Fireworks, Candy Apples, Fox Masks, and Slicing People (4)
The anti-shogunate forces were led by three major powers: Choshu, Tosa, and Satsuma. Okada Izo was an assassin from Tosa. He moved at the command of Takechi Zuizan, the leader of the Loyalist faction who had seized real power in Tosa.
'The boss said he's short on decent assassins these days.'
Izo eyed the girl in the fox mask intently.
'If I recruit this little fox girl as a Tosa assassin...?'
The boss would surely be pleased. Si-ho caught Izo's peculiar gaze and let out a hiiik of terror, shrinking back.
'Th-this weirdo...'
She tried to slip away quietly. But Izo's voice halted her steps.
"Hey now, ya not gonna eat this?"
In both his hands, caramel-colored chicken skewers sizzled with a rich smoky aroma.
Si-ho froze. Beneath the mask, her nose twitched.
'...Come to think of it, I skipped dinner so I could gorge on festival food.'
She'd parted ways with Izuki right after heading out and wandered the streets aimlessly. Now her stomach rumbled fiercely for the first time in ages.
"Aigoo, runnin' around on an empty belly? Here, take it quick."
Izo dangled the skewer teasingly in the air. Si-ho's nose followed the mouthwatering meaty scent.
"......"
But that was as far as she went. She stared longingly at the skewer but didn't approach further.
'...What the hell. Is she playin' hard to get right now?'
Izo looked a bit flustered.
'I figured I'd buy her some grub first and sweet-talk her nice and easy...'
Wasn't working? Izo boasted far and wide that he was an expert at picking up women. Truth was, the only ladies he'd ever charmed were the courtesans of Pontot Street.
'M-maybe I gotta flash some coin.'
He reached for his pouch out of habit. But the fox girl fidgeted awkwardly, then suddenly pulled a clean sheet of paper from her bosom, spread it on a rock, patted it flat with her palm, and scurried back.
"......?"
Izo blinked dumbly for a moment before sighing in realization.
"L-like this...?"
He clumsily placed the skewer on the paper. But the fox girl stayed put and waved her arms frantically.
"Ah, ah. Go further away...? Alrighty then?"
Once Izo backed off a good distance, the fox girl finally darted forward and snatched the skewer.
'...For real. What kinda weirdo is she?'
Izo watched her sneak peeks around before snagging the food, his eyes gleaming with odd fascination.
'But why ain't she talkin'? She mute or somethin'?'
There was a reason for that. A typical antisocial shut-in who rarely spoke usually had poor vocalization. With underdeveloped vocal cords from disuse, their voice came out strained and goat-like, trembling hoarsely. Elderly folks suffered the same from age-related atrophy.
Si-ho, who'd spent a full year as a total hikikomori without uttering a word, had vocal cords just as ruined as an old man's. Thanks to that? She'd been mistaken for a white-haired geezer all this time. But if she spoke now in her girl form with that raspy elder voice, it'd draw unwanted suspicion.
"Well, a quiet assassin's a good thing anyhow."
Izo shrugged. No matter how much he dug, this new talent kept unearthing fresh skills. He wasn't about to let a gem like this slip away.
Izo led Si-ho zigzagging through the food stalls. It was oddly amusing watching the tiny thing trail after him, gobbling up everything he offered with eager nods.
They'd circled half the food alley when a black shadow sidled up to Izo.
"Izo. When we executin' the plan?"
Another Tosa assassin, just like him.
"Didn't I say before the festival ends?"
"Ah, yeah, that. Hold yer horses a bit. I'm reelin' in a ripe new recruit right now."
The assassin shot him a puzzled look.
"...Ain't takin' out the white-haired hermit the top priority? This ain't the time for scoutin' newbies."
"Pah, that's just Choshu hick talk. Our boss ever say any such thing?"
Izo snapped irritably.
"Festival's got plenty left. It's nonstop all month long—what's the rush?"
"......"
The assassin melted into the crowd without a word.
"Sheesh, these young punks got no respect. Gotta knock some discipline into 'em one day."
Izo tsked his tongue.
'Alright, time to test the waters a bit.'
Si-ho stood mesmerized by a street performer's acrobatics, hands full of snacks. Izo crept up behind her with a sly grin.
"Clown doin' tricks or what? What's so funny 'bout—"
Izo's smile froze. A crowd ringed the street center, buzzing. At its heart was a familiar face.
"What the hell we gonna do with that crazy old bastard."
Izo stuck out his tongue in disgust.
✿
Tanaka Shinbei. He was a Satsuma warrior. But he worked more with Tosa samurai than his own, thanks to his close ties with Tosa's power broker, Takechi Zuizan.
'Zuizan's the one to lead the realm someday.'
That's what Tanaka believed. Zuizan had rallied Tosa's low-ranking samurai into the Tosa Loyalist Party. From there, he'd seized control of Tosa and pushed into central politics, wielding massive influence.
