A Time Traveller's Guide To Feudal Japan

Chapter 95 - Companionship

"What’s the matter?"

She asked, quickly realizing that there was something wrong.

"I think you’d better sit down Niwa-san."

Her smile faded quickly as she examined his serious expression.

"Okay... Uhm... Please, go on ahead into the reception room, I’ll be right down."

She invited them in with an apprehensiveness about her voice.

They sat cross-legged around the table, as Ii sniffed himself, wondering whether he would smell. They had not washed in many days, and he did not want a mere stench to ruin his chances with such a beauty.

She arrived with her maid in tow, who promptly asked whether they would like any tea.

"That would be great, thank you Shibata."

Jikouji said with a small smile.

The maid bowed, leaving them to their business, as she shuffled off into another room to fuss over their tea.

They sat in silence, not speaking until the maid returned with their tea, presenting it in front of them.

"Thank you."

Akiko said, receiving the tea with both hands.

Again, the maid left the room, and only then did Akiko dare to speak.

"It’s about my father, isn’t it?"

She had caught on rather quickly, and reluctantly, Gengyo responded with a nod. Her voice had sounded brave, as she sought to keep the shakiness out of it, but they could feel within the room that she was frightfully close to tipping over the edge.

"Is... Is he..?"

She dared not say the word, yet it was obvious what she was implying.

"He rests with our ancestors in Takamagahara."

Gengyo said solemnly. He himself was still raw from the tragedy of Nakatane’s death, and he dared not imagine how much pain she was feeling right now.

A single, lonely tear drifted down her pale white cheek, as she sat kneeling, her hands firmly clasped. She dug her fingers into her palm, willing herself not to cry – not in front of so many people.

But no matter how hard she tried, the second tear still came from the other eye. Instead, she chose to ignore that it was happening - steeling her heart - and proceeded as though speaking of business that did not concern her.

"I see. What of my father’s estate? How will we protect it?"

Jikouji took the opportunity – whilst she was still able to collect herself – to reassure her that plans were in motion, and she need not worry.

"I have pledged my sword to Miura, Akiko-chan. I trust that he will be able to lead the people, and to protect us from those that seek to do us harm. I know that Nakatane would agree with that choice."

"Yes, I agree with it also. If it’s Tadakata, then it will be fine."

She struggled to smile at that, failing to realize that she had called Gengyo by his first name in front of so many. Jikouji took note of that, but said nothing – not yet.

Her voice - in her response - was quivering now, as she struggled to hold herself together. They could see that she was close to breaking down, and now they had said what they needed to, they thought it would be best to leave her in peace.

"We will take our leave then, my lady."

Jikouji said, returning to a more formal tone in a deliberate attempt to reassure her that her status would not be any less than it was before. Miura would merely serve as head of the household to ensure that their best interests were met, and that they would not be taken advantage of.

"Ah, yes, of course. I imagine you are all very busy, now that you are back... Please, do as you will."

She gave her permission without allowing too much emotion in her voice, but she was unable to meet any of their gazes, as her eyes were pinned firmly to the floor.

They quietly got up to leave, exiting through the sliding door.

"Ah, Miura, please stay a while. We have to... discuss how we will move forward."

Jikouji exchanged a glance with Gengyo, seeing past the falsity of their words. It was a new development for him, but he did not meet it with disapproval.

Within that one look, Jikouji let him know that he understood everything, and Gengyo seriously expected him to speak out. But the old man merely nodded, and left, leaving the two alone.

The young man watched their backs, as Jikouji took the lead of the rest, showing them where they might be able to catch some rest.

And then, with a deep breath, he turned to Akiko.

By the time he had turned around, her face was already flooded with tears, as she sobbed softly into her sleeve, trying to muffle the noise of her sniffing.

"T-tadakata... Why? Why... why did this... why did this have to happen?"

He eased himself down next to her, putting his arm around her waist.

"I’m sorry."

Was all he could manage. He knew how much trust Akiko had placed in him. Whilst he had never directly promised to protect her father, she had expected he would. He had presented himself as infallible, and yet he had returned with only a handful of people at his side.

"Stupid... That’s not what I mean..."

She said sniffling, looking deep in his eyes, searching for any comfort that she could find within them.

"How?"

Was the word she forced out. She sought an explanation. Not as to why he died, but how.

"We were given an order that we could not refuse."

"What order?"

She kept her eyes firmly pinned to him, refusing to allow him to speak anything other than the absolute truth.

