Ronin's Revenge

After roughly a day’s worth of travel, Ryoma and his friends came across a temple on the path to the shogun. “I wonder if they have any food.” Ryoma said. They had run out of carp quite some time ago, but were able to find a baby boar; Yuki froze it in its tracks so it couldn’t escape, and Ryoma slashed its throat. However, there wasn’t much meat to it for the three of them (the kappa decided to eat despite not needing to), and so, they had run out of food stock yet again.

“There’s only one way to find out.” Himiko said. She began marching up the front steps of the temple brazenly, as though she owned the place. She knocked on the door and eventually was greeted by a quite young monk with a full head of silver hair. “May I help you?” He asked. Himiko bowed and asked, “Do you have any supplies you’d be willing to spare us?” The monk looked beyond her to Ryoma and Yuki and said, “No. Please leave.” Then, he shut the door behind him.

Himiko stood in shock, mouth agape, at the monk’s rudeness. “I thought monks were supposed to be helpful and generous.” She said. Ryoma began walking up the stairs to meet her. He said, “Perhaps what we need is to explain ourselves first. If he hears that we’re on an important mission from the emperor to find the shogun, he’ll be more willing to cooperate.”

Ryoma rapped on the door to the temple and said, “Monk, I bid you open this door. I am a samurai from the imperial court and am on an urgent mission. Please, talk to us.” The trio waited for a response, yet none came. The seconds of silence seemed to stretch on indefinitely. Yuki had ascended the staircase by this point and said, “Maybe he doesn’t understand what urgent means, Ryoma.” The samurai reluctantly agreed.

After knocking on the door a second time and waiting in vain for an answer, Ryoma heard the faint soundings of a shamisen. “He’s ignoring us and playing music!” He exclaimed. The samurai decided enough was enough and pushed open the door himself. The whole trio was surprised the monk hadn’t locked it behind him. Entering into the temple, they were greeted with a large main hall, empty except for the monk with his stringed instrument.

“Monk,” Ryoma said, “I demand an answer from you.” The monk looked up from plucking the shamisen and asked, “Didn’t I already give you an answer? I believe I told the shrine maiden that I wouldn’t help her. And I have a name, by the way.” Ryoma frowned and asked, “Then what is your name, monk?” He wasn’t even sure himself whether he would honor the monk by addressing him by name, but asked regardless.

The monk answered, “My name is Tetsuo Takamaki.” The last name struck a chord with Ryoma and his blood ran cold. Tetsuo could see it on the samurai’s face, sighed, and said, “Yes, I suppose that would ring some bell for you, samurai. You did say you were from the imperial court, right?” He chuckled and continued, “It must be fate that brought you here to me.”

Himiko was puzzled and asked, “Ryoma, what does he mean by that? What about his name rattled you so?” Ryoma was quick to respond as he said, “The Takamaki clan helped stage a coup that led to the death of the previous emperor. This man’s family has royal blood on its hands.” As he spoke, the samurai’s own hand drifted to the hilt of his katana. Himiko noticed the movement and said, “Ryoma, remain calm, please.” He wasn’t listening to her, however, still clutching the weapon with a tenacious ferocity.

Tetsuo was unphased by the sudden aggression, retaining a rather smug demeanor. He asked, “Will you truthfully be holding a grudge against someone who didn’t even participate in bis family’s affairs? I wasn’t even born at that moment in time!” Ryoma quickly rebutted, “You may not have been, but that at least means that the capability for evil runs through your veins.” Tetsuo then said, “Don’t blame the child for the wrongdoings of the father, samurai. Is your own family so inerrant? Have they truly done no wrong? Aside from birthing you, that is.”

Ryoma’s grip tightened on his katana. Himiko placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “Perhaps Tetsuo is right, Ryoma. Maybe we shouldn’t judge him so harshly without getting to know him.” Yuki spoke up next as he said, “I’m not so sure, Himiko. After all, he judged us pretty harshly after only one question.” Tetsuo, still plucking away at the shamisen, interjected, “And for good reason. After all, humans associating with demons typically isn’t a good sign.”

Himiko persisted, however, and asked, “Can’t we find out more about him first before we judge him, though?” Ryoma looked at her, his stern expression still present, then turned to Yuki and said, “I believe she’s right, Yuki.” Tetsuo, from across the room, said, “Oh, so you’ve named it. How quaint.” Ryoma ignored the monk and continued, “There may be a way to discern his merit. Can you sense his aura, Yuki? Is it as you described ours?”

Yuki looked back at Tetsuo and said, “No, it isn’t the same. He has an aura, don’t get me wrong, but it’s faint. It doesn’t radiate with vibrant colors in the same way yours and Himiko’s auras act.” Tetsuo strummed once more and asked, “Can you really read auras? That’s pretty impressive, demon! Pray forgive mine for not radiating as you describe; I’m new to the monk lifestyle and haven’t had the opportunity to perform enough good deeds to bolster my aura’s brilliance.” He then chuckled and said, “Of course, I can’t imagine that many good deeds being performed by the emperor’s little lapdog.”

Once again, Ryoma’s temper flared. This time, he unsheathed his katana and said, “Enough of your games, Tetsuo Takamaki. It’s time I shut your mouth once and for all!”