Whiskey and Fireflies [IO]

Night fell across the marsh like a malevolent veil; once clear pools of lily-padded water became vats of inky blackness, supple reeds shifted into shadowy knives rattling with each breath of wind that passed through them, and even the chorus of crickets took on a sinister tone as if transformed by the moonless night.

The only sources of light for the lanternless exile were the fleeting flashes created by the fireflies. The insects bobbed this way and that through the air creating a web of earthbound constellations that were there one moment and gone the next. In spite of this less-than-reliable lighting, Yasahiro's feet found the path that wove through the wetlands without missing a beat as they had for nearing three months now. Straying from the path in this landscape meant finding oneself waist-deep in water and praying that the animalistic gurgle nearby was just the ambient voice of the swamp, not some predator with more teeth than brains—the exile only made that mistake once.

Careful not to take a wrong turn deeper into the marshlands, the samurai took a sharp left and followed a narrow spit of land out onto what would have amounted to a small, swamp-bound island were it not for said spit. It was here, deep in the swamp and away from the main nearest settlement, that Yasahiro and his cousin, Asahi, made camp in a dilapidated fisherman's home long forgotten. The pair first happened upon the small structure in their flight from the Land of Iron. It had been their first lucky break in a while and both cousins embraced it as a sign to pause their flight for a least a night. That single night, however, soon turned into a week, a month, two months, and so here they remained, content that they were safely hidden from the world by the nigh-impenetrable terrain around them.

The dark-haired Yagami cousin was the first to return on this particular evening, so he set about breathing life into the small structure as had become his routine. Soon soft lantern light lit the four corners of the once-abandoned building transforming it into a soft beacon of light in the darkness around it. Indeed, even the flickering lanterns were enough to burn away the malevolent atmosphere of the marsh and make it feel like something familiar—funny what a bit of light in the darkness could do.

A creature of habit, Yasahiro, journal in hand, took up his post in the hammock that looked out onto the dark water surrounding his temporary abode. For what felt like a long while, the man simply gazed out at the margin of where the lantern light and the darkness fought in a dance of flickering shadows as if trying to see something that was not there. Finding nothing of interest, he soon busied himself with his writing, Yasahi would be back soon and he wanted to get something done before he returned.

Somewhere beyond the margin the crickets and cicadas renewed their efforts in a loud cacophony of discordant noise.

[WC: 511]

Yasahiro's pen paused upon the return of Asahi, but the exile himself did not bother to look up from his journal. Rather, he looked long and hard at what he had written before furrowing his brow, crossing out a few lines, and continuing with his writing. Perhaps four months ago he would have readily engaged in conversation in favor of writing, but of late the man found the practice of journaling to be centering, and something not to be interrupted if it could be avoided.

A few minutes more passed before he finally closed the journal, placed it on the shelf to his right, and reclined further into his hammock to contemplate Asahi's first question. Had his day been eventful? What a strange question, sometimes the exile wondered if Asahi asked questions to fill dead air, was there anything wrong with silence? After all, the two cousins knew each other's routines well enough to know that nothing 'eventful' ever happened anymore, the novelty of the question had long since been lost.

"Oh, you know how it is," he flashed a knowing smile at the ceiling as he traced the uneven grain of the wood with this gaze. "Goro was, well, Goro. Today he thought we'd be able to get fifty more crates of spice on an already fully-loaded caravan."

Yasahiro shrugged, pushing himself out of the hammock.

"I'm sure you can imagine how that went."

Upon first arriving in this particular town, the exile had hoped to find employment as a swordplay instructor or something similar, but not even the bars would take him as a bouncer without references and someone to attest to his bona fides. Consequently, he found employment as a teamster for an ornery young entrepreneur by the name of Goro Yakayami. It wasn't mentally taxing work in the slightest and Goro had a tendency to let his emotions get the better of him, but it paid well enough and Yasahiro wasn't asked many questions. Plus, the job let him stay in something resembling good shape—he really couldn't complain that much, not that Goro would listen if he did.

"Keep your money," he shook his head and walked to the edge of the decaying porch overlooking the inky blackness beyond. "I don't expect to be here much longer."

He'd been saying the same thing for over a month now; 'we'll leave soon', 'we'll move on next week', 'just one more day', and every variation in between had already been spoken. Truthfully, Yasahiro didn't know what came next, and instead of finding out what was, it was far easier to have the same conversation with his cousin each and every night while deferring the decision for another time.

"Thanks," he caught the apple without turning around. "What about you, anything interesting to report?"

