Chapter XXVI—Samurai in the Streets of Chōdaira

There was no point calling out for her. If Rōkura was nearby, she would most likely be passed out somewhere. Shinjiro knew this much by their conversations. But also, there were the daimyō’s soldiers marching about the streets.

Shinjiro hoped that because he was dead, the leadership of his wife would be less effective, though as the soldiers patrols the streets, banging on doors and questioning residents in the night, he doubts he his luck would be so good.

“Tch!” he noised in frustration as the rain poured down his face. “Where are you, Rōkura?”

He ran, searching down the streets, glancing about for any sign of a girl with horns. But if she had found a place rest, she wouldn’t be walking. He tried to keep that in mind.

If the guards caught him, he could always try to pass himself off as a Chōdairen samurai—though his accent might have been a little off. With his sword and newly purchased kimono, he thought he might succeed. His new apparel was a light crème color with darker silk trim.

Ruined in the rain.

But he didn’t care.

All Shinjiro wanted was to find the oni girl he had come here to save. From Hans—from herself if necessary.

He turned down another alley and made his way back towards Awara Castle, which wasn’t far from where the inn was. If the soldiers found Rōkura first, Shinjiro doubted he would be able to rescue her from their grasp.

I am but one samurai—and not powerful like she is. I’m even weaker than Hans, and he lost to Kota.

He nearly crossed the darkened street, but pulled himself back as a line off pike men spread out and secured the street. They were interspaced by ten of fifteen paces, standing at attention.

Cursing his bad luck, Shinjiro turned around and glanced about for a side street. He found a narrow alley and went down it. The overhanging rooftops of the machiya dwellings above kept the rain off his head.

From inside the buildings soft yellow light poured out from between the cracks in the curtains, lighting the way for him. In this alley, the wind from the storm was also less than when he was standing out on the open thoroughfare, and still Shinjiro shivered.

Crossing his arms, he held them close to his body. Above and a wooden stairwell, a cat mewed as it stood balanced on the railing, dry under the eaves. If he thought he had it rough, he was wrong.

The samurai continued down the narrow alley, glancing about for any signs of Rōkura as he went. He had no idea where she had got off to, and as time wore on, he realized luck would play a role.

But what of her Persistent Bad Luck?

Would that prevent Shinjiro from finding her? She had said something about her bad luck not altering the will of others, so did that mean it only affecting her own actions? If so, Shinjiro still had a chance to find her.

He had the urge to put his hand to his mouth and call out, but refrained from taking such a useless and stupid action that would surely reveal him to the soldiers outside.

“I wish I had my mount,” he muttered. She would make the search go by much faster.

As Shinjiro exited the alley, he was distracted by the sound of the butt of a spear hitting the cobblestones behind him just as thunder rumbled ominously overhead.

“You there!”

Shinjiro whirled on the guard and lifted his chin arrogantly. “Speak.”

The guard had another man with him, also a man with a yari pike in his grasp. They glanced to one another uncertainly. “I must ask you,” he said. “Are you one of the daimyō’s samurai?

Shinjiro narrowed his eyes. “What do I look like to you?”

The guard swallowed. “I am sorry, my lord. Please continue.”

“Continue your work,” Shinjiro said, and moved off, his heart beating fast in his chest. He had to resist the urge to turn his head and glance back at the two guards standing at their post.

The guards however intimidated they might have been in Shinjiro’s presence, were not completely convinced. “What do you think?” the first one asked the other.

“I am… not sure.”

“Then go to the captain and tell him.”

The other nodded and moved off.

Shinjiro picked up his pace, moving up the alley and turning into another street. The thoroughfare was large here and the same one the government taxation building was on that Rōkura had burnt down.

The flames were long doused, but something told him to come down this way. There were fire dousers in the streets milling about and guards posted at the building. Shinjiro backed away, moved in the alley adjacent to the thoroughfare until he cut up two block.

He crossed the main road and found another series of narrow alleys as he made his way in a circuitous route toward the burnt out structure, which by now was a ruin of charred walls and burnt posts.

From up on the elevated road, he could look down into the structure. But it was large enough that he couldn’t simply look down from where he was and say with confidence that Rōkura was not hiding somewhere in those ruins.

Stepping gingerly, he lowered himself down the wall, letting go with his hand and dropping down behind the tax office—or what had been this tax office. There were no guards here, but even so the samurai held his breath as he kept a watchful eye for any signs of men who might spot him.

He lifted his leg over the burnt out wall and walked into the structure. It was a mess of fallen beams, charred wood and soaking wet ash. Part of the roof was still intact, fallen over to cover a large portion of the building.

“Rōkura!” he hissed. “Are you here? Doko desuka!”

He ducked under a beam and found a portion of the second story floor that had fallen down, creating a sort of ramp leading up to the next level. Shinjiro searched the entire bottom floor very methodically before going up that ramp.

When he went to the second level, he found nothing as well.

For a moment, he stopped, sighed heavily and let his muscles relax as he tried to think where she would have gone off to. It was impossible to find out if she had been found and captured.

His eyes caught something protruding from a pile of burnt out cabinets and pieces of furniture. Shinjiro squinted and stepped forward, hopping that what he thought he saw did not deceive him.

It was a foot—wrapped in cloth strips, pink and nailed.

Shinjiro gasped and lurched forward, his eyes large as he hissed, “Rōkura! Rōkura!”

She was covered in charred refuse. He lifted it off her and found the oni girl curled up in a fetal position, her eyes closed and her mouth slightly open. He touched her. She was worm—which meant alive.

“Rōkura,” he said, shaking her. “Rōkura!”

She stirred, but didn’t otherwise wake up. What was he to do, haul her on his shoulder back to the inn? That wasn’t possible. Not with all the guards, and besides, despite the fact that he could lift her with ease, carrying her all the way to the inn was another matter.

He lifted her unconscious form and her head lolled against his shoulder. He patted her on the back. “Oh, Rōkura…”

Awkwardly he moved her so that he could cradle her in his arm, then he brought out the extra health potion he had bought at the Adventurers Apothecary shop. He uncorked the bottle and dribbled some of the red luminescent potion down her mouth.

Being unconscious, she wouldn’t drink it, so he managed to put the potion in his other hand, whereupon he pinched her nose shut with the other. Her body reacted naturally by gasping for air and the liquid went down her throat.

“There,” he said.

It wasn’t much, but the potion would regenerate her vitality. He did the same thing with a manna potion and waited, stopping both vials with their corks, each of which was still three quarters full.

The warmth of her body on his comforted him and his chills lessened. Even still, the flesh on his arms prickled and he was concerned for her own warmth.

Blinking, he realized how tired he was. He lay down, gently cradling Rōkura’s head against his shoulder, his arm around her, his worry present, but waning as he drifting to sleep with her in his arms.