"The journey to Kamakura will take around five weeks".
Their horses walked slowly side by side, occasionally twitching their ears and shaking their manes, Shimura's white and black mare and Jin's sorrel. The wind blew from the sea, and it seemed like it still carried the scent of smoke and flames. The western shoreline of the island was covered in wreckage and blackened planks – the remains of the Mongol army tried to retreat to the mainland, but the wrathful kami did not spare anyone; the storm scattered the ships like matchsticks.
Now the land was slowly healing its wounds. At the very shore, a small fisherman village has settled, peasants have replaced the burnt roofs, put new nets into the sea. Vast bold spots left behind by hwachas had healed into soft green grass. It grew high on the slopes, too, close to the sea, the slender shoots of the stems grazing the stirrups and gently sliding over the tabi [1], getting caught in the wrappings of the sandals.
Jin glanced further south, on the lighthouse's tower, grown into the rocky edge. On its top, the fire was burning steadily and evenly.
"I'll be back before winter. People in Umugi often require someone to protect the goods.
Shimura shook his head, took the reins back in his hands.
"I have already made an arrangement. You remember Goro? He'll guide you; he knows the way to Kamakura well. By the way, the seas are much safer now, so the crossing should be easy.
"You're taking too many risks," Jin said carefully. "I could do it on my own".
"I know. But it would be easier if we avoided drawing attention to your questionable acquaintances, lord Sakai. Furthermore, the smugglers are much more compliant to accept koku [2] as payment.
Jin just grunted.
It felt easy to breathe for the first time in two years. After their duel the future lost its meaning; he has learned to survive at war, but how to live as an outcast in peaceful time, that Jin didn't know. Pride, honor and duty got mixed with anger and guilt: for the clan's fall, for the friend's death, for the dark, painful desperation in jito's gaze and the blood on his kimono. Right words no longer helped. Jin did not admit it out loud, but he knew that he had went to Iki in hope to not return.
Kami had spared his life and brought him back. Torturous visions, born by Ankshar-Khatun's poisonous swill, still returned to him occasionally, echoing in voices of the deceased. But at least dreams only remained dreams, and now Jin knew how to tell the truth from lies.
"You're smiling," Shimura noticed softly.
Jin leaned forward, patting his horse on its warm neck.
"I'm recalling how you taught me to ride a horse in my youth. I could barely hold the reins, and your steed was not very approving of me. It's good that the grass was soft".
Shimura nodded, holding back a slight, though harmless, smirk.
"You were a capable student".
"All due respect, sensei Ishikawa would find how to respond to that".
They both laughed.
Jin heard the news that Ishikawa had returned to his dojo. He was respectfully asked to move to Shimura castle, to help teach the new generation of archers there, but the grumpy old man was clearly displeased with jito's policy, so he didn't even bother to respond to the invitation. Jin, not long before that having received an official claim of his own apprenticeship, had a vague idea, what, or more like – who – had become a reason for a crack in Ishikawa's and Shimura's relationship, so he had wisely decided to stay out of it. He was not worried for sensei; sometimes Jin had thought that, were Khan to take Ishikawa captive, the Mongol army would surrender without a fight.
Furthermore, lord Shimura, forward-thinking as he is, had granted the lands at Hiyoshi springs to clan Kamimura, which came from the big land, which, according to rumors, often questioned and opposed his decisions. The head of the clan, young Katashi Kamimura, seemingly had a lot of time to regret all his words. Neighboring with sensei Ishikawa, worshipped by local peasants, did not provide much to his mental stability.
Anyway, leisure rest is not a way of the samurai.
Jin knew that clan Shimura was not having its best time neither. Despite all privileges, after the battle at Komoda it had become the least-numbered and barely had two dozens of warriors. Add that to the fact that the head of the clan had no heir, death of lord Shimura would leave nothing but a name of the clan.
Were it the other time, they would've hired the ronin to service, but after the Straw Hats' betrayal there was little trust to them. Their names were unknown, so everyone who lacked a reliable backer, were declared traitors, and that was the majority of them. No one wanted to take a risk: an unquestionable loyalty to your lord, readiness to die for him at any moment, were the all-truths that always held the military class. Without it, the samurai would hardly be any better than the Iki criminal bands.