The dark-haired man took a bite of the apple and cast a backward glance at his cousin expectantly as the night slipped ever onward.

WC: 1007

The pause in conversation while Yasahiro finished writing was built with practice.  Asahi preferred the communication, but rather than look out off by the waiting for words he continued his own rituals.  Even as the conversation started, his movements continued in a very practiced way.  He no longer had the shrines, but that didn’t much matter.  The Kami still deserved respect, and he doubted they minded the change in scenery of where he prayed.  

“Ahh well, Goro is everything one would expect him to be.....plus fifty crates apparently.”  Asahi would say as he laid out the wraps.  If one tried very hard they could make out the writing.  The smudges where becoming extreme and ink had faded, but still names of Yagami ancestors, the names of kami, and other phrases could be detected.  It had been a practice he’d taken up on his own.  A way of remembrance, and taking the shrine with him.  He couldn’t remember when the habit had started, but as he got older it was just one of those things that made sense to him, even if he couldn’t always verbalize why.  

What the town they found refuge in lacked in size it made up for in personality.  Goro was just one of the individuals that built into it.  Takashi’s tea and sake flowed easily helping give those who lacked personality at least the liquid courage to make one up.  In truth it was perhaps because of that the Yagami cousins where able to assimilate with very little eyes upon them.  Though now that they’d stayed so long, at least for Asahi, he felt questions where starting to come.  He got the impression the town was used to passerby’s, but wasn’t used to individuals making it a new home.  

“As you wish.”  Asahi would say pulling back the money at his cousins bequest.  Taking a couple coins out he’d place the kappa coin purse under a loose floorboard to it would stay hidden.  A true kappa beneath the bridge, just in case someone ever did enter their home with evil spirits in their heart, though in truth he’d never seen another human alive in this part of the swamp.  

Taking the two coins he’d removed he’d casually toss them into a small bronze dish.  They clinked gently as they hit the bronze and the few other coins that rested there.  An offering he’d turn over to some charity or other once he found one.  

The thoughts of when they’d actually leave crept through his mind as they often did.  This question, the response, it was as much as part of their routine as anything else.  In truth Asahi didn’t mind the cabin, or the swamp, the town was fine enough.  It wasn’t the comfort that the Yagami compound had provided, but aside from a few creature comforts the younger cousin found there wasn’t much to miss.

Taking another couple of bites of apple, he’d walk over to stare out into the blackness beside his cousin.  “Usual town gossip is all.  Takashi keeps promising me the bar shifts rather than the tea ones, so I can make a little extra money.......but I think that’s going as well as Goro’s loading abilities.”  He’d sigh and shrug.  “Everyone is really looking forward to their festival.  Maybe that’s why Goro is even more entrepreneurial than usual.  Many if the local men have their Namahage costumes all ready to go.”  

The New Years celebration was in full prep.  The locals excited to take part and the shops beginning to decorate and prepare to close.  The working class folks having next to no other conversation.  Taking a deep breath he’d exhale some of the smoke from his pipe.  He’d offer it over to Yasahiro.  “I think if we are going to move on, it’s be best to do so after the festival.  Can make enough to fund our next journey.”  He’d say smiling at the much taller man.  “I’m putting my bid in for a bit of ocean though, better than this.”  He’d gesture out at the swamp and the noise of the many nocturnal beast now coming into their own.  

TWC -  1367

"I don't know, the place has kind of grown on me," Yasahiro replied, allowing his gaze to slip from his cousin back to the all-consuming darkness while waving off the offer of the pipe. "I suppose that works though, we can leave after the festival."

The exile had no reason to offer any opposition to the proposition, it really made no difference to him. He had nothing to tether him to any one place anymore; he had severed such tethers with his own hand in a bout of blind rage. Indeed, perhaps it was better that they simply keep moving forward and stay ahead of the churning storm of regret that crept ever closer to them each day they sat idle. Yes, a change of scenery was certainly in order—the smell of salt and fresh seafood was appealing, after all.

"The sea, though?" he asked rhetorically before continuing and throwing the rest of his mealy apple into the water beyond. "Perhaps we should do some route planning over drinks?"

Another rhetorical question; the black-clad man turned his back on the darkness and made his way back into the structure. Pulling up the same floorboard beneath where Asahi previously hid his faux kappa, Yasahiro extracted a pristine bottle of Iwagakure brand whiskey—a relic from a ruined village and one of the exile's proudest finds at the nearby village's less-than-legal marketplace. Truthfully, he doubted the bottle's authenticity given how little he had paid for it, but did it really matter all that much so long as it had a reasonably high alcohol content?

