your bickering be Matsumoto's problem. Our path has not ended yet."
Masako complied as she reluctantly put away her materials. Reijiro, before doing the same, turned to Korin.
"Korin, has Taka-san returned from his scouting mission yet?"
"I sent him in the morning," Korin took the reins. "Most likely he will meet us at the town entrance."
The carriage moved on through the road, until arriving at a checkpoint just outside the town's gates. The two guards manning it stepped forth, despite being startled by the sight of a bear.
"Halt!" one guard raised his hand. "To pass this checkpoint, we demand proof you aren't a Kirishitan!"
Korin had passed six such checkpoints on the road already. Their demands had all been similar, their tests more so.
"Very well," Korrin stepped down from the carriage.
"You must step on this," the other guard brought a plate. "If you hesitate, we will consider it admission of your guilt."
The plate depicted a man, thin and sickly, covered by naught but a cloth, nailed to a cross. His face looked away, as if accepting what fate had in store for him.
Kiristo. The symbol and god of their faith, celebrated by them for his act of sacrifice.
A Kirishitan would never step on it, they thought. They could not offend one who had given his life for their sake.
Korin had seen enough of such ignorance.
"Do you expect to catch them like this?" Korin raised his foot.
In one vicious stomp, the plate had been smashed, scattering wood and poor-quality steel and wood alike. The guards, taken aback, almost fell to the ground.
"The Kiristo is a god of mercy," Korin said. "If it means saving the lives of his followers, he will gladly forgive something like this."
"You will never find a real Kirishitan with such worthless methods," Korin took the reins, walking beside his carriage.
"Wait!" one shaking guard ran to him. "I... I know you! You're Kariudo, aren't you?"
"The Kariudo?!" the other guard followed. "Leader of the Rokuten? One who defeated a hundred men at Shimabara? This is such an honor!"
"Kariudo-sama!" they both bowed to him. "Please forgive us!"
Worms. Their praise, devoid of meaning. They could bow to anyone who had shown the power to kill.
Such power was a duty, a responsibility, and nothing more. Duty to your master. To family. To all that followed.
For those who truly walked the path of the blade, no reason was there to praise it.
"Get out of my way," Korin walked past them. The guards watched him go in silence.
The first thing Korin noticed were the decorations. Paper lanterns, pieces of cloth, elaborate flower arrangements... was it all for him? Seemed far too much effort for just one inspector.
Whatever locals came their way were put off by the sight of a bear. After a while, Akuma got tired of people giving him the shifty eye and started growling back at them, until eventually one called the guards.
"Halt!" for guards, accompanied by their shambling captain, blocked the way. "Who goes there?"
"Inspector Seiji Korin of the Rokuten unit," he had showed them a scroll.
"This is a true Tokugawa seal..." one guard mumbled.
"So this is... hicc... the inspector?" the captain was barely able to walk up to the accused. "Well... welu... hi. Captain Sosuke at your... ser... serve... help."
Korin could not believe his nose, the wreak of sake was overpowering. There was no doubt.
"Are you... drunk on duty?" Korin asked.
"I'm not... on duty," Sosuke turned to face him, feet unsteady by the motion.
Unacceptable. Disgraceful. Morbid. What sort of daimyo would allow his captain of the guard to turn so drunk? A geisha with a needle could rob him blind and kill him.
"Shall we... get you... to the castle?" the captain attempted a bow and fell flat on his face.
"We shall... take a look around first," only barely restraining himself from cutting the worthless captain down, Korin managed a calm reply.
Masako and Reijiro exited the carriage, leaving the locals to be intimidated by the bear.
"Matsumoto isn't coming?" Korin asked the two.
"She has declined," Reijiro said. "Nothing to see she already hasn't seen, she said."
"How typical of her," Korin went forward. "Let's go. We'll find whomever the Shogun was talking about, if we're lucky."
The sight of Korin's armor and his strange companions did not make it any easier for the townsfolk, than the bear. Everywhere they went, the townspeople shied from them as if they'd caught plague.
Korin could only describe the town's defenses as laughable. Barely any guards patrolled the streets, no doubt half of them were too busy making sure their captain didn't have alcohol in his lungs.
And the other half most likely protected the castle.
Upon Aoki Taka's return, Korin had decided to have him train those useless men.
He smiled on the inside, picturing the maggots running from a determined old man with a kite on a training course. He wondered if it were possible to survive a jump from that height.
