Chapter 12
Never dulled.
The wanderer was wandering, ambling down a cluttered street near the outskirts of a well-off city. The smell of fried dumplings and fresh dango filled his senses, and he was content—waddling through the sea of people, having to watch out for kids two heads shorter than him, for once. A bright-eyed girl burst through the people and plod head-first into his stomach.
"Ah! Gomenesai! Sir!"
"Oh, please, no matter little Miss, this one is fine, that he is." He dipped forward a little in a bow, watching the girl's face fill up with surprise as she ducked away into the crowd. This is good. He thought to himself.
Six years had past him by. The war in his mind was worlds away. And all it took was one, small reminder, that he lived through hell. A sudden crackle of fire lit up his senses, and he swivelled around, hand already clasped around his katana hilt. Reflexes itching to draw in a second. The rurouni froze. A group of festival-goers were circled around a barrage of fire crackers, clapping, whooping loudly, and watching the toy pop. It rang in his ears. Like gunfire. And he slunk away, relieved, and yet, at the same time, disgusted.
Japanese fire crackers are called "Hanabi"
The battle of Toba Fushimi was actually mostly fought using guns, as were many battles during the war- it was the late 1800's.
Something small before I leave for holidaying. Thank you. See you next year!
-earl