Whispers from the Stars
Shinsengumi! (4) Japan's first martial arts lineage, the Katori Shinto-ryu (Heavenly True Transmission Katori Shinto Style). Legend has it that the lineage's founder prayed for a thousand days at the shrine, upon which the deity of martial arts, Kujin Main God, descended and bestowed divine secrets. As this founding myth suggests, the teachings of Shinto-ryu are rooted in Japan's shamanistic faith, Shinto.
That's why Serizawa Kamo went around claiming, "I can see the future." He'd mastered the Shinto Munen-ryu, a style derived from Shinto-ryu.
"In a week. Hijikata's bunch is coming to raid us," Serizawa said as he groped a courtesan's breast.
The thugs lounging with courtesans likewise widened their eyes.
"...Did you hear the voice of the gods again?"
Serizawa grinned.
"Yeah. The gods dwelling in the stars whispered it to me."
Kusshogaku (Nine Star Divination). Shinto-ryu's fortune-telling art, reading fate from the orbits of the nine stars. Starlight glinted in Serizawa's black eyes.
"As expected of the Menkyo Kaiden master of Shinto Munen-ryu."
One of his loyal henchmen flattered him. But Serizawa threw back his head and laughed, shaking it off.
"Not everyone with a license can do this. Only I, Serizawa Kamo, chosen by the gods."
Serizawa Kamo. He had originally been a worthless ronin, barely scraping by with an mokuroku (catalog) in Shinto Munen-ryu.
Day after day, he'd wasted his life drinking with friends. Then, in a drunken argument, he killed one in a fit of rage.
Arrested on the spot, he was sentenced to death. While awaiting execution in prison, as death loomed near, Serizawa soiled himself and wailed for his mother.
His mind went blank, his vision darkened. In that moment, Serizawa saw the gods.
Stars in the pitch-black sky whispered his fate into his ear.
Right before execution, thanks to his older brother's intervention, he was narrowly pardoned.
This experience utterly transformed Serizawa. His already impulsive nature turned savagely violent. Power and desire boiled within him grotesquely. It felt as if some human restraint had snapped.
"Anyway, it's all worked out. We'll turn the tables and slaughter them this time."
Serizawa's gang whistled and cheered. Finally, they could deal with those thorns in their side.
One of the laughing henchmen suddenly remembered something.
"Oh yeah. What about that Hokushin Ittoryu kid?"
He meant Izuki. Serizawa shrugged.
"I've already assigned One-Eyed Gorō as the assassin. Told him to tail the brat and kill him at the right moment."
"As thorough as ever."
No one who'd ever defied Serizawa had lived to tell the tale.
"I can't wait to see the look on those Shinsengumi bastards' faces when the boy we 'rescued' turns up a cold corpse."
Serizawa burst into uncontrollable laughter, yanking the courtesan's hair roughly. She screamed as scalp tore free.
"Then let's prepare to welcome our guests in a week."
The gang raised their cups in unison, roaring with cheers.
✿ One-Eyed Gorō. He was one of Serizawa's five henchmen, all masters of Shinto Munen-ryu—utterly depraved scum.
Gorō was furious right now. Stuck tailing some brat instead of screwing whores with the others.
'Damn it. Should I just fuck the kid's ass?'
Gorō seriously pondered it, eyeing the boy's back. It had been a while since his last bit of sodomy, and the kid's pretty face was stirring something down there.
'Sigh... but women are better.'
Gorō kept tailing him, thinking. He did men when convenient, but didn't prefer them. Plan was to kill the boy quick and grab some passing woman to rape.
Problem was, this damn brat kept heading into deserted hillsides.
'What the hell. What's to eat in these backwoods...'
Women in the sticks were just withered old hags. To Gorō, anyone over seventeen wasn't a woman anyway—so no women here.
"Ah, Master!"
Suddenly, the boy's steps quickened. Gorō's irritated gaze flicked ahead.
Messy white hair. Filthy rags. Calling her "Master"—obviously some clichéd mountain hermit swordsman.
'Thinks she's some hidden master...'
Clang.
Gorō's single eye bulged out.
"Did you come out to greet me personally? I'm so happy."
"...N-no, not really. Just... taking a walk."
"Is that so? Nice weather for a stroll now that it's warming up."
"...Y-yeah."
"Well, let's head back together then."
The white-haired girl shuffled around awkwardly, while the beaming boy trailed a short distance behind. Watching them, Gorō swallowed hard.
'Good call on the tailing!'
Gorō silently thanked Serizawa-sama. A fresh wild girl beat worn-out brothel whores a hundred—no, a thousand—times over. No idea why such a tiny thing had white hair, but hey, like a white tiger or snow ginseng spirit—exotic.
'Gonna feast.'