Korin looked back at Himawari's castle. Possible, indeed. Other than that... nothing special. His master built a much more impressive one.
"Ooh," Masako twitched, also looking at the castle. "I'd love to set this one on fire. Think about it, it's a huge pillar, right? So if you burn the lower areas, the poor little people at the top will be trapped!"
Korin listened to Masako's fantasies as she muttered to herself.
"Faced with no choice, to either plummet to their deaths off the roof, or get burned from below... ah, that brings back memories!"
Reijiro sighed. Korin considered doing the same. Such cruelty had no meaning. What was the point imagining the deaths of those who weren't their enemies? Whom they didn't even know? Who had not displayed any damning shame?
Benevolence begets obedience and vice versa. An absolute principle of conduct between the powerful and the powerless.
Those who broke it, on both ends, would cease to be worthy in the eyes of the world.
A fate Korin had witnessed first hand.
Regardless, Korin was confident he would find use for Masako's passions when he did find the Kirishitan rebels.
Could such a small timid town contain those willing to betray the Shogun on the grounds of faith?
Of course.
Where else could they be?
For the god of the meek and the savior of the downtrodden, there could be no better sanctuary.
Exactly how Taka taught him to sniff them out.
They continued their travels until they were stopped by a child in armor many sizes too large for him.
"You're a real samurai!" the boy's eyes were glowing with excitement. "And you look so strong!"
"What an energetic young man," Reijiro laughed.
"Hey, can you show me your signature move?" the kid circled around Korin.
"What is your name, young man?" Reijiro asked.
"Fujio Tatsuji!" the kid enthusiastically answered.
"Fujio?" he had Korin's attention. "Is your father, by any chance, Fujio Gengoro?"
"You know my father?" the kid's eyes shined even brighter. "You must be amazing!"
"So old Gengoro had a kid after all..." Korin smirked from inside the helmet.
Perhaps this visit was worth the trouble, Kirishitans or no.
"Take me to your father," Korin said. "And maybe I'll show you my technique."
Tatsuji obliged, taking them to the Fujio restaurant. The sight of it baffled Korin. A restaurant? Why not something dignified like a dojo?
How much the times had changed.
"Dad, dad, there's an awesome samurai here!" Tatsuji stormed in soon before Korin and the others went inside.
"What do you mean by..." Gengoro was serving dumplings. "Oh..."
For Gengoro, he took one look at Korin's skull helmet to stop what he was doing.
For Korin, seeing Gengoro was a different kind of shock. A withered, pudgy little man couldn't possibly be the same man who stood with him blade by blade.
Speaking of blade, where was his? It wasn't anywhere on his person, not even a sheath. His son didn't have it either. What was happening?
"Tatsuji, go home," Gengoro firmly said. "Now."
"But dad!" Tatsuji pouted. "The cool samurai promised to show me his moves!"
"I said now! Tatsuji," Gengoro looked him in the eyes.
"Fine!" he ran out in frustration.
Gengoro then shifted his gaze on Korin, looking at him with the intensity of a mortal foe.
All Korin wanted to ask was "why".
"Shall you not let your guests sample your cuisine?" Reijiro's friendly voice cut into the tension.
"Ah, of course," he gave a nod, before going into the kitchen.
The three unusual guests attracted immediate attention from the other visitors. Everyone stopped whatever they were doing to gawk at Korin and his company.
"I've never seen this kind of armor on a samurai before..." whispered a guest.
"Why is a monk traveling with them?" another whispered.
"Whoa, look at the girl," the third said slightly louder. "Bandages everywhere... what could have happened to her?"
Masako, seeing how too much attention was directed at her, turned to the guests with a fierce scowl.
"What're you looking at?" Masako growled at them. "Want me to show you?"
She carefully pulled back a bandage from the side of her face, letting the air caress her skin.
The reaction was immediate. One woman gasped. Another shut her eyes in horror. A man gagged, before he ran out, sweating with the color drained from his face.
"No? Good."
The food arrived sooner than expected, as Gengoro brought a stick of dumplings for all of them.
"How is that samurai going to eat now?" a guest whispered. "He gotta take off that freaky helmet of his."
Korin picked up the dumplings. As he opened his mouth, the jaws of the helmet moved with it, letting him eat his food.
Even those guests who tried to stay quiet, could only gasp at the sight of the moving skull helm.
Only Gengoro calmly waited for Korin to finish his meal.
"Meet me outside, in the back," Gengoro said before leaving the restaurant.
