Tsushima, summer 1276
The slopes of the hills were painted in soft golden hues of chrysanthemums.
Jin took each step carefully in order to not leave any footprints, and to avoid damaging the flowers. A warrior must be able to see the beauty; it calms the spirit and refines the heart. It reminds that even a scorched wasteland can grow new grass.
At the foot of the hill, the petals were crushed, squashed into the dirt by the weight of heavy hooves. Jin bent down, squinted as he examined the trail. Here the horses were turned, and led around the hill. This path used to lead to a road shrine, but the torii pillars were chopped down and burnt under Khotun-Khan, and the heads of the monks were left displayed on pikes as a warning to the rebels. Since then, the path has become overgrown with grass, and the rains washed off the ash. There was only memory – the wild vines have absorbed all of it, crimson, like the spilled blood.
The trail continued up, to the top of the hill – one of the riders dismounted, leading the horse by the reins. Jin silently sneaked behind him, pressing himself against the rock, pausing for a moment before taking the last turn. He frowned; the sloping stones were obscuring his view and lay too close together – it was impossible to climb higher. He remembered that all it took is to lean out from around the corner, and you'd find yourself in an open area. If the Mongolian archers were actually waiting for him there, they wouldn't even need to aim.
A hesitant, slightly reddish beam of sunlight glided over the rock.
There was no time left. Jin clenched his hand on the grip of his sword, focusing and preparing for the battle: speed and boldness of his attack could still serve to his advantage, enough for a first strike. The wind lashed at his face, sang with fury and excitement of an upcoming storm, a promised victory, and Jin dashed forward, in a movement of an assassin, verified over dozens of fights.
He noticed a blurred shadow at the very last moment, he noticed a swift stroke of steel – but didn't have time to dodge. He froze in one place, feeling the cold blade of a katana right against his throat.
"You've become too heedless".
He recognized this voice immediately.
In the calm words, there was just enough reproach to discern care. Jin exhaled abruptly, momentarily closing his eyes, attempting to manage his emotions.
"I was worried to be late," he replied evenly. "There were rumors, that survivors are preparing to…"
"Attack the jito castle. I know. I had to speak to you privately".
Lord Shimura took a step back and sheathed his katana.
"I'm glad that I wasn't mistaken in you," he added softly.
Jin turned to him in a hurry, peering eagerly at the familiar features. Shimura was without his battle armor, wearing simple travelling clothes, a hitatare [1] and a cape made of thick fabric. He was not trying to remain unseen even now, in the troubled time of rebellions: he kept wearing the colors of his clan, red and blue, and the clan symbolics; Jin instantly recognized the proud white circle of a rising sun over the sea, written inside the rhombus. The signs of clan Shimura were almost closer to him than the Sakai kamon [2]. Now, among other, unfamiliar banners, only they were reminding of the past.
There was no one else except for them at the shrine. Stone figures of Buddha were placed along the edges, small and roughly carved, not nearly as majestic as the statue in the Cedar Temple. They did not belong here, where Tsukuyomi was worshipped, but in the wartime, there was little choice, and the sanctities were hidden wherever possible. Some of them were broken by retreating Mongolian troops, but someone of the monks came over, gathered and took away the remnants, and the statues still standing intact were left to await the new spring. In some places, the stone has become covered in moss, but it has survived, and so did the altar's foundation as well as a few ema [3].
The first rays of sunlight glided along the pommels of the figures, and the sun gradually painted them into warm gray hues. Shimura turned away and walked over to the edge of a cliff. He put his arms behind his back and looked east – from a hill's height the sea and the glow of sunrise spreading across the entire sky were visible.
"I am not here to judge you," he said quietly. "And of course not to take your life".
Jin came closer towards him, stopping just two steps away. Now respectfulness was the only thing he could afford.
"Then why are you here, my lord?"
"We have to speak. Of the future. Mine, yours, and the whole of Tsushima's"
"Clan Sakai has no future anymore".