Gorō licked his lips, closing in. Kill the boy fast, shove the corpse in her face, then rape her.
'Wait, why not both while I'm at it...?'
Gorō's lone eye twitched. The scenery on his retina flipped to a bright spring sky.
His panicked eyeball rolled in midair, then glanced down—to his own head exploding hundreds of meters below.
Gorō's headless body twitched in death spasms, staggered two steps, then flopped still.
'...'
Freed from its sinful flesh, Gorō's eyeball floated toward the clear blue sky.
'Nice weather.'
With that final thought, it became a twinkling star beyond the clouds and vanished.
Izuki shuddered, gazing at its last flight.
"...I didn't even notice the ronin approaching. Master's perception is truly immense."
Turning, he saw Si-ho in iaijutsu stance, white hair whipping in the wind.
Si-ho trembled, whipping her head around for more ronin.
'R-ronin sightings have been rare lately.'
Seeing one after so long stirred needless anxiety.
'S-surely no tailing or anything... right?'
Si-ho stared at Izuki.
"It really fires me up to train under you, Master."
Izuki, oblivious, just smiled brightly.
"Come on, let's head back and eat. Sorry to keep you waiting. Some kind folks shared food, thankfully..."
As Izuki chattered happily, Si-ho eased her creeping suspicions. Peacefully, they returned to the hillside house, leaving One-Eyed Gorō's corpse to cool lonely in the dirt.
✿ After Si-ho and Izuki ate their late lunch, Izuki cleaned up, did some stretches to aid digestion, and meditated quietly.
Si-ho fidgeted, glancing at his arm.
"Um, shall we start light training?"
As the boy casually warmed up, Si-ho finally blurted out.
"...Th-that. Y-your... a-arm... wh-why?"
Izuki glanced at his bandaged arm and gave an awkward smile.
"Tripped on the mountain path. Guess my training's lacking."
He hid the Serizawa gang business. No need to worry Master.
"Just a scratch—don't worry. It'll heal by tomorrow."
Si-ho tilted her head. For a "scratch," wasn't the bandage awfully thick? Splint too... But Izuki moved lively as ever, so despite the nagging doubt, she let it drop.
"Oh, Master. Could I ask for one teaching?"
Si-ho flinched.
'Wh-what? Sparring or something...?'
"Just something I wanted to ask."
Izuki knelt solemnly before her. Si-ho gulped at his determined gaze.
"...Y-yeah."
Si-ho nodded vigorously. Izuki smiled happily, then grew serious again.
"What was the pivotal experience that brought your iaijutsu to its current level?"
From what he'd heard since arriving, those reaching Menkyo Kaiden each had a defining ordeal that propelled them there. Izuki lacked such drama himself, so he burned with curiosity about his master's.
"...The... pivotal... iaijutsu experience?"
Thump. Si-ho's heart pounded wildly.
Horrific memories from her past life crawled up her spine. Breath quickened, vision blurred.
In the hazy blur, her eyes met the boy's. As always, his clear, thoughtful gaze steadfastly met hers.
'...You're safe. It's okay... I'll be right here... Take a deep breath again...'
A faint voice echoed unconsciously. Si-ho instinctively inhaled deeply, exhaled. Heart rate and breath steadied.
"...Are you alright? Was my question rude?"
"...N-no. It's fine."
Si-ho shook her head emphatically. She'd only received help till now, feeling a bit burdened. If a simple answer could repay some...
"...Facing... death."
Si-ho forced the words past the lump in her throat.
Goosebumps erupted over Izuki at those words.
'...Death?'
The ultimate dramatic trigger, sure. Awakening on the brink, at death's door. Classic sword saint tale.
'...But.'
Her words carried death too close.
Izuki broke into cold sweat unwittingly.
"...Thank you. That helps."
He bowed deeply and withdrew. Alone on the hillside, he pondered quietly.
Izuki had never felt death's shadow. Scarcely even ordinary peril.
'Chiba Dojo's genius.'
'Legend of the undefeated.'
Born with terrifying talent, Izuki had never known defeat.
No full-force clash ending in utter rout.
Perfect loss didn't exist in his life.
'A sense of crisis...'
Izuki brooded. Slowly, hand to hilt.
Thumb nudges guard up. Gap between guard and scabbard.
Tilt scabbard, blade horizontal.
Left hand back, twist waist.
Draw with right—shing.
Air sliced cleanly. Textbook iaijutsu.
But...
'...Slow.'
Eyes closed, he resheathed.
'Like I almost get it...'
For a week, Izuki sat alone on the hillside. Brooding daily, mulling Master's words, repeating draw and sheathe.
Suddenly, a question arose.
'What life has Master lived, to face death so intimately...?'
April 1st. Cherry blossoms in full, peak bloom, awaiting their fall. Beneath them, the Shinsengumi began to move.