It was a rather calm day. The sun was shining brightly, there were no clouds, and the birds were singing their praises to life. Trees outlined a road that had been beaten into the earth by merchants, travelers, and recently, soldiers and assassins. The road lead to Tokyo, the new capital Japan, which was once called Edo. Shinta was taking this road to Tokyo, not because she had to, but merely because it was on the way. She looked forward, didn’t bother to look around. She had been here before, but it was nowhere near calm. Shinta was a samurai assassin during the Bakumatsu Era, during the Revolutionary War. The road she walked on was filled with troops, fellow samurai, and death. Though eleven years has passed, and these were times of peace.
Shinta was one of the few samurai who kept their honor by the sword, and was forced to wander the countryside of Japan. Not only to escape the police for carrying a sword, since the Sword Ban Act was passed shortly after the revolution was over, but to also to search for her lost brother. She almost gave up many times before, but she can sense he still lives. She turned her head slightly, and saw a father walking behind two children who was laughing and teasing each other. The father was smiling as he looked on at his kids, probably happy of the peace that finally came after a long war. She looked at the children. They were siblings, brother and sister. Shinta smiled, she wished she had that kind of bonding those two had. But she happened to be born during the time the war was still being fought, when it was at its bloodiest.
Her name was given to her by her father, who tried to disguise her as a boy so she can train to become a samurai, so he wouldn’t shame their family name, and so she could live. Her true name became hidden and nearly forgotten, but Shinta tried to hold onto it, knowing it’s the only good memory she had left.
She looked at the father. He had some resemblance to her father, but the constant smile was out of place to fit her father’s personality. Her father was a renowned swordsman who knew the most powerful sword technique of all. It was called the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, or the Flying Heaven Honorable Sword Style. It was called a forbidden style since there was no flaw, no weakness to the techniques. She was the youngest successor to the sword style, and so far, the only one who mastered it. There were others, like her brother, but he and the two other boys, disappeared during the war.
Shinta told herself that she was on this journey to look for her lost brother, even after eleven years. But she still had hope. As for the Sword Ban Act, and the police, she simply runs from them. She was extremely fast since her sword style required inhuman speed to accomplish most of the attacks successfully. Being a Rurouni, or a wanderer, had its benefits, one being there’s no money involved, and there was pure freedom from the tyranny of the Meji government. The downsides were that there was no money involved so whenever Shinta needed a place to rest or eat; there was no way to pay. Luckily, she did do some good charity to some towns and people, which made her some little money, but it wasn’t enough to fully satisfy her gnawing hunger that always lingers near her whenever it had the chance.
Shinta finally reached some form of civilization. It was just a small village built around the main road that linked the major cities together. The road wasn’t as busy as before, since there were locomotives now. But there were still a few faithful travelers on the road to keep it satisfied. Shinta sighed in relief as she can smell teriyaki and some tempura. But what really craved her was the heavenly scent of ramen. Oh that scent of spices, vegetables, and chicken broth with those silky smooth, melt-in-your-mouth noodles. Her heart raced as she calmly walked toward the stand that was emitting the heavenly aroma. She checked the menu and the prices. 10¥ per bowl, and she only had enough for one, and only one, and literally nothing else. She sighed and shook her head. I have to sleep under a tree again I suppose, she thought, as she approached the stand with her wallet in hand. She shifted her sword a bit lower to hide it a bit from view. There were many people who despise samurai. Thought she doesn’t care about how they felt about her, she didn’t feel like having an altercation, since she was starving, and way too tired.
She calmly ordered the ramen bowl, the cheapest one available. She tried to act normally, and acted like she was just a regular traveler, not a vagabond samurai. Being a veteran from the Revolutionary war, she acted very natural, though it took some effort to prevent her from snatching the ramen bowl and running away without paying. But that was a disgrace to her and her family, no matter how small it may be. She watched the chef as he accepted the money and turned to the stove he set up right behind him. She noticed he eyed the sword she tried to hide. But he didn’t seem to care, which was a major relief for her. Her sword was conspicuous no matter what. It was a bright royal blue color, and the hilt was made to look like a blue dragon wrapped around the hilt holding a silver orb. The scabbard was also blue with very detailed design of dragons and clouds. The hilt guard was made of gold. The sword was commonly known as a nihon-tô, a carefully crafted and very rare expensive blade. The blade was forged by Nagasone Kotetsu, a blacksmith who supposedly mastered the art of the nihon-tô. The sword was her pride and joy and her life, though she sometimes curse her sword for being so bright.
