Feudal Pacific

13

The master smiths of the shōgun carefully began the restoration of the rusted and worn sword. After hours of polishing and sharpening, the metal gleamed and a new edge had been restored to the blade. They crafted a new hilt from ashwood, dyed a dark green, with black tsukamaki wrapping it in a crisscross pattern, and a scabbard was crafted in the same wood as the hilt. The blade was engraved on one side with the kanji for Yasuo's name just below the hilt, 愛音保雄, and on the other side the name he had chosen for the sword itself, 太陽火, Taiyō-hi, which means Sun-fire.

"You're now a true samurai," said Yasuke, "a member of the noble warrior class, protector of the Pacific Empire of Japan. This is a great responsibility, Yasuo-san, to be treated with respect and reverence, but also with dignity and honor. Will you swear an oath to uphold the values of bushidō in your daily life, and in doing so be an example to others?"

Yasuo bowed low, his hand gripping the sword that now hung at his waist. "I do swear that oath, Yasuke-sama, and will protect Japan, the emperor, and the shōgun with my life; let all those who hear me today stand in witness to my promise."

Yasuke clapped Yasuo on each arm with his huge hands. "Good! Now be off, both of you. Mibu is a two-week journey on horseback. I'll send a bird to let them know to expect you."

The anticipation was palpable as we mounted our horses and set off for Mibu. Yasuo was a sight to behold, wearing his new outfit with pride. His deep blue kimono was lined with lush green silk, and his obi was finished with shining gold accents. He wore Taiyō-hi in its polished scabbard at his side, and the sun shined from the lacquer as he rode high on his horse. The excited smile on his face was as bright as the noonday sun.

We journeyed through small villages and past sprawling farms, going back the way we had come, back toward Ōsaka. As we rode by, people stopped in their tracks and stared with surprise before bowing. Yasuo was a warrior, mounted on a powerful steed, with a sharp katana strapped to his side, wearing a dashing outfit that made him look like he had stepped out of a storybook. I couldn't help but smile; I had no desire for such admiration, but Yasuo seemed to thrive in the attention. He gave slight nods of his head in acknowledgment as the commoners bowed.

We laid out our bedrolls in a clearing, surrounded by tall trees and wildflowers. A shimmering blanket of stars stretched across the night sky, and the air was still and warm. Yasuo's eyes sparkled as he pulled his new sword out, but I interjected.

"Your katana's steel is not to see the sun unless someone is about to die," I reminded him, repeating Ishida's teaching.

He carefully placed the sword down beside his bed and let out a quiet, satisfied sigh before settling into zazen and meditating. I could see the excitement in his face, even in the low light of the dying fire. Yasuo was now a samurai, with a mission to fulfill and oaths to keep. I drew my thin blanket around me and soon fell asleep to the sound of firewood crackling in the background.

#

As the sun crept towards noon, thirteen days after departing from Edo, we arrived in the little village of Mibu. I had heard tales of the Shinsengumi's loyalty and bravery, eager to experience the hospitality of their hometown. But as soon as we stepped into Mibu, we were met with a different atmosphere. No one smiled; suspicious glances were thrown our way, and hushed whispers followed our every move. The locals seemed to huddle in fear, pulling back into doorways to avoid eye contact. Even when I met a few people's gazes, I could see their faces immediately turning away. The tense energy in the air tingled like static.

Yasuo's shoulders slumped and a frown tugged at the corners of his mouth as he surveyed the sparsely populated streets. "This is a far cry from the respect given by those on the road," he said.