"The ocean's pretty big," returning to Asahi's side, he removed the seal and took a swig of the foul-tasting liquid—it wasn't genuine. "Do you have a particular locale in mind?"

He paused and took another healthy swig before offering the bottle to his companion.

"My only request is that we stay away from the major villages for the time being."

The sounds of the swamp fell into a lull.

WC: 1340

“O are you ready to finally part with your pride and joy?” Asahi would ask playfully as Yasahiro moved back inside the cabin for their hiding spot. The bottle soon emerging and making its way back to where Asahi had yet to move from, happily taking small puffs on the pipe. Despite his cousin saying this place had grown on him, he couldn’t help but not believe him. In truth, staying wouldn’t be the worse thing, but there was a spirit within Yasahiro......one that Asahi had prayed against for many nights, and one he still sensed. For any sly smile, a grimace of hate lay behind it. Idle feet invite busy spirits, and the one within the swordsman was one kept beat asleep.

At the second drink he finally offered over the bottle. In an exchange Asahi handed off the pipe and took the bottle, taking his own healthy drink. His face puckered and eyes squinted as he convulsed involuntarily.....”terrible!” He’d shout out into the darkness, right before squinting against what he knew was coming, he took another drink. Holding the neck of the bottle he tapped its bottom on the railing to an unknown tune. “I’m not sure yet. Doesn’t Goro do business with some traders at one of the port towns? Maybe we could piggyback off a job and get set up there?”. In truth Asahi wasn’t sure if this was a good idea or not. Goro was hardly a nice man, and he was hardly one to do favors, in truth loosing a worker might be considered an insult to a man like him, yet the question begged to be asked.

In truth, his knowledge of geography was as shabby as his sword play had gotten. There was a large map in the tea shop hung as decoration, but he thought back now how he’d paid relatively little attention to it. “Yes, the major villages aren’t something I’d like to be to involved with.” He responded at his cousins only stipulation. Perhaps it was the samurai culture, but shinobi weren’t really the kind of folks he trusted to well. Sneaky individuals, and always out for one more grab of power. While he doubted the two of them made much of targets, it was still worthwhile to stay away from such people. Common folk made better companions, and usually asked a lot less questions.

“The land of hot water has a coast line I think. Seems like there are worse places to go, if Goro doesn’t workout.” He’d say shrugging, before swapping the bottle for the pipe and taking a large drag. Most of the stringy tobacco at this point having been burnt up. It was the last bit he had rationed, and if travel was in the horizon he knew he’d better savor what was left. “I think we have the money to make a decent little journey, but.....” he’d blow out some smoke, “if we have to start paying rent it’ll go fast. Even with the tips I’ve managed to pull in from the blind, Well.....it’ll just go fast as all.” Mentally he calculated what money had been saved. Sadly it didn’t take very long.

“I trust the ancestors will help guide us though.” Hed quickly return to his cheerful self, smiling up at the much taller man before snagging the bottle and taking another drink before handing it back. “What if we play some Go, help us stimulate our minds, and distract from the taste.” He’d laugh at his own jest flicking the bottle in Yasahiro’s hand. Walking back into the center of the room, he’d crouch and sit on the floor. A board between two deflated cushions that had been somehow rendered safe from rot and mold by an old wooden chest in the house. The board of Go already set, and clearly in the middle of a game. They’d yet to settle the game, and instead picked up whenever they had the time and energy. From his seat, he took and lit a nearly empty incense bowl near the little board, a sweet smell filling the cabin chasing out the swamp sound. As he did so several fire flies floated gently through the air, their lights just barely visible while within the spectrum of light caused by the lanterns.

TWC - 2075

Taking the pipe from his cousin this time, Yasahiro watched idly as gentle spools of sweet smoke drifted from it and out of view into the ether above. The act of smoking never really appealed to the man, but there was no denying that on a cool evening in the middle of a foul-smelling swamp that he could see how it might be an enticing vice. The temptation to try was fleeting, however, and quickly banished from his mind by the loud exclamation of his partner by his side.

"Yeah, as I understand it he does business up and down the coast with a few select merchants of questionable quality," the exile furrowed his brow trying to remember the names of the particular ports, but none came to mind immediately. "I'll talk with him tomorrow about setting something up. He still owes me for that whole Zabi business with the baboon and the owl—saving a man's eyesight has to be worth something, right?"