Korin followed him out, to the small river shore behind of the restaurant. He had so many questions, he barely knew when to start. Maybe with...
"Why are you here, Korin?" Gengoro said first. "Has a war started out there? You want to take me back?"
"No, old friend," Korin stepped to the side. "I'm here on the Shogun's business."
"The... Shogun?" Gengoro raised an eyebrow. "The Shogun employing you? What sort of madness is this?"
"The Kirishitan sort," Korin showed him the scroll.
"Kirishitans?" Gengoro read through the scroll. "In Himawari? But that..."
"Now it's my turn to ask questions, Gengoro," Korin pointed at him. "Where are your swords?"
"My... swords?" Gengoro asked. "Why does it matter to you?"
He had to ask?
"You are a samurai, Gengoro," Korin gripped the handle of his own katana. "You should wear the blades."
"It has been many years, Korin," Gengoro sat down on the grass. "Many, many years since you have known me."
Korin's patience wore thin as a geisha's cloth.
"Then tell me why," the tone of Korin's voice rose up. "What could possibly have changed you? You should be out there by the Great Shogun's side, serving him as his loyal blade, not losing your dignity like this!"
"Loyal blade, huh..." Gengoro absent-mindedly looked into the sky. "Remember when we were 'loyal blades' of Matsuhira Katsuie?"
"All too well," Korin said. "But Matsuhira-sama already paid for his..."
"You still say 'sama' for him after all these years?" Gengoro shook his head. "After all the lives taken for naught but his amusement?"
Thoughts swarmed into Korin's mind, like a chaotic sea of words and feelings. Korin blocked them all, for only one answer mattered.
"I owe my life to him for all eternity," Korin said. "And so I shall never speak ill of him."
"Because of the armor, huh..." Gengoro glanced at it. "Does it still hold so firm, even now? Dulling even the sharpest blade?"
"If you still had your swords, you would have found out for yourself," Korin started walking away.
"I wanted a family."
"What?" Korin turned back.
"The answer to your question," Gengoro said. "I hung up my swords because if I didn't, I'd be rotting in some ditch by now. Instead, I was blessed with a son and a daughter, who will carry on my name."
"Your name could have been carried by your deeds," Korin said. "It could have been immortal."
"I don't expect you to ever understand," Gengoro got up. "I must go now. Say hello to Taka for me, will you?"
Korin left, feeling nothing but disappointment. Were all samurai fated to either fall in battle, or become fat and weak like Gengoro?
Masako and Reijiro met him outside, talking with Captain Sosuke.
"I have to... hicc... take you to the dam... dami... there!" the good Captain pointed to the castle. "He is expe... expecti... wants you."
If they had to tolerate someone like him all the way to Himawari castle, Korin would have to compete with Masako on who lost their patience first.
However much the Captain deserved it, Korin wasn't interested in stabbing him or setting him on fire quite yet... not before he got an explanation from the daimyo at least.
"Go first and tell the daimyo we will be there momentarily," Korin walked to him. "Please."
"As you wi... wish," the Captain shambled away. "Hey, I got that word cor... corre... damn it."
Once Captain Sosuke was well out of sight, Korin gave a sign to go.
As they walked towards the castle, they could hear the whispers and talk of the people around them.
"Did you hear?" a woman said. "They say Kumo-no-Otoko was at it again."
Korin slowed down to pay attention.
"Yes," a man replied. "I think it was by the river, he assaulted a samurai there."
It sounded familiar to Korin.
"Oh yes, threw his swords right into the river," another woman said. "If you ask me, he is nothing but trouble. Our town guards should have..."
"Our town guards are completely useless burakumin," the man interrupted her. "How are they going to catch him if they don't know his face? A mask is enough to embarrass all of them."
Mask. Threw swords in the river. It must have been the man that humiliated fool had spoken of.
"Sure, but they could have found him by the giant spider mark on his chest," the first woman said. "It's very distinct and kind of resembles a cross..."
"So they find him, then what?" one more man said. "I've seen him climb walls, throw webbing like it's a ball, and he's strong enough to beat several guards at once! They stand no chance."
"I still think he's a Kirishitan," the man said to the gasps of others, who replied with something, but by then Korin was too far away to listen.
Kumo-no-Otoko. Man of Spiders. Korin found it an unusual name for a Kirishitan rebel.
"This Kumo-no-Otoko sounds fun," Masako said. "You think he's the reason we got called here?"
"Most likely," Korin said. "Although if he is just one man, this mission should be over quickly."
