All Shades of Blue

Summer passed into fall passed into winter passed into spring, and nothing ever changed.

He wondered if he ought to be used to that by now.

It didn't matter the season he lay his head in. Blistering heat and freezing cold all felt the same: numb. It was as if his skin fused with his exhausted, injured heart and lay dormant in the ground.

Perhaps that was more the thing. There was no season save winter for him now.

He'd grown used to the rough terrain and hard work of being out in the wilderness. Hongan-Ji wasn't cushy, exactly, but it was certainly more luxurious than what he had for accommodation of late. That was the business of revenge. It robbed him of his friends, his fellow monks, his faith and compassion. A bed felt like the last of his concerns.

Perhaps those needed adjustment anyway.

He barely gave any thought to the woman staggering into the woods that night. As the flames of Honnon-Ji licked the infinite stars and he wondered if that was the end of it, if it lifted to heaven the Devil King's ashes same as the timbers, his musing was interrupted by the thick crunch of woods. No soldier would be so careless. Even so he dipped back into the dark, his eyes searching for the stranger.

And she was strange indeed.

He'd never seen clothes like that before. Her legs were exposed to the elements. No kimono layered over her shoulders. She clutched a small bag the type of which he'd never seen. Maybe she was Western?

"You should be more careful, young lady," he recalled warning her. "Demons lurk in the woods at night."

Little did he know how much those words would come to haunt him.

—

Regardless of who she was, she took up residence with the Devil King himself.

He'd survived. He'd survived, and as much as Kennyo never wanted to drag another civilian into this demonic mess he and his most hated opponent were making, he regretted not killing her in the moment. If he'd found her before–if he'd given his followers orders to eliminate all who might help–if he'd just slaughtered his way through them–

No amount of meditation could still his aching soul. He lay awake at night and stared at the stars, wondering how many lifetimes it would take for him to wash away the karmic sins he pulled on himself. His whole life he'd practiced the power of faith. Now all he had was doubt.

And just as he resigned himself to that infinite winter of his heart, she showed up again.

He sat awake by the fire one night when his followers came to him, dragging a woman behind them. Her arms were bound behind her back, but the gag they'd forced into her mouth did absolutely nothing except prevent her from articulating the worst of her slurs at them. Her eyes flashed like a lightning strike setting the earth ablaze, her rich kimono almost insultingly cute on such a fierce woman.

"Kennyo," one of the men spoke. She kicked him in the shin and he hissed, dropping to a knee. The other two wrestled her back into compliance.

"Stop." He rose, frowning at them. "Who is this?"

She threw back her head and glared at him. Her stature was uneven (she'd snapped the geta sandal strap in the assault) and her hair a torrent, but it was a kind of wilderness he admired about her already. But didn't he know her?

"We found her fleeing Azuchi," one of the men forced her to her knees. "It seems to be the Devil King's concubine."

A barrage of slurs escaped her mouth, filtered only by the thin strip of rope strung between her teeth. Kennyo frowned. Running from Nobunaga? There was the possibility she hated him as much as he did. It hardly made sense that a woman in such a comfortable position might flee from a gracious benefactor. In this time of turbulence, it made sense to remain where you were safe.