Fireworks, Candy Apples, Fox Masks, and Slaying Men (2): Cherry Blossoms Bow Their Heads in Early April
Early April, when the full-blooming cherry blossoms lowered their heads. The season was already washing away its soft pink hues, beginning to dye itself in shades of green. Izuki gazed wistfully at the piled-up funeral robes of fallen petals.
...Maybe next year. The boy thought of the white-haired girl. It had been over a month since he'd become her disciple. Compared to that first meeting at the Kyoto eatery, so much had changed—in his relationship with his master, in his own growth, and in his master herself.
Especially lately, as he'd started correcting her posture, her appearance had transformed beyond recognition. For one, with her hunched back now straightened, the top of her head—which had only reached his solar plexus—now came up to his chin. She was still petite by nature, so not exactly tall, but she'd gone from dwarf-like or hunchback suspicions to just plain short. A remarkable improvement.
Beyond that, her shoulders and chest now thrust forward with dignity, her neck held straight and noble, her head and gaze facing front—exuding an air of refined integrity. Izuki turned to his master with a satisfied smile.
"...Uh, um?"
Si-ho, clutching her bowl and frantically shoveling rice into her mouth. Hunched awkwardly in the corner of the room, she craned her turtle-neck forward to peer up at Izuki. The food crumbs stuck to her clothes and face announced the morning and lunch menus she'd devoured today.
...It's because she spent so long living rough. Izuki gave her a pitying look. Habits built over long years couldn't change overnight. All he could do was keep at it with steady devotion.
Come to think of it, it'd be great if we could get Lady Momoi's help.
The three great prestigious schools: Hokushin Ittoryu of technique, Shindo Munenryu of power, and Keishin Meijiryu of poise. The head of the Keishin Meijiryu private academy was none other than Momoi Shunzo. True to its moniker of "poise," Momoi himself was renowned for his elegant bearing and demeanor. When it came to posture correction, she'd surely be far more expert than Izuki.
...Though that's a distant dream for now. The academy was in Edo, not Kyoto—too far. And even if Lady Momoi came to Kyoto, whether his master would accept her touch was...
Izuki gave a wry smile. Si-ho blinked in confusion for a moment, then, hearing nothing more, buried her face back in the bowl and inhaled more rice.
Even after I correct her posture once, she hunches over again the moment I turn away. And even after correcting it again, it reverts right back.
This temporary fix isn't enough. I need to address the root cause...
Just then, Izuki caught sight of Si-ho, having emptied her bowl, squeezing herself into the room's corner. Her shoulders and back, which had been somewhat straightened, now shrank to fit the narrow space.
...! The room itself—the environment—is the root problem.
All living creatures, humans included, adapt their bodies and minds to the spaces they inhabit. Goldfish raised in a bowl grow only finger-sized, but released into a vast lake, they reach forearm length. Beasts tethered lifelong won't flee even when the rope is cut.
This cramped room was shrinking Si-ho hour by hour. Of course, she'd fled here after traumas from the outside world. But the refuge only shrank her further, and the shrunken Si-ho craved even deeper corners—a vicious cycle impossible to break.
"Master, how about a short walk?" Izuki asked gently.
Si-ho, drowsy from food coma, shook her head side to side.
"Is there anything you'd like to eat? Shall we go get some together?"
But she cracked one eye slyly, then shrank back instead.
Wh-who's she treating like a kid? Luring her with food from day one till now. Sure, back then she was starving, so it worked. But now, with a warm back and full belly, no way she'd trot after for snacks.
Wh-who was it? Okita? Or Otani? If it was snacks from that pretty boy—man or woman in disguise—who knew?—maybe.
...Those were really tasty. Saliva pooled reflexively.
Si-ho's past life had been fueled by human chowder every meal—no concept of "snacks" installed. Plus the prejudice that men didn't do desserts. But those colorful, pretty confections she'd tasted for the first time in life were a battering ram smashing petty biases, opening new horizons of gastronomy.
...Unless it's something I've never tried... She wasn't in the phase of wolfing down anything anymore.
Si-ho buried her head between her knees again. Izuki looked troubled.
New foods... huh...
Izuki pondered briefly, then something clicked.
The Fallen Blossom Festival.
Kyoto's cherry blossom festival was grand every year, befitting the capital. Perhaps because its splendor left such a lingering afterglow, a subdued follow-up festival followed its end. A celebration honoring fallen petals and welcoming spring's arrival—known as the Nakohwa Festival.
...But this year's will be different, they say.