A simple nod of acknowledgment was all Asahi received for his shared opinion on major shinobi villages. The pair had gone back and forth about these major establishments for a few nights in a row the previous week, and Yasahiro was firmly in the camp of avoiding them at all costs. Not only were they noisy, dirty, and crowded, but they also surely required certain documents for entry that neither samurai possessed. Oh, and that was to say nothing about the shinobi's well-known distaste for defectors and rogues. For some odd reason, the exile did not much like the idea of being judged for a single lapse in self-control. That's what the shinobi system meant to him now: blind judgment and nothing else.

"I was thinking about our financial situation—or lack thereof—earlier today, and I think there is one obvious solution that we've been dancing around for months," he passed back the pipe in exchange for the bottle and took a conservative sip. "Odd jobs like ours will only get us so far; if we want to stay afloat we'll have to leverage our...talents, our training."

The thought of wielding a sword again drove the man to take another healthy swig before following his cousin back to their Go board.

"You know what I mean," he took a seat across from Asahi and made his move. "It'll be risky, but it'll put a roof over our heads, food in our mouths, and sake in our cups."

He shrugged, ceding the conversation to his cousin once more. The idea of plying the crafts they'd spent their entire lives honing only made sense, but then why did it feel so wrong? Why did it feel that to lift a blade again would be a betrayal?

WC: 1793

At the mention of the incident in question Asahi let out a large belly moving laugh. The sound temporarily silenced all the fauna around them at the alien sound to a place of predators. Still the story had amused him to a point perhaps it shouldn’t have, but still.......how could you not laugh he had said the first time Yasahiro had brought it up. “Yes....true...” he said wiping his eyes, the words between convulsive laughs. “Though the man never had much of an eye for taste regardless, so not worth as much as we’d hope.”

At that he’d make his go move. Placing the white stone in an attempt to increase his territory. At the moment the game was still near a draw, but board positions where becoming more and more difficult to find. The game would end soon, and one of the draws of go was there was always a winner. There was always a decision, no deliberation, it was something that pair needed. As he made the move his cousin would sit across from him taking a drink.

Tasting the tobacco he listened at the uncharacteristic tentative words, where they would lead....Asahi knew almost instantly, but this knowing was of little consequence. Utilizing their training was always in the back of both cousins minds. While Yasahiro had always been the true swordsman between them, Asahi‘s mediocrity by Yagami standards stood well above the average mans abilities. They’d avoided it for a long time, taking simple jobs. Asahi had found himself a server in several tea shops, he’d worked in a temple, and even held a cleansing ceremony for a wealthier client who had been breathing incense for to long. They all paid, but just enough. Yasahiro had taken more physical jobs, and while his work was in many ways harder, the compensation failed to show it.

Still, the thought of the sword in his cousins hand brought a small frown to his lips. It wasn’t the dark deed that brought him here that worried him, but instead the attention it could bring. Using swords could always bring questions. While the Yagami weren’t actively hunting either to his knowledge, he felt if they became a little too conspicuous that tumultuous situation could shift. “Did you have something in mind? Or is this merely an idea...” his voice was a bit more fine, it lacked some of the cheerfulness that had been there moments before.

He watched his cousin, he’d watch him make his move before he made his own on the game board. He wished he could see within him, but the darkness surrounding the cottage wasn’t the only veil hiding creatures. He’d always been a good read of people by his own standards, except when it came to Yasahiro. It was perhaps one of the reasons he enjoyed the man’s company so much. Though they had a routine, he couldn’t help but think there was something more, something under the surface. The shadow of a great......something. Better or worse, he’d felt a duty to be there if it ever decided to surface. Even now, after a banishment, and a objective decrease in standards of living, the feeling was as strong as ever.

“What does Goro want us to do?” If Yasahiro hesitated to answer his first question, Asahi would ask his before the former had a chance to pause any longer. He’d take a long drag, the remains of the tobacco all burning away. Holding the smoke for a moment, he’d exhale through his nostrils, letting the clouds drift to the rafters. It wasn’t ideal, but it was a step forward. Though was it to a path of healing or haunting, it was hard to say.

Twc - 2693

Black countered white in the third quadrant; it was the exile's obvious move, which was why he didn't take it. Rather, he elected to close the fence around Asahi's pieces in the fourth quadrant. Far better, Yasahiro firmly believed, to be unpredictable in the face of an opponent that knows you well. He hoped the move would throw his cousin off the play he had set up a few nights previously in the second quadrant—one of the upsides of working a manual labor job was all the free time one got to think.

