Chapter Text
A small carriage was leaving behind clouds of dry dust mixed with grains of sand and slivers of small rocks that were dirtying the clothes and getting into the eyes and lungs of anyone unfortunate enough to cross its path. The carriage’s speed did not match the simplicity of its construction, nor the appearance of the person driving it. It was being pulled by two short horses, forced into an upbeat trot through the hours of peak summer heat with a whip to the hips.
Not a speck of white covered the endless blue of the sky above, which allowed the Sun all the freedom she could wish for to set the world aflame, if she so desired. The people of the land were eternally grateful for the fact that she was kind enough to decide against it.
All there was was blinding light, breath-stealing heat, and the sound of cicadas crying out their song from underneath the shade of the rare trees along the road, longing for a partner to come and find them before their short lives run out by the end of the season.
So many years spent brooding underground to only be given a few short weeks to spend in the sunlight, the smell of hydrangeas, and the sound of gentle music carried by the wind. Annoying as they were, one could not help but pity those miserable bugs. Somehow, they seemed as if they were aware their time was nearly up, and all they wanted was not to die alone.
To wish to spend one’s most important moments with another, ensuring the happiness is shared, the needs satisfied, and that both parties are content at the end, rather than focusing on one’s own personal fulfilment, was indeed a strange concept. Yet, the idea of it brought along a sense of longing.
The vehicle was, at best, unremarkable and, at worst, embarrassing. It was old, had probably seen the rule of the previous shogun in full and then some, cracked enough in some places to let small rays of light in, potentially blinding the already unlucky passenger who had the pleasure, or displeasure, of it being their means of transportation to their desired location. That is to hope there was actually only one person taking the ride, because assuming there would be at least one suitcase of luggage accompanying each passenger, two would already make it cramped, and with any more than three, it would have probably felt more comfortable to take the walk in the scorching sun than try to brave the ride.
The wheels were creaking, the seats were hard, and the shaking was enough to make someone unaccustomed to this kind of travel regret they had eaten a meal in the morning. Still, it withstood the speed well, living up to the urgency the client seemed to have expressed.
Only one person was riding inside the pitiful thing today. A young man, not unusually tall but surpassing the average. His dark hair, which fell on his forehead framing his face, but could otherwise be called short, looked almost navy blue in the strong sunlight, and he was wearing a thin yukata that matched the colour. A black waistband at the abdomen tied it up. There was a small pouch strapped to it and a leather shoulder bag left on the seat by his hip. The clothes may have been plain, but their material and the workmanship put into each and every stitch were top quality. There was no tear, no patch, not a loose string in sight, only a little bit of dust, most likely from the road, that found itself sticking to the lower rim, revealing that what he was wearing was either meticulously cared for or brand new.
The man’s eyes were half closed, probably tired from the travel and the heat, yet they still carefully observed the outside through the dirty carriage window, attentively scouting for anything noteworthy or amiss along the road. They were the colour of an early night sky, soon after sunset. One could think that just by looking into them, they could almost feel the refreshing evening breeze brush against their skin, helping them forget about the burdens of summer, if only for a brief moment.
Two hand-held suitcases lay on top of each other on the seat opposite the man, facing homeward. The contents couldn’t have been heavy as they were shaking to the rhythm of the carriage and jumping at every bump in the road. Still, travelling with more than one set of luggage was usually highly inconvenient, especially given the circumstances, so the fact that there was a need for the man to bring excessive belongings suggested that, wherever he might be going, he was going there to stay.
Before long, a quiet shrubbery started to appear along the until now mostly barren road. As the sound of a nearby river grew loud enough to reach the ears of passersby walking along the same path, what was at first lonely patches of grass and occasional bushes soon turned into short trees, young meadows and distant fields. The rainy season was approaching, the first rains having fallen early this year at the very end of May, so the foliage was already booming with life. A dam had been built here some years ago, making water much more easily accessible for the local farmers, which resulted in bountiful harvests almost each year since then. If predictions turn out to be correct, there will be no changes to the pattern this time as well.
Soon, the carriage started approaching the first buildings in a while. What was at first only a few humble houses and barns quickly multiplied, turning into a proper village. There were probably some people who would dare say it was already on the verge of becoming a proper town. There were a few restaurants, a bookstore, a clothing store, a tobacco vendor and even a sweets store with a dango grill at the front, just to name a few establishments that started to appear in between houses. Most of them seemed to prosper, and even though a lick of time could be seen on some of those wooden buildings, it didn’t discourage the people from entering and indulging in their services on that hot summer day.