It wasn't too hard for Korin to believe a single masked man could evade those incompetent guards, even if it sounded like he had done so for some time.
Could be a Kirishitan. Or just a man with a vendetta against the samurai.
If he were the town's well-known pest, it would be logical to question the daimyo about him first.
Korin arrived to the steps of the castle. He expected a grand meeting with the daimyo in his magnificent palanquin, carried by at least ten servants.
Instead he was received by a smiling old man with a terrible moustache, accompanied only by one maid.
"So... where's the daimyo?" Masako asked.
"I am the daimyo, Jinno Jinsei, at your service," the old man performed a short bow. "Welcome, honored guest...s? Wait what?"
"The letter only said one guest!" he grabbed his head. "How am I going to accommodate three valued guests of the Shogun?! The guards even said you have a bear!"
"I do have a bear..." Korin said, baffled by the scene before him.
"This is a disaster! We..." Jinsei moved slightly from a nudge by his maid. "We are... thrilled to have you with us, of course. Let us have a chat and we can consider the accommodations later."
Korin could not understand what was happening. One nudge from his maid and his attitude changed completely? Was the town just full of utter fools?
No matter. The sooner Korin got his answers, the sooner he could leave.
"Go and get Matsumoto," Korin said to the others before going in.
The daimyo and the maid left their shoes at the door. When Korin did not, the daimyo quizzically turned to him.
"Aren't you going to..."
"I cannot." Korin, however did leave his katana at the sword rack.
"Edo people are strange..." Jinsei shook his head.
Korin was not lying, but he did not have the patience to explain it to someone who obviously would not understand.
Before long, both Korin and Jinsei shared a table in a dimly lit room, with the steam and aroma of tea. The maid stood in the back, behind Korin.
Jinsei made no attempt to hide the terror on his face when Korin's skull helmet opened its mouth to drink.
"So... um... great visitor of the Shogun," Jinsei nervously said. "Before we get down to business, I'd like to present you one of our treasured arts. Jun, go get it!"
The maid disappeared for a minute, then emerged with a painting. On it, a great fire was engulfing the forest in its merciless grasp, save for just one tree. A boy was climbing it with another boy on his back, faces lit by the strike of lightning. It was titled "One Last Hope."
"It is well-made," Korin could not lie. Even if he was no art critic, he had seldom seen art of such quality even at Edo. Perhaps it was even a match for Matsuhira-sama's collection back at Shimabara.
"Who is the artist?" Korin had to ask.
"A young man, lazy one if I had to add," Jinsei took a sip of his tea. "Yamashiro Takuya."
Korin thought he saw the maid's lips curve for a moment. Not that it mattered.
"I'd like to meet this Takuya later. Perhaps as a commission," Korin said on a whim. "But now we must get down to business."
"Quite..." Jinsei pretended to ignore the sweat on his forehead when Korin handed him the Rokuten scroll.
"Kirishitans..." Jinsei's jaw fell. "In my town?! Preposterous! Blasphemous! Impossible!"
"Are you questioning the Shogun's judgment?" Korin stared into his eyes. "If the Shogun deemed it necessary to send me, then it is not impossible."
"Of course... of course not," Jinsei quieted down.
For a moment, Korin noticed that Jinsei's eyes drifted away from him, as if looking somewhere behind Korin. But why would he...
"What made the Shogun believe we have Kirishitans in our town?" suddenly, Jinsei's voice turned calm, methodical, and reserved. Not the ramblings of a buffoon he was just five seconds ago, but a sharp, precise voice of a statesman.
Although Korin had no idea what caused such a sudden shift in personality, finally finding a person in town that wasn't entirely hopeless was relief enough.
"There have been countless reports of attacks on samurai visitors, accumulated over the years," Korin took a sip of his tea. "One of such samurai victims I've had the... misfortune to meet on the way here."
"Be that as it may, what does the Shogun believe connect these attacks to the Kirishitans?" he said in the same unwavering voice. "For all we know it could be the work of random ronin and other such... elements."
Korin understood the daimyo's motive. Trying to discredit the suspicion to make him go away as soon as possible. The leading question was to why. If he weren't complicit, he had no reason to resist investigation.
No, that wasn't entirely true either.
He could also be protecting his own reputation from the Shogun. If it became known that Himawari was a trouble town, he could lose it all... with his family being in Edo trapped like hostages by the great Shogun like the other daimyos...
Best to keep him close, if only for the time being.