Shinta sat down on one of the shabby stools at the stand, and shifted her sword more comfortably. She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. She took any chance he had to meditate, so her senses wouldn’t deteriorate. She heard the broth bubbling, and the chef stirring the ingredients into the broth. She could smell the leeks, onions, some crab, and even the starchy noodles. She recognized all the ingredients, since it was her favorite food. Good, he’s not trying to kill me, she thought, taking in a deep breath when she heard the bowl being placed in front of her. Shinta opened her eyes and saw the most wonderful sight of all. She swiftly grabbed the chopsticks and broke them apart and started to grab the first steamy noodle from the rather large bowl. She paused for a bit and looked at the bowl. It was pretty big. She looked at the chef who was oddly smiling at her. His chubby cheeks rising against his eyes, making it seems like his eyes were closed. He didn’t give an ominous feel, nor did he have any fighter aura. Shinta smiled back and bowed her head a bit.
“Excuse me sir, but I believe this isn’t what I ordered,” Shinta said politely as possible. She didn’t bother hiding her tone of voice. She didn’t care if other people knew she was a female samurai.
“I know. But you deserve the best of the best. You and your fellow samurai made this peaceful era possible. This is my little way of thanking you, samurai-sama,” the chef bowed with the same smile and turned away. He then paused and turned to Shinta, “Oh and don’t worry about paying either. I understand these times are hard for those who still lives by the sword.” He slid the money towards Shinta.
Shinta gave him a small smile as thanks, took the money and placed it into her wallet and began to eat the ramen with gusto; the warmth of the broth flowing down her throat, and the slippery noodles dancing in her mouth, giving a euphoric feeling to her vast isolated stomach. She felt her stomach growl with joy. It has been a long time since she had a good meal, and awhile since she ate something she enjoyed.
“Have you heard what’s happening in Tokyo,” the chef asked suddenly. Shinta lowered the bowl, unknowingly devouring the soup like a starved dog, which she felt anyways. She set down the bowl and shook her head. There were still plenty of noodles in her mouth, and she didn’t like talking with her mouth filled with food.
“Ah, there’s supposedly some samurai going on a rampage. I bet he’s just overly depressed about no more fighting,” the chef nodded after the last statement.
“A samurai?”
“Yesh, I don’t think you know him, but he’s near unstoppable.”
“I see…” Shinta lowered her chopsticks and began to think of all the samurai she fought and defeated. She doesn’t remember any that survived their fight. But there might be a chance; the will to live can be very powerful. She slowly finished the soup and placed the chopsticks inside the bowl. She sighed and shifted her sword again. “Do you know the sword style of this samurai?”
“I heard it was the Jintsu Ryu. But I’m not sure. Word changes the farthest it travels.”
“I see… thank you.”
Shinta stood up and bowed respectfully and began to walk towards Tokyo. She heard the chef yell for her to be careful, but she already knew what she was up against once she heard of the sword style. It’s a sword style that is usually strong against others, but when pinned again the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, he doesn’t stand a chance of survival. Though Shinta now refuses to kill anyone anymore, saying, “I have killed enough men during the war. God forbid me to kill again.” So she altered her sword, making it into a sakabatô, a sword whose blade is the spine, and the spine is where the blade should be. The tip of the sword remains the same, pointed and sharp, so there will be some cutting power when slashing. So far she had kept her promise not to kill.
Tokyo didn’t change even when it was once called Edo. It was still a large bustling city, with streets filled with venders and residents and tourists out living their day. Many of the building still had the traditional Japanese style of straight lines and paper. But the newest buildings, mostly those from the government or people who became rich from the war, built their houses with the western style. No more sliding panels and paper. It was all wood, metal, and brick. After the Bakumatsu Era, Japan decided to adopt the European style to show they are modernizing and no longer is living to old ways of warriors and folk tale. Some embraced the idea, and some cursed it. For Shinta, it didn’t matter to her. Japan was Japan, no matter what kind of clothes it tries to wear.
Once she entered the city’s limits, she couldn’t help but to be surprised that no one was appalled or offended in any way that she was carrying a sword. They all just nodded a hello or bowed slightly and went on with their day. She looked over to her left hip to check if the sword was still there, and it was. She smiled and shook her head, finally a place where they accept samurai. Then a thought crossed her mind, there was a rampaging samurai within the city, and yet no one is scared. They live their day as if having a lunatic run around killing innocent people is normal. “Perhaps I’ve been in the country for too long,” she told herself as she continues to walk down the street. Shinta smiled to herself a bit, she played with the idea of living in such a lively and accepting place, a place where the samurai is still respected, even after eleven years of war and bloodshed. Though the thought sounded tempting, she still had to find her brother, and take him back home, where her father still awaits for his return. A small pinch of homesickness poked at her heart. She did miss her small torn up house near a beautiful, though small waterfall. That was her true home, even though it looked as if it had been abandoned for years. Maybe it looks different now, but that’s something she highly doubted. Father wouldn’t rebuild that house, saying it was useless if it was going to fall apart again.