"The order to attack a unit of one thousand matchlock soldiers."

"Alone..? W-why would they do that?"

She asked a little breathlessly, her warm breath hitting his neck as he did his best to keep eye contact. He found it difficult to talk about it without growing angry. And that was the last thing he wished Akiko to see of him. His anger was monstrous – as was all of theirs.

"Because they could, Akiko. That is the only reason they need. We could not stand against them."

"But father... But father always came when they called... He was good... He was a good man... Why would they do that? Why to him..?"

"He was. He was the best of men. It is the honour of my life to be able to fight by his side. And It will be my honour to protect his beautiful daughter."

"Tadakata..."

She wept even more strongly, seeing that he could not answer her question. Why had her father died so fruitlessly...

"Guess what, Akiko?"

He embraced her tightly, as he spoke near her ear.

"Against a force of a thousand – they sent us to die, but we won. The Niwa army bested them. Your father, bested them. Though they sent him to his grave, he did not cower. He did far more than they expected of him. He is a hero. Hold that strong in your heart, because his blood runs through your veins."

"He... He’s really gone?"

She held onto his hand, squeezing it tightly as she struggled to come to the realization that she would not see her father’s face anymore. That she would not be able to hear his voice anymore. She was alone, she felt.

"No, he’s here. More so than ever. Jikouji and I – we plan to make the world hear his name, because he granted us the strength we have. We will seek justice, and no one will ever forget that Nakatane, father of Akiko, was the greatest man to ever set foot in this province of ours."

"You want to fight more...? But you only... Ah... I will be alone again..."

"No, Akiko. From now on, we fight together. I will not leave your side, I swear it."

"Truly?"

She tilted her head upwards to look into his eyes, drawing some hope from that promise.

"Aye. I will build our little empire starting from this very village, until it reaches the gates of the Daimyo’s castle, and his home becomes our home."

"An empire..?"

She repeated. She cared not for more power, but she understood that within his voice was passion and firmness. He truly believed in what he was saying. And if it could bring her father peace, then she would support him with all her heart.

"Indeed. No one will take from us again. We will do the taking. We will become gods that the likes of Imagawa will have to bow low toward for fear of doing us an offence."

"...I don’t mind, as long as you are here... as long as you promise not to leave me alone... then... then I can see hope."

She reached her hand up to his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin. She did not want to forget the shape of his face. She feared that if she were to let go, then he might disappear too. He might vanish within a cloud of ash, never to be seen again. And then the men would come, to tell her of his passing.

Her eyes were so full of sadness, but their beauty remained untainted. His had a similar mournful quality, but in them, he could not disguise the fire that burned. She noticed that, and more. She noticed that there was an edge to him now. And she noticed that his smile did not come so easily.

What she had felt developing in him before, when he first began his path of blood... Now it seemed about to consume him. But it was strong. So truly strong. Even if it had been the manifestation of pure evil, she would not reject it.

She placed her palm upon his chest, feeling his beating heart, reassuring herself that there was still life within his body.

He promised her grandness. He spoke words that should never come out of the mouth of a peasant. Yet she believed every single one of them. He had always been brilliant, but now he was downright terrifying. He had become a demon – but he was her demon. She could feel safe in his arms.

Her finger traced his lips as she brought her own close, searching for a warmth that she had not yet experienced. Searching for the truest confirmation of his words.

He did not resist her touch in the least, and instead, moved forward himself. For all that had broken inside of him, he needed this companionship.

Their lips met, and they kissed passionately, their eyes closed as they attempted to find an antidote for the throbbing pain within their hearts.

For his men, he vowed to be the bringer of chaos. He vowed to bring them the glory and justice that they so desired. But the facilities around his soul had crumbled. In accepting this grand burden, and in coming to terms with the death of those that he loved, he had become something other than himself. He had become a symbol that a human body could not hope to constrain.

This woman, so crushed from the loss of her father, acknowledged his brokenness, not through words but through action. Through the intertwining of their two aching hearts, they sought that which they could not find elsewhere. They made up for their incompetencies through the support of the other person, and from it, they gained a great strength.

Their lips parted, and their eyes opened. With that gaze that they shared was borne an understanding, as two very different people had their brains operating in tune with one another.

It was as though they sat in a world different from ours, and as Shibata came in to collect their cups, she found her feet unwilling to move any further for fear of disturbing such a perfect image.

"I love you, Miura Tadakata."

"I love you too, Niwa Akiko."