As soon as they entered the village proper, the driver ordered the horses to slow down. They passed the main plaza and the shopping district, earning themselves many a curious gaze from the locals, unsurprisingly interested in outsiders arriving at their peaceful home on a weekend. All to be expected, especially at this time of day. Finally, they reached what looked to be an inn connected to a rental stable, where the carriage came to a long-awaited stop.
The driver immediately stepped down from his seat and approached the carriage door. He grabbed the handle but didn’t move to open it at first, instead using his grip to reposition the door mechanism, rattling with it a few times, before swinging it open with a specific, trained motion, as if the door would either fall out or refuse to budge if not handled properly.
The passenger carefully emerged outside. He tested the singular step standing between the carriage wagon and the ground to make sure it wouldn’t suddenly collapse under his weight, and when he was satisfied with the results, he stepped out, a suitcase in each hand. There was no more sleep left in his eyes. It was all repelled by a feeling of urgency. He was shifting his weight from one leg to the other as he moved around. His head was constantly turning, eyes jumping from face to face, scanning the nearby people, intently looking for something.
Before he could find it, however, he became the one being found instead.
“Ah, you must be the young master! We’ve been awaiting your arrival.” A voice called from the crowd, and an elderly man stepped forth. He was short and slim and had a rather petite posture, likely having shrunk with age. A hump in his back wasn’t helping his cause, but he didn’t seem insecure about it in the slightest. The clothes he was wearing were simple yet clean, wide dark pants ending a little above his ankles and an off-white linen shirt with some sort of simple decorative design embroidered along the neckline. His short hair was thin and gray, his skin covered with wrinkles and age spots in a few places, and his eyes were small and thin. He looked around sixty years old.
“Ah, yes, it is me,” the passenger turned in the direction of the new person and responded in a clear, low voice. “I sincerely apologise for my lateness. I assure you it was out of the realm of my control,” he continued defensively, as if trying to explain himself to a parent after accidentally breaking a valuable piece of pottery. “You must be the village chief, correct? It is a great pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”
“Indeed. My name is Murata, and the pleasure is all mine.” The elderly man bowed as low as his ailing back would allow him, and the gesture was immediately returned by the other. “And there is no need to worry about it so much, honestly, I insist. You young city folks nowadays have more matters keeping you busy than I have wrinkles on my face!” A loud, kind laughter escaped his throat, and he put his hand reassuringly on the taller man’s shoulder. “In turn, the only thing we’ve never lacked here is time. Besides, it’s Sunday today, so no one’s in any rush anyway.”
“I wrote in my letter that I’d be here before noon, and it is now way past that. No matter how much time you may or may not have, making you wait for so long is unthinkable. I would like to ask you to accept my apologies, if that is not a problem for you.” The younger man kept his back bent down even after Murata had straightened his. The suitcases now lay abandoned by his legs while his arms were firmly plastered to his sides.
“Alright, alright, I accept,” Murata raised his hands in a defeated gesture and motioned for the other to stop bowing. “Now, please raise your head. I admit, it feels rather strange to have someone of your status bow to a simple old farmer like me.” He let out a hearty laugh and watched the younger face him with a troubled expression on his face. “But dare tell why someone like you would travel in such a… common vehicle? No offence to you, of course, dear sir.” He looked apologetically in the direction of the driver, who took it without an issue. It seemed none was taken. “Surely they have more comfortable options available in the city?”
“Oh, you flatter me. I’m really nothing special; it is my family who has earned itself the respect. I simply live bearing the name.” The words left his mouth quietly, his gaze venturing to the side, stopping at the faces of children and other people stealing glances at the strange outsider. “I chose this carriage deliberately. While it is true that I come here representing the daimyo, I am supposed to live among you all, to blend in as much as I can. This is also what I truly intend to do. I figured a fancy carriage would attract too much attention to myself, so I opted for something simple. The ride wasn’t all that terrible either way.”
“You say so now, but we’ll see how your back feels in the morning!” Murata let out another laugh, even louder this time. The other forced one of his own as well, much quieter, and slightly awkward.
“Oi, how long will you be standing there?! I swear, those men and their pleasantries! And they say that women talk a lot.” An elderly woman approached them. She was a little bit taller than Murata due to her back remaining straight despite her age. She was wearing a simple yukata with a flower pattern and had her gray hair tied up in a bun.
“Ah, yes, we were just wrapping up!” Murata said, “Let me introduce you, though. This is my dear wife, Keiko.” He gestured to the woman, who was now standing next to him with her hands on her hips.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Keiko. My name is Kaito, of the Shion clan. I have come to this village to assist the daimyo with administration. My job is to collect information on the population, harvest results, and keep an eye out for any trouble that may come your way.” Kaito bowed to the woman, but she immediately gestured for him to stop.
