Re: The Wings of Destiny - a FotS AAR (Updated Chapter 8 - Aug 17)
9. Koguma
March 1866, Seto Naikai
”Sakura sakura, noyama mo sato mo, mi-watasu kagiri…”
The words of the familiar spring folk song rang through my head even as our ship cut through the waves. The journey to Hiroshima was a short one I’d made many times before, but my love of firm land meant I was grasping at anything to distract me from the hypnotic rocking motion. This particular journey would be different to any other though. In the past I’d often travel alone between Choshu-han and home, and occasionally at Takamori-sama’s side. But this time I stood at the head of six hundred Satsuma men. Growing up I’d often wondered what it meant to be samurai – the word was often bandied around without much in the way of tangible meaning. But right now the concept of being samurai felt very real indeed. This must be what being samurai stood for, I decided, fighting for one’s beliefs, one’s loved ones, in the face of tyranny. The past months had been difficult, that much was clear. At Takamori-sama’s insistence the men continued to train through the winter months, and Kebin-san duly continued the drills in spite of the unstable weather. But now that those days were over, a palpable sense of excitement has taken over the men. We all knew some of us would never see Kagoshima again, but for now that was put aside. Every man knew his duty – the duty to his clan, to our banner.
“So who gave you that then, Shinichi?”
I looked across the wooden table which divided our cabin. Never one for honorifics or much courtesy, Kebin-san was sat with his legs upon the table, and his chair balanced only upon its hind legs. A faint whiff of the liquid he called scotch emanated from his general direction. The man’s state would have been frowned upon had it been any of our clansmen, but was not unknown for the Englishman. As I looked up I found the gaikokujin pointing to the object in my lap – headgear adorned with black horsehair. Kebin-san must have been aware each of our six hundred had one.
“It’s called the Koguma – black bear. A good luck gift from the families back in Kagoshima for the men, a reminder of what we’re fighting for.”
Kebin-san looked oddly disappointed at the news that everybody on our vessel owned one, and that he was the only one without. I’d have arranged for one had I know he’d care about the sentiment involved, I thought. It was his next question that followed which caught me by surprise.
“Oh…so who gave you yours?”
“Nobody,” I stammered. I hoped he wouldn’t press for an answer, but press he did.
“Oh come on, you don’t think I know it’s some girl? With your looks and rank I’m surprised you don’t have extras that I could borrow.”
I grabbed a handful of shogi pieces from the table and threw them at my tormentor. Even as I did so though, flashbacks of a tearful Yuko-chan washed through my consciousness. This campaign could not have been a surprise for many at home, given the length of time we’d been training, but somehow the girl still managed to be deeply upset when I informed her of my impending departure. Uncharacteristically so, I thought at the time.
“I had a girl once, back in Malacca. I thought we’d settle and have children. How wrong I was…”
I looked across the cabin, surprised at Kebin-san’s sudden moment of self-reflection. In the past year we’d conversed mostly about battle tactics and training the men – I belatedly realised I knew next to nothing about our captain’s person. As words fell out of the gaikokujin’s mouth I found myself astounded by his sudden bout of candour, but also the sadness of his tale. He’d met her while on duty with the East India Company. She travelled with their army and he’d wooed her from India to Malacca. They’d even made plans to return to England together and start a family. But upon his return from Macao he found the girl in the arms of another man. The shock of heartbreak was apparently what drove the man to seek his fortunes in a land as far away as our own.
“That’s my story then, so what’s yours? What’s her name?”
“Yuko, Yuko-chan, she’s…just a friend. We’ve known each other since we were children.”
“Friend? Doesn’t seem like it from the way you’re clutching her gift. Hahaha…”
More shogi pieces were sent flying as Kebin-san pressed home his theory that Yuko-chan was my “honey”, cueing bouts of laughter and mockery from the insufferable gaikokujin. My torment was only spared by the voices above deck calling the sighting of Hiroshima port.
“LAND!!”
* * *
Light rain descended upon Hiroshima as we disembarked. The town itself had changed little since we’d last visited, but the mood among the populace was clearly far removed. I remembered this town as a quaint, relaxed affair. But now the locals seemed to stride about with an intense sense of purpose, each going about their business in silence as the rain fell around them. Seemingly affected by the sombre tone among the locals, our own men were quiet as we unloaded our equipment. The fight against the shogun would not be easy, I knew, but there was no other way. The gods would help us, for our cause was just, Takamori-sama had said.
Out of the corner of my eye I caught the sight of dock workers gingerly unloading the Gatling gun we’d brought from Kagoshima. Guraba-sama’s ungodly contraption would aid our just cause, I knew.
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Originally Posted by McScottish
Thanks for exposing my lack of proofreading.
Interested to see who these horseborn 'rescuers' are.