"That is what we are here to determine," Korin took a long sip. "If it really turns out to be the work of wayward bandits, then I shall leave it in your capable hands."
With a trap at the end.
"We can start with one potential Kirishitan..." Korin continued. "He has been causing quite a bit of trouble... I refer to one known as Kumo-no-Otoko."
Korin could read the uncertainty in Jinsei's face. Once again the man's eyes darted behind him.
Korin followed his gaze, if nothing else but to see what was important enough to stray his attention from a guest of his standing. Such conduct would not have been tolerated in Edo.
He saw nothing, but the maid standing there with a stoic expression.
He had no way of explaining any of it.
"Kumo-no-Otoko is... is..." the daimyo's nervous voice resurfaced.
The nervousness on the daimyo's face had disappeared.
"Is nothing more than a myth," his voice turned firm again. "Just a legend to entertain the visitors, an imaginary Kirishitan, a phantom to frighten the children. Nothing more."
Doubt crept into Korin's mind. Could it be true? It was improbable how a single masked man could evade an entire force of guards, even as incompetent as the ones in Himawari.
Was he truly a legend then, no more than a children's scare?
Then what did that foolish "samurai" see?
"Jinsei-sama, Jinsei-sama!" a guard burst into the room, panic clear in his eyes. He hadn't even the courtesy to remove his sandals.
"What?!" Jinsei shouted back at him. "I am with an honored guest, you better have a good reason for interrupting me!"
"There has been a murder!"
The guard's words echoed like thunder. Jinsei and the maid exchanged glances, tension in their faces quickly starting to match the guard's.
Korin remained calm. Before anyone could shout anything, he raised his arm.
"Take us to the scene at once," he told the guard, his tone demanded nothing less.
They were taken to the outskirts of the forest. Surrounded by a squad of guards, there laid a body.
"It was found by a child playing in the forest, sir," the guard accompanying Jinsei said. "We dragged the body outside, but we don't recognize the man. Next to him we found what I think is a broken kite..."
A kite?
It couldn't be...
Korin's blood boiled, his reason faded, he rushed forward and pushed the guards in front of the body.
What he saw could not be denied.
The black outfit, the familiar old face, even if twisted in death...
The body of Aoki Taka.
"Who did this?!" Korin roared at the guards. "Tell me now so I may cut him down!"
"We don't know!" one of the shaking guards said. "All we found on him is spider webbing around his neck!"
Spider-webbing... the people said something about that. It meant only one thing.
"A myth, was he?!" Korin shouted at Jinsei. "That myth just killed one of my men!"
"I... I'm sure there is a rational explanation for all of this!" the daimyo waved his hands in fear.
"Get out of my sight, all of you!" Korin roared.
He was swiftly left alone with his fallen friend.
"Taka..." he knelt down to close the dead man's eyes. "I am sorry."
It was inevitable. An old soldier like Taka could have chosen no other chapter to close out his life. But to die like this, on a scouting mission in a spirit-forsaken town, done away by a masked buffoon, a so-called myth?
An insult to Taka's dignity. An offense to the Rokuten, to Korin himself. Taka's teachings, his wisdom deserved so much more.
"Where's his sword..." Korin didn't find anything on Taka's belt.
Kumo-no-Otoko took it. And the scroll.
He knew what they were.
He declared war on them. He was a Kirishitan, he must be.
To think a Kirishitan would not only fight back, but be the one to strike first.
He needed to be found, dragged out, brought before the sun broken and weeping as the family and friends of his family were made to watch.
The wound he inflicted on the Rokuten would be returned tenfold.
A plan formed itself in Korin's mind. He went to the nearest guard.
"Get the daimyo, tell him to gather every single person living here to the Town Square," Korin said. "I shall make a formal announcement."
It didn't take long to gather the crowd. When Korin arrived to the square, it was already packed with curious yet terrified eyes of the town denizens. Everyone, including a daimyo and his maid, could barely keep themselves together.
Korin assumed the center.
"People of Himawari," he faced the crowd. "I am Seiji Korin, known by many as Kariudo. I am here to sniff out any enemies of the Shogun and the country, rebels and Kirishitans alike."
The word "Kirishitan" sparked a commotion, that quickly died down as Korin continued speaking, unconcerned.
"My soldiers and I will do everything in my power to find them and bring them before you, on their knees."
He pointed forward. "Unless..."
Korin drew his blade. The crowd gasped at the sight, backing off.