“Yes, yes, I’m aware. Now, let us be on our way before the sun sets.”
“Just one more thing, please.” Kaito turned to the carriage driver, who had been keeping himself busy doing a thorough check-up on his wagon. He reached into the small sachet attached to his waistband, produced from it a few too many coins and handed them to the man. “Thank you for the ride. Please, let yourself and your horses rest here for the night and go back home tomorrow at first light. You might just avoid the worst heat of the day this way.”
The two men exchanged one last bow before Kaito grabbed his nearly forgotten suitcases and followed Mr. and Mrs. Murata deeper into the village to the residential area.
They walked past all the humble buildings, down the path that was now decorated with flower beds and tiny statues of protective deities on both sides. The houses here were bigger and sturdier; they had decorative roofs and painted doors. Their verandas were wide, support beams tall, and some even had small gardens attached to the side or the front.
They continued down the rich street all the way to the very end, where, at a distance from the others, stood by far the most extravagant house of them all. It wasn't as big as some of the ones they had seen on the way here, but it had a beautiful, spacious garden filled with willow trees, seasonal flowers and a little pond tucked away to the side. The wooden fence around it was tall and straight, providing privacy and shade at the correct times of day. Neatly sheared hedges surrounded the outside of it, casting an illusion of strictness despite all the gentle birdsong coming out from the other side.
The ground was entirely overgrown with thick emerald grass, with flat stones poking out from the blades, forming a path leading all the way to the front entrance, and then extending to the back. The only path had already been decided, it appears, and stepping away from it would feel like committing an unforgivable crime, so Kaito committed to keeping his feet firmly on the stoneway. Making sure not to trample any of the delicate foliage around him was taking most of his attention and focus, so he didn’t quite notice it at the time, but all the plants in the garden were in pristine condition. From the smallest blade of grass to the leaves of the trees, their colours were vibrant and full of life, showing that whoever was taking care of them was doing so with a great deal of love.
The house itself was also a sight to behold. The front porch hovered about 40 centimetres above the ground on support beams, while the rest of it stood firmly on the ground level. It was built with dark wood that seemed to be shining in the light reflected from the deep green of all the plants around. Almost all the windows were shut with inside blinds, but they all had glass in them. The roof was tall and finished with black tiles. A few were missing here and there, but the colour blended in with the wood, so most people probably wouldn’t even notice if they weren’t looking closely.
Even though the house had only one storey, it was big enough for a family to live there comfortably. Suddenly, Kaito started to feel so small. Only him, his two suitcases and a soon-to-be pile of paperwork in a space that could instead be filled with screams and laughter, the smell of freshly made miso soup, and so many memories of growing up and growing old together with the people who sincerely love each other. What could he fill it with? The rustling of paper and ink stains. Plain rice and candlelight burning late into the night. A monotony and a single breath that would maybe hum an old tune on occasion. Nothing would change after all.
“Welcome to your new residency, master Shion! I hope it is to your liking.” Murata said when they reached the front door. He pulled out a small metal key from his pocket and handed it to Kaito, insisting that he’d do the honours.
“Just Kaito will be enough, sir.” Kaito reluctantly took the key from the chief, but hesitated putting it in the hole, “I am eternally grateful for what you’ve given me. The house looks astounding, but are you sure this isn’t too much? It is way too spacious for me alone, wouldn’t someone else benefit more from living here?”
“Oh, nonsense!” Keiko tuned in, “You see, the previous chief used to live here until he unfortunately passed away five years ago. It’s been standing empty ever since then, so you’ll actually be doing us a favour by looking after it.”
“The folks around here tend to be quite superstitious, if I’m being honest,” Murata continued after his wife. “It just so happens that the old geezer took his last breath in here, so there hasn’t been anyone interested in moving in. Oh, but don’t worry! The house has been purified by an exorcist, and the room where it happened remains sealed shut, so no vengeful spirit should come your way!”
Kaito blinked twice, “...I’m not particularly worried about that. Thank you, though.” He took a good look at the house again. It really did look astonishing for apparently having been abandoned for the last five years. It reminded him of home. “Still, I’m supposed to live along with everyone here and be part of the community, so staying in such a grand house could be… counterproductive, to put it bluntly.”