Jin regretted the words spilled out almost immediately; he fell silent. The accusation was cruel and unjust: he knew the risk, and he made the choice by himself. But the image of recently set up foreign flags over the Omi village still lingered vividly in his mind; gold and blue, and nothing black or white. The shogun has granted the domains of a criminal to his vassals, those who remained faithful and never betrayed the honor of the samurai.
Shimura didn't turn around, but his shoulders flinched, as if of a strike.
"Yes," he said after a small pause. "Clan Sakai has no more future. But Jin Sakai can still become the heir of clan Shimura".
Jin exhaled harshly, with a sudden jolt.
"Uncle…"
"I promised to walk the path with you. Or have you forgotten that?"
"No," Jin replied quietly. "But I thought…"
"Jin," Shimura finally turned to him, and in his eyes flickered a familiar from the childhood soft smirk. "This time, let us think together".
He took a step back from the edge and lightly kneeled down on the grass, wet from the morning dew, and made an inviting gesture.
Shimura kept the jito title with modest dignity, with confidence that distinguished him among others. It was always easy to follow him: a warrior who never sank to disgrace, a leader who knew the price to justice. Even the rebellious Yarikawa at long last admitted his authority, and raised the red banners with white rising sun. Times ago Jin himself, among hundreds of others, would step towards his death at the first word of jito, and a good death it would be.
If two years ago Shimura had ordered him to end himself to fulfill the Shogun's order, Jin would have obeyed. It was already after their fight when Jin realized that Shimura did nothing by chance.
"I expected you to get married," Jin said awkwardly. He sat opposite Shimura, carefully put the katana in front of him, and folded his hands in his lap.
Shimura chuckled quietly.
"I'm afraid my son would not have time to grow into a man. The clans sworn to us and fateful ones are dead, the Adachi, Nagao and Kikuchi have almost no survivors. The Shogun's people have come to Tsushima, all eager to prove themselves. But now is a bad time for rebellions, the land hasn't recovered of the bloodshed yet.
Jin clenched his fists involuntarily.
"They will not dare to disobey the jito".
"No?" – Shimura shrugged almost invisibly. "The Ghost taught people disobedience. The will of samurai no longer holds authority for them".
He didn't add: "I warned you". The Ghost has become a legend, storytellers woven cruelty and bloodshed into it. Too convenient a legend not to use: hiding behind his name, peasants committed robberies, traders poisoned their enemies, spreading false rumors and threats. The Ghost has become a symbol of chaos, an idea of impunity. Jin knew that clan Oga had been forced to quell rebellions in one of its villages, and that the smugglers of Umugi were profiting more than ever before.
He tried to stop them equally with word and steel, but fighting rumors and human greed turned out to be much harder than fighting an army.
"Will Shogun send more people?" – Jin asked softly.
They would return order on the island with steel and blood, raid through Tsushima, like once the samurai raided through Iki, leaving nothing but wastelands behind themselves.
"No, if the authority of jito is powerful enough," Shimura replied calmly. "But the Ghost has to disappear. In such a way that no one would have any doubt, so that no one would commit crimes under his guise.
Jin bowed silently, accepting it. There was no fear: a samurai prepares for his death every moment, considers every breath as his last one. It was the essence of his service, the meaning of his dignity. And he himself, having violated the laws of honor long ago, couldn't violate the laws of duty, and respectful gratitude that a son must feel towards a father. Or, to someone who had replaced him.
Straightening up, Jin took the sheath with the tanto. And almost immediately felt a hand forcefully squeezing his shoulder.
"I meant something else," Lord Shimura said softly.
He sighed and shook his head with barely noticeable reproof.
"I have taught you the sword, but, it seems, couldn't teach you patience. I need you alive – as the heir of the clan, as a future jito, whom people will rally behind. They stopped believing the samurai, but they will listen to the one who protected them in the times of trouble. If you show them the way, they will follow you. With the support of Shogun and the word of Shimura, you will no longer have to beware the rebellious clans, and they will swear their loyalty to you like they did to me".
Jin met his gaze.
"Shogun does not forgive criminals, my lord".
"If the criminal does a great service, his crimes may be forgotten".
"I do not understand".
