Late afternoon.
On the outskirts of town lies an open field.
Walk a little farther and you’ll reach a cliff that overlooks the sea.
From a distance, it seems like a place where the ocean breeze would feel pleasant.
In truth, the wind that climbs up from the water often strikes in sudden gusts—
not exactly gentle.
Patches of bare earth show through the grass here and there.
Weeds grow wild.
It is not a place people visit for the scenery.
Ten steps from the cliff’s edge stands a makeshift grave—
a thick wooden branch driven into the soil.
Tasuké pours sake quietly over the small mound of earth,
places a red spider lily beside it—
—and brings his hands together in prayer.
The damp ground darkens under the sake.
The crimson petals tremble in the wind,
their red dissolving into the glow of the setting sun.
After a moment, Tasuké turns to leave.
“Is that enough?” the sword asks.
“…Yeah. I’ve got no business lingering.”
--
“Man, it’s been a while. Glad to see you’re still alive.
I half thought I’d find you dead.”
“Don’t kill me off so casually.
And who shows up empty-handed after ten years?
You haven’t changed either.”
“Aw, c’mon. Let’s drink till morning.”
“Fine—but it’s my sake.”
“My lord… may I partake as well?” the sword asks politely.
“Read the room, will you?”
It has not even been half an hour since Sakubei—Tasuké’s childhood friend—came rolling into his life again.
Tasuké had told almost no one where he lived now.
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Yet somehow, Sakubei found him.
“How’d you even track me down?”
“Asked at the guardhouse. They told me right away.
Seems you’ve been… making a name for yourself.”
“…Nosy bastards.”
Then Tasuké looks at him.
“So. Why’re you really here?”
“Can’t a guy visit an old friend?
You could at least pretend you’re happy to see me.”
“I am. It’s been what—ten years?
But what about your mother in Edo?”
“She’s better.
When my old man lost his arm at the Miike coal mines,
I thought we were done for.
But I landed decent work.”
“…Didn’t know that. You’ve had it rough.”
“It’s nothing.
I was more worried when you vanished from Edo.
Thought you’d turned into some roadside thug somewhere.”
At that, Tasuké’s right eyebrow lifts ever so slightly.
But no one remarks on it.
“Yeah, yeah. If you’re that glad, pace yourself.
You’re drinking more than I am.”
“Don’t get gloomy on me.
You used to tell me to drink all I wanted.
Still can’t believe you—raised like a proper young master—
live out here.”
“…Drop it.”
“My lord… perhaps it is my turn—”
“Not you too, Kani-kichi.”
--
The next day—late afternoon again.
“What’s with all this?”
“We drained everything last night. My treat.”
Though they’d slept until nearly sunset,
Sakubei had slipped out unnoticed and returned with armfuls of sake.
“That’s clear sake. This much? You sure you’re good for it?”
“Just drink.”
“Fine. Even two of us can’t finish all this.”
“I am here as well,” the sword insists.
“You’re not a person!”
They bicker as usual.
Sakubei watches, saying nothing.
“Drank too much yesterday. I’ll pass today.”
“…Suit yourself. I’ll drink it.”
“Don’t hold back.”
“My lord… surely you won’t drink alone?”
“…Why does a sword even want sake…”
Time passes.
“Nice breeze.”
“That’s because I never fixed the paper screens.”
“…Feels like seeing the sea.”
“At this hour?”
“I want to see Nagasaki’s sunset.”
Since when did you get poetic? Tasuké almost says.
But he shrugs.
They go.
The field. The cliff. The sea.
“Good view. Cold though.”
“You picked the time.”
They stand side by side.
The moon begins to rise.
“…Hey,” Tasuké says quietly.
“Since when?”
Sakubei answers without looking at him.
“My mother still needs money.
My father can’t work.
I’m the one who has to earn.”
“…I see.”
“You knew, didn’t you?”
“From the moment you showed up.
Almost no one knows where I am.
And you’ve been leaking killing intent since you arrived.
Who hired you?”
Sakubei turns.
“…Doesn’t matter.
Sorry, Tasuké. You’ll have to die.”
The sword speaks.
“Sakubei… you still fail to see it.
You were spared.”
Tasuké does not turn.
He keeps his eyes on the sea.
His voice carries over the wind.
“Sakubei. I’ll say this once.
Don’t.”
--
The next morning.
Rooster hour.
“Oy. I’m coming in.”
Zzz.
“Tasuké. Wake up.”
Zzz.
Kōgyū sighs, fills a bucket—
Splash.
“Cold!”
“Wake up.”
“You’ll catch your death—”
“You? Hardly.”
He pauses at the door.
“…Take it easy today.”
He leaves.
Tasuké mutters, dresses, picks up Kani-kichi.
“My lord… your mornings are hardly dignified.”
“Shut it.”
Same insults.
Same water.
Same morning.
“…Idiots. All of you.”
A faint smile touches his face.
“C’mon, Kani-kichi.”
That is all for this tale.
Whether it ends well or not—
that, dear reader, is yours to decide.