“Oh, it’s honestly just the outside! The dead man’s granddaughter has been coming here every once in a while to tend to the garden. A real good hand to plants this one has, and lots of passion for it too. The inside hasn’t been touched at all, so it might require some simple renovations. If you can fix it up nicely, Mr. Kaito, maybe it would convince someone to take it over in the future.” Murata’s persuading was becoming better by the second. Kaito had no way but to give in. If he can be of use in any way, then maybe it wouldn’t feel so bad. He was about to unlock the front door, but Keiko managed to add an argument of her own just before he could do it:
“Oh yes, that girl! She’s probably around your age, Mr. Kaito, and still unmarried! Poor thing has to help out at home due to her mother’s poor health.” She said with pity in her voice, but for some reason, Kaito couldn’t shake off the feeling that it was performative. “She has such a kind heart and is very beautiful as well! Judging by the fact that you’ve come here alone, I wouldn’t be wrong to assume you haven’t tied the knot yet yourself, would I? Oh, I’m sure you two would get along! You should meet her soon enough when she comes to tend to the garden next time. And rest assured, she’s been warned of your arrival, so you won’t be taken for a thief.” She laughed and gave Kaito a pat on the shoulder. It took all his willpower not to shudder under her touch.
“...I’ll be waiting to meet her, then. I’m sure she’s a lovely young lady.” He said, voice low and eyes escaping to the side. His left hand twitched a bit, but it went unseen. After that, he finally brought the key, which had become wet from the sweat accumulating in the palm of his hand, up to the keyhole and opened the door.
Initially, the inside of the house was dark, but as if on instinct, everyone immediately moved to open the windows and let in some of that midday sun along with fresh air.
Mr. Murata wasn’t lying. It really did look like no one’s set foot in here for quite some time. Particles of dust were dancing in the air, the tatami mats on the floor had fibres sticking out, the colour on the wallpaper was faded, and there were a few holes in the shoji doors. Nothing was badly broken or damaged, just little imperfections scattered across. They were comforting in a way. Something to be done, something left behind. Cracks to let the oxygen in.
“I know you must be used to many more amenities, but I hope you’ll be comfortable in here at least,” Murata said apologetically. “Oh, and you will be given a new futon, of course. Someone should bring it here any time now. If anything is missing that you might need, just contact me, and we can arrange—”
“No, no, this is good.” Kaito spread his palms in front of him in a stopping gesture. Any more words from the village chief, and he felt like he might dash out of there. “It… It’s actually very nice. I like it a lot.” He smiled a forced smile, and right after that, he knelt to open one of his suitcases. After a bit of wiggling between his belongings, he took out a sheet of paper on a wooden support board and what seemed to be a fountain pen. “More importantly, I would like to get started with my duties, if it’s not too sudden.” He put the pen to paper, “Has there been anything bothering the locals recently? Bandits, thieves, even drunkards or a mice infestation. Anything that might require outside intervention.”
“Ha ha ha! No, nothing like that, I’m afraid. Sorry to disappoint you.” Murata let out a long laugh and looked at Kaito like a parent would at their small child who had just declared themself the master of the game of hide and seek, and then proceeded to hide behind a see-through paper door. “This is a peaceful village, far away enough from any other settlement that no evil bothers to come here. And the quality of life has been improving ever since the dam was built. The biggest problem we’ve had recently is a pair of foxes killing our poultry, but that’s something we can take care of ourselves.”
“Oh, no, it’s quite all right. Rather, it is good to hear you live with no major troubles…”
“Hm, there might be one thing, though.” Murata grabbed his chin with his pointer finger and thumb, and seemed to consider something.
“What is it?”
“Well, there is a foreigner living in the shed by the Buddha shrine just outside of town.”
“A foreigner?! But we’re so far from Yokohama… What can a foreigner be doing here?” A pirate? A fugitive? Kaito’s thoughts started to run in every direction they could, and his heart skipped a beat. The country was still being closed off, so someone from overseas roaming freely this far from the harbour could only mean bad news.
“Ah, well, you see, I did just call him a foreigner, but he looks to be of mixed blood. Not an uncommon story, as you should know, but indeed quite rare in these parts.”
“Has he been causing any trouble?”
“No, quite the opposite. He visits us from time to time, sits in the plaza and plays the biwa for the folks. Takes care of the shrine, too. He’s still quite young by the looks of him, so some people are giving him food or a little coin as thanks. They probably pity him more than anything, but I’m sure some of them just wish he’d go away when he gets what he wants. You see, the people living here are good folks, but no one really wants a pouper on their streets. A one that looks like this at that… Though I must admit his skills with the biwa are certainly impressive for his age.”
“How long has he been here?”
“Around a year or so, I’d say.”
“And have you not asked him in this time why he’s here and where he’s from?” Kaito frowned, slightly confused.
“We tried, but the thing is… he doesn’t seem to understand what we’re saying.”