Shimura took a quick glance at the sea.
"Kublai will not admit defeat, Jin. It's like a slap, a spit in the face to him. Two days ago, I received a message from my people in Korea – the Mongolian army is already preparing another invasion. You remember their leaders; they are patient and persistent. It would be foolish to assume that they would not take their old mistakes into account".
They would take more men, Shimura said, they'd teach them our ways and our language. They would bring weapons that neither samurai nor the bandits have seen before; ones that shoot fire and poisonous smoke, and ones that make a warrior go mad. The terror that had descended upon Iki was merely a harbinger of a plague that would soon come to the islands – a black, deadly one, for Kublai does not follow the code of honor, he would try anything to win.
It would be a war with an enemy they don't know how to fight; a dangerous, experienced enemy, who holds a blade in one hand and generous offerings in the other. Two years ago, Khotun manipulated them easily, pitting son against father, and friend against friend, almost emerging victorious. Whoever takes his place will not make the same mistakes.
Jin frowned.
"How much time do we have?"
"A fleet is not built in one night; it will take a few years. Khotun-Khan made one mistake: listening to him, I also learned. Their tactics, their thinking, their war strategy. I know what drives them – and you know how they fight, their vulnerabilities. Together we will teach people to win, and when Kublai comes, we will be ready".
"To win," Jin echoed. "The Ghost defeated the Khan. But you yourself told me that it is not a way of samurai".
Shimura shook his head with restraint.
"Yes. And I'm telling you it again, both as samurai and as jito. The Ghost lived day by day, he thought to save one directly in front of him, the one asking for help. But sometimes the jito has to reject one to save many. Jito must think what the consequences of his decisions are in a year, as well as dozens of years".
"And you're speaking as if it's easy".
"It is not easy," Shimura said softly. "Just like you, I had to make a choice, Jin. Between you and the unity of our clans, the fate of Tsushima after war. What you did in the castle, in front of Shogun's people, was not just disgrace, it was a direct challenge… I was supposed to execute you right away. Yes, you did your best so the things were not easy".
They both fell silent.
An oriole landed on the broken frame of the shrine, settled there for a while, flapping its wings and fluffing its yellow feathers which gleamed in sunlight. It looked at them with a soft reproof, like a mother gazing upon her foolish children. Old Yuriko used to say that this was how the kami sent their messengers to earth and guide people who have the wisdom to follow them.
Rage and stubbornness are poor counsel to a warrior, let alone the head of a clan. Shimura has reminded him many times about the need of self-control. If only in the past Jin had listened to him, he might have come up with another solution, one that would have suited everyone. They could have sieged the Shimura castle instead; after all, the Mongols did not have enough supplies for a lengthy defense.
"I know you had tried to justify me," Jin finally answered. "You tried to save my life. I… understood later. If I hadn't escaped the castle, you would have found a solution".
"Yes," Shimura replied. "But I forgot that you are young, and haste is characteristic for youth."
He sighed.
"I am not less responsible. But let past remain in the past. In present, Jin Sakai must inform the bakufu [4] about the preparing invasion as soon as possible".
"Haven't you sent people already?"
"No. Shogun must gain this information from you directly".
Jin closed his eyes for a moment.
"A great service".
"Yes. It would be foolish to reject your help now – you're the only one who held a victory over them in the past, the only one who can prepare our people. But Shogun will not take a risk of a new rebellious age, nor the arbitrariness, Jin. You will have to prove that you will obey, will serve as a samurai should. To regain His trust is not easy, but there will be many supporters on your side".
"And you?" – Jin asked quietly.
Shimura put his hand on Jin's shoulder, squeezed it slightly.
"I promised to you that we will walk this path together"
[1] hitatare – a piece of everyday clothes worn by the samurai of Kamakura age; a shortened variant of kimono.
[2] kamon – "home sign", a family crest
[3] ema – small wooden planks, where the shintoists write their pleas or thanks. Ema are hung in the shrines so that kami ("gods") would receive the messages.
[4] bakufu – the Shogun's government
® At the authorship of Astera, translated by FanfWriterR