Shinta finally reached the central part of Tokyo, or what she assumed was the central part, since it was congested of people running from all directions and vendors yelling out what bargains they hoped will bring in costumers. She spotted a small vendor selling rather nice nishiki-e, a fictional painting of existing samurai. She wondered if she was drawn, and how did she look. Though she didn’t bother hiding her femininity, there was still some who mistaken her for a man. She even once heard someone call her “the pretty boy of the Bakumatsu”, which made her giggle still. She looked through and actually spotted herself. Sure enough, there were two versions: one betraying her as a boy, and another a girl. Both pictures she held her dragon katana. She was about to pick up the one that showed her as a boy, until she heard a scream from nearby. She rapidly turned around, her black hair whipping around her head, almost hitting her face. Her right hand hovered over the hilt of her sword, as the other lowered it so she can draw it more smoothly. Her legs her spread apart and slightly bent. Her torso twisted towards the sword, so when she draws it, she can swing with full speed. She was posed to attack, a reflex that still lingered from the war. She growled and stood up straight, seeing the rampaging samurai the old chef told her about.
He was nothing as she expected, his face was flushed, and his movements were limp. And by the sound of his voice, it was muffled. She sighed, “Some challenge this will be.”
She walked over to the man, “Excuse me! You are making quite a ruckus here that you are. Do everyone a favor and go to the gutters?”
The man abruptly turned to her and eyed her from top to bottom. His lips creased crookedly and took a step closer to Shinta. “Well, aren’t you a feisty girl. Let’s see how feisty you are when I’m inside you!” He leaned forward to kiss Shinta. She simply moved to the side and let him fall flat faced onto the floor.
“What a disgrace. A shame you still carry your sword and call yourself a samurai,” Shinta said sardonically. She kicked him on the side and heard him squeak. “A shame indeed.”
“Shut the hell up, you wench,” the man yelled and stood up with such trained grace and speed. He drew out his sword and pointed it at Shinta. His movements were now smooth and well train. His fighting spirit sure came fast, Shinta thought.
“You brought this amongst yourself, that you did” Shinta said, assuming the same pose as before. Shinta now wanted to truly fight this guy. Not only because he’s a disgrace of the samurai honor, but also because he wanted to violate her! It may not be the first time a man tried to get under her kimono, but it still infuriated her.
The man raised his sword, the tip pointing towards the sky. “I am called Makoto Shishio! Also known as the Heart Piercer!” He then charged after Shinta and slashed his sword down and jabbed, in one fluid motion. Shinta jumped back and sidestepped, then drew out her sword and slashed downward onto Shishio’s back. He however didn’t fall but regained his footing and turned around with a long quick slash, and another jab and another and another, each jab coming in faster and faster after every one before it. Shinta kept her eye on Shisho’s arm and sidestepped where ever she can to avoid each stab.
She was clearly faster than him, since she was dodging with ease, and with little to no effort. Shishio knew she was toying with him, and began to slash in between each jab, making it more difficult to dodge. But Shinta simply jumped into the air and raised her sword. Shishio paused and looked up and gasped. It seemed Shinta was floating above him until gravity played its roll and began to slowly push Shinta down. Shishio stood there like a frightened mouse, his legs preventing him to move. His lips slightly moved, “That stare…that technique… This cannot be, Hitokiri Battôsai!”
Shinta sneered and yelled, “Ryûtsuisen!” Using both hands, she slashed downwards, accelerating herself down faster with some aid with gravity. She slashed Shishio from the shoulder down across his chest, leaving a wide shallow cut. She landed lightly and turned towards Shishio, seeing fall to the floor with a light thump. There was no blood, and his breathing was deep but slow. “He will live,” Shinta said to the spectators who gathered during the fight, “He just needs to be in the hospital for a few days.”
The spectators stood there for a minute, thinking on how to approach this matter. Shinta sighed and kicked Shishio. He groaned and rolled onto his back, revealed a large gash on his chest. The crowd gasped and turned their eyes to Shinta. She flicked her sword to remove and dirt and sheathed it. She was about to walk away until she heard a painfully familiar voice call her name. Her heart murmured as she turned aound quickly, hoping to catch a glimps of there person who called her. Her heart beated faster as she heard the voice called her name again. She tried to call out, but her voiced failed her. She knew this voice, it was unmistakenable, even though she hadn’t heard it for years.