"Unless one known as Kumo-no-Otoko will face me," he pointed the sword upwards. "In three days, on this very square, he will meet the wrath of my blade."
"Should he not do so..." Korin returned the blade to his sheath. "Every Kirishitan, everyone even suspected of being one, shall be burned one by one!"
"Bu... burned?" someone in the crowd whispered. "Isn't it too much... even for Kirishitans..."
"If you can hear me, Kumo-no-Otoko, know this!" Korin swept his arm across his blade, drawing blood. "Only by facing me in battle shall you save your precious followers of Kirisito!"
"As for all of you," he pointed at the crowd. "Spread the word, make it known at every corner, so that he would know my steel awaits his flesh. And should he win..."
Korin smirked.
"I shall leave the town of Himawari and its people in peace. Now go!"
The crowd dispersed as quickly as it gathered, whispering and arguing among themselves.
He would come.
Korin was sure of it, because he knew. Beneath that mask was a bloodthirsty soul, not unlike Korin himself. He left Taka without a sword to die, which meant he hated the samurai, hated them enough to kill in such a fashion. Leaving a warrior to die without honor deserved no less.
A chance to publicly defeat a samurai and "save" his town? The masked one would not fail to show himself, Kirishitan or not.
Taka wouldn't go there on his own, where his kite was useless. He was struck over the forest, from the air.
He saw something Kumo-no-Otoko did not want him to see. Most likely, his hideout.
"Shall we go, oh honorable guest?" Jinsei's meek voice interrupted his trail of thought.
"Yes," Korin turned towards the castle. "Take me to my quarters."
Korin's quarters were near the top of the castle, a room brimming with fine wooden walls, quality shelves to store his belongings, and an entire rack for his armor, decorated with seashells and the head of a dragon carved from agate. Even in Edo his quarters were not as grand.
Of course, his thoughts were never quelled with luxury so easily. He wished Himawari was nothing more, but a routine mission, to be left and forgotten by the end.
But on that day, the town took firm roots in his mind and soul.
The spirit of his fallen comrade and mentor calling out for blood.
Korin sat down before the armor rack. His hands reached for the helmet.
"Release me," he whispered. "We are in no danger. Release me."
He could hear the distant voices, always chanting words he could not understand. Silent, until he had wronged them. The armor latching on, never letting go.
"I said..." he pulled the helmet off himself as hard as he could. "Release me at once!"
The voices's whisper became a shriek. Korin felt his armor tightening, as if trying to pierce through his skin and push him down. Resisting him at every opportunity, doing everything in its power to push him in.
"We must sleep, or else we shall be weak," he said while still trying to pull the helmet. "Let me go!"
He felt the metal latching on to his face, threatening to tear his skin apart.
"Just until the morning... set me free," he pleaded, arms straining to release a burden heavy as sin. "I shall return for you."
Eventually, it gave to his fingers, reluctantly sliding off his face as the whispers faded. As the helmet struck the floor, his armor cracked into pieces, scattering to dust and leaving Korin alone in his brown hakama.
Without armor, one could see his black hair in a topknot, his short yet messy beard, the muscles on his body and the many, many scars upon his skin, as well on his weary face.
His pain disappeared, but the voices did not. From the helmet, they still called to him. Called for vengeance, for the blood of the masked one.
"In just three days," he picked up the helmet. "In just three days I will be ready to vanquish him."
He placed the helmet on top of the armor rack, facing him directly in the eyes.
"Three days will give him time to think," he said. "Time to consider his options. Perhaps he will prepare for a faithful fight. Or... he might try to attack me first, when he thinks I am 'unprotected'. Or flee the town in fear."
He allowed himself a smile of anticipation.
"We shall see exactly what kind of man he is."
Korin went to sleep, nothing to trouble his thoughts but the whisper of voices and the memory of shame.
Thanks for reading chapter 2! Why not leave a review and let us know what you thought of it? As you can see, this chapter follows our villain. This is our structure - POVs will alternate between him and our Spidey. Make sure to ask any questions or suggestions, dear readers!
And, sorry it took so long. Time to answer some reviews.
Nothingspecial43: Thanks for the review. Yeah, you said it best, it's better to build things slowly and not fall into cliches.
Eevefan13: Thank you very much. And now there is more of this.
Brave2000: Thank you! To answer your question, Peter is full Japanese.
Guest: As you can see, yes and no. I was considering going that route, but found it a bit too predictable.
That's all for now. See you all next time!