Tensho

Tensho

The Warring Era

I knew it would not be any easy transition. My optimism is my hubris, though hope has brought me through the worst of it.

I felt liberated, and I acted on it. I left the safety of the Fujita compound, along with Kikyo. It was the first time I’d been out in two months, and as such was the first time I’d fallen prey to those I feared.

I walked with my head upright, wearing the Omigumi garb I had hidden away, an androgynous robe and under-netting, along with my new sword and my old but well kept sai. I was the only woman who carried herself this way. Sadly, Kikyo took in all the snide looks for me, from men and women alike.

As I made my way through the busy town, the benches full of the so-called lords I previously mentioned, one stepped forward. His dark hair hiding his face, his uniform dingy, his face in a permanent sarcastic grin.

“So you are Momoko Fujita.”

“That’s right,” she replied, trying her damnedest not to let her fear show.

“It may not have been a wise decision to leave home today, especially with this precious thing,” he replied, running his tongue across his lips and caressing Kikyo. His eyebrows rose for a quick second and he removed his hand as he heard her blade against the air, and slowly realized she aimed it at his throat.

“Back off,” she snapped, glaring at him.

He stepped backwards, holding up his arms as his smile returned.

“What manner of woman is this, that would hold a sword at my throat? Puny little thing, I bet you don’t even know how to use that weapon.”

She sheathed it, showing off without meaning to.

“Test me again and you will know for sure.”

Even though the two held knowing glances, he turned his back and laughed anyway, causing the others to cackle as well.

She could almost hear Kikyo’s erratic heartbeat, but felt to need to tell her she was not in harm’s way. Momoko was shocked, however, when she caught a glimpse of a man following them. He had no weapon; he was tall, in a simple outfit and a gentle aura.

“Forgive those men,” he said, as if bowing to her.

“How do you know me?”

“I was a humble servant of Michinori.”

She shook her head as it dawned on her.

“Kenji,” she answered, a smile in her voice.

“Yes,” he replied, smiling as well.

“Please, rise.”

He did, slowly, continuing.

“Those men, they call themselves lords, but they do not care at all about this place. Unlike you.”

“So you come to me to compliment my character,” Momoko concluded, grinning.

“No,” he replied in a serious tone, “I came to tell you a matter of importance.”

“What happened?”

“I will have to show you.”

Kenji did as he promised, taking Momoko’s hand to gently lead her to the plateau. She saw nothing unusual, but as she went farther uphill, she could not help but see.

Just beyond the river, tents and fires were burnt, the old campsite. Upon a closer look, the two or three bodies that remained there were being exhumed by what looked like soldiers. She ducked, hiding behind the mountain as a chill worked down her spine. Kenji gave Momoko a comforting look, but she diverted her eyes away.

She knew there would be blood. She knew people would die, and she wanted those men and that site to go up in flames, but she could never have understood all of what that meant until she saw it firsthand.

“Because of what happened, there are more coming.”

“From where,” she asked, panicked.

“Heading here from Honshu. At this rate, they’re probably just playing the waiting game.”

“How do you know this?”

He grunted, smiling. “I served your father as a spy. I serve you as a guardian.”

She came closer to him, touching the moon-shaped scar on his cheek, tying it to her last memory of him. She looked into his eyes just as he grabbed her hand and gently pulled it away.

“Don’t worry about me. Worry about Aizu.”

Momoko nodded and looked away, headed off as soon as he had.

Momoko had almost forgotten that Kikyo was still beside her. She stopped at a bar, requested a shot of sake, and looked at Kikyo. She looked frazzled, and upon her returned glance saw that she was looking at her strangely. As if she were a different person. She may not have admitted it, but she was.

She took a second shot and then looked at Kikyo, and in that exchange she regained her poise, knowing she was still needed to do her task.

“Kikyo, take a scroll and write this down.”

As soon as Momoko said it, she had reached into her pockets to retrieve a small brush, pallet and scroll. She gestured for the bartender to give her a glass of water, and he did so. Kikyo dipped it into the water, then the pallet, leaving only a second for Momoko to gather her thoughts. She didn’t even look Kikyo’s direction when she spoke, she was looking at the bar, as if through it to Aizu.

“Thank you for your help.”

She took a deep breath, the whole while Kikyo’s eyes on her.

“More of them are coming, heading through Honshu even as I write this. I will protect myself, I will do what I can, but I need you. Aizu needs you. Signed, Momoko Fujita.”

Kikyo finished quickly, then rolled it up. Momoko took the bird call from her pocket, playing it as a flute as the ‘tender watched. It was just approaching afternoon, and she knew the crowd wasn’t going anywhere. Hisoka landed on her shoulder, and this time she showed her affection, stroking her feathers and handing her a morsel of bread. She ate it, and nuzzled Momoko in her way as she was handed the note and took off again.

She could see the discomfort on Kikyo’s face. She insisted Kikyo head home, only to be argued with. In the end she knew Kikyo was better off there, and returned with her for only a moment. Soon Momoko snuck off again, only to hear the sounds of horsemen trotting towards us. She couldn’t help wondering where Midori was at that very moment.

Shinobi by the hundreds hopped from land to rooftop to sky as Hisoka made her way to the compound. As their own flew to aid Momoko, Midori and Kagame stood together, alone.

Though Oyone was seen with Midori more oft, these two were much closer. Kagame was known as her twin; the only difference in their appearance was Kagame’s long purple ponytail, and her shortened eyebrows. It seemed an odd look, but it was said to change whenever she needed to use her own ability that remained a solid mystery.