She then spotted a man pushing through the thick crowd, still yelling her name. Her eyes widened and her breath was caught in her throat. Her heart beated faster as she finally saw the man fully. He stood there panting from pushing people with a wide smile on his face. He looked travel worn and very much tired. His sword looked just like Shinta’s just a deep crimson red, but bright royal blue. She looked at his face, it was almost like looking at the nishiki-e, but with a more masculine frame.
“Onii-san… You are alive,” Shinta gasped, walking closer to her twin brother. She reached out and touched his face. She wanted to make sure it was really him. He smiled and touched her hand. She felt the familiar warmth of his hand, and the unusual softeness. Shinta giggled, “Your hand is still soft, even after twenty years of weilding a sword.”
“I blame mother,” he laughed as he gently removed her hand from his face and held it gingerly. “So we’ve been chasing each other all this time. Kinda lame.”
Shinta looked at her brother dumbfoundedly. She didn’t think the eleven year search for him was lame. But to her brother, most things in life are lame. She shook her head and smiled. It was just like him, seems he failed to change. She opened her mouth to say something until she heard the forgotten Shishio moan as the police came and picked him up. “When did they show up?” She turned to her brother. He shrugged. It was the first time she did notice something. She sighed at her stupidity and walked over to the officers. They turned to her and raised their swords towards her. She sighed again and stopped where she stood and looked at them. Her eyes glowed with some anger and a hint of annoyance. She’s still not used to being threatened by the police. She didn’t raise her hands when told to, nor did she take off her sword and set it on the floor. She wasn’t even listening to them yell at her to obey them. Her attention was towards Shishio.
He stared at her with a crazed glare and a smile that sent chills down her spine. He moved his lips, forming the words, “There will be more.” He then let out a menacing laugh as he broke free from the officers hands and took hold of his sword and raised it towrds him. He then yelled with a shrilled tone, “Don’t think you’re safe!” He laughed once more as he plunged his katana into his stomach. He began to laugh and gurggle at the same time, blood spewing from his mouth. He then simply plopped onto the floor.
A silence filled the air, and no one dared to break it. The slight breeze had stopped, the birds stopped chirping. Even the bustling noises of the city had ceased. It felt as if a ominous blanket had fallen into the city, and a very large weight landed on Shinta’s shoulders. She clenched her fists and took a deep breathe. She just met her brother for the first time on eleven years, do not think about it now. She felt a tender hand on her shoulder. She turned and saw the gentle face of her older brother. Though he was only born two minutes before her. They were fraternal twins, though somehow they looked exactly alike. Shinta gave out a contented sigh and shook her head slightly and walked away, holding onto her brother’s arm. She was done seeing people die, and yet she just witnessed one again. At least his death was to his own blade, and not hers.
Her brother then tugged her a bit and pointed to the Akabeko Beef-Pot Restaurant. It was a fairly new kind of business now that meat and restaurants were now allowed into the Japanese culture. She glanced at her brother and shook her head, “We can’t afford that place.”
His eyes squinted slightly and slid his hand into his kimono and pulled out a shabby wallet. It looked worn, and very empty. He opened it and looked inside and mumbled, “Well I got 40¥,” he looked at Shinta, “How much you have?”
Shinta reached into her sleeve pocket and looked into her sad empty purse and took out her 10¥. She held it out to him and gave a small smirk and a shrug. “Sorry Darsuke, but I’m not totally rich, that I’m not.”
He giggled a bit and slipped the wallet back into his kimono, “I guess we have to eat somewhere else.”
Shinta nodded and began to follow him to a small yakitori stand until they heard a loud shrill voice calling them, “Hey! Samurai! Yeah you two! Yes you! Come here!”
Shinta and Darsuke looked at each other and shrugged. Shinta shifted her sword, and Darsuke held his closer to him. After the warning Shishio gave, they have to be more careful about anyone who calls them or even approach them. They walked through the crowd of people they didn’t notice gather around them, pointing at Shinta and their swords.
They found themselves in front of Akabeko and facing a rather over cheery looking young girl. Her smile took up half her face, and her eyes became squinted by her cheeks from the constant smiling. Her brown hair was tied back, being held by an offwhite bandana. Her offwhite apron was wrinkled and had spots of oil in random places and her hands was fiddling with a rag that was whiter than her clothes. Shinta watched her hands play with the rag, her hands where probably the cleanest part of her body. Shinta tried to look at her eyes, but they were so squnited, all she saw was a line. She looked at Darsuke, who was also looking at the girl’s hands. Seems they were amused by the same thing.
