~~~

In stark contrast to the peace and solitude of the samurai massacre site in the ryokan lobby, the road beyond the Jewel of Kai was annoyingly loud.

Various birds communicating in their private chirp code, elderly couples sitting outside occasional shacks, shouting ‘what?’ at each other, travellers and salt merchants singing songs from their home provinces.

Of course, it didn’t stay loud for long as Akira quickly took them off the road and onto the slopes of the west-side mountains. Apparently, it was the practice of Shingen the Elder to place a small platoon past an ambush site, in case the initial assault failed and the targets fled. And if the father had done it, the usurper son might too.

‘Why didn’t we go off road sooner then?’ asked Aya, shifting the bag with all her belongings onto her other shoulder.

‘Cos my head’s still hurting.’

‘Huh?’

‘And it’s early. Can never think straight until at least lunch time, and that’s without all the shit that’s happened the last few days.’

‘You mean our self-appointed bodyguard messed up?’

Akira stopped, reaching for the guard of his katana with his splint hand then quickly re-adjusting to his left.

‘It’s okay, she was joking,’ said Miho quickly, but was silenced by a finger [and the splint] to Akira’s lips.

‘Typical ashigaru,’ muttered Aya, trying to walk on ahead and immediately stepping on a twig.

In the nearby bushes, something moved.

Pulling his katana halfway out, Akira breathed out a sharp kuso as a fox poked its nose through the leaves…and then quickly retreated back into the greenery when it saw three humans gawping at it.

‘You’re not gonna chase it down?’ asked Aya, smirking.

Akira re-sheathed his blade, muttering irritant under his breath.

Miho pulled close and nudged her in the side.

‘What?’

‘Try to be less aggravating,’ he whispered.

‘I am.’

‘Try harder.’

‘What, like he is?’

Miho didn’t know what to say to that, so he stared down into his basket instead. It wasn’t anywhere near dinner time yet, or even lunch, but he would have to pick some vegetables at some point. In case they couldn’t find anywhere to stay later. Which was a fair bet considering Akira’s katana and Aya’s hawkish attitude.

‘Okay, children,’ said Akira, itching under his splint. ‘We take a staggered route towards Fujimi, but not too far from the road. Hopefully, there’ll be a house we can find shelter at somewhere on the fringes.’

‘Or we could just take the road and be there in about three hours?’

‘I told you already, it’s too risky.’

‘And this way isn’t?’

Akira stared at her for a long time, fingers hovering near his belt, before finally replying with an almost syllable-less, ‘no.’

~~~

After more than an hour of trekking through dense forest and the occasional sloped clearing, Miho stopped and jangled his basket, telling everyone it was time for lunch.

‘The food’s in our bags,’ said Akira, dropping his sack next to a crooked cedar tree and sliding down the trunk into a sitting position.

‘I know.’

‘Then why are you shaking the basket?’

‘A symbol…of lunch.’

Akira glanced at Aya, who was smirking and dusting something off her yukata sleeve, but stopped instantly when she saw Akira doing the same. Dumping her things on the grass, she sat down with knees raised high, keeping her bag propped up in front as a shield.

Seeing that his motion had passed, Miho found a decent halfway point between the two rivals and planted himself down.

‘How much longer is it to Fujimi?’ he asked, pulling out some bread and a green bottle that looked like it had something exotic, but in fact contained only water from the river.

Neither Aya nor Akira answered.

Instead they chewed on their own bread and leftover fūki, and stared at the scenery just past each other before.

Miho tried a few times to fill the silence, but it was tough as the only thing he could really talk about that wasn’t related to the drama of the previous night was his childhood in the village and his wandering girlfriend, Yuki. And as soon as he mentioned either one, he could see eyes rolling on both sides.

Finally, he went back to Fujimi, asking Akira what his plan was after that.

‘Suwa,’ was all he got in return.

‘Will you be safe there?’

‘Safer than I was last night.’