For Shimura himself it was also a matter of personal pride and honor, and it was undoubtedly best not to argue with him when it came to matters of that subject.
A fork in the road appeared ahead: the right path went towards the lighthouse, the left one followed the cape and descended down the slope, to the shore. Jin took a questioning glance at his uncle, but he only held his horse, silently passing the choice to Jin himself.
The sand on the beach was gray, as if covered in ash.
Will the Shogun see this ash? Will he let the criminal be forgiven so that no more his people die needlessly? Or he could just not listen: what is death for a samurai? It's in his every breath, in every blade swing. It's awaited as inevitability and accepted as a reward. What is death of a couple hundreds of peasants for a samurai? Unlikely any more valuable than cattle.
The journey to Kamakura was equally likely to end with forgiveness and with exemplary execution. The truth is cruel: the kami winds saved their land; and they will save it again. Dozens of clans under the Shogun's flags, even with huge casualties they will defend the islands when Kublai comes. And, if so, could the bakufu care less for the words of a criminal?
Jin did not pronounce that aloud.
At the very foot of a steep cliff, the road took another turn, leading them up to a bamboo grove. Shimura pulled on the reigns, bringing his horse to a full stop.
"I have to return to the castle before sunset, or else my people will be worried. Goro will await you on the eastern shore, at the cape near Hiyoshi springs. Do you know the place?"
Jin nodded.
"Good," said lord Shimura. He carefully pulled a bundle of rolled papers out of the saddlebag, bound with blue and scarlet silk string, and handed them to Jin. "Give that to Shogun in Kamakura. This is information of Kublai and the Mongol army moves. The rest depends on you. But, please, remember that bakufu will need lord Sakai, not the Ghost".
Jin dismounted, took the offered papers with both of his hands. He bowed down with respect, a bow to his lord, gratitude for the honorable treatment.
After a pause, he said:
"They will realize that you helped me".
"I know," Shimura answered calmly. "Shogun will also have to make his choice. Go, Jin, and come back safely".[3]
Jin reached Hiyoshi springs in three days.
The preparations were short; he left a message to Yuna and Kenji with the help of known merchants and already at noon he rode south-east, avoiding the main routes. War has taught him not to get attached to things or people; throughout the past year, Jin lived on the move, eating in the saddle and sleeping in the fields, wherever he could, avoiding villages. There was still a price on the Ghost's head, and the land of Tsushima was plagued with hunger and disease – and they both were often much stronger than sense of gratitude.
Anyway, no one would envy the unlucky one who'd have enough courage to bring lord Sakai's head to the jito.
Jin dismounted as soon as he reached the cape, leading the horse by the reins, stepping cautiously, constantly looking around and holding his hand on the grip of the sword. It was not that he'd expect an attack, but recklessness and naivety cost him too much last time. Maybe if he were more careful, Taka would still be alive. Maybe he wouldn't have to wake up in cold sweat every time he heard the whisper of long dead Ankshar-Khatun.
Jin silently exhaled, forcing himself to focus on the present. Shimura often told him in the past: measure the guilt as you measure the flexibility of a bow. If the guilt is too heavy, the bow breaks, but turn it into a weapon, and the arrow will strike the enemy.
Lord Shimura had his own guilt, old and deep; Jin saw it during their duel, in the triple blade strike, resembling the Yarikawa's "dance of wrath". But the jito could not allow himself weakness, even in front of his nephew.
Jin whistled twice, shortly, like a bird singing in a forest. A couple seconds after that he heard the same whistle.
Goro was waiting at the shoreline.
He had hardly changed since their last meeting, except for a subtle looseness in his gestures, a characteristic of confident people. When Jin approached, he took a quick look at him with a slight, appraising squint, but then immediately lowered his hands and bowed respectfully.
"Lord Sakai. I'm glad you're alright".
"It's good to see you too," Jin replied. He looked around: "Are you alone?"
Goro straightened up, chuckled and picked up a heavy bag off the sand.
"I've crossed the bay right under Mongol dogs' noses, lord Sakai. You have nothing to worry about. Settle in for now; I still have some sake, if you'd like. I'll call you as soon as I'm done here".