“Hello! I saw you fight that one guy with the sword, and wow am I happy,” the girl said, her voice was rather high, and her smile never left her face. Her figiting grew faster with every word. She then looked at Shinta, then at Darsuke, then back to Shinta again, and her smile grew wider, if that was possible. “Oh how cute,” exclaimed the girl, “You two are twins! Your kind ain’t that common. Kinda cool I gets to see one.”
Darsuke laughed a bit, “Indeed we are rare. We get that a lot. Right, Shinta?”
“That we do.” Shinta nodded slightly. She then looked at Akabeko and asked, “Why have you asked us here?”
“Oh! Right! You see, that sword guy was a total jerk to us. And when you went an’ fight him, we were like ‘whoo!’. So as a thanks, you can eat here for free,” the girl said, clapping her hands together. She apparently was happier than the twins, and it was their reward.
Shinta was about to say something until her brother intervined, “Well, thank you…uhh… Sorry, we didn’t get your name.”
“Oh! Tae is my name! And ‘member it well,” Tae said with her already big smile growing. She then grabbed the two by the wrists and dragged them into the restaurant and placed them into a booth farthest from everyone else. The eating area was divided into booths that was big enough to fit at the most five people comfortably. There were of course some that was smaller for a smaller crowd, or bigger ones for a bigger crowd.
Tae took the twins to a small booth, made to accomondate only two people. Like the other booths, this one was raised above the ground, so the guests can take off their shoes and place them away from their eating area. There was also a small stove with two pairs of ivroy chopsticks, for picking the food from the hot pot. Tae guided them to the booth and set them onto the pillows and fixed their shoes on the ground. She then jotted some notes down on a small notepad and scurried into the kitchen at the back.
Shinta sat there for a bit, still comtemplated on what happened. Darsuke was smiling while looking around the booth, looking at every single detail of decaration. Shinta sighed and decided to also start looking around. She was impressed of the typical japanese décor. There was kimonos hanging from the walls, and fans pinned next to them. Shinta smiled and turned to her brother. He had his chopsticks ready to be used. His looked at the empty small stove. Poor Darsuke, she thought, he must be starving. Then her stomach growled. And so is mine.
“This is the first time we ate out in our lives, that it is,” Shinta said with a contented sigh. She carefully removed her sword, and placed it close to her. She then reached for her chopsticks and sat down, crossing her legs.
“I know it is. I’m so happy that we managed to get a free dinner in Akabeko,” Darsuke said, his mouth drooling as he watched the beef pot approaching their booth, and being set onto their small stove. He breathed in deeply to take in all the smell of the soup placed in front of him. He grabbed the small bowl filled with rice and started picking vegetables and the beef. He consumed them so fast, Tae didn’t even have the chance to leave. She immediately scurried away and came back with large pot of cooked rice and set it next to him. He quickly lifted the lid and scooped out a large ball of rice and placed it into his small bowl and continued eating.
“Wow, you can really put it in,” Tae said, watching Darsuke consume the rice like his life depended on it, which probably did.
Shinta laughed, “He was a wanderer for eleven years, that he was. This is probably the best meal he ever had, that it might.”
“You were a wanderer too for the same amount of time,” Darsuke said with a mouthful of rice.
“And all because I was looking for you.”
“Ditto.”
Tae gasped and looked at the two slowly, “Eleven years! You two are that close?”
Shinta nodded, “That we are.”
“Of course.”
“Well,” Tae said with her smile growing even more, “I’ll leave you two alone then.” She silently scurried away, and walked into the kitchen.
The twins fell silent and ate their food slowly. They didn’t know what to talk about. After elven years of being alone and lost in their own thoughts, it was odd to finally to find who they were looking for.
Shinta sighed, “We finally find each other, and have alone time, and we can’t anything to talk about.”
Darsuke laughed and placed his bowl down, “Ironic isnt it?”
“Very.”
Darsuke shrugged and kept eating. It fell silent again. Shinta didn’t fell uncomfortable with the silence, she knew it was going to be like that, since they spent too long separated. Shinta then began to think about the warning Shishio made. Last thing she wanted is to put her brother in danger.
“So you’re ready to fight,” Darsuke asked suddenly. He looked seriously at her, though the bits and pieces rice around his mouth didn’t help. “Don’t worry, Shinta. I’ll be with you when they come. Now that we’re together, those assassins don’t stand a chance.”
Shinta smiled and nodded her head, “I’m glad you’re here. At least I don’t have to go through this alone.”
“Not anymore.”
The sun has set, and the twins were still sitting on their booth. They did not eat, nor tdid they even speak, but they sat there staring at each other, thinking, and wondering.