Aya drank some water from her bottle, then put the stopper back in. Then pulled it out. Then rubbed it round the rim of the bottle.

‘In Room 28,’ Akira added, keeping his own bottle still at his side.

‘What exactly happened in there?’ Aya asked, her tone quite odd.

‘You’re pretending you don’t know?’

‘I don’t.’

‘Then why did you try to warn us not to go in there?’

‘Gut feeling.’

‘That’s it?’

Aya drank more from her bottle, spilling some water out as she brought it back down to her lap.

‘And where were you when those four assassins came in? Hiding in your room? Waiting for Himiko to come back?’

‘I have trouble sleeping.’

‘That makes no sense.’

‘I take a drink before I sleep, puts me out all night.’

‘Wondrous. And where is this magical elixir now?’

‘At the ryokan. I forgot to bring it.’

‘How convenient.’

‘Not really, cos tonight I won’t be able to sleep. Big brain man.’

Miho held up his basket again, and looked at Aya. ‘How about we go and collect some vegetables? Seems like a good area for it.’

‘I’m not done yet,’ said Akira, rotating the rim of his bottle with the top of his finger.

‘Come on, she just told you, she was sleeping. Stop being so paranoid about everything.’

Akira started to laugh, performing a mock clapping motion on his sling. ‘Very impressive…’

‘We’re all on the same side here.’

‘…the boy who lost all his money to a belt merchant, lecturing others on the dangers of scepticism.’

Miho looked down at his belt, as if the thing itself were guilty of betraying him, then packed the food scraps into his bag and stood up.

Aya followed suit, keeping her water bottle out.

‘Ah, now it’s a whole afternoon of sulking, is it?’ asked Akira, pushing his back up the trunk until he was standing again.

‘I’m not sulking, I’m annoyed.’ Miho turned and looked Akira dead in the eyes, then shifted to the neck when the ashigaru stared back. ‘The belt thing was a one-off. And balanced out by the fact that I saved your life…twice. And Aya warned us not to go to that room, you know that, you were there, so you can stop picking on her too.’

Akira kept staring at the young lunatic, his expression neither fierce nor friendly, not really anything, before, finally, grunting and traipsing off into the bushes ahead.

‘We should detach,’ said Aya, leaning in to Miho’s shoulder and making sure to keep her voice very low, ‘go down by ourselves to the main road.’

‘We can’t.’

‘He’s becoming unstable…’

‘It’s okay. He won’t do anything.’

Aya coughed, the words belt merchant popping up in her head, followed by the image of the four dead samurai back at the ryokan.

‘Just get to Fujimi first,’ said Miho, patting her arm. ‘Decide then.’

‘Okay. Fine. Fujimi.’

‘Come on, he’s getting too far ahead.’

Miho hurried on through the trees, swatting some low-hanging branches out of the way and getting hit by one in revenge.