'The white-haired hermit in seclusion. He's our Tosa Loyalist Party's greatest foe.'
Zuizan had said.
'Shogunate, Choshu, Satsuma—they all move through politics. But not the hermit. He's the one uncontrollable variable. Priority target for elimination.'
Accomplished in both letters and arms, Zuizan was skilled enough in martial arts to found his own dojo, but equally sharp in scholarship and politics.
'First, kill someone close to the hermit. That'll draw the hidden master out.'
Zuizan had pointed to one boy: Ishihara Izuki. Adopted son of the Chiba family of Hokushin Ittoryu, now disowned. Eyewitness reports placed him near the white-haired elder during the Sword God's murder.
'Ambush the boy.'
Tanaka had nodded silently. Zuizan's learned judgment was surely correct.
Thus, he'd attacked Izuki today.
Claaang!!
A shrill clash of metal rang in their ears.
"......!"
Izuki's drawn blade blocked Tanaka's strike. He stepped back, surprised.
"Heard your iaijutsu was slow."
His low voice rumbled. Izuki wiped cold sweat and smiled faintly.
"I've had a bit of an enlightenment lately."
"...Hoo."
Tanaka and Izuki circled each other.
"Hokushin Ittoryu—Ishihara Izuki."
The boy named himself. Tanaka responded in kind.
"Heaven's Prophet. Man-Slicer Tanaka Shinbei."
Izuki's eyes widened slightly. No opponent had ever honored the nanori before battle.
Nanori—the samurai custom of introducing one's lineage, school, and name before combat. In this era of constant assassination, it was dismissed as outdated formality, rarely done.
"But forgive me. Can't name my school."
Tanaka slowly raised his blade overhead.
"Mine's a secret sword that never leaves its sheath. A hidden lineage under strict secrecy."
The festival was in full swing. At first, the blade clashes drowned in the din, unnoticed. But as the two swordsmen spun in the street's center, eyes began to gather.
"What? A fight?"
"Dunno. But sounds like they're doin' nanori."
"Must be some Warring States play. No one does nanori in real fights these days."
The crowd murmured excitedly, peering at Izuki and Tanaka.
"What's the setup? Who's the good guy?"
"Can't ya tell? Kid's Hokushin Ittoryu—hero side, obviously."
"...He's kinda hot. My type."
"Villain's some secret school? Hidden techniques, huh."
Grinddd.
Power gathered in Tanaka's right hand, surging into his massive odate blade, far larger than standard.
"Well then. Shall we?"
He roared.
"KIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!!!!!!!"
'Shigen-ryu.'
"Shigen-ryu?"
"That's Shigen-ryu."
Tanaka charged. Izuki's hair strands sheared off. The skin on his nose tip split. A food cart behind sliced clean. Finally, the ground itself gaped open.
The onlookers' jaws dropped. Shigen-ryu's legendary first strike—the embodiment of utter destruction—left them speechless.
'He dodged.'
Tanaka was inwardly stunned.
"They say always dodge Shigen-ryu's first strike."
Indeed, "dodge the first strike" was the famed counter to Shigen-ryu. Everyone planned around it—until they ate that opener.
'First time.'
No one had ever evaded Tanaka's first strike before.
One breath: fun (分). One-eighth fun: byo (秒). One-tenth byo: sa (乍). One-tenth sa: kor (忽). One-tenth kor: go (毫). One-tenth go: unyo (雲燿).
Unyo. Shigen-ryu's ultimate realm. Tanaka had lingered at kor in youth. As an assassin, he'd crossed death's brink to reach go.
'A strike at go has never missed.'
Yet this boy...
Squeeeeeeeee!!
A piercing whistle shattered the silence.
"Hey! What're ya doin' there!"
Constables in tall helmets rushed over.
"Eek. Pigs."
Izo yanked his hood over his face.
"Guess next festival then."
He melted into the crowd, flashing a cheeky grin.
"Next time, more grub, more fun sights. Wait up fer me."
Si-ho stared blankly at Izo's fading afterimage.
"...Next time."
She muttered flatly. Tanaka vanished into the throng too.
Izuki, dazed, chased Tanaka's shadow with his eyes—then spotted Si-ho standing oddly amid the crowd.
"...! Master!"
Izuki rushed over with a bright smile.
"You're safe. Thank goodness."
Her mask and clothes were splattered with colorful sauces and bits—not unscathed, but at least not from human sources.
'...? Up close, lotsa red sauce stains...'
Si-ho chewed her lip, then thrust out the skewer in her hand.
'Full now.'
Holding it forever was a hassle.
"Ah, for me? Thank you!"
Izuki accepted it graciously, beaming.
Wait. Come to think of it—
"How'd you buy all this food...?"
Si-ho hated carrying a money pouch, so she'd dumped it on Izuki. No cash, no eats.
"Mm."
Si-ho's cheeks bulged as she worked her jaw furiously, unable to reply properly.
She probably wouldn't have answered even with an empty mouth.