Last year's Kyoto had been a demon realm rampant with assassins. This year's had suffered under Serizawa Kamo's gang. Festivals were all canceled or postponed. But now, with the Sword God's death halting assassins and Serizawa's crew wiped out...
Kyoto's citizens, joyful at long-awaited peace, were planning a massive blowout. Probably dumping all their pent-up festival backlog at once. The streets already buzzed with pre-fest preparations.
"Festivals have all sorts of novel foods. Especially here in trendsetting Kyoto."
Si-ho's ears perked up. Trendsetting? Like those crunchy Kyoto cookies?
"Sure, crowds might worry you, but as Okita-san said, to hide a tree, hide it in the forest."
"Better than wandering gloomy streets alone like before—blending into the masses makes you less conspicuous."
...Really? Si-ho's head tilted.
Sounded logical, but why did she always fall for Izuki's smooth talk?
"Have you tried apple candy? It's an apple coated in hardened sugar syrup—kids love it especially."
As Izuki gestured to explain, Si-ho pictured it with an ah. That thing from the anime, always eaten at festivals. Existed in this era too? That glossy red shine looked so tasty.
...But why the 'especially kids love it' caveat?
Si-ho shrank and peered up at Izuki again, but he met her gaze with those same clear eyes. Just like their first meeting—no whiff of bloodlust. That pure smile wishing only for her happiness.
......
Si-ho averted her eyes without thinking.
...Stuff like this. Still not used to it.
Feeling unsettled, she glanced out the window needlessly.
"S-so... when does... the f-festival... start...?" Si-ho mumbled, trailing off.
Izuki beamed, throwing open the window.
"Right now."
The raucous crowd noise. Joyful laughter. Songs and music. The sweet scents of honey and sugar. Temptations of the extraordinary wafting through the open window.
The festival had begun.
✿
"Blech. Tastes like shit."
Okada Izo bit into the red apple candy, scowled fiercely, and spat in disgust.
"Always looks all shiny on the outside, foolin' ya. Sweet as hell outside, but inside's dry as fuck and tough."
Izo nearly chucked the candy, scratched his head, then poked a passing kid's shoulder.
"Ow. Ya wanna... uh, eat this?"
The kid stared blankly up at Izo, then grinned wide and took it.
"Thanks!"
"Yup. Listen to yer ma."
Izo lumbered back and plopped down.
"So, old man. What ya wanna say? Been summonin' me left and right lately."
Izo filled his red cup to the brim with sake. Tanaka Shinbei, silently watching the lively festival street, finally spoke.
"Whatcha gonna do?"
"'Bout what?"
Tanaka fixed Izo with his hollow gaze.
"Spit it out!"
"The white-haired old man's assassination."
Shinbei poured sake into his small cup—not too much, not too little.
"Ya really plannin' to kill every white-haired geezer in Kyoto?"
"Damn straight. What's it to ya? Got a problem?"
Tanaka stared at Izo with hollow eyes.
"Old man, ya really wanna die today...?"
"What d'ya think tenchu is?"
Ten chu—heaven's judgment, slaying by the gods. Divine punishment.
"What else? My specialty."
Izo shrugged.
"Heaven's messenger. Heaven's executioner. Man-slayer Izo. That's me, Okada Izo."
Tanaka raised his cup in a dignified toast.
"That all?"
"Huh? What else ya need?"
"Ten chu is divine punishment from heaven. Our sacred duty."
Izo stuck out his tongue and smacked his lips in annoyance.
"Whatever. I'm out."
Izo grabbed his sword and stood abruptly.
"Sit."
Tanaka tilted his cup quietly.
"Don't wanna."
"Sit."
"Fuck off."
"......"
"......"
In that instant, massive killing intent erupted from Izo. He slyly placed a hand on his sword hilt.
"Draw that, and ya die."
Izo burst into hollow laughter at Tanaka's flat words.
"Bullshit. Thinks he's the Sword God."
Click. Thumbing his nose up.
At the sound, black shadows encircled Tanaka.
"Hey, prophet old man. First to do tenchu ain't the strongest. Heaven's executioner is me, Okada Izo."
Izo growled low. Tanaka set down his empty cup.
"That white-haired geezer? While yer nitpickin', I'll have his head before this festival ends and deliver it to the young master."
Izo snatched the red cup roughly and splashed its contents in Tanaka's face. He hurled the empty cup and turned.
"Then ya'll finally admit it. I'm the top slayer."
Izo strode off. As he vanished into the festive clamor, the black shadows melted into the crowd.
Izo weaved through the streets purposefully, thinking:
Whew. Can't hold my liquor. Close call.
Amazed at his own quick recovery, Izo ordered a drink from a street vendor.