The eagle landed on her shoulder, flying off just as Midori took the note and opened it. She read it wearing a smile. She looked over at Kagame and the two took off together. Momoko had clearly underestimated them.

The fact that Midori had this all well thought out did not stop what was happening at that moment in Aizu.

Of all the horsemen Momoko heard approaching, only one stopped before her. It was a samurai. He removed his mask just as he came down from his horse. Frightened people everywhere turned his direction. Momoko’s grip tightened on her sword.

“I am the samurai Hideta, and I came here to tell you this place is being held under martial law.”

“Why,” Momoko gently asked. As he turned her direction the prejudice he held for women became obvious.

“Several of my men were found dead nearby. But I don’t need to explain myself to a woman,” he said, his eyes taking in her beauty but stopping when he noticed the sword on her belt. “least of all one who impersonates a samurai. Now I see why this place is being claimed.”

“I am not impersonating anyone. I am protecting myself.”

“That’s not what the law says.”

“Then your law is not my law.”

His hand inched toward his sword as he inched toward her.

“Your best bet is to hand me your sword and comply. This doesn’t have to be so hard.”

She shook her head, eyes closed, knowing what she had to do.

“I can’t. I won’t. I am but a slave to Aizu, as you are to Nobunaga,” his eyes glowered as he took in her words. “And I must do what I can.”

He slowly unsheathed his sword.

“You bring this upon yourself, Momoko,” he replied, and it dawned on her- he was the same samurai from Edo, who was ruthless and slaughtered and burned all those homes, all those people.

As she unsheathed her sword, families rushed home, children ran inside or behind any shelter they could.

He attacked first, with a vertical slice he was surprised she blocked. She looked into his eyes with a wicked smile she could not fight.

“I don’t carry a sword for nothing.”

He continued after she’d spoken with a side slice she ducked, and attacked with a flipping combination. He blocked the first three sword attacks, but was sliced by the last. He held his wound for only a moment before trying to grab her. She slipped past his arms and beneath him, kicking him in the groin and going for a neck slice. He blocked and locked his arm around hers and affectively struck her in the jaw, his armor slicing just enough to leave a faint line of blood.

And in the midst of all the fighting, no one had noticed the guards watching from the old camp.

“What does it look like,” a young soldier asked, watching the leader look on through the telescope. He watched, then grunted.

“Looks like he’s fighting Momoko,” the commander replied.

“Lady Fujita?”

“Yes.”

“How’s he doing?”

“She’s only a woman. He’ll handle her,” he replied matter-of-factly, but still watching.

Her blows became more precise, as his widened and he was easily ducked. He wore an expression of brawn, that masculine pride that drove him to the brink of insanity. She watched him, timing him as she blocked, waiting for the perfect opening. No doubt he was strong, no doubt he’d earned his sword, but hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

And just when he thought he had her, just as he aimed his sword for her chest, she saw her chance.

Without a second thought she blocked his blade with her armor while twisting, and made a clean cut around his neck.

As the blood oozed from his wound, he looked at her shocked, his eyes thanking her with surprise for a good fight. His head slowly fell from him as his body made its way to the ground.

She looked and turned away as she held her bloody sword, as if empowered.

Without a moment to lose, the commanders face changed, he put his scope into his pocket as he shouted for his men to charge.

Momoko took a deep breath and closed her eyes, winded as she saw what was coming. She turned to face the armies just as she heard a rushing wind; the sound of darts flying through the air. She smiled as she smelled peony, knowing Midori was right behind her.

“Did you need us?”

“Yes,” she whispered in relief.

She watched the orchestra before her, as men died before they even knew it, as others only had a quick battle before their deaths, as more Omigumi retreated and a smaller group took over.

She heard steel behind her, alerting her back into action. She flipped over the first as she sliced through him, then ran through three more. A desperate one held a blade at a child’s throat; she calmly told him to close his eyes and she hurled a sigh through the chest of another samurai.

Momoko took in large breaths as she realized there were no more dissenters. Midori was clean of any blood and stood at her side. She glanced over at Kagame, who led the stragglers away. She sheathed her sword gradually, as if unsure.

The masses slowly made their way back, surprised. There were only a few bodies in the open, and in that short span most were only by the original site. She watched, smiling as the child ran to its mother, and she held him tightly.

Momoko was just realizing that she’d had that fight in her all along, and as she did people fell at her feet.

“Lady Momoko…”

“No, no. Get up, rise,” she replied. She was frustrated when they didn’t, but did not show it.

“How can I ever thank you,” the mother asked.

“You don’t have to. It is my duty to protect Aizu, and it wasn’t just me.”

“Nonsense. For what you did, you certainly deserve this.” She reached into her pocket and handed her a pouch of gold.

“I have no need for this. Your thanks is enough.”

“No,” the mother insisted, extending her money as others followed suit.

She bowed to them, and quickly moved on.

“Please, don’t leave this place. We need you here,” a man cried out.

She turned towards Midori, who nodded.

“If you wish to pay tribute to anyone, please pay it to her,” she said, gesturing towards Midori. They did so, still completely kneeled. As Momoko continued her slow walk, she noticed the same man from earlier- with the dingy kimono and hair over his face- bowing as well. She stopped and they held eyes, hers angered, his solemn.

“You, bowing to a puny woman. Imagine that.”

“I apologize deeply for what I said earlier. If there is any ruler of this province, it is you Lady Momoko.”

She smiled lightly.

“I appreciate that.”