Jin didn't argue. He took his horse to a nearby fireplace, sat, leaning on a huge rock, stretched his legs with a contented sigh. After three days in saddle an hour of rest felt significant. There in fact were sake flasks nearby on the sand; Jin decided to not risk it. Sailing out unsober was not the best idea. Especially given that the swill Tenzo gave him after their reconciliation and victory was remembered almost as good as Ankshar-Khatun's potion – the Mongols should've taken lessons from him.
Goro paid no attention to him, minding his own business. Despite all the seeming confidence, he was preparing his boat quite meticulously, checking the sail and rowing sticks a few times, counting the supply bags. Jin did not notice any other cargo, but decided not to ask: the smugglers had their secrets, often best left unsaid.
Last summer, when Jin met Kenji on one of the trading routes, he was serious for the first time. He said that people who can hold a sword from the right side and know when to speak and when to not are always on good account. People of Umugi would not care what sins lord Sakai committed. Shogun is far away from Tsushima, his hands would not reach the Ghost here, and not even jito himself would break the established equilibrium. The smugglers' cove could become a great home for someone who had nowhere to go.
Kenji said that quietly, avoiding eye contact. Jin decided to not reply then, only nodding to wish a farewell, and they split paths.
Jin knew, he would be welcome in Umugi. Probably, he would be welcome on Iki, too, if he decided to go back there. These past two years he had been sharing food with the ronin, bandits and peasants alike, and many of his current friends had no samurai titles. But he still was Jin Sakai, the son of head of the clan, the nephew of jito. Like Ryuzo once said with a smirk, one who thinks of the nature's beauty and right words even when standing knee-deep in blood and dirt, would not accept the other way.
Jin was not fully confident in that, since Ryuzo generally had very weak thoughts on what is "right". But rejecting the old truths meant rejecting the name of Jin Sakai, and he was not ready for it.
Maybe Ryuzo was right.
Goro came when sun was already setting, tired, but contented, he wiped the sweat off his forehead. He bowed clumsily and sat down close onto the pricky sand.
"The wind will be good, lord Sakai. We sail out at dawn, settle on Iki for the night and reach the Hakata Bay by the next evening. The sea is calm now, no worries.
"And it still looks like you're preparing for a fight," Jin noticed in a steady, even tone.
Goro sighed, spreading his hands and shrugging.
"As they say, the blind aren't afraid of snakes. You're a dangerous companion, lord Sakai. I am just taking precautions".
"Then why take the risk? I thought you've repaid your debt to lord Shimura".
"I have, in full," Goro agreed kindly. He smirked, showing off his yellow teeth: "But jito pays a good price, I would be a fool to reject it. By the way, I am just a guide. It's you who'd be in trouble if something goes wrong".
Jin did not reply, and Goro only grunted in reply.
"Are you so eager to get back to your old life? I understand. But Shimura is sending you into hands of death. Shogun will probably even reward him for it, for his loyal service. But why do you care, Lord Sakai? Why die for him?"
"Mind your words," Jin snapped with a frown, "You're speaking of the jito".
Goro shook his hand vaguely. He repeated:
"What is it to you?"
"I trust him".
Jin remained silent for a while before adding:
"Giri [4]. You agreed to risk your life to repay the debt, but mine is beyond repaying. Nothing, no risk, no death, matters if you feel giri".
It seemed like Goro wanted to reply something to that, but changed his mind, grunted silently and reached for the flask. Took a sip, turned away, watching how the horizon darkened. Jin also kept silent; touching the sand distractedly, looking at the sea.
The waves were restlessly rushing towards the shore, leaving a white foamy trail and rolling back, followed by a soft splash.
_
[1] tabi – traditional Japanese socks to the height of the ankle with a separate thumb toe.
[2] koku – historically defined as average amount of rice consumed by a human per year. 1 koku is estimated around 150 kg of rice. The number of koku was also a measure of wealth and a monetary equivalent in middle age Japan.
[3] "Go, and come back safely" is a phrase that very poorly translates to Russian or English, but in Japanese the farewell phrase 'itterasshai' (行ってらっしゃい) literally means "go and come back without trouble" (or something like that :))
[4] giri – a Japanese conception with no analogues in other cultures; "a burden of debt", a very deep feeling of moral debt.
® At the authorship of Astera, translated by FanfWriterR