‘If I end up with my head chopped off…’ Aya muttered, swinging her bag back onto her shoulder and trailing reluctant steps after him.

~~~

The rest of the afternoon went relatively smoothly.

If smoothly were defined as abandoning the staggered approach to Fujimi and heading straight down to the main road seven times…then running back to the cedar trees on the slopes as soon as a random salt merchant passed by.

Then switching back to the original strategy and stopping every five minutes to mistake animals chilling in bushes for murderous bandits.

By the time the sun had sunk beyond the distant mountains, they were all exhausted and even Akira had no complaints when Aya suggested they knock on the next door they passed and ask nicely for a place to sleep.

Soon enough, on the outskirts of Fujimi, they passed a small shack with a well-kept pond and stone garden outside, as well as an amateur-sculpted shrine right outside the entrance that, to all three of them, looked like a half-melted bear.

‘Seems normal enough,’ said Akira, straightening up and putting the good hand on his belt.

In the trees, an unknown bird launched into something that sounded like a death squeal.

‘Probably a mating call.’

‘Okay, remember,’ cautioned Miho, addressing both Aya and Akira with equal face time. ‘Ask politely, and respect them if they say no.’

‘They won’t say no,’ replied Akira, giving Miho a hard slap on his arm and moving forward towards the front door panel.

‘Hang on…’

It was too late, the ashigaru had already knocked on the wood.

‘This is not good,’ Aya whispered, still gripping her water bottle, which had been empty for most of the afternoon.

It took a while, but finally the panel slid open and a middle-aged woman with coloured red hair grinned back at them. Then she did an actual scan of the three strangers in front of her and made an O shape with her lips.

‘Matsu-Kun,’ she shouted back into the shadows of the shack. ‘Prepare the spare room, we have guests.’

‘I haven’t said anything yet,’ said Akira, bemused, left hand clinging tight to his belt.

‘Come in, come in,’ she replied, grabbing hold of his splint without any fear or trepidation at all, and yanking him forward so hard that he stumbled into her. ‘It must be getting cold out. You two there, don’t be shy, come in. Quickly, quickly.’

Miho glanced at Aya, who shrugged and gestured vaguely at the door with her bottle. ‘You think it’s okay?’ he asked, hanging his head back to her as he walked in.

‘Better than sleeping outside.’

‘She seems very friendly…’

‘Yeah, so?’

‘…just like that belt merchant.’

Aya frowned, looking ahead at the red-haired woman wrapping her arm around Akira’s waist and inspecting his makeshift splint, then the equally good-spirited man stepping out of the shadows to greet her and Miho.

‘Ah, and I thought it was going to be a quiet night,’ he said, his long arms taking hold of their sleeves as if they’d known each other for years. ‘I’m Matsu, this is my wife, Miho.’

Aya laughed, she couldn’t help it.

‘A funny name?’

‘Familiar,’ she replied.

‘It’s my name too,’ said Miho, trying not to look at the huge red rash on the man’s neck. ‘For complicated reasons.’

‘Ah, unorthodox, I like it.’ Matsu pushed away some red chimes hanging low from the ceiling and pulled them both in, placing them next to a stool just past the door. ‘Sit down, take off your dōbuku, your zori…your kosode if you like. Ha, I’m joking, but, please, feel free to relax, there are no formalities here. Miho and I will go and prepare a nice hot meal, and then you can tell us all about yourselves. You too, young, pretty lady. And this fine, strapping warrior over here. Ah, an injury I see, a broken arm perhaps? Well, you must have many interesting tales to tell. Over a bottle of shōchū, of course. Miho, stop fondling the poor man and join me in the kitchen. The rest of you, relax, find a seat, please.’

Matsu held onto Aya’s sleeve a moment longer, then switched to his wife’s yukata and guided her away down the dark passageway to what was probably the kitchen.

Taking the two stools, Miho and Aya took off their zori, while Akira checked the room nearby, his eyes shooting back constantly to the passageway.

Satisfied that there was no immediate threat of ambush, he returned to Miho and Aya and crouched down next to the stools.

‘Three possibilities. Higher-grade bandits luring us into a trap. Bored couple looking for group sex. Or a lunatic pair of superstitious types.’

‘Or just normal, friendly people,’ said Aya, glancing at Miho.

‘Yeah,’ he replied, non-committal.

‘If it’s superstition, we say we’re tired and sleep. Bandits, we check the alcohol, make them drink it too. Group sex…well, we’re all adults.’

Miho and Aya both looked at the zori they’d just removed.

‘Ah, never mind, you two can pair up with each other. Or go take a walk outside. Gods, I hope they’re not superstitious. They’re the worst kind.’

‘Worse than bandits?’

‘Much.’

Without any further elaboration, Akira walked off into the adjoining room, rubbing his hands.

‘I’m not sleeping anywhere near him,’ muttered Aya, picking up her empty water bottle again.

‘Me neither,’ agreed Miho, jumping slightly at the loud whistling noise breaking out from the end of the corridor, which soon evolved into song.

Just two incredibly jovial, ordinary people, he thought. Nothing suspicious about that.