"I didn't have anything particular in mind," he answered a bit too quickly and immediately headed off the question that was surely coming next. "And it has nothing to do with Goro, don't worry. For all he knows I can't tell the blade of a sword from the hilt, much less swing one properly."

He paused, took another drink, and continued.

"No, but there are plenty of jobs out there," he nodded his back in the direction of the village. "I'm sure you've seen the notice boards. Information collection, bodyguarding, and a whole bunch else—it's nothing we couldn't handle. Of course, we'd have to pick and choose our clients, but we could do a lot of good outside of the system, maybe even more than we could in it."

"So, here's my proposal," Yasahiro watched his cousin's next moves carefully. "We leave after the New Year to a coastal town like you suggested..."

He snapped his fingers as a town name came back to him.

"Maybe somewhere like Hanchani by the sea? Then, once we're there we start building a client base of good, honest people we can help. Sure, it won't be the most savory work in the world, but it should work, right? After all, what's the worst that could happen?"

He offered the bottle to his cousin.

"What do you think?"

A fire blazed in Yasahiro's eyes that couldn't solely be attributed to the alcohol. It was the prospect of embarking on something new; something different yet familiar and something he'd trained all his life for. If he strayed from the path now would he ever truly return or would he be stuck trying to overload every caravan that came through for the benefit of an overzealous merchant?

WC: 2187

Asahi’s eyes flashed a steely glance at his cousin as he drank. Though physically he could never cut the same intimidating figure as his father Yoshi Yagami.....he had his fathers eyes. In rare moments it showed, the strength of someone who firmly believed in their path, who saw the universe and knew their place, eyes piercing of a true craftsman. Though his hands didn’t temper steel, his eyes had the same way of looking, the way that made you believe they could see exactly how you were made, how to dismantle and reassemble......the flash of a look came and went as quickly as it started. Though his mind wasn’t sure it trusted his cousin to tell the whole truth, he believed in the man anyway......he always had. In his heart their bond was secured, and though he’d go grumbling he’d follow Yasahiro through Yomi if that’s where their feet took them.

He listened to the rest of his cousins proposal. Silently and giving him the respect to finish. As he listened he made his own moves. A series of straightforward and rather unimpressive moves, watching the attempts at unpredictability he wasn’t strictly aware his cousin was always able to muster.

As he did, and the words moved around him he absent mindedly scratched at his chest. Very pale scars littered his chest, almost like claw marks. They had faded and thanks to the medicinal skills of some of the elder Yagami, they barely existed at all. Flashes of memories occurred as he touched them. A dark night......a screaming boy no more than 5.......the terrible creature, an Oni in all black with a red face and piercing yellow eyes........it’s claws raking his flesh.......blood splashing against a thin stream........and Yasahiro just barely 6 years old being the first individual to find him.

He’d be told later that it had been his imagination. The scratches had come from a fall through thorn brush, the red face nothing more than the blood moon and eyes the distant lantern light. Even as he sat and drank hot tea and was tended to with cloth wraps that covered down his torso and right arm, he was scolded for his foolishness, Yasahiro sitting beside him stony and quite even at 6. He’d receive much teasing for the incident, despite It leaving him with fairly serious injuries. Not from his elder cousin though, and though they didn’t discuss it, Yasahiro never cast doubt on what Asahi had seen. It was the first marker in a bond that grew over the next 20 years. There had only been one other person to believe him, his grandmother Genkai Yagami. She’d praise over him, beseeched ancestors to protect him, and discussed with him cleansing and the nature of the Oni.

At the sound of the question, Asahi snapped out of his revere. Clearing his throat he’d take the bottle and take the deepest draft yet. Despite his smaller stature, he could keep up with a man twice his size, attributing it to all the cleansing rituals he did, and answered his cousin. “Very well, if you think it’s best I’ll follow. I think we will have to be careful though......don’t want to turn into a tengu after all.” He’d say smiling and placing a move to capture a fair amount of territory. His reference being the trickster imps that had formerly been priests who practiced hypocrisy. The idea of working outside a system to fix it was old, and built with a structure of stories of those who believed and failed to maintain the ideology.

He saw the first in his cousins eyes, and the passion, and it was that more than anything that led to his answer. “Hanchani it is, I’ve been wanting to get into some salt water for ages now anyway.” He’d watch his cousin make a move, the board nearly full now. Soon one would have to put a stop to the game and the count would begin. White or black, right or wrong, peace or conflict.......there always was a winner.

TWC - 3367